The Barefoot Sergeant

by Claude Lambert

Claude Lambert

  The Barefoot Sergeant

  A story about Colonial Africa – 2000 words

  Copyright © 2011 Claude Lambert

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 978-0-9836791-3-4

  This file is licensed for private individual entertainment only. The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into an information retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or otherwise) for any reason (excepting the uses permitted to the licensee by copyright law under terms of fair use) without the specific written permission of the author.

  The Barefoot Sergeant

  by Claude Lambert

  for Dr Omoigui

  The hero of my story was born in Benin City; in a country we now call Nigeria. It is way south, much more south than Miami, almost at the Equator and way, way across the Atlantic Ocean, in Africa. When he was born, the family elders held a meeting and discussed how he should be named, according to what was on their mind. Part of the family wanted him to be named "It has not rained this season" and another part wanted his name to be "Evil runs amongst men," because there was war and there was little crop, and everybody felt terrible. But his mother thought that these names were awful, and wanted something nicer. In the end, they decided to call him Edo, and that is what he was, a member of the Edo group, talking the Edo language and living in Edo country.

  In Benin City though, one waits for the baby shower to announce the name of a child. Then, the mother teases her friends by inventing all kinds of ridiculous names for the child:

  "We are going to call him Palm Tree in the Sky"

  "This is not a good name", her friends would say, "Who ever heard of somebody called Palm Tree?"

  "Well then, we are going to call him Eye of the Moon"

  "O frankly, what is it with you: it is not a name for a little boy"

  And so it goes, and everybody is joking, and finally the father and mother whisper together, and the real name of the little boy comes out: ”His name will be Edo Edo."

  And then one opens a coconut, which represents the mystery of life, for who understands how milk goes into the wooden fruit of the coconut? And then there is a feast.

  So, Edo Edo was born and named. He grew up like any other little boy, got married, and needed to make a living. Edo was too shy to be a good businessman, and not talented enough to be a great artist -artists were very praised in Benin. He decided that he would serve the British, who were in power at the time. He became a sergeant, I am not sure if it was in the army or in the police, but I do know that it was close to the highest rank any black person could achieve in the British system. He was only twenty-four years old.

  It was Edo's day. We are not all destined to be famous, like the inventors of Aspirin, the last Oscar winners, the fastest runner of the year or the mathematician who just got the Fields medal. And how many of us remember their names anyway?

  All of us, however, have our day in life. For some it is the day they fall in love, for some the day they buy a house, for some the day they finally retire. It is what we mean when we say that every dog has his day. Edo's day was the day he became a sergeant.

  ***

  And this is what made of it an extraordinary story. You would never guess what Edo did. Edo went to an artist in Benin City and asked for his statue to be made. It is not something that any Sergeant would think of over here. Because in America, when it is your great day, you take pictures or you make a video. People with more money sometimes call a painter to get a painting of themselves. But even rich Americans rarely think of getting a sculpture of themselves to celebrate the big event of their life. It was different in Benin City. Sculpture had been a major art form for maybe eight centuries; the King was always represented in bronze and surrounded by bronze artifacts. Happily for Edo's dream, the king had allowed the artists in town to tackle more profane subjects than Himself, for the King was related to the Gods, and had the power to decide who was worthy of a statue.

  So this is what Edo did: he ran to the house of one of the artists in town and commissioned his statue to be made in bronze. Financially, it was foolish: bronze was expensive, and he had to pay in advance 11 pounds of metal.

  Edo insisted that his uniform would be perfectly reproduced and that of course his face would be easily recognized. The sculptor first made a body of clay, and then he applied wax on it and sculpted directly in the wax all the details of Edo's face and uniform. Wax allowed all details to be easily and precisely carved. Then the sculpture was covered with the finest clay; the mould was done. The sculptor heated the mould and let all the wax melt and go out by a little hole. Melted bronze filled the void left by the wax and when the bronze alloy finally cooled off, the mould was broken, and the bronze statue appeared.

  Most of Edo's family was there and had a great meal while waiting, eating yams and goat meat with an okra sauce. When the statue appeared, everybody agreed it was magnificent.