Tom the Little Man

Tom wore a long face and trudged on. His trousers had faded and clothed with dust. Reaching the threshold, he inserted the key into the lock and embraced his house. He hissed and slammed the door behind him, for the evening was the worst day of his life. He was made to work late again even though it was Christmas Eve. But now, at last, the hammer had fallen on him! As soon as he was indoors, Tom sank into his favorite chair. After a time, he sat up and drew his rickety table. The little man lit up the poorly decorated room and his face looked pale in the lamplight.

He took the letter out of his pocket. He lowered his bifocals and glanced dispassionately above them at the letter and a deep melancholy settled over his spirit. Tom had been relieved of his job and it was a bitter pill to swallow. "WHY ME!" he banged the table.

Tom had just disposed of the letter when he heard a faint knock on the door. "Who's there?"

"It's I, Priscilla," her voice was as soft as the morning breeze.

Tom masked his anger with a smile and opened the door. He said a friendly good evening to her. "I am sure you came to inquire why I did not attend the service. My employer asked me to work extra hours..."

"Oh, I understand," the lady smiled as Tom led her into his humble home. Priscilla sat on a chair with her back to the wall. She placed her hands on her thighs and glanced at the little man. "God told me that you have lost your job. But He will use this setback to turn your life around."

A ray of hope flushed over Tom's suntanned face as he sat up and muttered, "Amen!"

She closed her eyes facing heaven. Priscilla brought her hands together, making recitations as if she was praying. Then she stopped and turned to Tom. "The company downsized to reduced cost..."

"Yes," Tom was surprised as he nodded almost a million times.

"Hold on," the prophetess said. "Would you be interested in hearing a secret that will make you rich?"

"Yes, oh yes!" the little man answered. He straightened his chin and looked at her face.

"You have an eighteen carat diamond ring you inherited from your father. It's wrapped up in a handkerchief in the right-hand corner of the third drawer. God said you are to get it and give it to me!"

Tom gasped and beat his chest. "Ah, my heirloom? I have never told anyone about it. How did you know I have it under my roof?"

Priscilla laughed, "God told me just now. Do as He had said and He will make you rich!"

The little man chewed his lower lips as he imagined that he will be able to live in luxury for the rest of his life! Then he sat back and scratched his head. She was right about the diamond in the drawer, he thought. As if he was under a spell, he rose to his feet and moved to the corner, and then returned to the table with the heirloom. Priscilla grabbed it and placed it in her pocket. "I like people who obey God," she smiled and gave him a hug. "If you need another hug just ask," she heaved. "Follow me!"

"Where are we going?" Tom yawned and shifted his weight to one leg.

She rubbed her hands gleefully together. "I want to introduce you to a friend. If you have a little money, he knows how to multiply it many times over!"

Tom dreamed of the money. "Thank you. I will be forever grateful, Priscilla." But just as the words were too exciting for Tom to bear, Priscilla held his hand and then they were received by the outside world.

It was almost nightfall and their feet were moving quickly. After covering a good distance on foot, they took a bend that led to an old deserted street. They arrived at a building whose walls were old and crumbling. With a little push, the gate opened and they went inside. As the lady carried herself to the main building, but Tom, little more than a shadow of himself, and looked very pale and drawn, ran to catch up with the young feet of Priscilla.

She made their presence felt with a gentle knock on the door. Not long after, a man of great sartorial elegance, who was shaven and had a strong square jaw, opened the door. He smelled like a bar. "I thought you said we will see tomorrow?"

"Yes," Priscilla cocked her head. "But things changed."

"Good. Only change is constant, my dear," smiled the prophet. "Come on in." As he led them into the house, he glanced at the little man with the corner of his eye. "Your name is Tom!"

Their eyes met as Tom nodded. The little man wondered how he knew his name, for this evening was the first time they met. Since he had better things to do with his life, he placed the thought on the doorstep of the past.

But just as they got to the door that led to one of the rooms, the prophet paused. He turned to Tom, "My friend, a truckload of misfortune hangs from your neck like an Olympic medal!"

"I just lost my job!" Tom gasped.

The prophet placed his hand on the door knob. "But don't worry. Weeping may endure for the night but joy comes in the morning," he commented. "If you agree to do what I ask of you, you will spend the rest of your life in complete happiness." He opened the door and went inside. Priscilla and Tom followed him.

As soon as prophet Wusel sat on his chair, Tom approached him and fell on his knees. He brought his hands together as tears gathered in his eyes. "Please, help me. My life is in a mess!"

The prophet sat up. He placed his hand that was as hard as the back of a turtle on his chin and fixed his gaze on the little man. His eyes were red and his strong square jaw made him looked like a troll. Then he turned to Priscilla who smiled faintly and back to Tom. "You will need to buy some items for prayers. By the time I am through, you will select jobs!" he sat back and smiled like a halfwit. "Stand up." He offered Tom a seat in front of him.

