THE TREACHEROUS NIGHT.

In the dark of night, Dag, Pork, and Fred feasted on a roasted fish that had fallen from the table of a seller on Maxwell Street. As they relished each bite, they were distracted by a strange sound from a corner. Dag, the eldest, raised his head, but when he did not see anything, he lowered his head again and continued with the meal. Moments later, there was a big bang. Pork stopped eating and said, “What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Dag replied. He chewed noisily, staring at the darkness. Blaize limped out looking as if he had fallen from a tree.

“It’s only Blaize. I thought it might be Flinz. I would have snuffed the life out of the foul toad!” Pork boasted.

“Hey, guys! What do you have for me?” Blaize groaned.

Dag chuckled. “Why would a cat that has a rich owner be looking for a meal in this filthy place?”

Blaize wore a long face. “My new owner is not what we thought.”

“What do you mean?” asked Fred.

“Can’t you see that I’m limping? Dr. Pepper almost killed me a few days ago. I have been tending to my injury on one of the roofs on the other side of the street,” Blaize disclosed as tears gathered in his eyes.

“We must look after each other. What happened?” Dag inquired as he drew closer.

“There was a stubborn rat that the old man expected me to kill, but the little devil escaped into a hole as I tried to make a short work of him,” Blaize said as he shook his head in despair.

“That’s not enough to make him treat you badly. Age can be a terrible curse. If I may ask, how did you escape?” Pork asked.

Blaize inhaled sharply and said, “I had to pull a few strings to get out of the bloody mess.”

“I can’t believe that Dr. Pepper could be such an evil man,” Fred reacted.

“That was not the first time that I saw his dark side. Two weeks ago, he threatened me with a knife because a rat entered his cottage and ruined his old diary. And it wasn’t my fault because he always kept me in the cage,” Blaize said and began to sob gently.

Dag was discouraged. “I wonder why some people do not value life. I am looking forward to the day when we will all be free to walk the street and get equal opportunity to live the best life we can.”

Pork was the next to speak: “We are due for a revolution. But we do not have what it takes to confront these wicked people. What we need is an opportunity to express our grievances.”

“You are right. Someday our deliverance will stroll into our world!” said Fred.

As they rested on the wings of silence, Munroe, an elderly cat from William Otama Street, emerged from the evening shadows and approached the friends. “Dag, where is Blaize? His master, Dr. Pepper, is dying!” he said, panting.

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Dag sighed. “That is good for him: he’s been maltreating Blaize!” he said and turned away.

Blaize limped forward and faced Munroe: “What happened to Dr. Pepper?”

Munroe heaved. “A while ago, he had an encounter with Flinz. I chased a rat into his compound. As I was feasting on the rat, I saw Flinz stealing a fish from a table in the backyard. Dr. Pepper was in the kitchen. The angry old man grabbed a broom, and as he tried to hit the intruder, he stumbled and fell upon a bottle of cooking gas. I tried to fight Flinz but my blows were not enough As soon as he disappeared over the fence, I regained my footing, but when I looked back at the kitchen, I saw Dr. Pepper engulfed in an inferno. There was nothing I could do to save him. Munroe ended his long oratory with a noisy cough, the result of inhaling smoke from the fire.

Blaize broke down and wept bitterly. “No need to cry, Blaize,” Pork consoled. “Dr. Pepper got what he deserved.”

Sobbing gently, Blaize replied, “Even though he has treated me unfairly, Flinz does not have

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the right to cause him misfortune.”

“That’s true. But Dr. Pepper was a bad man,” Dag said.

“I don’t believe in paying evil with more evil. If we continue that way, the world will never be a better place. We must set an example for others to follow, and a legacy that will leave our names on the sands of time,” Blaize said.

“What can we do?” Fred asked.

“We must rescue Dr. Pepper and get Flinz out of the way, for he has brought shame upon us all!” Blaize announced. The other cats agreed and reluctantly followed him into a shadow.

The City Heroes and other stories from the Heart of Africa by Nigerian writer Omoruyi Uwuigiaren is a perfect introduction for readers to learn about the African experience. Suitable for middle-grade readers, the stories within the collection contain messages and themes about forgiveness, charity, redemption, and loyalty all from a decidedly African perspective. 

                                                     Buy book HERE

Tonight during story time take a trip to the heart of Africa.

Make new friends including a clutter of cats otherwise known as The City Heroes. Follow a pair of jungle ants as they rescue their friend from a raging storm. Tag along with a country boy as he hunts wild birds to prepare a feast for his father’s arrival. Understand the true meaning of mercy and charity when a stranger is caught stealing eggs from a farmer. Help a baby named Thomas find his way home after he strays from his father’s boat. Follow Blaize and his newfound canine friend Thatcher as they thwart a group of kidnappers in Blaize and the Master of Enchantment.

Beautifully illustrated pictures help tell all six stories including The City Heroes, The Jungle Ants, The Country Boy, Stranger on the Farm, Baby Thomas and Blaize and the Master of Enchantment. Encounter adventures beyond your wildest dreams, learn about the beautiful country of Nigeria and see how easy and how fun it is to learn about a new culture in the heart of Africa.

