I sat in the extreme back seat of the long slow and Steady bus,yeah, that was the name of the bus, slow and Steady. It has been six years now and am going back home. I have spent most of my years training as a spy and also a crime fighter, it had not been easy but nothing good ever comes easy. I rose from a family of five children, I am the second child and unlike other middle born, I happen to be choleric. I grew up in the small village of Atata in the eastern region. I am not naturally from the east but that was where I grew up. I attended the local primary school, I also finished my secondary school and then my uncle decided to take me to the city, it was there I got trained to be a spy, my uncle actually registered me in the institute. We were given tough trainings, I learned to climb trees like monkeys, squeeze myself through tiny holes like earthworms and Cats, fight against bigger boys in camp, eat stone like breads and fight for my right. Some of us died in camp, only the fittest survived. Some had to fight wild animals for their lives, some died during what we call test of faith, while others during trainings. One thing about us is that, no matter what happens, you are never to reveal your identity as a spy. Thank God for me, after everything, the ups and downs, I finally made it alive, but my face have a different story to tell. I was still handsome but not like I used to be. My name is Gabriel, I am a 24 year old spy, am going back home now after six years, not going home to be useless, I'm going to rest until the institute have a mission for me. The bus finally entered Atata village , the place had not changed a bit, it was still how it was six years back when I left the village. The ground was still filled with red sand, try trekking down a little bit and you will gladly have a beautifully decorated red trouser, you would be so lucky if the trouser happens to be a white one. Okay, back to reality, my name is Gabriel and after six years am coming back home. I nodded my head to the song being played from the small radio in the bus ♪ hello my friend have you been, yesterday are back again …♪

• Eze Ani the chief priest of Ani stood in front of the igwe and his cabinet members, he was holding his long iron rod with which he would hit on the ground at intervals, I had come to the palace with my dad, my dad had actually brought me to show me to the igwe, his long time son is back. " igwe, the gods are angry" Eze Ani the chief priest of Ani shouted after a while as he hit his iron rod on the tile floor of the igwe palace, he is an old man probably in his eighties, he is a tall thin man that looks like he was going to fall any moment but no, the man stood strong, where he got his strength from, no one knows. Beside him is a young woman, probably in her thirties, she was weeping sorrowfully, in her hand lies a dead young man, a teenager to be precise, probably her son or brother. " Eze Ani, please speak up, what have we done to deserve this, why is it during my reign that my people starts dying like chickens? What have we done to anger the gods?" The igwe spoke shaking his hands, the igwe is also an elderly man. " Ani has refused to speak, there shall be more deaths, more more people are still going to die, blood will flow" Eze Ani the chief priest of Ani said. " This boy should not be buried, let his body be thrown into the forest of Ani" the chief priest of Ani said again as he hit his iron rod on the floor and chanted out. I looked at the dead boy, he had a cut in his stomach region, by my level of experience I knew it would be a sword cut . That was a bit surprising, does that mean the gods go about killing people with sword? I asked myself. My mom has once told me that the gods are mysterious and can kill anyhow, but d--n it, I am a Christian, I dont believe in gods, I believe in God. " Ah, my good friend the wine tapper" the igwe hailed my dad, all the elders had left, they left after Eze Ani, none of them seems to like the igwe, they believe he brought all this deaths upon their land, the body of the dead guy was also carried away by the king's guards, it was wrapped in a white cloth, it was to be dumbed in the forest of Ani. " Igwe eee,may you live longer than your ancestors" my father greeted as he prostrated in front of the igwe, I also prostrated but did not say anything. " Get up omiyi my friend" the igwe said to my dad and my dad obeyed, the igwe then looked at me , he narrowed his eyes to help him have a clearer view of me. " Omiyi, is this not that your son that went to the city some years back?" The igwe asked my father. " yes igwe, so you still remember him?" My father replied him. " Oyinbo, come here" the igwe called me , I went to him and knelt down. " my son may you live long" the igwe said as he touched my head with a small rod. " Amen" I said while the Igwe laughed. " Oyinbo, you should say iseee" he corrected me. " iseee" I said as I got up. Oyinbo, isn't my name, it is actually a way of calling a white man. Me going to the city has automatically made me a white man. " Oyinbo, I hope you are going to help your father in bringing his fresh palm wine to me everyday?" the king asked while I nodded, imagine a trained spy now turned a palm wine server. We stayed a little bit long in the king palace, the king even served us kola, I took it but did not eat, I simply dont like kolas. As a little child, I have heard so much about the forest of Ani, they say it happens to be filled with bodies of those who died mysteriously. Rumour has it that the spirits of those people normally roam round the land of Atata at night, that is why if you listen well in the midnight, you are sure to hear strange sounds. When I was much younger, I had actually believed all this rubbish but as the years went by, after all my exposure, I concluded that it was just trash, mere trash and those strange sounds you hear at night are either from crickets or owls. I and my father left the palace happily that day, it was a nice time with the igwe. I happen to be the most favourite child of my dad even as a little boy,my dad isn't tgat a young man, he is in his forties. You know, this village men, they give birth to children anyhow. He gave birth to his first child, my elder sister at the age of 18, I happen to be his second child , I have two younger sisters and a brother, they are all in secondary school, the village secondary school to be precise. " Oyinbo, from tomorrow, you will start helping me in my wine business" my dad said as we walked back home. " Dad, why don't you stop this wine business, I have made enough money to help you open.." I was interrupted. " My son, my fathers did this wine business, from this wine business, I had been able to train you all in school, I can not stop it " my dad said smiling and patting me, I just had to comply with him, does the fact that your fathers did the business make the business unchangeable? I asked myself again, anyways that was their belief.

• My immediate younger brother is John, if am not mistaken, he should be 18 years now. He is the most handsome of us, he is fair , tall and muscular as I am , he is in his final class in secondary school, his ambition is to be a lawyer. I had also wanted to be a medical doctor but condition changed it for me. Anyways I am more happy now as a spy , I get paid for doing nothing, of course I deserve to be paid after all those killer trainings we went through. The fourth child, Linda, she happens to be a talkative, she is 16 years and got no respect for anyone, she is the most stubborn of us all, she goes about the village fighting people, especially boys, she hates boys, I just dont know why. The last child is Charity, yeah her name is charity, she is very calm and behaves exactly like me, she is cool and fun to be with. She is 12 years and the most intelligent of us all.

My first sister is married, she stays with her husband in a neighbouring village, her name , faith, she should also be in her twenties like me, but in her late twenties

My mom use to be the most beautiful village maiden when she was much younger, she also happens to be the best dancer during her time, it was her dance steps that brought my dad to her.

" Dad , what is all this deaths about?" I asked my dad as we walked home that day.

" My son, I fail to believe that the gods are actually responsible for all this" my dad whispered to me as he turned his neck left and right like a gossiper.