WHITE DOVE

The Unexpected Encounter

When I was around 5 years old, my family moved from a rented apartment in the city to a newly constructed house in a more nature-oriented setting. Although the house wasn't finished, it was situated in an environment surrounded by trees and a forest, with only a few houses nearby. Initially, the new surroundings felt intimidating, but over time, we all became accustomed to living there.

The house had three bedrooms. Israel and I had our room, which we referred to as the boys' room. Additionally, there was a girls' room, though at the time of our move, Deborah had not been born yet; Mom gave birth to her the following year.

The family faced significant financial challenges when we initially moved. Biodun, Israel, and I were enrolled in one of the top private schools at the time. I often wondered about how Mom and Dad managed to cover our school fees, considering the financial strain and the fact that their income was not substantial at that point.

Mom and Dad never found time for vacations or leisure activities. Their days were consistently filled with work, and they devoted a significant amount of time to attending church, seeking God's favour for the family. At times, I pondered whether God heard our prayers, or if He was occupied, considering the millions of people praying daily for favour and grace.

Gradually, we settled into our new house, taking the time to arrange it step by step. The neighbours, as well as church members and our church shepherd, warmly welcomed us to the neighbourhood. During this period, our church, which followed a traditional approach, required us to wear white garments whenever we entered the premises, often going barefoot. Additionally, it was customary to kneel when praying to God. These practices set our church apart from others in the vicinity.

On a cold, wet night, right after the rain had ceased, my entire family gathered in the living room. We engaged in lively conversations, discussing future events after a satisfying supper. I vividly recall sharing laughter with my elder brother when a noise from outside the house suddenly caught my attention.

Intrigued, I stepped out into the compound, approaching our dog cage to check on Ruby, our loyal canine companion. To my surprise, I discovered a rather unexpected sight amid the lingering rain – a white dove. The small creature appeared cold, shivering, and somewhat soiled. I couldn't help but wonder if the dove had lost its way. I gazed at it for a minute, but the small creature remained motionless. Grabbing a wooden stick, I attempted to gently prod it in the hopes that it would take flight, yet nothing occurred.

In a flash, I rushed back inside our home to tell my little brother, Israel, about the bird. We were both surprised and curious, so we hurried back outside to check on it. As we approached, we saw the dove struggling in the cold. It looked tired and in need of help. I felt a mix of sympathy for the beautiful bird and a sense of confusion about the whole situation.

To figure out what to do, my brother and I decided to seek our dad's advice. We believed he could help us unravel the mystery of the dove's predicament. Israel and I hurried back inside to tell Dad about the mysterious bird we found in our backyard. He assured us, "I'll take care of the bird," and we all went back outside. Dad picked up the bird and told us, "I'm going to take him where he belongs, so he can fly away or find his family." Little did we know, Dad headed to the nearby riverside without informing us.

I was confident that Dad was helping the bird return to where it came from. A short while later, he came back and shared, "Boys, I've returned him where he belongs. He's safe now." I felt relieved and happy to know that the beautiful creature was no longer lost and suffering.

A few hours after my dad returned from the river where he released the bird, I went back to our backyard to check, and to my surprise, he had already found his way back. I was so shocked that I couldn't speak. Quietly, I went back inside and told my dad about the little white bird he had rescued. He was momentarily silent. My brothers, my mom, and I went outside together and saw him there. I suggested to my dad that maybe we should keep him. He responded, "I guess we should let him stay here tonight. Perhaps by tomorrow, he can regain his ability to fly back to his friends and family, as he couldn't fly yet."

We all agreed on that plan. I carefully carried the bird and placed him on our balcony, where it was warm and comfortable. I couldn't sleep that night until 1 a.m., constantly watching the bird and wondering how he might have been separated from the rest of his family.

I went back to bed, uncertain if I'd find it in the morning. Despite my anticipation, sleep overcame me. Normally, my dad would wake my brothers and me at 6:30 AM during the dry season, known as harmattan in Nigeria; it is always the end of the year. The cold and dry weather meant water was scarce in our well and the neighbourhood. To meet our daily needs, we had to trek 200 meters to fetch water with buckets for bathing and cooking before heading to school at 8:30 AM.

However, this morning, it wasn't the usual routine that roused us; it was the distinctive sound of the rescued bird. With a repetitive "KU KU KU KU KU KU KU," the bird continued until everyone was awake. The novelty of having a bird as an alarm was both strange and exciting to me, as we had never experienced such a wake-up call before.

As dawn broke, we gathered in the living room for our daily morning prayer—a cherished routine in our Christian family as usual. Afterwards, my dad poured the dove some food, but he abstained from eating. Instead, he opted for water, sipping it contemplatively before my brothers and I embarked on our journey to fetch water.

Our daily routine involved navigating through the bustling crowd vying for water. My senior brother, Biodun, took charge of the fetching, while my younger brother, Israel, and I hurried to deliver each bucket home swiftly. With buckets balanced atop our heads, we raced back to secure the next load before school preparations commenced.

Unlike previous mornings, where fetching water before school invoked frustration, today was different. Motivated by the presence of the bird, we embraced our duties with newfound enthusiasm, eager to spend time with our feathered companion before heading to school. The thoughts of the bird consumed my mind, a blend of curiosity and happiness intertwining within me.

After completing our tasks and morning routine, we all had breakfast together. My little brother and I spent a few minutes with the bird before heading to school. I usually walk 200 meters to catch a bus that takes me directly to school. Filled with joy and excitement, I felt a connection to the bird.

That day at school, I eagerly told all my classmates about what I had found the previous night, but none of them seemed interested. When the timekeeper rang the bell for closing time, I hurried back home to see the bird. Luckily, he was still on our balcony, but he wouldn't eat, and he still couldn't fly. I sat there for an hour, just staring at the bird. He looked so special to me, and indeed, he was special.

When Dad returned from the office, he brought some bird food with him so we could feed him. However, he still wouldn't eat, and we didn't know what else to do.

Several days passed, and the bird still wouldn't eat, until one Saturday, when he finally had some food. I felt like he was just beginning to trust us. A few hours later that Saturday, he regained his ability to fly and soared into the sky, and I watched him with excitement. Witnessing his progress after all of our efforts to help him was truly inspiring. It taught me that we can heal and rise again when we feel down. Later that day, he returned to eat and went back to his regular spot on the balcony, where he slept every night close to our electricity meter. It seems like he likes electricity.

The next day, upon waking up, I considered getting him a cage. However, the thought of confining him seemed unfair. Maybe it was because I envied his ability to fly freely, and I didn't want to lose him.

He was a unique bird with a good spirit, always fluttering around the house. At times, he made quite a mess, displaying behaviours that seemed almost human. Despite the chaos, he proved incredibly smart, allowing only family members to touch him and steering clear of strangers.

As our feathered friend continued his free-spirited flights around the neighbourhood each morning after eating, people in our town began to take notice of him. We lived harmoniously together for several years, and I lost count of how many times some individuals in our community attempted to shoot him down with a catapult. However, with time, they grew accustomed to seeing him gracefully soar through the skies.

I had a close friend who lived opposite our house, his name was Oluwole, and his dad was a retired police officer and a farmer. We often hung out together, and I would visit his house to play Sega with him. Even though his school was quite far from mine, over time, he managed to convince his family to change his school to mine, and that's when we became best friends. Our bond was strong; we played soccer together, and most people in our neighbourhood recognized us as inseparable. Oluwole was my only close friend as I was growing up, and we enjoyed spending time together playing with the white dove and riding his bicycle.