A snake came to my water-trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat, To drink there. D. H. Lawrence (1885 - 1930) British writer. Birds, Beasts and Flowers, "Snake"
* The Brahmas claim tribal affiliations to the west, the Malay fowls claim affiliations to the east, the Grey Jungle fowls claim affiliations to the North and the Kadaknath chickens claim affiliations to the south. But there were only two parties to share: the Umbrella caucus and the Broomstick party. *
“ 1
There was a little farm house on the countryside of Isi, a state where a farmer lived discreetly with his family. The farmer’s son was a fine, lively, playful boy called Sochima. The boy loved everything, until a particular day when it slightly changed. Our story is not about Sochima, it’s about and around the destiny of his pet chicken, Lucky. Standing tall and bold, Lucky is a cockerel who was regarded in the chicken community to one day, be one of the strongest crowers on the farm. Sochima had kept the cockerel as a pet since he hatched five weeks ago. The boy always believed the cockerel brought him luck. During that time, Lucky knew only love and attention as a pet to the boy of the house. But he had also experienced unkindness shown to the domestic chickens on the farm. But this didn’t concern him, what did he know, he was a pet. Luck always followed him - this was what he always believed. One fateful day, Farmer Julian decided to turn Lucky into a capon to increase his meat value. The farmer no longer saw any reason to have Lucky as a pet in the house. Rather than have the chicken lounge around, he felt it would serve better use in the stomachs of the household. The boy Sochima became sad. He couldn’t stop his father; boys resent the authority of their fathers—the disciplinarians, the breadwinners—but have no choice to do anything about it, which rears more resentment. Sochima aimed for small victories against his father, like when he polished his father’s shoes instead with Vaseline cream. But he always fell short, too weak, dependent, and inexperienced to stand up for himself eventually. Lucky the chicken saw this as an opportunity. He only knew care since his days as a hatchling, now the humans wanted to eat him. He wouldn’t let this be. He would find a way out. Tied at the feet to a pole, his head kept angling around, craning his neck even further to envision an escape strategy. From a nearby weed bush he noticed a hen emerge. A Rhode-island hen, as red as a hairy garment, she had been straying for food in the bushes. Moving with an obvious limp, she approached the tied cockerel, but kept a sustained distance. Lucky had never seen this hen on the farm before. Of all the chickens on the farm that he was familiar with, she seemed entirely unfamiliar. Her help was needed here though, before farmer Julian came back to castrate him.
“I will help you! Just be patient.” the hen said, pecking at the string with her strong beak.
From there marked the beginning of a relationship which would lead on to significant events, because in a couple of minutes after back and forth wedging and pecking on the string, they were both out of the farm to begin an adventure none would have ever envisaged. Lucky was in the company of a six-year old hen that had been used on several occasions as a thanksgiving fowl by the humans on Sunday services. Somehow the hen had avoided the dinner table, and escaped to live a strayer’s life. Hen’s limp was now an obvious disability as they both raced up a knoll overlooking the village of Isi. Lucky resisted the urge to ask the cause of her limp. But he appreciated the way the hen’s feathers embellished her features as they walked in the breeze.
“Do you dislike the humans too?” Lucky asked
“Of course. They don’t care about us. All they want from us is our eggs and meat. That’s all. We chickens are just groomed to be butchered.”
“So it’s true?”
“It is. I’ve laid over a hundred eggs in my life, but I never saw any of my children. The humans just come through and seize our eggs forever.
“The life of a chicken seems to be complicated.”
“You never see anything! In the past I was used by some kids to play a game they called chicken ball. But they used their hands instead of their rugged feet. I was still very young then. A weak pullet too frail to fly away. The humans don’t care about us, take your case for example, you’ve always been a pet but now they want to eat you. A chicken deserves better.”
“We deserve better. So where are you going?
“In search of a Paradise land where I can stray forever without fear or oppression from the humans. Where I can lay eggs and watch my chicks grow.” But of course to lay eggs she needed the cockerel.
“Where do you think that is?”
“I’ve heard of an abandoned farm somewhere in the center of Isi.”
“The center? I was brought in from the south myself as an egg. The humans got me as a gift.”
“Your own worse pass.”
2
DAYS LATER, THEY REACHED THE WESTERN CITY AREA inhabited by more humans bearing down on the streets. Some humans would casually kick out at the two chickens making both to jump a full six feet to dodge a swipe. Lucky remembered, as he and the hen flew over a dirt-hedge to cross the road, the question Sochima always asked nobody in particular whenever the cockerel intended to cross over a narrow bridge that led out to the putrid poultry house back at the farm.
“Have you ever wondered why the humans always say: Why did the chicken cross the road?” asked Lucky
“It’s just what the humans use to amuse themselves.”
“How?”
