THE HITMAN’S APPRENTICE

Akanni was a known dullard. His performance in school was consistently poor and no matter how hard he tried, he could never acquire any useful skill. Carpentry, pottery, hunting, weaving; the list goes on. He tried a hundred and one things but none of them stuck.

Frustrated by his many failures, Akanni’s father, Alade, took matters into his own hands. Alade decided to loan his son out to one of the town’s renowned herbalists as an apprentice. However, being aware of Akanni’s reputation, none of them would have him. That is, none except Ajala.

Ajala had a reputation of his own. Rumour had it that, instead of healing people with herbs, Ajala practised dark magic. And for a price, he could whip up a potion that would send a person to an early grave. None of this had been proven, of course, but that didn’t matter. Everyone in town believed it and so it was.

One might wonder why a powerful and infamous herbalist like Ajala would accept the town’s failure as an apprentice. This is how that story goes. Ten months prior, Ajala’s first son had taken a wife. In keeping with his reputation and his pompous nature, Ajala had insisted on paying the bride’s father seven cows, even though the man had only requested two as bride price. He was determined to prove once and for all that he was the greatest man in the land, second only to the king. And to do this, he would pay a bride price that no one had ever paid and perhaps never would after. Ajala did not have seven cows or enough money to purchase them, but this did not deter him. He went up to Alade the cattle seller and purchased seven cows on credit.

In the ten months following his son’s wedding, Ajala could only pay for two out of the seven cows, which was a lot, all things considered. Business had not been very good in the past year. The rumours about his use of ‘dark magic’ had begun to affect his business. In the end, Akanni’s father suggested that if Ajala could make a decent apprentice out of Akanni, he would deem it as payment for the third cow. So, Akanni and Ajala entered into a relationship with a lot of reluctance on both sides. Akanni was reluctant to serve or learn from a peddler of dark magic – as far as he was concerned, Ajala was a spiritual hitman and he had no intention of becoming a hitman’s apprentice.

Although Ajala prided himself on being the best herbalist in the town, rating his skills far above those of the charlatans in the town who had the temerity to call themselves herbalists, he wasn’t so far removed from reality that he would think his skills were worth a cow as payment – and mind you, not the lanky, hungry-looking ones that Alabi sold at the market square but the full-bodied, majestic-looking cows that Alade was famous for selling. Whenever Ajala thought of Alade and Alabi’s cows, he invariably ended up thinking about a dream he once had where seven lean cows swallowed up seven fat cows.

Dragging his thoughts away from the troubling dream, Ajala’s reluctance was borne out of the fact that the rumours about Akanni being good for nothing had to be true, otherwise, why would Alade bribe him with a cow just to train Akanni? Apprentices did not typically pay to acquire skills because apprenticeship was seen as a mutually beneficial relationship where there was value exchange. The master received payment in the form of help rendered by the apprentice, and for the time spent and assistance rendered, the apprentice received payment in the form of acquired skills.

If the master was kind-hearted, he or she would give apprentices who completed their training a financial gift to help them set up their practice. Alade’s willingness to part with a cow for his son to become an apprentice reeked of desperation, but no matter how desperate the situation seemed, Ajala could not pass up the opportunity to reduce his debt.

Apart from the cow, another reason Ajala agreed to train Akanni was because Alade was a well-respected man in their town. Not only was he wealthy and well-known; he was also regarded as an honourable man. Ajala wondered what it must feel like for such a distinguished man to be cursed with a child who failed miserably at everything. The fact that Akanni was his father’s first son made matters worse in a town where first sons were regarded as their fathers’ pride. Thanks to Akanni, whatever was left of Alade’s pride lay in his cows. Ajala reminded himself that he never promised to turn Akanni into a great herbalist. He only promised to tutor him and he would do so.

