He took a deep rusty breath after working nearly quarter of hours on his ten acre Ulpan La-Inyan land with the sun baking hard on his 9ft6in half clothed naked body, he used his palm that had been stressed and harden due to years of ploughing and tilling his Ulpan La-Inyan to wiped his roughed sun tanned face. he was looking exhausted and wearisome the fruit of his soil wasn’t fruitful again today. He did all he could and gather some foods on his cart which he made from the tree of mahogamy and headed home before the dark night approaches. he pushed the cart as he traipsed silently home, with heart filled of dissatisfaction he stopped to kicked the dust and cursed the soil, he whine and shrill in anger against his lord

“Wetin happen na I don dey hustle for month and una no wan bless my hustle kiloshele gangan I don tired oo abi haaaa” He clasp his hand against his chest paused for a moment and continue
“And na so you dey bless Abel and never bless me wetin man go d self see I don tire oo well no worry shar I no wetin man go do” he coughed and spit and then continued to pushed his cart home.

Home was where laid his ageing father and weary mother, who had been waiting for him to returned for they had not tasted the food of his Ulpan La-Inyan for months. They had pray to thine lord to bless their son with fruits of the land so thus they expected him to be fruitful and bring food to their stead but instead it was same archaic tale that prompted his mother to cursed him.

“Be like say una dey craze abi abeggy sey na only you ni this and that na you we go find there we never chop food na only meat wey your brother bring we dey chop I swear I cursed the day wey I born you self oya comot and never returned till you find better think bring iwo omo oloriburku yi ? ” brittled his mother who continued to hit him and wail, she sob in disappointment and asked him to never returned until after he had a fruitful Ulpan La-Inyan.
In anger he rushed and travelled to meet his brother who had been on the field for days to rear is flock.

He laid his 7ft body under the shield of the oak tree to protect his skin from the burning ray of the sun whilst his flocks of tso’n roam and eat on the green field, their cries reverberate through the cave and gave a scanty melody to his ear, he dipped his hand into the basket to take a crunch of fried taltos made from emmer wheat which is brother Cain had brought home from his Ulpan la-Inyan months ago, he was having a nice time watching his flocks and enjoying the solemn hymn the breeze was nestling to his ear when suddenly he had his name

Abel! Abel!! Abel!!! It was his brother Cain who was calling.
He stretched his body and groaned as he stand, dusted is white needle knitted rob to met his brother who had run nights just to met him.
He was panting and looked tired his body was rusty and dried he look paled and burned his appearance was wretched he need water and a bath but Abel doesn’t care as he was busy having fun with the grotesque figure before him

Wetin happen to una hahaha see as yeye dey smell, but egbon why your life con be like this self? And lest I forget oluwa don talk oo hin talk sey make we bring sacrifice come mountain oo next tomorrow and hope you don dey prepare wella this time? Make you no bring those rotten dirty fruit of yours oo baba no dey chop those kin food. He continue to laugh and taunt his brother.

Cain was filled with anger and rage he felt like charging at him and murdered him but he held back but it happens on the 7th day of the 7th sun when they went up to the mountain to offer sacrifice to their lord, Cain couldn’t bear the Joke and Taunt from Abel whose sacrifice had been received whilst is sacrificed was turned down

Hahahahaha na this rotten thingy una bring again enh egbon chai na so una life wretched reach nei— he couldn’t finished his taunt when Cain rushed to him and sliced his throat!

18 thoughts on “ABEL AND CAIN – Untold

  1. Hahaha. Not a fan of african creole or pidgin but it was funn reading it, nice one dude you write well bless the day I read your post on facebook Lmao xoxoxo

  2. @Dennis Writing in pidgin is cool and totally absolves our nature. I’m still in support of developing Nigerian pidgin into a standard language. Any form of communication should be welcome. We’re humans, communication is key to our existence.

  3. Could you believe many people prefer reading write-ups written with pigin aleast to avoid all those big incomprehensive grammars .
    Kudos for that

Leave a Comment