“You know - a joke. Somehow meaning that if we cross the road, we would be run down by vehicles and therefore get to the other side- the afterlife.” Seeing that Lucky was getting confused, she added, “But we’re not the only ones that cross the road? The duck does, the turkey does, everybody does! It’s not easy for chickens to cross the road you know. Maybe it’s because our brains are not that advanced to perceive and calculate sudden movements like the humans. That’s why we could be run down.”
On the other lane, they noticed a Brahma mother hen with her five chicks scratching for food beside an empty gutter. They were picking away at grubs, they didn’t notice a boy walking casually up the lane. The moment he got close, the boy kicked out so violently that it caused a scramble for cover. One of the
chicks fell into the shallow gutter close by. But the mother hen didn’t notice this; she had already sprinted off with the remaining members of her feathery family. The little chick was left in the gutter. Lucky and Hen rushed over to find the chick making cheeping sounds.
“Look what you’ve done, stupid boy. Mother come back, I dey here! Please come back!” he cursed away
But she was gone. Instead he found a cockerel and a red hen peering down at him now.
“Who are you?” It asked
“We’ve come to help you out.” Replied the cockerel
“Wo! I don’t need your help ni. All I want is my mama!”
“Well it seems she’s gone. Forever!” said hen
After the little chick was rescued out of the gutter, it kept crying in a soft chirp that really irritated hen. The little chick had hatched just a few days ago and knew so little about the world until this firsthand experience of human cruelty. The hen tried to console the chick and impatiently lashed out.
“You have to stop this! You’re spoiling my 6 year old ears. We’ll take care of you, won’t we Lucky?”
“We will, little one. What’s your name?”
The chick hesitated, only because it didn’t have a name. They were in the bushes now, dodging thorns and snake nests.
“I don’t have one.”
“Then we’ll call you Chicky. Don’t worry everything will be fine.”
To Chicky, the cockerel didn’t seem so confident especially about their chances of survival, but it was the sheer arrogance of the hen that gave it a re-assurance of safety. It felt that since the hen had lived this long, the odds would be in her favour.
“Are the humans always this harsh?” Chicky asked
“Most times. You’re fortunate. Lucky here should have been eaten by now, if not for me.” Joked hen.
Another re-assurance, thought Chicky, time to get closer to hen! They had approached the Eleme forest which was notoriously known in the animal world to be a dangerous place. It was home to snakes, vultures, kites and other flesh eating animals. Chicky still hadn’t left hen’s side after jolting alarmingly to some scary sounds heard high up in the trees. But they kept moving, occasionally picking at grub here or there. Lucky found something expertly hidden in the bushes -a small gourd full with water. He invited the others to drink but from nowhere two ravens sprang from the air.
“That doesn’t belong to you!” said one of the ravens
“Who does it belong to you? You?” bellowed hen, and the ravens moved back slightly.
“It belongs to the kites living in the big raffia palm tree”
“And we were ordered to watch over it while they’re gone” added the second raven
“Where are the kites now?” asked Lucky
“Away scavenging new areas of territory. This forest hasn’t seen much water for a long time. The kites have been gone for some days now. I advise that you leave here now! They could be back anytime.”
“Not until we have some water to drink!” retorted hen “Come Chicky, Lucky. Don’t listen to these fools, let us drink.”
The ravens shrugged and went up to their perch.
3
“THERE’S A PLACE I’D LIKE US TO GO CALLED CHICKEN REPUBLIC where the humans converge. I never got to know what exactly it is they do there, but there’s lots of red paint on the walls. We could branch over there to get some.”
“Make we dey go then.”
“But we’ll have to be careful. A place where there are more humans could be very dangerous for us.”
“That is why we have claws and beaks. We can defend ourselves against the humans!” interrupted Chicky
Lucky and the hen pretended like they didn’t hear that, they wouldn’t want to hurt Chicky’s feelings and have it cheep-crying all over again. Obviously chickens were no match for humans, but Chicky was too naïve to understand this. They remained silent and distracted. Chicken Republic was indeed a restaurant, where the humans converged to eat anything prepared with chicken meat. Despite the high human activity in and around the restaurant, the three chickens managed to squeeze into the backyard. In no time they had begun pecking off the painted walls when they heard glucking sounds. Behind them was a large wire cage that held thirty chickens and six turkeys. At the gate of the cage stood a peacombed rooster. He implored the three to free the imprisoned ones who were already dreading their menu death-sentence. The poultry-keeper had not locked the cage but improvised with a broomstick he used to temporarily latch the cage gate. Lucky unlatched it and all the chickens graciously sprang out of the cage except the turkeys who were too lazy to move.
“From this day, we promise to be loyal to you.” Said the rooster to Lucky. And they all followed him.