---

Barely two months after Akanni’s apprenticeship began, Ajala was at his wit’s end. With Akanni, it was a case of one week, one trouble. Ajala was often so busy putting out fires (which Akanni always started) that he sometimes didn’t have enough time to teach his other apprentices or even attend to all his customers. The last fire was literal. Ajala decided to teach the apprentices how to breathe fire like a dragon. It was a skill that was required of any self-respecting herbalist in their town. For clients to respect, and even fear a herbalist – and any decent herbalist should be – it was important that the herbalist could speak the language of the gods. What better proof of this was there than to breathe fire? All Ajala did was ask Akanni to take some clear liquid from the room that was used as a store and give it to one of the other
apprentices, a boy named Lekan. The clear liquid was in a container on the left side of the room. Lekan was to mix the clear liquid with a potion which the apprentices would smear on the inner linings of their mouths to be able to breathe fire without getting burnt. How could anyone have known that instead of grabbing the white container on the left side, which contained the clear liquid, Akanni would grab the black one on the right, which contained kerosene?

Even though Ajala had come to accept the fact that Akanni was daft, he did not agree with the townsfolk who labelled him a good-for-nothing, until the fire incident. The fire breathing class started like every other one. If the right liquid had been used to make the concoction, Lekan would have breathed fire from his mouth like a dragon, his mouth protected by the concoction.

However, Ajala smeared the insides of Lekan’s mouth with the kerosene concoction and then set his mouth on fire. Lekan screamed, running around in circles. Ajala and the others, and even Akanni, laughed, thinking that Lekan was goofing around as the young men were wont to do. But there was something about Lekan’s shrieks and the terror in his eyes that could not be feigned. That was when Ajala grabbed a handful of sand from the ground, ran to Lekan and shoved it into Lekan’s mouth to put out the fire. Lekan passed out after that. His mouth and lips were burnt, and only Ajala’s quick thinking stopped the damage. The sand absorbed most of the heat, ensuring that Lekan didn’t suffer third-degree burns. Lekan’s father, whom Ajala considered something of a loudmouth, insisted that Akanni was a menace to society and was to be expelled from the apprenticeship if his son was to remain under Ajala’s tutelage.

He was only placated by Alade’s offer to bear the cost of Lekan’s treatment and provide a choice selection of cow shoulder to Lekan’s mother. Ajala felt sorry for Alade; if Akanni’s foolishness continued, Alade would likely run out of cows to sell, not to mention offer as bribes.

Since the dragon incident, as Ajala liked to call it, he often wondered how it was that Akanni could not differentiate between the left and right corners of a room, and between black and white containers. If he could not carry out such a simple task, what were his chances of becoming a herbalist? He would have agreed with Lekan’s father and sent Akanni packing, despite the provision of choice cow shoulder to Lekan’s mother, but there was something about Alade’s honour that was infectious and inspired Ajala to behave honourably. So, he agreed to tutor Akanni for another two months, to see if something could be made out of him. That and the fact that rumour had it that Ajala’s arch-enemy had bet that Ajala did not have the patience and the maturity of character to tutor Akanni for three months. With the way things were going, Ajala hoped that he and Akanni would survive the three-month mark.

Also, the look of abject sorrow on Akanni’s face after each of these debacles did little to help. He always looked very remorseful, like he couldn’t help his stupidity, and this tugged at Ajala’s heartstrings, even though he tried to fight this unfamiliar sense of compassion that he was developing for the young man.
And so, Akanni had become what the other apprentices liked to call a spectator apprentice. This was because Ajala had instructed him to only observe and not participate, as his participation often led to some form of fiasco or another.

Akanni often got bored with his role as a spectator and he would wander into the forest behind the herbalist’s lodge. Ajala pitied him but decided to play it safe so that he and Akanni could survive the rest of the apprenticeship with some dignity. He noticed how sorrowful Akanni had become but there was nothing he could do about it. So he let Akanni wander into the forest since he often returned looking relaxed and less sad. But Akanni’s trips to the forest were becoming more frequent and longer than Ajala thought was necessary. He decided that he would have to talk to Akanni if their frequency and length did not reduce.

---

It was a slow day and Ajala watched Akanni disappear into the forest at about noon. Now it was almost sunset and Akanni wasn’t yet back. Ajala decided that he would have to talk to Akanni when he returned from the forest. The three-month mark was just about five days away, and Ajala knew that he had come too far to let anything spoil his hard work and patience. He was willing to tie up Akanni if that was what it would take for them to make it.

