by Kenechi Uzochukwu

He had been observing the house for some time, waiting for that lethargic period just after dinner when people were relaxed and yet to lock up. He had picked the house because it stood alone and aloof from the other buildings. 

Many of the others had gone: some to jail, and some to hell. There was nothing like being careful in the business — and being prayerful. But for God, and common sense, he would have gone too.

Before breaking and entering he never failed to make the sign of the cross and apply the blood of Jesus. Back when he still worked with the others, his preamble was always an issue with them. They would mutter and shake their heads at him. They were ignorant of the efficacy of acknowledging the almighty in all industry.  But he was different. He knew many things were not by power.

Guns were too heavy for him. And there was that time he went over a wall and his pocket knife went into his thigh. No, he had no ally in weaponry, he was better off without them. True, he understood its abilities, especially its compelling power, but his matter with those things was that they could speak even when one had not asked them to. And then somebody would die, and much worse, he would become a killer. Just like that. He knew many of the others who had gone down the killing road. They never came back. Those who killed were those who died.

It was not a business that enticed many neophytes – the unfashionable reputation of the enterprise discouraged new converts, and then there was also the matter of job description. But this reticent nature of the business was fine by him. Competition was never good for any business. Still, even with the unfair reputation of the job and its arduous nature, there were still some insurgents, the part timers who blinded by greed and the allure of perfect crimes in movies interfere in the business and  murk things up for the true craftsmen. They paid the ultimate price.

To be in the business one must have the calling, one must have a natural animosity towards the police and one must be wary of greed. Even those with the gift could get overtaken, especially by greed. Always, he was careful about taking too much. He never forgot to give God his share, as the giver of all, and then a little for the beggars too.

Going big time and attempting higher exploits took most of the others away. Advancement, promotion, more profit, and other things with that nature were not good in this business. There was nothing wrong with steadying at the same level year after year, hugging the ground like water.

He had been observing the house for some time, waiting for that lethargic period just after dinner when people were relaxed and yet to lock up. He had picked the house because it stood alone and aloof from the other buildings. Yesterday, when the sewage truck pulled out the gates he had been quick to observe the type of locks on the doors and windows.

Now was the time. He gauged the wall fencing. Small matter. The secret to heights of this physique was to take it fast, clear and clean: no knees, no elbows.

With one sign of the cross and two sprinklings of the blood of Jesus, he took the wall, fast…clear.

But the disposition of his landing on the other side sounded too vicious to be clean. A twelve foot deep sewage pit received him merrily.

His crash through the wooden planks placed over the pit got the home dwellers rushing to investigate. They found him sputtering, gasping and cursing, struggling to stay afloat in the mucky sewage waste.

They fetched the police before they fetched the ladder.

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Kenechi Uzochukwu – The Free spirit, blogs at Ramblings and tweets from @kc2031uzor.

 

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