THE OLD SOLDIER'S SHOE| A greater quest than a hunted past

'Come here you stubborn boy!' The old soldier shouted, as he spotted me from afar, but I didn't move an inch from where I stood. It could be seen in his eyes, the anger that had begun to cook inside of him.

'I said come here!' He shouted again.

Seeing that I wasn't making any move to obey his command, he began to come towards me. GBAM! GBAM! His feet stamped on the ground. And when he got to where I was standing, that was when a wise me wanted to run off. But he hurriedly led out his left hand and took hold of me; helpless, I became sober and less revolting.

'You dare match on my shoe!' He banged his voice at me.

'Children of nowadays lack respect for elders.' He continued and landed a heavy knock on the center of my head, turning me into a victim of that popular nursery rhyme:

‘Old soldier is dead and gone to his grave

They planted a mango tree over his head,

The mango tree ripped and ready to drop....

Old soldier got up and gave HIM a knock!’

The knock was painful, and head-banging. I held my head, and began to rub it intensely, but I wasn't crying, only that my eyes were red.

Back then I was a very stubborn child. Everyone knew me. I feared no one and I did things that could give a child the name 'Devil's child'. Papa Shun-sir, as he was always called by everyone knew this about me and most times he would discipline me for any offence I committed on his watch.

'You matched on my shoe, then you wanted to run away when I called you. That's not good enough.' He began again.

'Now, take a look at that shoe.' Pointing to it, as it lay on the soil. ‘Do you know how precious that shoe is to me?'

I glanced at the shoe and couldn't but continue to stare. It was torn in the mouth like the open mouth of a crocodile ready to swallow up a whale. However, it was well-polished, but it was nothing to give away. I wanted to laugh, since that was my attitude, making jest of anyone, including elders like Papa shun-sir  but I knew what that would cost me; another old soldier's knock; perhaps a hotter one, so I sealed my mouth with the seal of fear.

'No, Papa shun-sir.'

'The shoe is as old as your father!'

'What! This tattered, knitted and spoilt shoe?' I said.

Old soldier looked at me again, and I was already waiting for another knock; my eyes were closed. But surprisingly, he said,

'A child that knows not what kills his father cannot ask after his property.'

'But my father is not dead Papa shun-sir.' I challenged.

'You are still a child, you don't know what sneaks water into a coconut!'

I couldn't utter any more word, nor challenge him. I couldn't understand the meaning of what he had said; not the father's property nor the coconut's. What more could I have said than for silence to take its course once more.

'I doubt if your father even knows about the Biafran war, not to talk of you.' He bent down to pick up his old shoe.

'Papa shun-sir, what happened in the Biafran war, I have never heard of such war in Nigeria, except for the Civil war?' I questioned.

'What's the difference, between the two?' Said old soldier while dusting his shoe off the stain I gave it.

'Are they the same?' I asked with eyes eager to learn.

'Yes, of course they are.'

'Please tell me about the war.' I begged.

'No, son, I won't.'

'Please sir.'

'No.'

'Ahn ahn papa shun-sir, but why?'

'Because you had no respect for my military emblem.'

'What emblem?'

'See this shoe, stretches it forward, it's the only thing I have to remind me of the war. The rest are buried in the past now.'

'Were you a soldier in the war?'

'Of course, or how did you think I got the name Papa Shun-sir. He said.

'How were you given the shoe?'

'Look here son, you can't fool an old man. I know you want to dribble me into telling the story, but I won't. Children of nowadays are too wise, but can't be wiser than the grey hair that is truly grey.'

'But why?'

'See, my child, the past is the bridge to our future that's why we still have that war in history. We have a greater three in one nation now to build instead of digging more into a dead well. Let the past deeds be past. The horrors of those times are too harsh for a child like you, so you won't develop hatred inside of you.'

Now go home and read your book, so as to enable you add something great to our new nation. What this nation needs right now is peace and continuity, not streams of past pains.'

'Okay, Papa shun-sir. I promise to bring development to our village when I grow up.' I said with a smile.

'Good. But you have to stop this your yama yama attitude. It will only bring you greetings from suffering and destruction. Start by doing what is right, okay.'  Old soldier said and turning to the other direction with his shoe in his hand, he went his way.

I stood there, looking at the sky with my arms folded. I soon went deep into the realm of thoughts. I knew what he said was true and that what the nation needed was someone that would bring stability and growth, not a stubborn me. From then, waking every moment the trumpet of heaven blows for the sun to rise, I reminded myself of that greater promise to my nation: to build and make it rise. That encounter was the dawn of my new man, a new me for change.

MIDE BENEDICT

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