Lost in thought, Ajala heard what sounded like the crunch of dry leaves and looked up to find Akanni stepping out of the footpath that led into the forest. Donning a look that Ajala hoped was fearsome enough, he beckoned to Akanni, motioning him to sit on the floor in front of him. Ajala wiped his palms on the trousers he wore, ready to start a conversation that was sure to be awkward, if not painful for one or both of them. Nothing could prepare Ajala for the turn that the conversation took.

“Akanni, what time is it now and what time did you leave here?” Ajala began.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t realise that I have been gone for so long,” Akanni replied, head bowed and his hands fiddling with the corner of his shirt.

Ajala wondered how he could continue with the tough guy act when Akanni looked like a chick that had been badly drenched by the torrential monsoon rains. Still, the conversation had to be had for both their sakes. So, Ajala mentally adjusted his tough guy look, which was in danger of slipping off in the face of Akanni’s dejected look, and continued.

“You cannot abandon your responsibilities and go wandering off into the forest. You just go off day-dreaming in the forest as if you do not have any chores to do here,” Ajala thundered.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I wasn’t daydreaming, it’s just that we were having a long conversation.”

Ajala, who was beginning to settle into his tough guy role, did not hear Akanni. He shouted, “I forbid you from going into the forest!” Then Akanni’s words seemed to finally reach his ears. In a much gentler tone, Ajala asked, “Who were you having this conversation with?”

“With the plants,” Akanni simply replied.

Standing up from where he sat, he walked over to Akanni. As Ajala approached, Akanni looked frightened. When Ajala reached out to touch Akanni’s jaw to feel his temperature, Akanni recoiled as if he expected a blow. Satisfied that Akanni’s temperature was normal, he asked Akanni, “Have you eaten today?”

Akanni looked up at Ajala, surprised by the question, and kept mute.

Ajala scowled and raised his voice, his impatience apparent, “I asked if you have eaten today!”

“Yes S-s-sir,” Akanni stuttered in reply.

“You don’t have a fever and you have eaten, so what could have caused this delirium? You must be delirious because you are talking about talking to plants.” Ajala said mostly to himself.

The sudden change in Akanni’s demeanour was remarkable. Any fear or confusion he previously felt completely disappeared. No longer did he look shrunken as he looked up at his master. He clenched his jaws and replied calmly, “I know what I am saying. The plants speak to me, especially on windy days.”

Ajala stared at Akanni for what seemed like ages, then asked Akanni to go home. He was tired and needed a clear head to give a suitable response to Akanni’s declaration. Ajala thought of Akanni’s father and felt sorry for him. How would he break the news that his son was not only stupid but also touched in the head? How does one tell a man who had already borne so much that his son possibly had a mental illness that was now manifesting in the form of delusions?

Ajala, who was experienced in treating mentally unstable people, knew that such delusions typically started as harmless before progressing to situations where some of the patients had to be bound. Ajala sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. Remembering his late mother’s words, he decided to get some rest. His mother often said that every situation, no matter how bad it looked, appeared better after a good night’s rest. He didn’t doubt his mother’s words but he wondered if he would be able to get a good night’s rest.

Ajala stood up and gathered his belongings. He was too tired to think of Akanni and his father. He would figure out something tomorrow after he had had a good meal, a warm bath and hopefully, a good night’s sleep. He flung his bag over his shoulder and walked towards the approaching darkness, eager to relish the taste of his wife’s warm meal.

---

It was a beautiful day; the air was clean as if it had been washed by the rain that fell the previous night. The sun was high up, and the clear blue sky seemed to bask in its glory. All was well with the world, or so it seemed. The day started early but on a good note. Ajala awoke in the warm embrace of his wife, which became decidedly warmer on rainy nights. As dawn broke, he had spent the first two hours in bed, showing her how much he welcomed her embrace. She, in turn, had shown her appreciation by making him a large and delicious breakfast. And so, as he sat in front of his lodge replete with satisfaction, he felt a wave of contentment envelope him in a way it hadn’t in a long time. The day would surely only get better. He had emptied the places that needed to be emptied and filled up the places in his body that needed to be filled, and the lovely weather only added to his quiet enjoyment of it all.

