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It was raining on that fateful morning. The rain prevented my father and me from going to the farm as planned prior to that day. While my father wished that the rain never fell so that we could go and cover the weeding work on the farm, I was beaming with smiles within. I dislike going to work on the farm.
After falling heavily for hours, my father asked me to go and harvest some tubers of yam from the farm. It was as if my heart was pierced with red-hot iron. My joy of not going to the farm that day was cut short.
"It won't take you more than one hour," my mom encouraged me with a pat on my back. "Since you are going with your motorcycle, it won't take you a long time."
I picked my cutlass and an empty sack in which I would arrange the harvested yam before transporting it back home. I navigated the muddy and slippery road to the farm. I parked my motorcycle beside the farm, and I picked the cutlass and sack to begin the harvest in earnest.
As I walked into the farm, I noticed some fresh footprints.
"Who could have come to the farm after the rain?" I asked myself.
I traced the footprint to the point of discovering where the uninvited visitor to the farm had operated. Many tubers were harvested from the farm. I was surprised how the thieves were able to harvest and cart away such numbers of tubers of yam. I harvested a few tubers from another section of the farm and returned home. I broke the devastating news to my dad.
When my dad and other farmers around the same area arrived at their various farms the following morning, it was realized the thieves visited many farms.
"Who could have done this?" My father's neighbor on the farm, called Isa, asked my father.
While in the farm with my father to access the situation, Isa's son, Adams, was with his father.
"I think it good we ask ourselves from within first to know if it is not someone from us that did this work," my father responded.
Isa turned and looked at Adams with disdain. "This message is for you. Your actions continued to cause me disgrace. If you are the one that did this, you better confess."
"Don't take it too far. I am not referring to anyone in particular," said my father.
Adams was found of stealing at home. He was causing a lot of embarrassment to his father. It was for this reason that his father took what father said personally. He felt that my father was sending his message to his son.
"Let's strategize on how to unveil who did this to us. I think that's the way forward now."
"You are right. We must find out who this thief is," Isa responded to my father.
The case was reported to the police. They were briefed about the mode of operation of the thief. Within a few weeks, the farms were visited by the thief about three times. Each of those days fell on a day that rain kept people at home. My father cried to the police once again to deliver us from the thief.
The police planned a discreet operation at the farm on a rainy day. As expected, the thieves in their numbers visited the farm to carry out their nefarious activity. They walked into the hands of armed plain clothed policemen. Two of the thieves were arrested while others escaped. Shockingly, the thieves were herdsmen who moved around with the cattle for grazing.
When my father and his friend were going to the police station to see the arrested thieves, Adams and I followed our respective fathers. Part of the interrogation was conducted by the police in our presence.
"Who are your informants?" A policeman who had suspected a connivance asked the duo.
They refused to respond.
If you confess now, we can enter into a plea bargain with the farmers whose crops were stolen, but if you refuse to say anything, you will have your day in court.
The two accused looked at each other and looked at Adams before being led by the police to their cell for refusing to talk. They were locked up.
As we were about to leave, one of the accused thieves knocked from inside the cell.
"I can't continue to suffer alone; I want to talk," he voiced out.
The door to the cell was opened, and both of them came to the counter again. When we gathered for the second time, one of them dropped the bombshell.
"You are part of the operation," he pointed to Adams.
All of us in the station were confused.
"Are you mad? Do you know me?" Adams asked, furious, with his hand raised to slap the accuser.
"No physical abuse here. Prove your innocence without going physical with anyone," the policeman warned Adams.
The accused thieves insisted that Adams was in the know of their operations. This prompted the police to seize Adams's phones immediately. Some findings were done on the call log, and it was discovered that both parties were constantly exchanging calls. At this point, Adams confessed to his role in the whole thing.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Isa asked his son with tears rolling down his cheeks. "You chose to connive with outsiders to steal from your father and others."
My father calmed Isa down. At this point, Adams was locked up with his colleagues. My father initially wanted to pursue the case to a logical conclusion, but he changed his mind when Adams came into the picture.
After the case was settled through alternative dispute resolution, the community leader expelled Adams from the community. Shame wouldn't allow his father to stay. He relocated from the town.