MIRA'S SPACE
Once Panicked, Twice Unafraid
When people ask me what I will do when faced with a particular situation, I am too skeptical about the answers I dole out. I honestly don’t know what I will do when a gun is pointed at my head. I might burst into laughter while peeing in my pants. My brain never coordinates in the face of imminent danger and I never react the same way to two identical situations.
I used to be breathlessly terrified of snakes. And we had a good number of them in my neighborhood; in the lonely paths of the shrubs that dotted the streets, in my neighbor’s makeshift farm at the back of the yard, and in our playground.
When I saw a long, green, slimy, creature right above our dining room on my way to return my plate to the kitchen, I knew that my worst fear was staring me in the face.
I was 11 at the time, still in my dirty uniform that had soaked up perspiration all day from running recklessly around the school compound.
I neither screamed nor uttered a word. I studied the creature for a moment. It was still, like it was aware of my presence. As soon as my eyes met with its’, I made a U-turn and ran to my mum’s room shivering like an exposed toddler in a heavy rain.
“mumthereisasnakeinthehouse” I announced. She asked me to repeat my words this time slowly. That was an impossible thing to do. My words come out in torrents when I experience extreme emotions like burst of excitements, anger and fear. She actually caught my words the first time. She reached for her Bible and we made out of the house via the opposite entrance.
I remember her declaring that the snake would remain glued to that spot until help came. It was an invaluable prayer because if it crawled into any of the rooms, it would be a miracle finding it.
Help did come but not after several rejections. One of such was Mr. Femi, our family tailor, who when asked to help kill the snake responded “we no dey kill snake for my family”
He doubled his steps clasping the nylon bag under his arm-it must have been a customer’s material-and was out of sight in seconds.
Mohammed, the gate keeper with a placid disposition, eventually came to our rescue killing the snake in four cutlass strikes. He dragged it to the middle of our street, displaying his conquest. The aim was to have cars crush it finally till it dried out in the sun. However, hours later, the snake was gone with no trace of it anywhere on the street.
The next time I was faced with a snake was six years later.
I was a student of the University of Osun. My campus, situated at Ifetedo, a boundary town, rested on a large expanse of land. I lived not too far from the campus. On one of the days when I had exhausted every cash on me and had to walk down the bushy paths leading to my house, I saw a black snake majestically zigzag the path just in front of me.
I should have run, right? Or go seek help. Perhaps the village had its own version of Mohammed, the snake killer. I did none of this. I didn’t freeze either. I flicked my hair and muttered “I allowed you cross in peace, now it is your turn to do same”
It kept to its end of the bargain.
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