"What do I need to buy?"

Wusel leaned back in the chair. "Your case is peculiar. You need just three things: a pig to stop your bad luck, a goat to fight off the evil spirits and a sheep for good luck," the prophet sneezed. "By the time I am through, you will be like an angel!"

Tom was pleased as he scratched his head. "How much will that cost me?"

"Ah," the prophet faced the ceiling and chewed his lower lip. "At least, one hundred and fifty thousand Naira will do!"

The little man's countenance fell because that entire amount was what he had saved all his life. "That's a huge sum. Can't we cut corners, prophet?"

"NO!" the prophet shook his head. "Your problem is like a mountain. You will be forever grateful to me after the prayers." Suddenly, Wusel closed his eyes and lowered his head, making recitations as if he was praying. Then he paused and raised his head. He flashed a menacing smile at Tom. "Your father died of cardiac arrest when you were a boy and your mother abandoned you in an orphanage..."

"You are right," Tom sat up and fixed his gazed on the prophet.

"You see. That is why you must obey God so that your father's misfortune won't hunt you down like a dog!"

Tom's heart of heart died within him. "I have always feared for my life. I will get the money as soon as possible."

"When? We want to know!" Priscilla cut in.

Tom glanced at his wristwatch. "The time is far spent," he remarked. "I will be here at first light!"

"Good. Priscilla will see you off. Hope you can find your way from there?" asked the prophet.

"Yes," Tom nodded and rose to his feet. As he turned to go, the prophet stopped him. "Hold on. God just told me something. He said you will be favored in three days!"

"Amen!" Tom said and moved away.

After she had walked Tom to the gate, Priscilla returned to Wusel who was waiting at the room. She fell on him and gave him a million embraces. "You are a top performer!"

Wusel smiled. "A shepherd has a grave responsibility to tend and nurture the sheep in a loving attitude. Are you sure he will come tomorrow?"

"Absolutely!" She brought out the eighteen carat diamond ring that Tom gave her. "This is our reward!"

"It's nice!" Wusel glanced at it. "How did you get this?"

"I had to pull a few strings to get it from the little man," she smiled and they kissed.

Wusel smiled back. "You have learned this trade. Get the men ready. We must not allow Tom slip off our hands!"

"Okay, I will get in touch with them immediately!" She leaned on his arm.

"Wish we are married!" Wusel spoke softly as they sat on a couch. His fingers caressed the back of her neck and then she exposed her petal for the prophet to bruise.

Wild and free, they could feel the heat of the sun. The money was wrapped in black polythene and Tom held it close to his chest as they faced the ram market. There were few legs on the road as Tom followed the prophet as if he was under a spell. It was perilous time and he was too happy to sense any danger. The end of my misery had come, he thought. But Wusel walked beside the poor soul whose fortune was at stake with measured steps. He was in a world of his own and expected nothing more than a success. At interval, Wusel would glance at Tom with contempt and flashed a menacing smile.

There were tall buildings in rows, shanties and slums shattered about like the pastures clothed with flocks. Their feet were blanketed with dust, and the little man was under the illusion that he will get a better life. The prophet led Tom through many streets. But just as they approached a bend, two hefty men who wore mask appeared. They brandished their weapons and fell on the travelers. One of the thieves knocked Tom over with a single blow and the other pinned the prophet to the wall. Panting like a terrified lizard, the little man tried to escape. But the blow that landed on his neck, swept Tom off his feet. Under the shadow of the thief, Tom yelled as if he had lost a vital part of his. The thief placed what seemed like a toy gun on his neck and searched Tom. He stumbled on the large sum of money and they mixed with the thin air.

After the few minutes of assault, Tom and the prophet breathed the air of salvation. The little man looked about, for his heart began to beat fast. He fell on his knees. He glanced at Wusel, "They have stolen my money!" He lowered his head, banging the old earth. But Wusel crossed his arms over his body and masked his face with a frown. "It's your fault, Tom. As you know, the world is a battlefield. You don't carry cash in the public the way you did!" he commented. The prophet adjusted his huge frame and moved away.

"Please wait!" Tom gathered himself up and ran after him. "What about the prayers?"

