THE LEGEND OF KIWAKAAZI

In Nomposuro: Kaki swung her right arm that flew over Aran’s lowered head and quickly followed it with a low swing of her left. Her left arm caught Aran on his side and threw him towards her right. The pathway to the bridge had been cleared. She first turned right to examine Aran’s condition and later looked back. Aran was now picking himself up from the ground. And behind her, Kiwakaazi’s head was still lowered. He had not yet recovered from Aran’s words. She faced Aran again and attacked him.

The nature of the research Obenfo Molade had been handed required some level of secrecy. There was a laboratory in the palace where such researches are carried out. Obenfo Molade was supposed to report to that laboratory after three days with his assistant – his son, Kiwakaazi.

He was driving back home and wondering how he was going to convince Kiwakaazi to work with him. He got it! Naa Lamle. Suddenly, he applied his breaks and looked terrified. He was lost in his thoughts and almost run down an old lady. He quickly climbed out of his car and asked the old lady if she was fine. The old lady smiled and responded, “I am great. Don’t worry about me in a slow and scratchy voice.” Obenfo Molade helped her to cross the road. The old lady said, “Thank you my son. You are very kind.” Obenfo Molade smiled and begged the old lady to be safe. He turned and was about to leave when the woman shouted, “Wait! Will you let me read your palm?” Obenfo Molade was not superstitious but he allowed her to read his palm just to please her. What he told him is a game changer. But wait… Oh no! I can’t tell you that now. Sorry! Later, I promise.

“Have you spoken to your son recently?” asked Obenfo Molade later that day when he arrived home. Naa Lamle immediately became worried. She cried, “No, we have not spoken since I was discharged from the hospital,” answered Naa Lamle. “Why, has something happened to him?” she asked. Obenfo Molade answered, “No! I hope not. I just assumed you are in constant communication with him. Knowing just how much you love and treasure your precious son.” Naa Lamle smelled a rat but she was not going to call. She had a better plan.

At ten in the morning, Kiwakaazi was still in bed. It was a Wednesday and he was supposed to be at work. A research scientist barely has time for socialization. Most of them spend their days and nights at work. Naa Lamle turned a key to open Kiwakaazi’s apartment. She entered and almost suffered another heart attack. Kiwakaazi’s apartment was filthy. She saw dirty clothes scattered in his hall; empty and half-empty alcohol bottles; leftover food that have attracted flies and cockroaches and Kiwakaazi himself lying on the floor of his hall in his own vomit.

“Wake up Ma-siiwe (my son)!” shouted Naa Lamle over and over again. Kiwakaazi raised his head muttered, “Mother…?”

After about two hours later, Kiwakaazi’s apartment had been cleaned. His laundry had been washed and Kiwakaazi himself had taken a cold bath and drunk some strong herbal tea for his hangover. His mother sat on a leather seat wearing a very sad face. A tear or two trickled down her face. Kiwakaazi dropped to his knees. “I am sorry mother. I am really sorry. Please don’t cry!” begged Kiwakaazi. Naa Lamle said, “No, it is not your fault my son. It is my fault. I have been a bad mother. I should have noticed it – that you were changing. I have failed.” She buried her face in her palms and started sobbing loudly. Kiwakaazi begged, “No, you are the best mother in the world. Okay, I will do anything you ask me to do. Please do not cry mother.”

Naa Lamle suddenly stopped crying and said, “Good, you are moving back in with me and your father.” Kiwakaazi had been tricked. He had been played. His mother knew his son’s weakness was her tears. He would do anything to stop her from crying. That is how much he loves her. She also knew her son wanted to be independent from an early age. He would never agree to moving back in with his parents. She acted the part of a heartbroken mother and has gotten the one thing she came for – her son moving back in with her.

On their way back to his parents’ house, Kiwakaazi confessed that he and his father got into an argument which almost turned into a fight. And when his father told him he never wanted to see him again, he felt so much pain he wanted to forget it all. He lost track of time trying to forget. Naa Lamle said, “Don’t worry son. I will handle it.” “Thank you mother,” said Kiwakaazi with a smile.

Later in the evening, Naa Lamle sat both Kiwakaazi and Obenfo Molade down. She first turned to her husband and said, “Your son has something to tell you.” Then, she asked Kiwakaazi to speak. Kiwakaazi apologized, “I am sorry father. I should not have spoken to you the way I did.” Obenfo Molade said, “It is okay. You are my son and sometimes I forget you are no longer a child. I should learn to respect your decisions. I am partly to blame.” With these words, the broken bridge between father and son was mended. With these words, the descendants of the Ade family reunited – a small happy family.

