An extract from the diary of a stores clerk . |
Owing to the fact that it had started drizzling again , I had no choice but to take shelter at the farm-house . I rummaged my pockets for the keys and , with these in hand , I made straight for the house . Many of us who have at one time or other spent a night at the said house can testify here that it's not much fun . The structure is a renovated hovel that had been a pig-sty long ago , during the colonial times . Plastered from floor to ceiling , it had no ventilation apart from the tin-door and the round spy-hole of a window that some occupant or other had chipped-out in the cemented wall . The air inside was musty and chocking . Apparently , the sagging tin-roof leaked and every-time it rained , huge chunks of plaster fell off the wall , exposing the rotting building-posts within . The last time I slept there was quite trying . The previous occupant had used diesel in the paraffin-stove instead of kerosene . Diesel-smoke hung in the room and on every item . The sheets and blanket were sooty and covered from head to toe with rat-droppings . The rickety-door squeaked and squealed all night long giving the structure a spooky eerie air of a haunted board-room . Mosquitoes swarmed and whined at every inch , not to mention cockroaches and bedbugs that crawled the dishes and bedding . It's a miracle that I did not get infected with vermin-related diseases that first night . But tonight I'd be lucky if I escape with only a cold . I inserted the key in the lock , turned the door-knob and pushed . Nothing . I tried the feat again , this time a bit more firmly , using my shoulder for leverage . The door would not budge . Funny . Under ordinary conditions this door is always tottering on its hinges , how comes it's adamant in this foul weather ? I wondered . One more heave and........it gave way suddenly and I crushed nose-first into the opposite wall . It was such a stunning crush that it left my nose smarting brokenly and eyes stinging with tears . I slowly steadied myself and sat down on the bed in the far corner . I struck a match and lit the tin-lamp which sat on a stool in the middle of the room . I blew blood-speckled mucus into my handkerchief and knew I was in for a rough night . I got up from the bed with a heavy nose and a light head and inspected the room . Under the bed , I found the remnants of a rat , obviously left-overs from the table of a cogitated wild-cat , an over-grown rat , the next-of-kin to sister Ratus-ratus , scurried out of a greasy-pan and scampered up the rough-wall in a conceited effort to hide from this two-legged intruder . I grabbed a wooden-ladle from the wash-stand , whacked out at the rodent , missed her altogether and sent flecks of dusty-white-wash flying up the ceiling . My second aim was more accurate , cutting the mouse between the eyes . She pattered onto the floor . Her beady-eyes popped-out of her skull , her tail danced as if in ecstasy , her toes quivered while her whiskers twitched evilly . She was quite dead when I turned her over with my boot . What to eat was another problem . Hunger gnawed at the pit of my stomach like a furnace . I stifled a yawn as I thought of the mouth-watering meal I had left at home not long ago . How I wished I could have a morsel right now ! But as things were , I was going to sleep on an empty stomach . The mere thought of having to brace the chill of the night and the vermin on a grumbling belly was terrifying . Anyway a man can always try . Such were some of the challenges associated with my work . And the bed ! It rivaled a murram-road in hardness . I discarded the dripping rain-coat and hat then stretched out on the welcoming bed . Sleep was already dragging at my eye-lids but I made no move to get under the bed-sheets for fear of getting dust and rat-graffiti in my nostrils . I blew out the lamp and closed my eyes . I was drifting off into an uneasy slumber when I heard ,or thought I heard a long hissing sound . I pricked my ears but the sound did not continue . Thinking that it was maybe a figment of my imagination , I closed my eyes again and immediately feel asleep . This time the scratches were loud and varied . They even cut right across my anatomy . I tried to sit up but my limbs could not move . I stretched out my palm to ease the searing pain that burnt at my thumb . One particularly determined rodent would not let go . My nostrils were clogged-up , making my breathing labored . As suddenly as the noise had started , it subsided . The house became extraordinarily silent . Then the hiss again . With one final heave I sat up . Nothing moved , no scratches . My thumb throbbed . I lit the tin-lamp and froze . The black-mamba was staring at me from the middle of the room , its neck engorged by the bulge of the Ratus-ratus . Blood dripped from my thumb ! " I have to get out of this hell fast ! " I said out loud . Just then , the phone rang . It was Judith . |