Untold Tales: The Plight of a Vengeful Rat

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We longed for a better life; we made plans to obtain one; we sacrificed our pleasures; we endured privations and then, when we finally saw a flicker of light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel, everything became worse. Now, before you accuse my followers and me of felony, listen to our own side of the story. My name is Jantofubu and I am the chief imam of all the rats in my locality.
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RAT-ically speaking, if it was just for the poverty that resides in churches, maybe we wouldn’t have left Divine Grace Pentecostal Church. But Pastor David didn’t help matters at all. At first, we thought he was being playful when he started chasing us up and down, screaming the name of Jesus Christ after us. In time, he began breaking our heads one by one. He started with my brother, Sikifulu, then my son, Janitufu; and, as if that was not enough, he maimed my wife, Bilisuku. Ah! Bilisuku… My dear Bilisuku. We quit the church the following Sunday when he wouldn’t stop preaching about mercy, and the punishment that comes with murder… What a sinful and murderous man he was!!!

Leaving the church gave us the chance to begin again, to rewrite our story. We were desolate but happy; happy because we were no longer church rats and we won’t have to be poor ever again! Soon, providence took us to the house of one human named Mutiu, a very devout Muslim. There, we felt at home, ate regularly, squeaked at will…but we never knew Mutiu was a rascal, just like pastor David.



To be honest, the problem didn’t start with Mutiu. Our problem started when Nasitufu, my only daughter, brought home a young male rat with Afro hairstyle.  And I told her… I told her that she cannot have an affair with a rat named Jackishifu, that his name sounded Chinese even though he has Hausa accent. I told her that he is too playful for an albino and that I won’t have grandchildren that can’t see in the afternoon. But she wouldn’t listen! Then one day we found him dried up, like the fish Mutiu brought home the previous week. That was when I started suspecting Mutiu.

The following week, I overheard Mutiu complaining bitterly that my folks and I were becoming fat. I would have argued it out with him that I’ve lost weight but which of the favours of Allah will I deny? That same week, Nasitufu went missing. After two weeks of searching without success, I decided to visit the imam of Mutiu’s mosque to have an Imam-to-imam discussion with him. I thought I could explain to him that one of his subjects does not understand the prophetic teaching that food for one is enough for two... But the imam didn’t give me a chance to explain before he started chasing me up and down with his rosary. Ah! Nasitufu…my dear Nasitufu. I found her under the imam’s chair, long dried and gone like her albino boyfriend.

Now, my mind is made up. If you are reading this, then you know that this message has gotten to the sultan of rats in Ijebu. It’s high time we launched our weapon of man’s destruction, LASSA virus. And, just so you may know, the emir of mosquitoes have promised us air support.


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