4
THEN PAST THE LOOKS OF UNALARMED HUMANS, PAST THE ELEME FOREST AND INTO THE COUNTRYSIDE, all the chickens finally approached their destination – the abandoned farmland. The farmland was a large stretch of pasture with a small white outbuilding or barn house in the centre, which was a storage house for farm tools. The chickens made a beeline for the white building when food was discovered in there too. Some tore at anything found that was edible. The others gawked at the rusted knives, machetes and sharp objects hung on the walls which they had never seen. All thirty escapees from the Chicken Republic restaurant had vowed their loyalty to Lucky and followed his entourage anywhere they went. Meanwhile, the Hen was in fact happy with the followers but wasn’t eager to show approval yet, she had learned over the past not to trust anyone. Hen whispered to Lucky.
“Remember that we both are all that we have. We shouldn’t care much about these other chickens, let’s secure the territory and rule it for ourselves.” Before Lucky could respond, he was distracted by something more surprising. High up on the interior roofing support perched three large jungle fowls looking down on all of them in silence. When Lucky spoke the others too looked up.
“And you are?”
No reply but three pairs of eyes still bearing down. Majestically, all three jungle fowls flew down to confront them. They looked very old, all had v-shaped combs which had been scarred at the crusts; indeed they had lived their veteran lives as cock fighters. Hen recognized them as the elder-chickens who had been the sole monopolists of the land over the years – Olu, Ibrahim and Buha. Myth called them the Expendables. They were above ten years old and still looked viciously strong.
“We shall be the ones asking the questions.” said one called Buha, with a harsh northern accent
”Why are you on our land?” spoke another called Olu, with a Yoruba accent
“To live on this land.” Replied Lucky
“We do not wish to share our land with you or anyone!” retorted the third, Ibrahim, also with a northern accent. But it was too late for that because the rest of the chickens had already left to explore the land. Hen stepped forward to propose a deal to the elder fowls. That if all chickens were allowed to settle on
the land, the elder chickens would be figure heads freely entitled to any portion of the land. The pact secretly gave the elder fowls autonomy to feed on any eggs laid thereon by any of the hens or pullets, but to be taken without attracting attention. The elder chickens were left with no choice than to agree, and all the chickens settled. But the elder chickens were unhappy with the invasion of their long time territory by chickens they called civilians in private and citizens in public. As the other chickens scratched the red earth for grub they left droppings everywhere on the farm, upturned roots and scattered some of the abandoned grain all over the barn house. There was so much disorder and there seemed to be no way to put things right. The elder chickens had lived on the farmland for so long and kept adherence to their own rules even if they had been the only occupants of the land for a long time now. Lucky and Hen were called into a private discussion to find a possible, workable solution to address the disorder. A leader was needed to maintain general order. But first, they had to decide on how a leader would be selected. Secretly, the actual intention was to have a leader that could be controlled and easily motivated to obey the decrees of his godfathers and loyalists. Thus, the caucus was born, a close-knit conspiracy which Buha later decided not to be a part of because he wanted to be independent and left thereafter.
But there was another brewing problem, a regular fracas. The Brahmas claimed tribal affiliation to the west, the Malay fowls claimed affiliations to the east, the Grey Jungle fowls claimed affiliations to the North and the Kadaknath chickens claimed affiliations to the south. They argued over everything – grain, space to scratch for insects, grub under the huge hollow tree trunk which lay in a deep cove beside the south farm walls, and over water. Water was also a scarce commodity on the land, it hadn’t rained for weeks and the only remaining barrel of water was in a huge water trough which was depleting by the second. It was decided that a referendum would be held and all the chickens were called together. Immediately, a rapturous cackle erupted because all the other fowls thought the southern Kadaknath chickens were becoming ridiculously selfish with the hollow tree trunk while the accused in retaliation turned on the western Brahmas for hoarding some of the water. Olu, one of the elder chickens spoke up.
“Silence!” and all was briefly tranquil. “What is all this noise and arguing about?” The quietness deadened, but rose again when the chickens started using their beaks to do a proverbial finger pointing.
“I said, let there be silence!” quiet again returned merely because an authoritative character stood before them. “This is not how we shall live on this farm. We are not noise makers and we are not trouble-makers. We are all one on this land regardless of your feather colour, comb crest, gender or character. There is no other species of bird living on this land neither is there human presence.”
Some of the chickens shrieked at the mention of the word human and responded, “No, we do not want humans here. We would do anything to live here on our terms.”
“Good. This is what will happen for us to create some order on this land. We shall appoint a temporary leader now, who shall be our chief crower till we are able to conduct a full election. He will be responsible for maintaining law and order till the election handover.”
“I nominate Lucky!” Chicky spoke up and all the other chickens quickly concurred. Who else would they appoint than the one who rescued them from the hands of despondency? The referendum selection was unanimous, Lucky would become the interim crower on the farm. Chicky although wasn’t happy to be gradually excluded from the caucus discussions, he saw himself as part of the caucus and wanted to replace Buha. Nominating Lucky he felt would get him back in their favour.
