Isoko will hail me, "fire master", he would also announce it in class if there's a discourse that reminds him of me with fires.

Well, quite frankly I didn't see anything special in what I was doing with fire, for Isoko to make it such a big deal.

Welcome to my world as a boy. Isoko was my friend and classmate and we lived in thesame estate. It was such a beautiful company-owned estate built by the Germans in the late 70s/early 80s in Delta State. We had specialised vehicles that swept the tarred roads regularly, absolutely no overhead electrical lines and other state-of-the-art facilities.

It wasn't uncommon to see German(and other European nations too) couples take a stroll, the women almost naked, because of the Nigerian heat. As time went on our brothers( Nigerians) opted for independence.🙂 I mean they insisted they can now run the company without the Germans who built it. Lo and behold the Germans and other Europeans they brought had to move back to Europe.

What we now witnessed, was a gradual collapse of this huge company,due to corruption, which in turn affected the estate adversely. One situation was that the once regular clean-up by the company began to wane.

Well a currently 80-yr-old Igbo man like my Dad, knew how to improvise. The Igbos are known to farm back home.

HERE WE GO

This is how the fire episode began. "There's fire on the mountain; run, run, run..."– one of my Nursery school rhymes, became quite a reality with me really.🙂

So since the company won't pick up the trash as regularly and efficiently as before, my Dad will pick out the elements that can burn, to set them on fire in a safe place outside. Ofcourse with time, we were the ones burning them and he supervising. He also turned some fields around our house that the company could no longer maintain into gardens or lawns. Again some burning is involved here, as weeding is involved.

Domestically we generated quite a lot of papers because of my Dad's profession as an Engineer, plus our lifestyle in general. So it was normal to have something to burn every week.

Unconsciously, I think I began to maybe like to set stuff on fire. Nay, I became adept at making fires, it is not just about striking the match or lighter to burn dry material. I had learnt from my Dad, what can't be burned, how to arrange what can be burnt, to watch the wind direction and so on. Well I must admit that it got to a point that, anytime I saw very dry grasses, I had this craving to set them ablaze.

NOW THE STORY

Ladies and Gentlemen, back then, as a boy, I usually walk past this open field with very dry grasses, thrice weekly. It was the harmattan period, like we are in now, so it was usual for such fields to be very dry and like I said above, the company were no longer efficient in stuff, like when the Germans were around. Each time I go past this field it was as if I was "salivating" to set it on fire.

However, this field is very close to the Electrical Power House of the entire estate. It is away from the residential area, infact it was close to the entrance gate of the estate, so it shouldn't be the bother of any individual. It was strictly an area for the company to handle.

Yet it bothered me and I kept planning and I felt it's close proximity to the Power Station was no problem. One day, knowing that I would take a journey towards this field, I put a match box in my pocket. I got to the field, I stopped, continued, then came back. This to and fro movement was because no one must see me, including the security officials who parade the estate. You need to see my eyeballs darting around, like a thief. Finally, my observation revealed that the coast was clear and I stooped; one match stick was enough.

Immediately the lit match stick made contact with the grass, I rose up and hastily made my way towards the entrance gate of the estate and I went my way running and walking. How relieved I was that I achieved my goal.

I returned in the evening and passing that field, it gave me great pleasure I can't describe, everywhere was well burnt! Oh how I felt so accomplished that night.

This encouraged me to repeat same trick on another field also close to the entrance gate. I lit it and briskly hurried away. I hit the gate and exited. But shortly after I left the gate–moving at pace to be out of sight– I heard a voice behind me ordering me to stop. It was a middle-aged man with a stern look on his face rushing towards me. I just freezed on the spot, maybe because I knew I had just done something. He said, "you again", that he is a security man and that he has been looking for me because he saw me when I lit the other field some days back. He was on mufti then and now. I never knew some of the security operatives are undercover types.

He said I almost set the Power House on fire that day, that he had to make quick arrangements to call in the Fire Brigade team to save the day. Furthermore, he said it was such a big issue that attracted the top management of the company. I didn't know all these, I had been busy celebrating a successful fire exercise, undetected.

By now I think I was looking like a proper criminal caught in the act, plus I was scared that he doesn't take me to my Dad, infact my Dad will almost kill me. My parents must not hear this at all!

I instantly began to plead with him, with every apology I could muster and finally he let me go( plus not telling my parents) on the basis that I would never do a thing like that again. For sure, I promised and needless to say, henceforth I kept my fire burning talent to my father's house environment.

There you go, the kid that year.

Cheerfully...