The strange old man

I wondered by what freak of circumstances such a n insignificant_looking man could have come ba an authority requesting all concerned "in the name of His Britannic Majesty" allow my companion to "pass freely and without let or hindrance and to afford him every assistance of which he may stand un need....." In my boyish imagination, a man who owned such a valuable document could not look like this. Why,it did not seem to me that he could even read or write. down his own name. I was intrigued by the situation that impulse suggested my asking him a question.

I was still debating in my mind what would be the best course to take , when someone interrupted my thought and caused a break in my thinking. "Hello, sire ,"he said going to the land of the tin mines?" I looked up into the face of the dark complexioned man in a dusty brown coat. His face was farmiliar, but for the moment I was too irritated by his intention t recall his name. "I 'm sorry,x" I said coldly, "I don't know you" He smiled rather shyly,and went on to recount my past life. "Don't you remember how we used to play together at Jebba,near the Juju rock base during break hours? Don't you remember the day you left for college, how you were weeping for your mother,and captain Plowman our education officer pacified you and gave you one bright new shilling; don't you...?x"

" I don't" I cut in, which was a lie.

" sorry then, I thought you were one of my childhood friend because you both look alike a lot ... if you were going to the mine, maybe you could help me land a job."

I remembered him now.His name was Kofe. He used to tell us fantastic stories of the day when the first white men arrived in our country. He could not be over the age of fouty; but his imagination so illuminated these stories that for us young children they became real. I had heard enough of this tales some ten years ago,and was in no mood to listen to such now to recall them or to give an ear to fresh bostings. I ignored him and turned to my thought again to the old mad.

I addressed him in our native language which was respect his age demanded.

"Greeting" I said, "I pray all is well with you on this journey?"

The Mallam ( a man of some education and standing) looked up at me and his eyes widened with surprise as if he were not quite certain wether after two days silence he had actually heard me address him. I hastened to reassure him by adding " I see that the Mallam has travelled far" .

" it is even so," he addmitted. His voice was hoarse with the cold and with disuse,and he wept freely. "I have indeed travelled far."

"Mecca?" I asked, recalling the Holy City was a favorite tourist spot.