“So Lucky it is.” Said Olu after counting raised wings. “From now, Lucky is temporarily in charge! Does anyone have any questions before Lucky addresses us?”
There was a confused silence before a random cockerel finally spoke up, “I have a question. What shall we call this land since it belongs to us now?”
“We’ll call it, Chicken Republic!”
5
Word had spread around the animal world of Isi, about a land, where chickens lived and thrived freely without human control. And no sooner had the population of Chicken republic tripled. Dozens of fowls and hens with their chicks converged from nearby communities. It was dry season, and so flocks of pigeons migrating from western and northern states outside Isi settled in as inhabitants. Other non-flesh
eating birds, as well, would occasionally perch in to share in the abundance of the land. The grass was still richly nutrient encouraging grasshoppers, ants and other grubs to live and provide food for foraging birds. All seemed to be going well. But the over-population presented an emerging problem – organization and management of the resources. Most of the new inhabitants knew so little about the republic and were given no orientation as to the essence of law and order. Disagreements sparked by inconsistent, biased resource sharing erupted. The Kadaknath chickens voiced strongly about how they were being cheated from enjoying the bonanza of the hollow tree trunk. The Grey jungle fowls from the north maintained they were always left isolated by the loose system on the republic, claiming to be used to stricter organization and found it hard to cope in a hustle-for-your own system. Sometimes, these led to brief, vicious cock fights. In a negative way, these reflected so much on the level of discipline and loyalty shown to those in authority. There was a wild, general disorder on the republic, because their self-appointed one, Lucky was in charge, therefore there was no need to care about consequences or punishments.
Lucky had resumed his duty as chief crower, he was responsible for maintaining order by all on Chicken republic. He would get up way before sunrise, flying high onto the roof of the barn house like the ancestral great Persian bird to wake all the others. But still with a scratchy cock-a-doodle-doo because he wasn’t yet a full rooster. A young, lucky and inexperienced leader pushed into the position by the powers that be! Sections of the chicken population began to see Lucky for who he really was. Jealousy and ridicule was bred. Nevertheless, Lucky was unperturbed, determined to fulfill his duties in the face of resentment. Duties were shared among a handful of other privileged chickens too. The elder chickens acted as figure heads. Chicky was placed in charge of the water trough, to make sure every chicken drank not more than twice a day. Lucky, as well as some handpicked chickens were in charge of the barn house to ration the grains equally. Each had assumed their various roles but these still didn’t cushion the unpleasant situation on the republic. The incumbent administration had their eyes on the elections and thus shelved their duties aside when they were not taking sides to appease inconsistencies in the manner of their jobs. The full elections had been brought forward to be held in four days. When the election plans were announced, it was conceived by dissenting factions to form a coalition opposition party to rival the Umbrella caucus to contest for leadership of the republic. The party was called the Broomstick party. Led by Buha the third elder chicken, along with 12 roosters mostly from the original 30 chickens who pledged allegiance to Lucky after being freed from the clutches of human cruelty days ago. This party was a slightly more united one, highly motivated to rid the republic of the evils that had
been wrought upon not only by the Umbrella caucus, but also by the tribal differences in the republic. The tribal issue had become the basic problem that acted as a catalyst to other negativities.
And now the population had swelled to over a hundred, and the administration was having more than it could handle in the face of looming elections. Two days before the elections, and the consequences of an open Pandora’s Box had been unleashed. A situation of political maneuverings spread across Chicken republic so fast that it was impossible to contain. An unending series of cross-carpeting started to sweep through; loyalties to a political group were switched and vocally advertised for the opposition. The republic was broadly divided into two ideologies: the Umbrella caucus (led by Olu, Ibrahim, Lucky) and the Broomstick party (led by Buha). The Umbrella caucus believed in giving equality and power to all inhabitants of Chicken Republic, while the Broomstick party believed in addressing the brewing ills and conflicts they felt would stifle the future of the republic, if the incumbent administration was not swept out of office. But a concern was finding a neutral to conduct a free and fair election for both sides without causing more ruckuses to the already unpleasant situation. It was impossible to appoint an electoral officer with no allegiances to either side. Badu, a young capon that had only just happened into the republic that morning was approached and appointed to be the principled, unbiased electoral officer. It was rumored that Badu was the notorious young cockerel from the north that was responsible for impregnating hens and abandoning them with their clutches, before he was eventually castrated by a local farmer. But Badu wasn’t responsible for the more than 270 eggs that were alleged to be stolen from the wired hen cages behind the barn house the previous night. Lucky was blamed because it was his duty to keep watchful hours at night in case any night animals or snakes happened to find its way into the republic. But Lucky had slept off during his night watch, assuming all would be well. The loss of the eggs had become a mystery to everyone. Some sections of the chickenry spread rumors instigated from the Broomstick party that the eggs were offered to some hawks to appease them from invading the republic. This unauthenticated news was accepted to be true and seen as a harsh scheme by the administration to do as they pleased with matters in the republic. The general mood became wary and unpleasant. Chicky was angered the most. Chicky had actually become disillusioned for some time now. He had been sidelined from the caucus in most of their deliberations but given instructions without being allowed the opportunity to present his opinions. He had so many ideas to improve the republic and was willing to share them. But most of all, Chicky wanted to feel more important and wanted more than he currently was. While he was monitoring the water consumption from the trough that sunny afternoon, he spoke up.