During dinner that same day, Obenfo Molade told his son about something interesting that happened to him just the day before. “I met and had drinks with Quaazi Deladem in his palace yesterday,” narrated Obenfo Molade. Kiwakaazi was intrigued. He exclaimed, “Really! How was it like?” “He is just like they say he is – a very simple and friendly man,” answered Obenfo Molade. Kiwakaazi asked again, “Why did he summon you?” “He personally wanted to hand over a project – a very top secret project. I think I could use your help on this one,” answered Obenfo Molade. Kiwakaazi was humbled. “After all I have done. Do you still want to work with me?” asked Kiwakaazi. Obenfo Molade answered, “You are my son. I love you and nothing will make me more proud than to work with you.” Naa Lamle insisted her husband and son stop talking while eating. The two of them are just too alike for her liking. Kiwakaazi accepted and two days later, they both started work in the special laboratory hidden somewhere inside the palace.

Obenfo Molade and his son, Kiwakaazi, were provided blood samples supposedly belonging to Tinle (Princess) Ife and a chart listing her symptoms. Her symptoms included headache, stomach ache, spinal pains and pains in the joints. Obenfo Molade and Kiwakaazi were not allowed to examine her body. She had special doctors for that. Their job was to use the information provided them to synthesize a cure for the betrothed of Prince Kuame, son of Quaazi Deladem.

Obenfo Molade and Kiwakaazi isolated two chemicals from Princess Ife’s blood. One of the chemicals was a poison. Its structure was consistent with a chemical that can induce pain in various parts of the body. The second drug was an inhibitor – a hormone inhibitor. The hormone inhibitor inhibits the action of specific hormones like endorphin and enkephalin. These hormones are involved in pain relief and by inhibiting them, pain is heightened. Obenfo Molade and Kiwakaazi also expected that the second chemical must also probably affect nervous transmission of pain as well activate portions of the brain that respond to pain just to heighten the sense of pain.

Obenfo Molade and Kiwakaazi were very much alike. They both thrive on the thrill of a good challenge and this project provided that kind of a challenge. Kiwakaazi distanced himself from his friends and concentrated on helping his father synthesize chemicals that will cancel out the effect of the hormone inhibitor and a cure to a poison with an impossible formula.

Three months passed and they were not even close to finding the cure. All their findings and data were recorded and kept in a safe in the laboratory. The combination to the safe was known only to Kiwakaazi and his father. Obenfo Molade was always first to arrive and last to leave. He was first to open the safe so Kiwakaazi did not know exactly what was inside. To him, it contained data about their work. One morning, he had to pass by his office in CREBIHEM to attend to some urgent matters. Kiwakaazi for the first time arrived before his father. When he opened the safe, the first thing he saw was a folder. This folder was titled “Tumushie” and it was written in Kiwakaazi’s handwriting. He quickly flipped and read. He looked shell shocked. He flipped again and again and stormed out of the laboratory in hurry after dropping the folder back inside the safe.

The urgent matter Obenfo Molade was attending to was welcoming some young promising students from Ahanbanfie (School of herbs and medicines). As director, he took it upon himself to show these students the cutting edge technology they had for their research. He stood in front of these students inside their largest laboratory in his sparkling white lab coat. He said, “Welcome to our largest lab. This is where we test all our young research scientists before we employ them.” One of the students put up a hand. Obenfo Molade pointed at her. The student, a girl, said, “Is it true that your son, on his first day here, used a process not written in any book to synthesize….” The girl paused and every turned back.

Someone suddenly opened the doors to the laboratory. It was Kiwakaazi. He looked angry. He forced his way through bodies of young men and women his age wearing white lab coats. When he got close to Obenfo Molade, he stared at him, clinched his left fist and punched him in the jaw. Obenfo Molade almost fell down. He crouched on the floor for about a minute. He rose to his feet and shook his head twice or thrice to shake off the dizziness he felt. Kiwakaazi asked in an angry and loud voice, “Where is it?!” His father answered with a question, “Where is what?” Kiwakaazi said, “Don’t act stupid with me father. I saw the folder in the safe. I am asking you one last time father, where is it?!”