I place my hand on my head and say;
I refuse to be mad over you
Screaming like a mad cow lost in the bush
I'm gonna face only ma books.
But each line keeps telling me about you
It reads; Mad over Boo
Took a deep breath... Round my bed... Searching for your scent ... but they only tasted faint... All I feel is regret.

The second ‘the flies’; they are billons of them that cannot be contained as they flooded everywhere. If we decide to share them individually, each person owns about an estimated fifty flies. They enter everywhere and anywhere without permission like air. They multiply with massive extension rendering us virtually helpless. We hiss anytime they touch us in unwanted places especially when we are in search of sleep or seek to shade in the open. They can kiss Miss Sokoto if she losses her guard and send the same kiss to a beggar on the street who has nothing to guard; and vice versa it goes. As usual pets, they play perching game with us their masters; leaving us to beat ourselves as our role in the game waiving from one end to another. They are the number one pet everyone in the north own and they require no special care. On my arrival, I inherited an uncountable number. Irritation is what they brought on everything. Flocking with cows, camels, rams, hen, cock and even you, you can’t stop them so learn to live with them.

The third is ‘the rain’. On this day, the sky was clear and blue for I could see the silver lining and the moving clouds that looked innocent. Bringing my head down, I looked and saw a Sokoto beauty moving. I couldn’t keep my eyes from swinging towards her direction. In this act, there blew a little wind. Instantly, dust from the village blinded my eyes. Before I could receive my miracle to see again, the wind blew away my cloth. I was blind, naked and lonely on the road, in regret I wished I had sat back at home. It got worst and the wind almost took me away but I had to hide my shame by standing firm in the game. With few drops from the sky, I was able to wash my eyes. And then it began to rain drop of stones from the sky in which running like a bull could not save mine. The drop of stones from the sky is like a plague in ancient Egypt which left me soaked to the bones. This rain truly is a bitter sad wicked evil doom. After the rain, did rapture take place? I conducted my census and no one was missing. In a swiftly quick, everywhere was dry with the sky becoming clear again. Then, I saw another silver lining and no Sokoto beauty to look at. Meanwhile, my village people were still dancing and then again the sky began to darken; I guess it was time for round two.

The fourth is ‘the cold’. We felt the breeze blow, shutting and sealing doors and windows including our nose hose. We wrapped ourselves underneath our coat and after bathing you have to run from the bathroom like Usain Bolt. When on bike, we squeezed ourselves and shivered with tremendous cold. In the process of sharing body heat, I could hear her heart beat. Today, I still dance to that beat. We covered all our body parts like we just ate the apple that made man and God part. This is not a simple time for we happened to be indoors all the time. Dressed like Europeans, we breathed snow and ate ice for dinner. We did not bath daily for the cold was heavy. Despite all, I still drank fresh wine though the natives call it fura.

The last is ‘Harmattan’. Night passed and morning came on the twentieth day, I visited a Sokoto beauty. She prepared some delicacy but I could not eat first with my nose like I always do. This was because it was blocked hurting and blunt. After eating and dinning; on the way home I saw mini tornedoes. After that, came the wind that sent the walls of the red sea clashing down. Indigestion was my predicament as I could not hide thus; I ate lots of grain, grain of sand. This is Sahara… The cold sneaked into my humble abode I hide under my sweater, wrapper, coat and bed-sheet. Warm water I used to stay clean because the harmattan made me a rusty white walker. Winter indeed is here; we had no John Snow; all we’ve got is a stubborn sandy Stormborn. At this point darkness made me envy married people because I had no Sokoto beauty. Night passed and morning came, I toiled and trekked as a survivor in the deserted street; my legs lost its smooth lines as it became like a dry river; dried with cracks and marks yet no flies. The wind blew like a desert travelling in time leaving our skins dry, and our lips rough. The mountain is indeed melting in this empty Sahara but this is not the end of this taunting weathers.

THE FIVE EXTREME PLAGUES IN SOKOTO - © VOWELS ONYEKA

The whole thing began when Nysc said to me; I’m the next compulsory thing after school ‘go to Sokoto, a land I have promised you. Who would believe my eyes as my eyes could not believe what it saw on that call-up letter this fateful morning. I replied; I’m a man of shy spirit, why do you send me to the end of the world? I wept, slept and dreamt in fear, of a strange land and strange people who will now become my people. Obedience they say is better than sacrifice so, I got into a bus and drove not in a rush. It took days but when we arrived, we sat on the floor, a peaceful serene to behold not neglecting the distance far away from home. The farness was felt with everywhere smelling and looking like a desert-like abode. The journey of eleven months begun and it was ready to be filled with splendid occurrences but I never knew it will be marred with the horrible plagues.

In the beginning, I noticed that almost everyone here is black and me in a strange land with lots of lack; having with me only my bag pack, I sat alone in the dark starring at the stars; I remembered how it all began in the park. My mind kept slipping into different range, the weather so lame and fake that it made my head vague. In this place I sat to paint and painting I did with my pen. I wrote; ‘The whole fake story’.

The first plague, ‘the sun’; He rose daily but shines hottest here in the north hurting us not. This great job he does with great smile. Black dark men made simple real evidence while we fresh men like me drank, dried, shrinked and drank again just to make sure we remain hydrated. Wise men say this place is closest to hell and I hold no dispute against them. The ground at boiling point with the sweat drops running down my body like turbo racers in track race; they told me that to bath repeatedly, is a temporal remedy which I myself is witness to. As the water was warmer than warm, the fair people around me were few. Walking to work, we bowed our heads in repentance yet indigenes still put on ten yards of cloth to work. In prayers, we couldn’t look up to God like Olamide (Badoo) who lives in the West. At night, we exposed our skins like Adam and Eve did in the East. We lost our real skin colour despite the application of different lotions withnot knowing that it is against the rule. This sun was not any secret art by Egyptian magicians for seven days passed. I took my time to find a place to hide yet none could I find. Everywhere seems not easy to bind with ease for the sun god I had to worship and bow. To disobey would not mean I have to die instead I would be burnt black from head to down. I had to buy all kind of eye shades still; when I look up I can’t steal a gaze from sun god. Is the Sun god hotter than Hades? Here, I got to that line that looks like the finish line which was tagged the baddest rhyme; beyond this line, men sipped that last glass of wine. I took my kit and sat on someone’s sit; right under the heat with no treat to eat. This is hell and they say it is where I fell. No one will know what happens if I don’t tell. This indeed has gone sour because I did not experience this in Nigeria’s south but I’m stucked here like I’m a scout.