“My brothers, my sisters, my fellow chickenry of this great republic! The counsel of the ungodly shall not stand. Yesterday we experienced a grave loss. Our children, the future of our free republic were taken away from us because members of our leadership failed to fully perform their duties. Some say it is an evil plot by the administration but I’m not here to deliberate on ifs and coulds. I refuse to be blamed for another’s evil but stand here to distance myself from this Umbrella caucus administration and declare myself as a new member of the Broomstick party.”
A rapturous applause filled the air following his acclamation. But suddenly, two huge roosters immediately rushed towards where Chicky stood on a wooden elevation beside the water trough. They grabbed him roughly, shoved him out of the barn house then tossed him onto the grass where a group of pigeons were foraging for grub. For a moment, Chicky was confused about what just happened as the two roosters marched back into the barn house. He ran after them shouting and complaining but they shoved him back into the dirt again. He ran to the backyard where there was a little creek between the roof and the high wall so he could sneak back in. But the roosters were there again almost instantly to stop him.
“If you are no more for the Umbrella caucus, then you shall cease to hold your office!” they said.
Chicky wasn’t satisfied with this surprising act of intimidation. He demanded justice and began to search for Buha. He ran out into the open grass field screaming expletives behind him and causing some newly hatched clutches to jump alarmingly when he stomped past them. At the moment, Buha was unaware of what happened to Chicky. He had been overseeing some hens rehearsing the Broomstick party’s theme song. Most of them were Grey Jungle fowls, under their wings were broom sticks which they had extracted from the palm leaves. The melody of the recitals filled the air and drew attention as they clustered near the far west corner of the republic:
A new party to sweep away all evils A new party to put things right A fellowship of differences, united by a goal To give birth to a new Republic
The sight of a fuming, breathless Chicky abruptly freezed the mood as everyone anticipated trouble when he burst unapologetically on the scene. Buha immediately approached him.
“What is the problem?”
“I’ve been intimidated out of office by the Umbrella caucus, Buha. All because I declared allegiance to your party.”
“I see.”
“I demand justice, Buha. You are a figure head, surely there is something you can do?” But Buha retraced his steps and nodded once in deep contemplation. His wattle turning deep red before he finally sighed frustratingly.
“My friend, when we are in a dispensation such as this, we should expect anything from the other side to intimidate us. We can only use this to motivate ourselves.”
Some of the hens that had been rehearsing for the Broomstick party sprang to their feet, protesting in retaliation to the treatment of Chicky. They refused to listen to Buha’s call for them to calm down but marched straight to the barn house, chanting stronger than ever the Broomstick party’s anthem.
A new party to sweep away all evils A new party to put things right A fellowship of differences, united by a goal To give birth to a new Republic
Accompanied by some Grey jungle cocks, they approached the barn house, demanding the removal of all of Lucky’s incumbent administration. They waved their broomsticks voraciously in the air, chanting their anthem in sweet unison.
A new party to sweep away all evils A new party to put things right A fellowship of differences, united by a goal To give birth to a new Republic
But no sooner than expected, a few eastern Malay cocks who were supporters of the Umbrella caucus tromped from behind the barn house straight at the Grey jungle hens. They lunged at the hens, seized their broomsticks and snapped them into bits and pieces. Then began yet another political chicken fight.
So far from the Broomstick party, it was only Buha who had declared intent to contest for presidency in the elections. The Umbrella caucus hadn’t produced a candidate yet because Lucky was still undecided about whether to contest. Lucky felt his image had been damaged by everything that was being blamed on him and the caucus. He felt inexperienced, he felt weak in poise, but he didn’t let it affect him and did little to show it publicly. Even if his meekness was misinterpreted for cowardice. Lucky never doubted his intuition, and it made him feel a strong responsibility to lead. All he needed was some support from the chickenry. Hen knew Lucky felt this way especially after Chicky and the Broomstick party seemed to have stolen his affection among the chickenry with their accusations and subtle remarks about the nonchalance of the incumbent administration. She immediately arranged for a meeting with the heads of the Umbrella caucus away from the republic’s enclosures. Unbeknownst they were, about the chicken fights that were going on outside the barn house.
“Umbrella caucus…” hen hailed
“Power to the chickenry!”