"Stanford Sullivan" from the book, Night Watch Man by Omoruyi Uwuigiaren.

As men slept, a glittering array of stars sat on the bare chest of the sky. Stanford Sullivan, a retired policeman was yet to put the day behind him. The lively man who had little money but was content was reading a novel. On the stroke of midnight, evil men struck and quietness disappeared into the thin air. Gunshots filled the air as Sullivan’s face looked pale in the lamplight. He pushed the book aside and rose from the table. He turned off the lamp and his pair of legs carried him to the window. He pulled up the window blind and saw some men. They were robbers and the poor soul that they had just shot in the leg was in the pool of his blood.  After the few minutes of assault, all his belongings were placed in their pockets.

Sullivan was red with rage as he pulled down the window blind. Thames Street had received several blows and had become a shadow of its self. He sank into his favourite chair with hand to the chin. He wanted to call the police but the thieves would have gone before they arrived. As the robbers moved into the shadows, Sullivan could hear the victim cry. He was a man with a big heart, and he could not stand to see the unfortunate soul in such a sorry state. Then he jumped to his feet and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He grabbed his torch and flashed it beside his bed where he kept his cutlass. He grabbed the cutlass and ran out of the house. He faced the street with good speed, shining the torch in the direction of the man. Anger shone on his face as he ran.   

“I came to help you!” Sullivan said as he stood over the man in the pool of old age.

“Thank you,” the man groaned, “I have been shot in the leg!”

“Yes, I heard the gunshots. This street is not safe for the night. We must leave now!” Sullivan stated. He dropped the cutlass and went for the man.

Glancing down the road as Sullivan helped him to his feet, the man lamented, “They took my money and briefcase. Can you help me get them back?”

Sullivan sighed, “There is no guarantee that I can get them. Can I take you to my house to give first aid?”

He looked at Sullivan with his sorrowful eyes, “Oh, I will be grateful.”

Sullivan carried the man on his shoulder to his house. He made him comfortable on his bed and quickly gave first aid. When he was through, he turned to the man and his mouth twisted into a wry smile, “Rest, while I go after the thieves…”

Sullivan grabbed his torch and cutlass. As he turned to go, the man raised his head and posed a question, “Sir, how long will you be gone?”

He looked back over his shoulder. “I will return shortly to take you to the hospital,” Sullivan replied and faded into the dark night to embrace the uncertainty in the outside world.

The thieves were trying to enter a building illegally when Sullivan arrived. Since a single blow could send him to the silent world, he avoided open confrontation and stood with his back to the wall pondering the best way to attack the men. It was not long before an opportunity strayed into his path. One of the men walked briskly to the side of the house where he could have a good view of the beautiful earth. The foul toad was mean. His lips were hidden under a heavy line of mustache, and his head shaven like an egg. He looked in every direction to make sure that no eye was watching. Satisfied as things were, he breathed the air of relief and faced the way he had come.

The man had barely moved when Sullivan crossed his path. He knocked off his gun and hit the thief in the face. And they began to share blows from one end to the other. Sullivan’s blows were like a knife piercing a chicken as he descended on the thief. It was only a matter of time before advantage shifted to one side. The thief lost his balance. His pair of legs betrayed him after a blow landed on his neck. Before he could regain his footing, Sullivan had pounced on him. He pinned the unfortunate soul to the wall. Without wasting time, Sullivan had his hands tied behind his back and a piece of clothing over his mouth to prevent him from crying out. He tied the man to a tree, grabbed the pistol he got from him and approached the house.

It was dark outside and the thieves couldn’t see much. Sullivan was close enough to see one of them holding the briefcase. The other men had broken into the house and left the man that held the briefcase outside to keep watch. Then Sullivan decided to take his chance. He cocked the gun and ducked along in the dark. The man had just snatched a breath when he realized he was under a threat. Sullivan buried a blow into his side and he yelled and fell to his knees. “Don’t move! You are under arrest!” Sullivan thundered as he pointed the gun at him. “Where are the money and the briefcase?”

“Please don’t kill me…” He could not help the quiver in his voice as he placed the briefcase at his feet.

Sullivan wore a frown. Immediately he grabbed the briefcase, a deep angry sound made by someone in the house drew his attention. The thief took advantage of the distraction. He pulled a dagger from his boot and stabbed his ankle. Sullivan yelled and lost his balance. The thief jumped to his feet and bolted.

The other men were alarmed by the disturbance and they disappeared through the back door of the house. Sullivan got the briefcase but the injury had left him devastated. With the robber he tied to the tree, there were chances that he could get his cohorts. “I must take him to the police station now,” Sullivan said to himself, making a face. “Then I will return to my house to take the poor man to the hospital. Let me be off at once.”  He rose to his feet and limped away.

You can reach Omoruyi Uwuigiaren @ ldsomoruyi@yahoo.ca