Even his apprentices were behaving themselves today, including Akanni. There had been no fights, no domestic accidents or incidents. Ajala thanked the gods and decided that he could get used to this. His eyelids drooped as the fingers of sleep reached out to embrace him.

Ajala must have fallen asleep because he woke up to the pitter-patter of running feet, accompanied by the screams of women. He jerked upright and found himself staring at the town’s new headmaster, Mr Akpan, carrying the limp body of his only son, running towards him. Akpan’s wife and daughter followed in hot pursuit, screaming at the top of their lungs. Ajala wiped his eyes again to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. You see, Ajala had a history with Akpan. A few weeks after the headmaster came to town, something happened that resulted in him calling Ajala a sham whose hocus-pocus could not save anyone. Ajala did not know what hocus-pocus meant, but he knew enough to know that it was derogatory, an insult to his person and profession. Since then, there has been some sort of a cold war between both men.

Akpan stopped in front of Ajala and gently laid his son down. Ajala looked at the boy who lay at his feet with his jaw clenched, foaming at the mouth. Akpan looked him in the eye and simply asked, “Can you save my son?”

It was both a question and a plea. Whatever cold war there was between them was quickly forgotten. This was a desperate father asking another father for help. Ajala looked down at the motionless body and felt fear begin to form in the pit of his stomach. The clenched jaw, the foaming at the mouth, the yellowish tinge of the skin, the raspy laboured breathing, they all seemed to be pointing in a direction that Ajala didn’t want to consider.

Ajala cleared his throat and forced himself to speak, “What happened?”

It was the headmaster’s teenage daughter who replied, which was a welcome development since she couldn’t talk and whimper at the same time. She explained that with the approaching examinations, her brother and his friend had wanted to sleep less at night so they could study for longer hours. Someone had told them about a plant that would take away sleep and make them feel strong enough to study for long hours. She said that her brother and his friend had gone into the forest to pluck the leaves, based on the description that they had been given. The boys had decided to test the efficacy of the plant before the examinations began. However, her brother’s friend had to leave because he was summoned by his mother. After waiting for over two hours for his friend to return, her brother decided to test the efficacy of the plant by himself. Her brother plucked three leaves from the branch, washed them thoroughly and chewed them.

At the mention of the leaves, Ajala’s heart beat even faster and the fear in the pit of his stomach spread. He turned to the headmaster’s daughter, and in a squeaky-sounding voice asked, “Is there any remaining leaf? Can I see it, so I know what we are dealing with?”

Ajala had barely finished speaking when the headmaster’s daughter thrust the black nylon bag that Ajala only just noticed her holding, at him. He collected the bag and slowly unwrapped it. As soon as Ajala saw what was in the nylon bag, his worst fears were confirmed. He dropped the nylon bag and its contents as if he had been burnt by them. Ajala looked at the headmaster and back at the young boy who lay at his feet, and all that he could say was, “No,” repeatedly.

The look on Ajala’s face and the hushed gasps from the apprentices who had gathered around to witness what was happening must have told Akpan that the matter was indeed grave, but still, a father couldn’t simply give up when his son’s life was on the line. He looked Ajala in the eye and said in a pleading tone, “Please do whatever you can for my son. We already went to the government clinic but the doctors don’t come on weekends.”

Ajala spoke very gently – in the tone he often used with Akanni – as if he was trying to explain something to a slow child, “Oga headmaster, your son has eaten Apayon, and the poison has entered his blood. If you had brought him immediately after he ate it, there might have been a little chance of survival, but as it is, there’s nothing that I can do.”

Akpan’s wife removed her head tie and tied it on her waist on hearing Ajala. She looked like she was about to attack him. Her husband motioned to their daughter to take her away. Turning back to Ajala, the headmaster continued, “There must be something you can do.”

