Kwadjo made a soft sigh and like one possessed he drifted his gaze to Uncle, the village head in a distance and asked bitterly, " uncle, why is it that I don't feel any sense of my Celestial Sah awakening?? I'm fed up now".
Meanwhile uncle like a nonchalant foster-father just gave a sign of small concern to the situation and came back to gulping down his alcohol until it was completely consumed.
He then let out a dejected sigh and shook his head before speaking, slurred in speech,"I can't really tell why my boy. Your case, your case is really different, probably in the whole wide world". After ending his statement, the village head turned his head towards the sky and spotted a faint glow emerging behind the thick dark clouds that were also changing color. He snorted instantly and wiped the mucus he had on his philtrum with his hand before speaking in his slurred tone again, "my boy the moon is coming out why don't you wait to see any last resort?? I'm telling you that this option is far too better, far too better than what you're thinking!".
After saying this the village head turned to look at Kwadjo and discerned his pale face but ignored it for the time being and rather tried the persuasion again, "don't be lascivious my boy. I very much know how your situation disturbs your aim, but don't let that drive you into taking uncertain steps. The outcome is still unpredictable; who knows if it has dire consequences? My boy, are you through now?"
Regardless, the village head's persuasion was like crying over a spilled tea, thus, it didn't have the tiniest effect on Kwadjo making it meaningless anyway.
He made another dejected sigh and blamed in a murmur, "I am the cause of this, should I have kept my mouth shut, all these would have at least being better than this"
"Uncle , you just let me try for once. I definitely wouldn't ask again if I fail, I promise. Please!" Kwadjo pleaded, quickly standing with lightning speed, causing the branch on which he stood to creak as if could break at anytime. However falling wasn't something Kwadjo bothered about, because if he did, that creaking sound would have caused in him a panic that could have sent him jumping to somewhere safe. But it seemed like the matter pressing on his mind was way far relevant than him falling.
By now, tears had already welled up in his eyes making him appear desperate and childish as he slightly bowed his head towards the village head, whom he called uncle.
Meanwhile Uncle, the village head weakly shook his head as if he had crushed in life with no option finding a suitable way out then quietly gazed at the crestfallen Kwadjo who was standing with his head slightly bowed, full of sorrow. From the village head's facial expression, one could clearly discern that he hated to see Kwadjo plead or bow towards him, but he didn't have the absolute control of this situation. From this it could be clearly told the relationship they shared was profound and genuine.
....
It's important to note that while Kwadjo called the village head, for that was his identity, 'uncle', it really didn't mean he was his biological uncle. To crown it all, the person whom Kwadjo called uncle was the 'custom selected' leader of the entire Yen Kwan village. However despite his position, to most people he was an aimless person who had no reason to chosen as the village head and so only few people contacted him, among which is Kwadjo himself. A few years ago the now village head was known as an improvident hero in mistake to his chosen name as hero in taunting of his name hero. He became the topic that was mostly discussed in the entire village as a very funny guy who after getting drunk goes around babbling about him being one of the greatest heroes who had ever existed beyond the mountains. However due to a fatal accident he had plummeted to square zero resulting him the miserable life he now lived.
To believe this guy was certainly impossible. Because that's the tale he told almost every day either in the harmattan or in the wet season. What's more, after reciting his tale, he starts to beg for food from various houses. And if one was generous enough to give him just a slice piece of bread, he turned that home into his free restaurant until he didn't get enough food to eat from that house then he would move to another, and the same procedure continues.
Aside this life he was a palm wine tapper, and so becoming a drunkard wasn't something that surprised the village folks. But rather, how a palm wine tapper with such a big land of palm wine could never Cater for himself! How could such a person call himself a hero?? Or does he think the infamous heroes beyond the mountains become heroes when they can't handle just cater for themselves??
Like he had no house, no wife, no different clothes to wear until he became an uncle, no nothing, like if it wasn't for Mrs. Abena's exceptional generosity this guy would have lived, died and be buried like a dog.
Either he drunk all the palm wine or the palm wine rather didn't meet expectancy, it's unsure why the biggest palm wine tapper never had palm wine for anything else but himself.
It got to a point where he starved all day long and death neared him, that was when he met his savior Ms. Abena a widow with one gorgeous son. She was so generous enough to bear every babble or torment the improvident hero gave her day-in and day-out, and even went too far to give him a room in her small wooden house of two rooms and an appealing dinning hall, completely avoiding the umapproval eyes of others. Ms. Abena is a trader who sells beautiful beads and clothes made personally by her without any exterior help. She is a very hard worker and many said it was owing to that fact were her all products rendering excellence. But when she was asked of her secret, she denied the sense that people believed it was because she put into her craft a lot of effort. She rather said it was a simple method she used in her work, taught by her late mother, called the easy and effective craft method. According to her, before here, in the community she to use live this was one of the noblest jobs ever so even her style would be no special should it be taken to that community.
Many were those who were dissentients, saying Ms. Abena put in a lot of effort into her work. But being honest was what Ms. Abena had told them all. Like how could a natural nurtured and generous person like Ms. Abena ever lie, even infront of the then village head?
She never found her job difficult like how the others did, complaining almost about it on every product they brought out. Her profound fathom on using clay, cassava Leaf stalks, brass, and colorants to make beads was just exquisite and had no flaws. The only hardworking was she searching for the materials she needed for her work, supporting other farmers on their farm, and most tediously taking care of little Kwadjo. When it came to her craft, she was just an in-built expertise.
Years later, the improvident hero had finally stopped his daily tales after he was relentlessly restrained by Ms. Abena and little Kwadjo who was still growing. They became a trio family of happiness and after Kwadjo could speak, the improvident hero himself told him to call him uncle as his name. It was later around those days did the village head die from a certain disease leaving the leadership bare. But that was not a problem for not chosing his successor for that was naturally a solved problem. So after his final funeral and burial, as custommed demanded the oldest person in the village would naturally become the next chief and so it was the improvident hero who was just a few months older than the second oldest person in the village. He very much knew the customs so he couldn't deny despite the extreme disapproval of the people. Customs are customs and no one is above the custom. He then became the leader.
So this is the type of relation the village head have with the village folks. And with Kwadjo and his mother, they share an unbreakable bond.
Uncle, the village head couldn't help but give in. He said somewhat solemn, "okay, okay, after the upcoming festival I would give you my answer".
The instant moment he heard this, one could see that the once downhearted Kwadjo quickly transitioned to a smiling puppet. Without looking back, Kwadjo somersaulted landing perfectly beneath the gnarled mystic tree that was about 11 feets above the ground.
Around its area, all the bushes were cleared and no other tree was anywhere near it. It was like a lonely ghost left to its troubles without any disturbance or support.
Under its wide shade, Kwadjo's full figure that was made vague by the leaves of the tree was finally visible. It turns out he was a slender malnourished figure who appeared pinched making his growth a delayed progress. For a boy his age, 10 years or so, he definitely had to appear better than this, a thin boy who looked like he was just 5.
Meanwhile uncle, the village head looked down at the happy Kwadjo shaking his head with a soft smile hovering as he murmured, "to be so interested about the world beyond the mountains despite knowing something about what exists there at your age,.....hmmm".
....
....
....
Indeed Yen Kwan village was a village living in an interdependent way. If not, the once improvident hero wouldn't have had food to eat if he went for begging and Ms. Abena wouldn't be helping others on their farm. But the reason the improvident hero was left to face death was that he was too dependent but did nothing for anyone, not even Ms. Abena until the day fate brought the moon of house's vision far beyond the Carmine Mountain Range with the constant call of his name, leaving him no option but to leave. Going on a path of his destiny!