I am finding it really hard to console my little cousin this evening. Earlier in the day when he woke up from his sleep around 12pm, he stretched and told me today was going to be a fantastic day. He said today was the day he had been waiting for all his life and today, his chance will not pass him by.
Confused I served him his yam pottage and asked him to tell me what was up. As adorable as a 10 year old could, he told me about the football tournament he was going to have with the estate kids. They were playing against the opposite estate; Mofolorunsho Estate. He said he had stayed up in his room practising one particular dribble move called the snake bite. He was going to ensure possession of the ball and use the snake bite dribble on a particular young boy his age called Nnamdi.
Nnamdi was as stubborn as a mule and he has once overtly attempted to break my cousin’s arm at an inter- estate wrestling competition. I wondered why he was even allowed to play in this match with the rest of the children.
After breakfast, my cousin had gone into the compound and practiced, over and again, his snake bite move.
Now, it’s 7pm and I still cannot get him to stop crying. Amidst tears, he is clinging to my baby blue chiffon top and muttering the words: I am sorry.
Apparently, in the 40th minute of the game, my cousin had found the right opportunity to use this move against Nnamdi. They were around the corner of the pitch and my cousin was so intent on both not allowing the ball out of the field lines and also blessing Nnamdi with the snake bite, that he did not immediately hear when Nnamdi let out an agonizing yelp. Alas! A snake as green as the grass on which they played had slithered in and bitten him.
The match stopped instantly and he was rushed to the hospital; my uncle’s hospital.
My cousin is still crying and blaming himself for wishing snake bite on his friend.
‘My snakebite called the snake to bite him. The snake thought I was calling him…‘ My cousin keeps muttering.