Ajala squeezed his hands together, looked at him mournfully and replied, “I am sorry. Eating those leaves is akin to being bitten by a cobra. And the fact that hours have passed without him receiving any treatment has worsened the situation.”

Even though she was a little far from Ajala, Akpan’s wife must have heard what he said. As soon as Ajala uttered the words dashing her hopes of her son’s recovery, she screamed and passed out.

The apprentices who had all been standing behind their master, keenly listening to his conversation with Akpan, immediately ran off to find a way to revive the headmaster’s wife. They all thought his daughter was very beautiful and were eager to show off their limited skills, even if it was only to revive a fainted woman. Some ran off to fetch water and others to get smelling salts, or whatever else would make her sneeze and wake up. They all dashed off except Akanni.

Akanni stepped forward and gently tugged at his master’s sleeves. Turning around, Ajala found himself looking at Akanni, the last person he wanted to see at a time like this.

With Akpan still kneeling in front of him, clutching his dying son, Ajala turned to Akanni, and in an exasperated tone asked, “What do you want now?”

“It is not too late, Sir.” Akanni muttered.

“Not too late for what?” Ajala asked, his exasperation growing.

“It is not too late to save him,” Akanni replied, pointing at Akpan’s dying son.

Ajala’s exasperation turned to anger. “And what exactly do you know about herbs?” he asked, his eyes spitting fire at Akanni.

“I know he can be saved,” Akanni replied with an uncharacteristic look of determination on his face.

Out of exasperation and a need to bring the irritating conversation to an end, Ajala asked, “And how do you intend to cure him?”

“I know his wife,” Akanni answered.

“You know whose wife? The headmaster’s wife? Who doesn’t? What has his wife or anybody’s wife got to do with saving this poor boy?” Ajala looked as if he was about to have a heart attack.

“I know he ate Apayon,” Akanni insisted.

“So? Please tell me something that I don’t know.”

“I know Apayon’s wife,” Akanni replied.

Ajala didn’t think he could get angrier than he already was, but on hearing Akanni’s last words, he felt as if he would explode. Rocking back and forth, as if to restrain himself from inflicting some bodily harm on Akanni, Ajala asked, “You know Apayon’s wife. So, are you telling me that herbs now have wives?”

“Yes, I am.” Akanni simply replied.

Whatever Ajala was about to say was left unsaid because Akpan, who had been keenly listening to the conversation, laid a restraining hand on him, and said in a pleading tone, “Please, let the boy finish. No matter how improbable it seems, I would like to hear what he has to say. I am about to lose my only son and so I am ready to listen to the most ridiculous solution, if there’s the tiniest hope that it could work.”

Turning to Akanni, a resigned expression on his face, Ajala said, “Akanni, continue.”

Akanni looked at both men and said, “I have been going to the forest for some time now, and most times when I am there, the plants talk to me.”

“Akanni!” Ajala screamed.

“Please,” Akpan said to Ajala who looked like he was about to have a fit. He nodded at Akanni to continue.

“Well,” Akanni continued, “One of the plants that spoke to me was Apayon, though he calls himself by another name.”

“How do you know that he is a he?” Akpan asked.

“Because he has a wife,” Akanni replied.

“A wife?”

“Yes, Sir” Akanni replied, “He has a wife. And his wife will save your son.”

“Akanni, stop making promises that you can’t keep,” Ajala admonished.

“It’s not me Sir, it’s Apayon’s wife that will save him. That is if we can find her within the next three hours.”

“Akanni …” Ajala interjected, but Akpan’s hand restrained him, stopping his flow of words. Ajala nodded at Akanni to continue.

“While in the forest, I found out that the very powerful plants often had even more powerful wives. Take Apayon for example. Even though he is very powerful, his wife, Sisi is even more powerful. As deadly as eating Apayon is, if the eater can also eat some Sisi before their arms begin to harden, the eater will be fine.”

“Can you identify Sisi?” Akpan asked in a voice tinged with hope.

“Yes, I can. I talk to her often. But she can be difficult to find, she loves to be wooed. Which is why they call her Sisi.”

