The town was located in a valley surrounded by rocks and mountains in a semi-circle. The mountains are lush with green leafy shrubs. The town with its undulating plains is carpeted by a reddish-brown soil. Malam Ilu’s, was a small mud house, with an over-ladened thatched roof which is squalid and needed no professional to infer that its four rooms are inadequate for its twelve occupants. As if decrying the strain on it, arrays of spidery cracks can be seen on the walls of the house, forming a patterned street map.
Searing through the quietness of the breaking dawn and armed with assortments of farm implements, Malam Ilu bellowed to Hassan and Hussaini to wake up. It was his fashion of ordering his twin boys to wake up and ready themselves for the trip to the small family farm. A man in his mid-sixties, Malam Ilu is tall, gaunt and stooping. His forehead creased with furrows of worry. His face was bearded with faded mercury gray hair.
Malam Ilu told the boys to wash their faces and say their morning prayers. They did as were told, each trying to stifle the impending yawn indicative of the need for more sleep or for food that was characteristically inadequate due to the nature of the family and the dearth of supply. They finished praying and hurried through the narrow path to the farm, side-tracking the kwata-yashi river, which is a hub for fishermen and fish traders.
The identical twins are a youthful version of their father. They are tall, endomorphic, but muscular. Theirs were specific tasks. They were to hoe off the parasitic plants springing up close to their crops and thereby competing for scarce soil nutrients; and to stake the crawling leaves of the yam crop; to pick some vegetables (a supply meant to supplement family dinner back at home); and pick entrapped fish from the immersed fishing mesh. Setting the pace, the aging and ailing old man worked tirelessly and with consistency, thereby indirectly challenging the youth in his children. The trio worked hard and actualised their goals. Each of the workers was already tasting the salty sweat from his body, indicating dehydration, fatigue and the passage of time. At exactly mid-day, the farmers packed up their implements and harvested provision for family lunch, and were home bound.
On their way home, the father, cleared his throat and said “my sons, I may appear to be hard on you, but how can I be, without equally being hard on myself. Times have been hard, giving me more than a fair share of hardship.” He went further to explain that they were suffering because he had a large family and the pride of every man lies in what he can provide for his family, else he will be irresponsible and grossly unfair to self, spouse and children. So had Malam Ilu delivered his veiled lamentation.