Escape From Sambisa Forest

Five

While Jabal, Hafsat, Asabe and Jummai were creating a diversion under the tutelage of the old man, El’Nasar and his deadly herd arrived at the scene where Chizo had met his death at the sentry post.

             Rana went barking into the air as he sniffed and puffed around the spot Jabal and late Chizo had had a fracas. Dere wandered around one, two and three spots, where he perceived the scent of the missing three girls.

             “This is where they killed Chizo last night,” El’Nasar explained, as he scanned the forest around them, sweating profusely. “I want everyone to spread out in a circle. Check under every blade of grass.”

             The dogs squatted at El’Nasar’s feet, wagging their tongues. This was the stage in which the dogs let the militiamen do the soldiering. The dogs will try to pick up the scent again if the search produced no results.

             El’Nasar sat on the wooden bench in the shade of the outpost and took his time wrapping and lighting his loose tobacco. He waited impatiently for his men to turn up with the good news.

             He waited for close to an hour.            

             The head hunters turned up nothing.

             One after the other, the militiamen returned empty-handed. They gathered under the cool shade and smoked weed and puffed cigarettes.

Dere and Rana stared dully back at them. It looked like their reward was long in coming. Every successful hunt usually resulted in a reward for the dogs. If the men came back and no reward was forthcoming, the dogs knew instinctively that their job was not yet over.

             “Phew!” El’Nasar squeezed his lips between thumb and index finger and blew a piercing whistle with his mouth that only the dogs understood its meaning.

             Hunting time.

Rana’s long, brown ears shot high up and forward of his forehead. Dere did the same. Both dogs knew the signal well. Without further urging, both dogs climbed to their feet, stretching lazily, and waiting for instructions. Sometimes the search ended prematurely and everyone went away. This was not going to be one of those lucky times.

             El’Nasar charged the dogs to resume with the job at hand. Within a few minutes, the dogs hit trail again, eastwards, this time. It took the team almost one and half hours to hit upon the old man’s lone hut, long after Jabal and the three girls had left.

             The old man was waiting for them in front of his hut, pretending to be weaving a palm fond mat.

             El’Nasar and his team came to a stop in a horse shoe formation, enclosing the old man. El’Nasar did not like what he saw. He immediately smelled foul play, without knowing why. Was it the way the old man sat, as though anticipating his arrival? It spelt bad news. It was obvious that Jabal and the girls had made it thru here, and El’Nasar was staring at his own tail.

             “Alright, old man,” El’Nasar said, “which way did they go?”

             “Who are they?” asked the old man.

             El’Nasar lifted the old man by his shirt lapel, his dark, ugly face twisted into a ferocious snarl.

             “Don’t mess with me, old man,” El’Nasar said, his face only a few inches from the older man’s wrinkled face. “You know who I’m talking about. A boy with three girls. Which way did they go?”