Akpan’s wife woke up at that moment. The sight of her husband clutching their only son reminded her why she had fainted, and she began sobbing. Her husband turned to her and asked her to stop crying, informing her that there might be some good news. He went on to explain that she was to stay and look after their son, while he went into the forest with the herbalist and his apprentice to look for an antidote.

---

The journey into the forest was uneventful, if you could call Akanni’s periodic stops and seeming one-sided conversations with some plants uneventful. He invariably ended these conversations by asking if the plant he was speaking to knew where Sisi was. But the plants – according to Akanni – always insisted that Apayon was the best person to ask where his wife was. They trudged on, each man lost in his thoughts until they finally found Apayon.

Akanni greeted Apayon like a long-lost friend. In the course of their conversation, Akanni introduced the others and explained why they were there, and why they needed to urgently find Sisi. He even went on to reprimand Apayon for allowing himself to be used by children. Whatever Apayon said in his defence wasn’t made known to the two men who accompanied Akanni, since they couldn’t hear him. They didn’t ask, and he didn’t volunteer. As Akanni’s conversation with Apayon wound to a close, Ajala and Akpan exchanged a look.

Clearing his throat like someone about to make a difficult pronouncement, Akpan turned to Akanni and said, “Thank you Akanni but we have to go back now. We have been walking for over an hour, and it would take us maybe another hour to leave the forest. Since we haven’t seen this your Sisi, whatever her name is, I would like to spend my son’s last moments with him.”

“Sir…” Akanni began.

But his words were cut off by Ajala, who shouted, “Akanni stop this nonsense at once!”

What happened next was something that Ajala would never be able to explain. Maybe a less spiritually discerning man would not have even realized what happened, but Ajala could feel it. When he shouted at Akanni, he felt as if the entire forest had held its breath, likely in outrage that he had shouted at an important member of their tribe. In that moment, Ajala felt as if his life was in danger, and that whatever he said next would determine if he remained safe. Ajala was even more frightened when Akanni looked up at the trees, a broad smile on his face, and waved at the trees, like someone trying to appease another. Soon after, Ajala could feel the forest release its breath. Akanni looked at Ajala with different eyes.

“Akanni,” Ajala began gently, “It’s getting late and we can’t find Sisi. Maybe we should turn back now.”

“But we have found her,” Akanni replied.

“We have?” Both men replied in unison, a look of surprise on Ajala’s face and one of renewed hope on Akpan’s.

“Yes. Apayon said that she is hiding behind that big Iroko tree over there,” Akanni said, pointing to an Iroko tree about fifty meters from where they stood.

“And you believe Apayon?” Akpan asked.

Akanni cast a furtive glance at Apayon and firmly answered, “I trust Apayon completely.”

Meanwhile, Ajala’s gaze had followed Akanni’s, and when it finally settled on Apayon, he noticed that Apayon seemed to be swaying from side to side as if he was being blown to and fro by a strong wind. The scary thing was that only Apayon was swaying while all the plants around him looked to be at peace. Ajala wondered if Apayon had heard what the headmaster said and was offended. Thinking about it, he supposed that if a plant could talk, it surely would be able to hear. Not wanting to take any chance and eager to leave the forest. Ajala motioned to the other two, and said, “Let’s quickly find Sisi”. He didn’t wait for their answer as he set off, half walking and half running in the direction of the Iroko tree. He was eager to leave the forest while his senses were still intact. The faster they settled the matter of Sisi’s whereabouts, the quicker he could leave the forest.

By the time Ajala got to the Iroko tree, Akanni had caught up with him and was eulogizing Sisi. When it seemed like his words weren’t having any effect on her, his voice suddenly turned firm and he said, “Sisi, no more games! You need to show up now, the life of a young boy in his first bloom is at stake.”

There was a sudden rustling sound and they all turned to find a beautiful green and pink herb, which no one had seen earlier, swaying lightly.

“Aah, there you are!” Akanni shouted, smiling broadly as he walked towards the beautiful herb.

