The AfroMuse had been quite excited lately. She talked too fast this time.
She said a lot but this is all I could pick up.
I hope I reconstruct everything with time or else I’d definitely be in trouble and lord know what that crazy witch can do.
She said, I heard and I beat a my gong like a siren as Afrosays:
THE SOKOTO RASCALS
“In this farade, we must pocus”, bellowed the commander, substituting ‘F’s for ‘P’s and vice versa in accordance with the peculiarities of his accent. “We shall discifline all acts of indiscifline”, he shouted across the ranks in an effort to impress his presence.
The boys were looking awkward, trying to stand at mock-attention in their clingy vests and shorts despite the unforgiving Sokoto morning breeze. They had been told that camping would be fun and so it had been till commander Musa, the superintendent of the Young Men’s Christian Squadron paid a visit.
They had unwillingly traded board games for extremely strenuous morning drills and afternoon swimming for rigorous march past sessions since the commander arrived. Everything that they had held sacred had been taking away from them and they had vowed revenge. This day, the commander was to travel to Kaduna to terrorize another set of fun-loving boys and the Sokoto rascals wanted to send him on his way with a gift.
“Our Pinal exercise this morning shall be the fath of truth”, commander Musa informed the boys, “Poward march toward the riber!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
They all knew the path of truth and they had been looking forward to it. In fact, some of them had been sneaking to have a try at night but none of them had been brave enough to complete it.
The Sokoto rascals watched mischievously as their antagonist approached the path of truth cautiously. It was his duty to lead such endeavours by example. His back was turned so they couldn’t see the fear in his eyes.
“I shall teach you the song!” the commander told the boys. He went on to position himself on the treacherous device that was hanging fifty feet above the river and suspended between two trees that were a hundred meters apart. “This exercise shall teach you pocus!”
“You hold the rofe above , walk on the rofe below” “Hurrah!”
“You are holding onto God, don’t ever let him go” “Hurrah!”
“You slide forward a little, then move your body slow” “Hurrah!”
“Or you goooooooooooo crashing down below” “Hurraaaaaah!”
His voice alternated between five pitches as he sang ; he could not admit his fear of heights. He was about thirty meters in when the boys picked up the chorus, surprisingly willingly. They sang as they had rehearsed:
“You better hold the rofe above, forget the rofe below”, “Hurrah!”
“You better hold onto God, don’t ever let him go”, “Hurrah!”
“You better run if you can, do not take it slow”, “Hurrah!”
… and the firewood axe slowly traveled the ranks from back to front.
“goooooooooooooooooooooo crashing down below!”, “Hurraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”