Member-only story
Onile Orita
The one who lives at the crossroads
Tokunbo trundled along the broad dusty road leading away from home, looking back at the receding iron gates growing smaller with each step he took. Wrapped in a polythene bag under his armpit was a pair of black trousers, a black shirt and some chalk — ground into powder, concealed in a transparent polythene bag to prevent it from soiling the black clothes. With a every step he took, his green school shorts — hooked up by a strip of clothing, rode up and down his thighs, and his slippers kicked up stones behind him.
But Tokunbo did not take notice of all these things.
His mind raced far ahead of him to the church where he would be performing in a stage play for the Children’s Sunday anniversary. As he walked, he suspected his father of being a demon.
Earlier that morning while packing up his clothes, his father had asked him why he was hell bent on wearing a black t-shirt and black trousers to church. When he told his father he would be playing the role of the Devil in the Sunday school play, all hell had broken lose. His father had slapped him hard across the face and warned him never to take up any unholy role in church again.
“How can my son act the devil? Is there no other child in the church that can do it? Why does it have to be you?”