"I have no business with losers!" He raised his hands above his head and waved them, and then he crossed to the other side of the road and disappeared through some buildings. Tom tried to follow but lost him. The little man was very confused as he stood akimbo. He looked at every direction, for it was sad to see his money go, and the man whom he had thought was a blessing, had mixed with the thin air. His countenance fell as he faced the way home. `

By the time Tom got to his street it was already evening. He heard distant cry that almost reached the high heavens. There was pandemonium at the other side of the street but he was too far away to figure out what was wrong. The problem was grave as the evening took its place in the progression of days. Six flats, including Tom's apartment were on fire. Little children played with matches in the kitchen and they had caught the building on fire. Flames were out of control and fires were breaking out everywhere. People wailing and flames pierced the dark night and settled on the bosom of the wandering clouds. It took two hours to put out the fire. But by the time the fire service had put the situation under control, the damage had been done. The inferno had gulped the building and nobody, including Tom, could recover their effects.

Not the best of times as hopelessness sat on the throne of his heart. Tom ran from one end of the building to the other to see if he could savage his effects. But what were left were ashes and dust, and emptiness, which were so much for the little man to bear. Hard times had struck and swept Tom off his feet. Finally, all that he had were gone, including the roof over his head. As the boughs of trees danced quietly and bowed carefully to the sweet movement of the evening breeze, Tom moved to the shadows, and leaned on a wall where he had the luxury of crying. They swindled thousands of nairas out of him!

After a time, he raised his head and wiped his face wearily with the back of his hand. He thought of visiting Wusel, but it was rather too late to embark on the journey. As he pondered where to pass the night, an idea flew into his head. Down the street was a public school. I can pass the night there, he thought. Then he carried himself to the school. As the little man made his presence felt with a gentle knock on the gate, a mean face peered down from a little opening on the gate. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

Tom adjusted. He glanced up at the man and stammered, "Sir, I need your help!"

The guard chuckled. "You need my help? Are you sure you are not at the wrong place?"

The little man rubbed his hands together, "No, I need a place to pass the night..."

The guard hissed and raised an eyebrow. "You are funny. This place is not a hotel. Go to the town..."

"Fire just gulped my house and I have lost everything," he managed to croak as tears gathered in his eyes.

"Ah," the guard looked at Tom compassionately. "So you lived in that house? I saw the building when it went up in flames!" He scratched his head. "Well, I would have loved to help you for a night but I am only a guard. So my hands are tied." He turned to go.

"WAIT! I will leave at first light!"

The guard returned, "Don't put me in trouble. This is where I get my daily bread."

Tom fell on his knees and placed his hands together. "Please, I promise. I will leave very early and I won't come back!"

The guard paused and observed the little man discretely. Tom was in dilemma and then he decided to help the poor soul. The guard opened the gate halfway. He looked about to make sure that no eye was watching and then turned to Tom. "Don't let me wake you up tomorrow, little man. If you are seen by the school authorities, I will be queried for not taking permission before I allowed you pass the night, and I could lose my job!" He swallowed hard and chewed his lower lip. "Come in!" As Tom walked in, the man secured the gate. He placed his club on the shoulder and turned to the little man. "Come with me!" They moved to the back of the school where he offered Tom a couch to pass the night.

The little man was pleased with his new friend as he thanked him almost a thousand times. But just as the guard went back to his post, Tom sat on the couch with hand to chin, gazing at the wandering clouds. Sad memories invaded his head and he could not sleep.

After a time, the guard returned to his side with two glasses and a bottle of wine. He sat beside the little man. "I know you will find it hard to sleep, my friend. Do you have a name?"

The little man nodded and said, "Tom."

"Tom? That sounds nice." The guard adjusted, he raised his head and faced the heavens. He placed his hand on Tom's shoulder, "I am Baldwin. Listen, life is no bed of roses. Do me a favor, Tom. Put your sad times on the doorstep of the past. To be reborn or die is your choice," he smiled. "Come on, let's drink." He handed Tom a wine glass and filled it with wine.

Tom was pleased with the hospitality. He grabbed the drink with both hands and emptied it into his belly. He belched and their eyes met. "Thank you. It's a sweet wine." Tom stretched the glass to him for more, and it was filled to the brim.

"I once had a family," the guard commented. "But I lost them in a road accident. My wife and child have gone to meet our ancestors. Now I am left to spend the rest of my life alone. We live in a cruel world. Do you agree?" He looked at the little man.

"Yes, but you can still remarry," he said.

The guard nodded, "I will but it is expensive to raise a decent family!"

Tom smiled tentatively. "I will surely get over my problem."

He raised his head. "It's a great thing to bend any circumstance to your favor." The guard rose to his feet, he placed the bottle of wine beside Tom. "You have the drink. Let me check the compound to see if there is any trouble." He flashed his torchlight at the bottle of wine and walked away.

"Thank you," Tom spoke softly. He watched the guard disappeared into the warm hands of the night. Not long after, weariness weighed upon the little man, and he knew he must get some rest in order to face the morning. He climbed into the couch and put the day behind him.

But at the old building, Wusel had met the thieves and Priscilla. They quietly shared the spoil and went their separate ways.