“My fellow party heads. The opposition is running us into the dirt, we have to respond strongly and win back the support of the chickenry.”
“But do we have a candidate yet?” Olu says. All heads turned to Lucky. The general consensus among the Umbrella caucus believed that since Lucky was the incumbent leader of the republic, he would be the perfect candidate even though he still hadn’t officially declared to anyone.
“I am willing to contest once the support is unanimous.” groaned Lucky
“Do you want us to rig the elections and maneuver it in your favour?” asks Muzu, the party’s new speaker and Chicky’s replacement.
“No” Lucky replied. Everyone was surprised.
“You need to be bolder than you currently are. A president should not be a weakling.” Said Olu
“Pray for me to be bold!”
“Pray for yourself!”
“Lucky, don’t worry the chickenry will love you.” Says Muzu
“All we need now is a strategy bigger than the opposition. Campaigns begin tomorrow.”
“The campaigns will be taken care of. But remember Lucky the popular saying that if Monkey go chop, then we too must chop! We will do everything possible for you to win, just remember to play your part when you’re president of the republic.” said another party leader, implying the emerging corrupt mantra of the Umbrella caucus.
“We still need a key strategy to make us stronger in the eyes of the chickenry.” Said Hen.
“What do you have in mind, hen?”
“I found a ledge. We’ll use that to sway the chickenry’s attention.”
A day ago, Hen had discovered a ledge further away from the republic during one of her stray walks. The ledge covered the banks to a large stream that flowed from the River Amansea three miles away. The river’s tributaries flow from the east to west of Isi then joins at the middle where it cuts through the south of Isi and stretches into the sea. The stream was a habitat to small fishes and insects while its
banks were full of algae and leeches. It was a delightful discovery and a strong tool that could be used to win the mandate of the chickenry in the upcoming elections. No one knew about it other than Hen. All the other members of the caucus were thrilled to hear Hen’s narration about how she stumbled upon such a treasure at a time when it was most needed. This made Hen to be admired for her ingenuity above the others.
“Which is why I am convinced that we shall win this election.” Hen concluded.
They all agreed with her and concluded the meeting. Upon returning to the republic, they were astonished to find a scattered chicken brawl among the eastern Malay fowls and the northern Grey jungle fowls. As the Grey jungle fowls saw Lucky and his entourage approaching them, they immediately stopped short and screamed: Impeachment, impeachment!! Lucky must be impeached! But the Malay fowls reacted with their own proclamations: No! NO!! Lucky will remain, he is our candidate! Our chosen one!!!
Lucky raised his wings in the air and with a loud, strong voice to overpower the noisy ruckus, he announced
“Yes, I will contest!”
6
THERE WAS A SMALL SHED IN THE BACK OF THE BARN HOUSE. In it lived a blue pullet, who had until now, refused to utter a word to any of the chickens on the republic. She had lived in solitude days before the rest of the chickenry invaded the land, depressed because she couldn’t produce any eggs. During the past chaotic days she had refused to take sides in either of the political disagreements but chose to glare disdainfully at all the farce. Over the previous night, a strong harmattan wind swept the republic, ripping off the small aluminum roofing off her shed. She saw this as a sign of an impending danger that would rile the republic in the face of the looming elections. Right after the first crow that morning, she strutted off to the center of the grassy field and began her first words in the form of lamentations.
Gravity pulls us apart In the way that we collide within opposite meanings Strapped in awe at the way providence subsists beyond imagination, We are warned about the future A greater evil to beguile our past And foreclose our present
If you stand disunited and blind To the obvious signs and realities The deep growl at our doorsteps Then, it would be too late to cry
Friends and enemies are all the same Friends and enemies both can hang Follow your gut, not your thirst Never acknowledge anticipation even if it exists I refuse to be devoured anymore by this beautiful nightmare
And with that the blue pullet began dancing in a waltz. By now most of the chickenry who had heard her were already out, staring passively at the pullet as she raised dust in the centre of the field. Till she stopped abruptly and marched out of the republic, never to be seen again.
Trouble was indeed begging to enter the scene. Back over at the Eleme forest where Lucky, Hen and Chicky had recently crossed, the black kites that lived in the big raffia tree had returned from their scavenging in the northern parts of Isi. They were thirsty and angry; the gourd of water they had left behind was now empty. The ravens reported that it was stolen by some chickens who lived on an abandoned farmland miles away from the forest. The black kites shook the dust off their feathers, getting ready for an unexpected, vengeful visit.
