MUSTARD I – Ch. 5 | KT OLLA

MORO and his company walked into the square of a large farmstead, as they came to the farmland of Ede people.

The houses were a cluster of hut buildings with a large square between them. But no one seemed to be in those houses as they got there.

Again, the whole village of farm houses seemed rather too quiet. As there would be many more huts and farm settlements down the lane.

But the only sign of life around were not people, but screeching birds.

The wandering boys looked to themselves and wondered what. The whole place looked as though its dwellers had travelled...

But it only seemed so to the kids because they were wanderers. It was Oji who pointed this out for them.

‘Look, we’re the only people without a place. So these place will look as if it’s got nobody! But that is a trap! Maybe they knew we are here!’

Daleka was the youngest. His point seemed different: ‘What if they’re still at the farms?’

Oji was fast. ‘At this time? Even the roosters have gone to sleep!’

He pointed a hand at the chicken roost there. The others turned to see a group of fowls roosting on a thread.

So Moro let out a breath.

Yes, the night was fast falling and the twilight glow fading. So when Daleka thought of this, he gave up.

He only didn’t buy Oji’s point, for it sounded extreme.

Moro had a thought. ‘Why don’t we walk on and see other huts down there?’ 

‘If other farmhouses are this quiet, we’d know where to go from there? What do you say?’

‘Well said!’

‘It is well said!’

Now the small company trudged the footpath connecting several farmsteads in the jungle...

And every hut they got to was as quiet as the graveyard. They didn’t find a soul there.

Moro turned to Oji. ‘What do you think is happening?’ He wanted him to repeat his point.

But Oji was doubting himself already. So he easily saw their youngest one make motions to talk.

‘See Daleka... he’s got something to say!’

Moro turned to the brother behind him. And just when he turned, Daleka dropped the words.

‘It is harvest time, my brothers! Main tubers are being harvested now!’

Oji gasped. ‘Ah, we’re the only ones who aren’t farming in war! These people don’t know war!’

The eldest intoned. ‘So everyone is at a farm, helping the owner out!’

‘Then tomorrow,’ added Oji, ‘they will move on and help another.’

Daleka went next. ‘Let us go and help the farmers, too! Or what do we plan to do?’

Moro smiled. ‘You just said the plan. That is what we’re doing!’

‘But how do we locate their farms?’ asked a worried Daleka.

Oji cracked a joke. ‘We are wanderers now: we keep wandering!’

‘Don’t mind him, Daleka,’ answered Moro. ‘We go down the valley to where we find water. The main farms will be around water!’

Daleka looked up at his brother. ‘You are sage man, my brother! You just sounded like Father!’

The older one slapped him small. ‘Come on, Father isn’t here. We’re boys struggling to survive!

‘Now let’s find a way to do this! Follow me!’

‘To the farms!’ shouted Oji.

And before Daleka could answer, the boys heard a loud howl follow their call.

It was people from the crop farm nearby signalling that they were there. For the villagers had converged on the farm to assist with harvesting.

Now they’d got more hands. But they didn’t know they were strangers.