Akpan started to run towards Sisi, his hands outstretched, like he wanted to pluck her up in an embrace until a voice laced with authority ordered him to stop. Ajala looked around, wondering who the commanding voice belonged to, and then he realized that the voice belonged to Akanni. But this Akanni was not the one he knew as his apprentice. The Akanni that walked forward to stand in front of Sisi, serenading her like a man would a beautiful woman, was not the shy, often timid-looking apprentice he had come to know. This new Akanni appeared confident and totally in control of his environment, like a king who was at home in his kingdom.

Ajala would never really understand what happened next. All he knew was that one moment, Akanni and Sisi were meters apart, then the next moment Sisi was leaning into Akanni’s arms. He was certain that Akanni had not moved from where he was, but that would mean that Sisi, a plant, had walked to Akanni. That, Ajala was unwilling to believe.

Remembering the headmaster’s son, Ajala decided that he would have enough time to come up with a logical explanation for whatever was happening, what mattered now was getting Sisi to the dying boy. When Ajala had followed Akanni and Akpan into the forest, he had done so simply to please Akpan. It was not due to any belief in the existence of Apayon’s wife, or the ability of the said wife to heal the dying boy. But there was something about Akanni’s newly discovered personality that made Ajala an unwilling believer in Sisi, a herb that he’d never come across in his over thirty years of combing the forest. Lost in his thoughts, Ajala didn’t see how Akanni plucked the leaves from Sisi. All he saw was that Akanni now had two small branches of leaves in his hands. Ajala watched as Akanni apologized for the haircut that he had given Sisi and promised to bring her something nice to make up for it when next he visited.

The journey back to Ajala’s lodge appeared much shorter. Ajala didn’t know whether it was because Akpan had practically dragged Akanni in his quest to get back to his dying son quickly, or whether it was because Akanni didn’t stop to talk to any of the plants, not even Apayon.

Ajala could hear the sound of crying even from afar off. Akpan must have also heard the crying because he broke into a sprint, dragging Akanni along with him. When they got into Ajala’s compound, what Ajala saw left him with mixed feelings – compassion and irritation. He felt compassion at the pain that Akpan’s wife must be feeling, but he also felt irritation at the sight of his apprentices who had gathered around Akpan’s wife and daughter, crying along with them. He wondered if he was losing his touch; his apprentices typically turned out to be the most hard-hearted herbalists you could find. He wondered what he could have done for the gods to have chosen to punish him like this: a dimwit apprentice on the one hand who claimed to talk to plants, and on the other hand, a bunch of lily-livered apprentices who sat with women and children, wailing at the sight of a dying boy. Maybe it was time to heed the words of his naysayers and become a farmer.

“Come on! Get up and get lost!” Ajala roared at his apprentices, who slowly got up like old women, their grief making them sluggish. They approached him to welcome him back but he shooed them away. They clustered around Akanni, who simply smiled at them and said, “Stop crying, everything will be alright.”

Ajala could see the apprentices casting surprised glances at Akanni. It appeared that they too had noticed the new air of quiet confidence around him. They looked at their master for an explanation but Ajala looked away, shrugging his shoulders. How could he explain something he was trying to understand?
Akanni sat on the floor close to the dying boy, and said to one of the apprentices, “Please get me the small mortar and pestle.”

The apprentice, Leke, who was one of Ajala’s favourites, looked at Akanni as if he had lost his mind for daring to send him on an errand. “Why don’t you go and get it yourself?” he replied.

Ajala turned to Leke and shouted, “Will you get the mortar, my friend?!”

Turning to the other apprentices, Ajala continued, “Whatever Akanni asks you to do today, make sure you do it,” before stomping off in the direction of the toilet. Akanni’s stomach typically ran whenever he got very anxious.

When Ajala returned from the toilet, he saw that Akanni had pounded the leaves from one of the Sisi branches into a smooth paste. Turning to Akanni, he asked, “How many leaves did you use?”

“I used six leaves,” Akanni replied, “Two leaves for every Apayon leaf he ate. Normally, three leaves would be enough but the boy’s hands are beginning to harden.”

“Did you add any other thing?” Ajala asked.

“Apart from a little water, nothing else was added. This first dose has to be as potent as possible. If he wakes up soon, he will have another dose this evening.”

