The Butcher (Diary Excerpts 29/05/2013)

...and the young man who just got off an okada, strolls leisurely towards our building, a simple good afternoon to me and he went about getting started with whatever he came to do, a quest i wasn't sure of until much later. He changed into a pair of soiled denims he had cut into shorts, went, picked up some firewood from that which my landlady sold and made a fire.

His looked plain and professional at the same time, he went about with such fluidity only professionals could have. Dark skinned with lips spread but shut, there were no furrows on his forehead but on his stoned face you could see resolve and a determination to get whatever he came to do here done quickly...then he spoke

   'how far where d goat?'

   'naim be dat, i dey cum' replied the landlady's son.

At this point i closed my book curious to know what was about to happen. The landlady's son mustered a group of children and after a light chase the goat was apprehended and handed over to the young man whose expression had not changed since he got here. He took out a cutlass and a knife and pinned the goat to the ground with his legs. The goat bleated terrifyingly as if she knew what was about to befall her, she bleated with all the energy she could muster, head raised and pitiful eyes set on the young man as if trying to say something or plead with him, but he kept on with the hole he was digging beside the goat's head. The goat realized there was no turning back she laid still let short whimpering sounds and resigned to fate and at that very moment the young man and the goat were kin, the prey and the predator, the hunter and the game.

Then it dawned on me...the young man was 'the butcher'.

He then took the knife and in two strokes all the main veins in the goat’s neck were spurting out blood profusely into the hole he had dug. The goat jerked a little then was still and the butcher went about other stages of butchering; burning d goat's hair, scrubbing it thoroughly and cutting up the meat into different chunks. And when he was done, he cleaned his tools, himself, changed back and left the compound without his expression changing once, his emotions couldn't be read, his thoughts too...indifferent.

The butcher... He was masterful for he had the poise of a professional assassin.

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What you see above is not from a book, it’s what I made out of an event that occurred yesterday. So instead of just saying it, I thought I write it out like an excerpt from a book. My opener to blogging to again. J

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