7
“LUCKY IS A WEAK LEADER. You have no business voting for him and his kind. He cannot handle this republic effectively. He will only bring misfortune to us.” Chicky cried
The Grey Jungle fowls eyed the opposition’s supporters to check their reactions then swayed their heads in unison, to show their agreement with Chicky’s terse speech. Most of the supporters for Buha’s Broomstick party were in fact the northern Grey Jungle fowls along with the oblivious pigeons and doves lending their attention to the sideshow. It was election day. As well, it was set aside by Badu the election organizer, to iron out political agendas and mandates through campaigns. A debate was also arranged between both presidential candidates. But Buha had warily declined to participate, claiming that such an activity would be influenced in favour of the Umbrella party’s candidate. The debate was expected to be in the form of a cockfight before an individual speech by both, to prove to the chickenry who was physically stronger than the other. The thought of a grueling cockfight had incensed the excitement among the chickenry. Population was now more than 150 including alien species like pigeons, doves, swallows, martins, sparrows and indigo birds.
“We need a strong leader that can tackle all our troubles and make this a great republic. No power can rescue us from the brink of collapse and underdevelopment. Lucky has condoned corruption in his administration already. How can 250 eggs all of a sudden go missing in the middle of the night? No clues, no questions asked, no action taken thereafter, nothing! Buha is a strong leader, you should vote for him! He would never let such happen.” Chicky voiced again.
Leaning against the western side of the republic’s walls quite close to where Chicky was voicing his support for Buha, was Olu speaking to a small group of Brahma hens. Over time, Olu had become disillusioned with the Umbrella Caucus and decided to come out of his shell when the blue pullet surprised everyone with her lamentations that morning. He claimed to know about another conspiracy no one was yet aware of.
“Let me tell you Brahma hens something. This Umbrella caucus is extremely corrupt. No one bothered to ask why our excess grain reserves were depleted overnight. Because the members of the Umbrella caucus who happen to be in charge of these resources on our behalf, decided to share large parts of these reserves among themselves. And secretly, we are having a shortage of resources. But they haven’t let this information out for fear of losing their popularity with the chickenry. It is sad. I refuse to
associate myself with any of this evil but will voice what I know to you because I feel a strong responsibility to do so.” Olu spoke in Yoruba to elaborate his point better to the monolingual hens. But it was Chicky’s voice that rose even higher than ever, again turning most heads in his direction:
“Only a fool would tramp down a road that he is aware has a road block at its fore! And I would rather vote for a wild animal than vote for the continuity of the Umbrella caucus which only reeks of failure, incompetence and cowardice. Vote for Buha!!!”
Strong shouts and applause greeted Chicky’s speech again, most of it coming from the Grey Jungle fowls and the Kadanath chickens scattered across the open pasture. Lucky had just emerged from the barn house where supporters of the Umbrella caucus were having their own extra-ordinary campaign in his support. But the number inside the barn house was smaller than those who were outside listening to Chicky. Lucky stood observing all that was going on, sadness and doubt growing within him. He felt his popularity waning faster than a quenching camp fire.
8 MINUTES LATER, Badu emerged from his private shed into the open area with a special announcement to be made to all the chickenry.
“Hens and Cocks, Pullets, cockerels and chicks; I have a special announcement for you all! The elections have now been delayed for another day and will be held tomorrow. We have decided to do this because the election organizers need more time to evaluate the actual population of the republic to make sure that all participate actively. We need to verify the original citizens of the republic from the aliens; we need to know how many veteran chickens are among us; we want to know how many breeds are among us.”
And there was a resigned confusion among all because of this. Most seemed to have expected it. The postponement was in fact, Lucky’s idea to buy his party more time to recapture the popularity. Although it didn’t seem at first suspicious, conspirators eventually saw this new development as another intimidating tactic. The excuse was a flimsy one for postponing the elections. Such verifications could be answered quickly. However, the rest of the chickenry were too busy campaigning for their candidates to
pay much interest to all talk of intimidating tactics. Negative campaigning to win over popularity had now become a political mien. Most of it used to scandalize the Broomstick party’s candidate. Fani, a native rooster with a V-shaped comb, a member of the Umbrella caucus verbally attacked Buha claiming he was as old as his mother and should then be considered old enough to be his father. Most of the chickenry found this funny especially the Brahmas. Eventually, there came murmurs among the others that a victory for Buha in the elections was a defeat for the whole republic. Earlier it had been revealed that Buha indeed had an unworthy past. In his younger years as a cockerel, he had briefly ruled a small native land in the centre of Isi with an iron heart. Using his powerful beak, he severed the heads of many who opposed his leadership then. Had it not been for a brave group of rats who overthrew him overnight, Buha could have slain more deviants. Knowledge of Buha’s past brought a stain upon his integrity; wildly questioning the manner he would adopt to achieve his legacy (if elected), which was to fight against corruption and the ongoing evils in the republic. 86% of the chickenry believed that corruption was a problem on the republic; 81% believed there was a mismanagement of resources; 66% felt the incumbent Umbrella caucus administration did not really care about the rest of the chickenry; 74% believed the republic was headed in the wrong direction; and 79% felt Buha was the one that could avert these problems. But 82% still had an unfavorable view about Buha, and 72% were concerned about his extremism.