Akpan, who had been keenly following the conversation, burst in “What do you mean by if he wakes up? Are you saying that my son might die? But you promised…”

His words were cut off by the hand that Akanni placed on his arm. “There are more than enough Sisi leaves, and thankfully his hands have not completely stiffened. That would have been an entirely different matter. Your son will be fine.”

Ajala and Akpan watched as Akanni gently took the dying boy from his mother. He placed the boy’s head on his lap and began to gently wipe his foaming mouth.

Akanni motioned to Ajala to come forward and help pry the boy’s mouth open. Ajala quickly set to work, intent on opening the boy’s mouth. It wasn’t a very delicate job and Ajala didn’t stop to take a break, not even when he heard Akpan’s wife wince at the way her son’s mouth was forced open.

When Ajala was certain that Akanni had unfettered access to the boy’s throat, he motioned to him to continue. But Akanni hesitated, looking at the boy’s mother. He was reluctant to continue because what they were about to do was not very nice and he didn’t want the mother to witness it. Comprehension dawned as Ajala looked into Akanni’s eyes. He asked Akpan to take his wife and daughter a safe distance from the scene.

Akpan looked at his son, then at Akanni and Ajala without saying a word, then dragged his wife and daughter away, moving towards a nearby tree.

Watching Akanni about to begin, Ajala worried about force-feeding the unconscious boy, but mused that they did not have a choice. The alternative was to watch the boy die, so whatever risk they took was justified. Ajala wanted to take over the job, but Akanni stayed his hand. Watching Akanni perform the procedure was like watching a seasoned herbalist. He did it so effortlessly, as if he had been born to it. Ajala watched in awe. This was a procedure that Ajala had spent over a decade trying to perfect, and even he didn’t think he had it completely in the bag.

It suddenly occurred to Ajala that the months that Akanni had spent watching him work, months since the fire incident, during which the other apprentices had teased Akanni for being a spectator apprentice, had not been wasted. From what Ajala could tell, Akanni had absorbed everything Ajala had taught. The times when Akanni went into the forest were not because he couldn’t learn by merely observing, rather it was because he learned faster than all the other apprentices and so became easily bored. Akanni was born to save lives.

---

 
It had been two months since the headmaster and his family had come crashing into Ajala’s life and upended it. So much had happened in that time.
 
On that fateful day two months prior, Akanni had treated the headmaster’s son well into the night, refusing to allow anyone else to tend to him. The boy had recovered and returned to school in just a week. He could even write his exams. Akanni seemed to have finally found his calling; he had a knack for saving lives. People brought their sick loved ones from neighbouring towns to Akanni, whose skills saved many lives. He was so sought after that outside emergency cases, he had to create a reservation system. Ajala offered to make Akanni a partner, and he accepted on the condition that Ajala would no longer practice dark magic. He didn’t bother telling Akanni that his only attempt at using dark magic was long ago and did not end well.

They sealed the deal with a handshake.

Sometimes, Ajala felt as if he was the apprentice and Akanni had taken over his life. But the money was rolling in and his naysayers no longer had anything to say about him. Fate and a little patience on his part made him the man who produced the best herbalist in all of Western Nigeria. Even a few white-coat doctors from the city stopped by to study Akanni’s work from time to time. Instead of one cow, Akanni’s father forgave him two cows. Ajala now had enough money to pay his debt and revamp his wife’s trading business. Her friends envied her.
 
Akanni couldn’t believe how his fortune changed. One moment he was the black sheep of the family, the one who always brought shame to his parents, the next he had become the golden boy of not just his family, but the entire town. Just when he thought he would live a life of misery as the hitman’s apprentice, serving dark potions, he decided to open his mind to the voices that spoke to him whenever he went into the forest to cry. It was in the forest that he discovered that he was no hitman’s apprentice but the king of the forest. Some of the townswomen who had spurned his mother for having an imbecile as a son began to send their daughters on spurious errands to his mother in the hopes that he might take a liking to one of them.

THE END

Check out Kill Her Twice: another story by the same author here.