Cruel in nature, life zapping in conquest,
as sharp as a blade he slices with one touch from his swiftness. He dominates
the day and even the night, he is like a knight, vicious in ambition and
shrewd in personality. He is either hot, cold or both, but nobody leaves the story
untold. He is the only one who can make a man shiver and sweat at the same time
and anyone who dares mention his name, he seizes their lips and sucks the moisture from it. He
is The Spirit
of Hamarttan.
In a land, far, fAR, FAAAAR away
from civilization, a land known as Bowen, The Spirit of Hamarttan chooses his victims. The
land is populated mostly by delicately framed females, harmless male creatures,
livestock and vast acres of vegetation, a perfect location for
the cruelty of his personality.
Like a thief, he waits patiently
for the fall of the sun and the rise of the moon, more so for the candles
in every room to vanish into harmless fumes. Just when everything seems peaceful and calm, he attacks with full force,
slicing the lips of the people, freezing their waters, drying the vegetation and making Vaseline man’s best
friend. His presence is sharper than a thousand bayonets.
When dawn comes, and the surviving able
bodied of Bowen go to the fountain to fetch, he attacks yet again, blowing
crystal sharp winds, making them shiver and his best attack is with cold
water...
...But not everyone is scared of
him. Infact, a few enjoy his presence for the reasons: no sweat, quick laundry,
the chance to wear their fashionable sweaters and the chance to keep their
lovers warm in their arms...They do not know what they are in for, the ones
that do not fear. The Spirit of Hamarttan becomes more vicious with time. He is angry...
Babatunde Henry Apampa
