I grew up knowing that the African owl was a brother to Lucifer, a symbol of bad omen,
Since i was living with my grandma, i discovered her strong hate against African owls,
She used to warn me not to go idling in the bushes alone, lest i find the bowmen,
She even bought me an ancient chart of birds, showing all species from sunbirds to fowls,

She once told me that owls can predict death of a person in the stretch of their neighborhood,
According to her the black owl was a descendant of Satan, eyes of the serpent upon our land,
She took an old clay pot, hammered it into tangible pieces using a short piece of firewood,
She murmured a few words to her ancestors, out of her basket she gave me also a black armband,

I was to wear that piece till i cross over to my adulthood, she said it was a sign of protection,
The following day i woke up in the wee hours of morning, still sleepy i went to pee near the backyard,
When the first drop of wee touched the ground, a chorus of owls went viral awakened my circumspection,
I blinked repeatedly as if something had entered my retina, i forgot the armband was my bodyguard,

The echo appeared to rise every second, when i stopped peeing there was peace again,
From that very juncture i swore against going outside alone, that incidence scared the hell out of me,
I tiptoed towards my bedroom, i closed the door hastily and whispered an Amen,
Such memories are unforgettable, just like the agonising sting of a bee!