Ebi's Torn Trouser And The Wounded Bethel (An Abia NCCF Tale) by Ebi Robert

(Photo Credit: Shoemiecow)

It was a comic sight to behold that calm evening when some Jesus' coppers returned in what I would call fit-batches, to the Abia Family House Gate.

As the prodigal one, I had hung my bag filled with my gadgets, and walked  to the front of the gate. Some say I needed repentance, but I don't know about that.

I needed to settle my hungry stomach; so, I approached UTILITY TWO, Femi, who was a roommate as well. I had asked him to get me a cold bottle of Zobo drink from the MINIMART.

He responded and minutes later, I was set to settle myself somewhere right, to start pressing the Old HP keyboard of my ancient POWER BANK.

Yes, my laptop had several times been described as such. I practically use it in place of a power bank itself. There is actually no life in it. But somehow, the keyboard had chosen to be functional for me. I had no choice than to utilize it.

I was ready to follow the tight path that led to the RCCG house when I saw some cows of different colours walked pass the grasses for some kind of nice brunch.

Well, I had heard of a lot of stories about cows and bulls, and of course, how they Chase men as a Man Chases women's buttocks.

I had also seen on TV programs and movies like Bahubali, where heroes held the horns of bulls in a serious wrestle. What I saw was not funny at all. So I never thought of having such experiences at all.

I was the least careful as I walked pass the path. I stood, paused, and observed one particular cow that was steering at me as if I was some kind of trespasser. Eyeball to eyeball, we looked at each other; I was like:

''This cow way no pure ooo. Em look like one wey no get conscience.''

Soon enough, like a husband ignoring a nagging wife, it moved its face away from my visage and walked to the tick part of the long grasses. I saw another smaller cow, but to me, it was no great a threat. At least, a good kick will do.

I had carefully passed the group of animals when I saw BETHEL, the fair and beautiful lady approached me. She was in the company of other coppers who were returning from the prison evangelism.

The other guys in her company walked like JAMES BONDS, but Bethel was not that confident about the cows. Maybe, she suspected the beasts should change their mind at any time.

Well, beasts could be pets, but not to be fully trusted. There is always a wealth of wildness in them. Especially, when they ain't your bred, no matter now civilized they are.

We had not finished passing the route, when I turned back and saw one of the black cows, perhaps with the bigger horn among the cows in the group, positioned his horns and was moving towards us for a wrestle. We all immediately took to our heels taking the most available direction.

Seconds after, I paused, and looked back, the cow had stopped chasing us.

But, oh, my trouser was torn already. The new design was that type that makes a man so ashamed of himself. It was the native dress I rocked the most. Battling with my close-to-nakedness appearance, I saw Bethel beaten in the wide gutter with her face to the ground. I had no idea what business she had with the cow and how well it treated her, but it was obvious that whatsoever must have taken her into that brown looking gutter wasn't funny at all.

The other fellows sympathized with her. But for me, it was a combination of an ashamed man and beautiful damsel in a gutter.

All I was thinking about was how to change my dress. All my wears were dirty after the week job, and that made the matter worse.

Bethel came out of the gutter with her slippers that was damaged already. It wasn't a pretty scene at all.

We approached the NCCF gate, only for the annoying but friendly Femi to start reciting the Family House Rules. Those folks are so in love with the rule, they can beat even John Cena just to keep it.

''No one is coming in here ooo. I no go open the gate,'' he said.

The young man had not even listened to me explain myself. For all he knew, no rule must be broken. Carefully, he safeguarded the gate, insisting on the same archaic but righteous rules which many believes entertains no exception.

''Oboy, hear me out first na,'' I said.

I love Femi for one thing, he listens.

By the time I was done with my story, the gate of Rome was opened and we were ushered in like the gods of Troy, matching in with a torn trouser and a wounded Bethel.