THE APPRENTICE BOY Part I

Ike’s brain was still whirling tumultuously with anger as he sat in his corner in the common room summing up the whole thing. He went ahead to plan his revenge in defiance to what his conscience told him as well as what his mother told him. He should help me or I’ll deal with him, he concluded in his thought.

             Ike planned to take a deadly action. He had made up his mind during the night. The following day he took some money from his box and went to the market. He was going to buy a knife. As he walked along the street, he expanded the scope and dimensions of his plan. I’ll stab him to death, he schemed in his heart. I'm doing the right thing, heaven knows. I see no reason why he shouldn’t send me to school.

            He can afford to send me to school. I know that. He has the means. He's a wealthy man. He owns many plots and businesses in this city. He has shares and bonds, and about half a dozen multinational business links. He has his hands in many business organizations and financial institutions, why can't he sponsor me in school? It's a cheating on my part and on my father's part too, and on our family as a whole.

            I have no doubt in my mind that any action I took as a reprisal for Ufele’s wickedness, my father and my ancestors, wherever they may be, will give their blessings to it. They will approve it without equivocation. I'm sure I'm doing my father's wish. I know he’d want me to do it. I know he’d want me to revenge for him, and I'm going to do it come what may. It doesn't matter if I have to pay with my life. I'll do it. I will kill Ufele.

            Thus, Ike resolved to attack his uncle with a sharp knife in the middle of the night. When he returned from the market, he sat at his corner in the common room and began to whet the two-edged knife he bought in the market. All the apprentice boys were in their sheds in the market. There was virtually nobody in the house. He sat quietly on the mat and began to whet the knife. He also bought a small whetting stone, the type shoemakers used in sharpening their leather-cutting knives. With this tool Ike sharpened the two edges of the knife. His plan was to carry out the murder in the night when everybody had gone to sleep.

            For one good hour, he sat by himself sharpening the knife. As he did so, he rehearsed his strategies:

             Close to bed time, I'll hide under his bed and wait. In the middle of the night, when he has fallen asleep, I'll crawl out of my hiding place and stab him to death. I’ll first aim the knife at his ribs to get through to his liver. Once the knife pierces his liver, he is gone. I'll then deliver some blows into his stomach to dismember his entrails. I will slash his throat to complete the deed. A powerful stab into his ribs, three powerful thrusts into his potbelly, and a deep slash on his throat will definitely accomplish the task. He will bleed to death before they can rescue him.

            What happens after that? Ike asked himself. I don't care what happens, he replied to himself.  Who cares about what will happen? Once the deed is done, once I have completed my objective and I’m sure this man is dead, to hell with whatever that will happen, who cares. 

            They will arrest you, prosecute you, and finally hang you, his conscience told him. Fine! he responded to his conscience. What is life after all? What am I living for? What am I doing on earth? I have nothing to regret about my death. I have nothing. My life is a wretched wreck. I can't fulfill my desire. My family is suffering privation. What does life mean? Let them kill me, that’s exactly what I wanted any way.