Remarkably Buha remained silent through these vocal assessments, but eventually decided to partake in the cockfight against Lucky to prove he was worthy. On the day of the election, each chicken was given two leaves to be used as makeshift ballots, one green and the other a faded yellow. They were warned not to ruin the ballot-leaves once it was noticed that some pullets were already pecking on theirs. To the right crouched the supporters of the Umbrella caucus while the Broomstick party supporters who had broomsticks in their wings crouched to the left on the dry grass. The pigeons, doves, swallows, martins, sparrows and indigo birds lingered amongst the chickenry as they all watched Buha and Lucky before them, standing head to head, staring viciously in each other’s eyes, ready to begin the cockfight.
“Shake off your tail feathers, and scratch on your wattles… The contest begins now.” Announced Badu, amidst the distant rumble of thunder.
9 THE ATTACK WAS SWIFT AND UNEXPECTED. Flocks of Kites pelted upon the republic like rain dropping in the middle of a hail-storm. The chickenry scattered in frenzy. The pigeons, doves, swallows, martins, sparrows and indigo birds flew high into the dark skies and away from the republic. Only the flightless chickens were left scurrying for safety. Kites swooped into nests to seize little chicken hatchlings. Hens took off from their clutches in panic; some had their heads ripped off before they could react. A particular mother hen hovered over her chicks, only to find that one of hers had unfortunately let loose from her protective care. Swiftly a kite swooped in, and was midair with the chick in his claws when the mother hen defied nature and the rest of her clutches in a histrionic act of heroism. She made it on time, delving her own blunt claws into his neck, causing him to nose-dive back into the ground after a quick midair-tussle. Landing in a vicious thump, his neck was snapped and her left wing crumpled. Only the saved chick emerged unscathed from the landing. Elsewhere, brave old Buha stood tall against the attackers. Beside an old abandoned wheelbarrow where he reeled in helpless chicks, cockerels and pullets, he positioned with a broad stick in his beak. The stick was sharpened on both ends with razors which he used to slew the necks of the predators. One by one, the predators landed dead, next to the last trails of blood they left behind after feeling the might of Buha’s weapon. Lucky too was adamant against the kites, but not quite as defendant as his political rival. He crept up the roof of the barn house to untie the thick strings that held together six logs of thick wood. The logs fell almost immediately, smashing the heads of some kites that had begun scavenging on two dead pullets on the ground. Other members of the incumbent Umbrella caucus were nowhere to be seen; even Hen had disappeared into thin air. More panicked chickens crept into the barn house for safety but were duly trapped there by more kites for more slaughtering. The roof of the barn house had begun to cave-in gradually, collapsing bit by bit. Lucky was still determined to prove he wasn’t lily-livered. A young poussin had its leg trapped in a mouse trap, two kites had spotted it and were gaining in for a feast. Lucky picked up a huge oval tray set flat in a hidden corner, and tossed it on the kites, knocking them out. And within the hidden corner was a big hole covered in hay. Inside, Lucky discovered that someone had stashed so many eggs. There were about 300 of them, and they were already hatching.
10 RAIN NOW SHOWERED DOWN HARD. The kites flew off at once back to whence they came. An abomination among fowls, they didn’t like the rains, not in the slightest. The republic was now a complete ruin. Dead bodies lifelessly longed for their severed heads. Blood, their very souls and
animism, being washed away by the downpour. A deadening swansong filled with pelting drops and angry thunder mused through the republic. Just a few had survived the onslaught. The barn house still stood shyly, its roofing a mimetic look of a gele-headtie that resembled a schlock. The only heartwarming sight was that of Lucky leading some of the newly hatched chicks out of the barn house. Lucky walked up to where Buha was leaning against the side wall, Chicky’s head lay splayed on the ground. Adjacent Buha, the walls had crumpled, he was surprised to see a ledge off the banks of a stream further ahead. He gazed forlornly around the republic. Buha had been weakened by his efforts to save others, even if he had killed dozens of kites on his own. He had seen suffering here like he saw in the past wars he partook in. If there were any wrong intentions he harboured, now he felt differently. He knew he first had a responsibility to lead, to unite all the tribes and factions that were left on the republic, for things to be right.
“Chicky was right you know ...” Lucky said, “The republic doesn’t need a weak leader ... Congratulations, I relinquish leadership of the republic to you.” He satisfactorily congratulated Buha because, he knew the ruin that the republic would run into if his party won the elections, the chaos and bloodshed of a few minutes ago proved the inefficiency of his administration. He knew it all. That was the reason why he didn’t want the elections to be rigged.
“I realize now that I am totally inept for the job. This I know for a certainty. Now you can start rebuilding.” And with that, he walked out of the republic never to be seen again.
” © 2015 Henri O. Dimobika ALL RIGHTS RESERVED