My Third Cycle

By Meto Jiwenou Adoglo

My Third Cycle is a fictional Nigerian novel/ journal recorded by the character Abdul Saad. This journal is filled with intriguing African myths, legends, idols and the biafran/Nigerian civil war era. The novel recounts the hidden truth behind a mysterious character Abdul Saad who lived three life times, through three generations - reborn each time after death to a new family and a different culture.
This jump from death to life ensuring the survival of his entity was possible due to the gift from his true mother "YEWA", the goddess of fertility.
The gift of the "bound spirit" is known in the Yoruba tongue as the "Akudaya". The journal reveals the tale of Saad's journey through the sands of time, his struggle through the ages, slavery, the persistent search for a lover lost to two centuries, the Nigerian civil war and finally the war within himself to do right for the sake of those he cherished- at the expense of his soul.
Time is the architect of the past, present and future: Read of the legend Saad, a man from time, a mythical being who battled time in an attempt to change his world and find happiness.
It begins with the riddle "UNRAVEL THE MYTH OF AN ENTITY CLOSE TO HEART AND BLOOD" and ends in..
#MyThirdCycle #Author #Writer #Novel #Journal #Memoir #Biafra #Nigeria #Mystery #Myth #Reincarnation #Entity #Fiction #CivilWar #Culture #Slavery

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meto Jiwenou Adoglo
• Release date: Jul 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370988990

Meto Jiwenou Adoglo

Young Novelist, Writer, Visionary, innovative, versatile and a realist. In love with the face of beauty, the sound of music, the delicate green of the earth. Endowed with the spirit of pure green imagination, she flows through me, revealing her beauty, her wonders, her vast superiority over all deeds and. concept for limitations. She revels in my mind and thoughts. Blessed with fertile fingers, fingers so fertile i sow seeds in the clouds and rip from it. Green fingers - Green touch - Green Arts - Green Tales.

Book preview

IN GOD I TRUST

My Third Cycle

A Green Tale Novel

PROLOGUE

Time - an Entity.

The mother perhaps of all recorded data in history, present and the future. She counts the seconds, minutes and hours that unfold in a day. She is purpose, a schedule.

Management without her is futile. Her existence predates life and will outlive it. She is omnipresent and omniscient. She has witnessed the birth of every great achiever. She counts in every situation, good or bad. She gives no breaks, supports no one.

People say time is money but time is more than money. Money lost can be recovered but time lost is never recovered, a moment lost is lost forever. Time is ever changing because change is a law of nature and nothing is independent of change or time.

The life of a man is very short but the work to be done is large and difficult therefore, not a single minute should be wasted. Every breath and every second should be used properly and meaningfully.

15th October, 2016

Michael

My uncle Abdul Saad was a tall, slim man. He had wavy brilliant dark hair; reminiscent to the ocean waves. A peculiar birthmark shaped inform of a star lay on his forehead. A gentle and quiet soul he was, his facial hair always well dressed; his beautiful brown eyes were lovely to behold, they were ever so persuasive to individuals who stared into them. He had a charismatic aura about him; basically a woman's man, handsome and luring. He spoke and smiled softly too. He was the very definition of an aristocrat.

He loved books. I never knew him to work but he was very rich. Never married thus; never gave me any cousins to play with. My only compensation was his friendship. Since I was old enough to read, each time mother and I visited, he would lend me a new story book to read. It quickly became our thing. I would return the books I had read and he would suggest newer books. I liked him because he related to me like an adult. We discussed authors and editors, criticized books. We had long chats about school my; school life, girls… he always had the right tips/advices. He was always happy to listen to all my stories and problems, this was odd but welcomed; his fierce dedication to my needs soon earned him my loyalty and trust –he became my confidant. On a day, i asked him why he read and wrote so much, he replied,

"Son, reality sucks but in my books, I am alive. I feel at home’’

We enjoyed the same kind of books although he loved every kind and genre: old or new, fantasy, fiction or thriller. Our shared favorites genre was non-fiction; based on true life experiences. I told him I wanted to write a novel based on a true story once, he regarded me -smiled before saying;

I just might have one for you. Unravel the myth of a god and entity close to heart and blood. There, you will find a story.

What? I asked, confused.

There's a diary, son he said and then he paused, looking very pensive before continuing, Michael, when I die, which of my possessions do you fancy most? What do you want off me when i go?

I don't under... I started to say but he interrupted me.

Of course you do son; what will it be? I’ve got sweet rides, mansions you'd love; i know you love my yacht. Come on Mike, it's not that hard.

No, it isn't. I replied, this made him smile.

Yes?! he replied anxious

I want this library.

You love the library that much?

Well of course, it's a marvel!

He laughed out, clearly amused at my pick. When he was done, he regarded at me and said, whilst still bearing a grin It's yours after I die.

Just like that uncle?!

On one condition though? You must accept the mansion it comes with.

I smiled in relief, it wasn’t the kinda condition I’d imagined.

I can’t imagine anyone better than you in here. I was amused because technically your response should have been this mansion –the library is after all a section of the mansion.

We laughed and I acknowledged my brief moment of mediocrity.

After a while, I remembered he had spoken of a diary and tried to probe further but he said nothing more, he just told me I was not ready yet.

Soon, Michael. Soon.

I was curious to know what that odd statement meant but it did not look like I was going to get anything more from him that day, so I left it for another day, hoping ‘soon’ would be soon enough.

***

Uncle Saad owned a library in his island home with a vast collection of books, his library was a marvel especially considering it was for private use. Its interior was well-decorated with antique sculptures, paintings and tall, polished shelves. A huge chandelier was centered in the middle of the room. Huge windows aided cross wind flow.. There was a large, polished wooden reading table with drawers placed at the east corner of the library. Comfortable sofas were tastefully arranged close to the windows and a mini-bar with a fridge at the corner of the room.

Before he committed suicide, Uncle Saad struck me as a very happy man, he was always smiling and he always had time to play with little children, so it came as a big shock to me when I was told he killed himself. I cried for a long time when I heard the news because we were too close, he was my friend, a father figure to me.

Three days later, after his burial, I was standing alone at the center of his library, the chandelier above my head, trying to wrap my mind around the fact he was gone forever; trying to understand why he would kill himself and the room seemed to start spinning. I started crying again as memories began to play back in my head.

Our family was a very little one. My mother, my aunties and uncle namely; Amina and Karajan then the controversial Uncle Du. My father died while I was in my mother's womb, so was trained by my mother and her sisters. I knew solely the members of my mother’s family as she had lost contact with my father’s family after his death.

Mum and Uncle Saad were the closest amongst their siblings which people considered weird; they did not grow up together, they had only met 16 years back –Uncle Saad had rescued her after she had been captured and baited as a hostage, he did so unaware she was his sister. While growing up, I heard rumors of a romance between both of them.

Ridiculous!

They claimed, when I asked about it. They claimed people - including their siblings - misinterpreted the love they had for each other. His death really devastated her.

Head still spinning in the library, I heard my mother call out my name. I was called to the parlor and asked to sit with the adults, which felt strange because I was only sixteen and this appeared a serious meeting. Aunties Amina and Karajan. Then Uncle Du who stood the eldest of the siblings; were all present. They sat still in their chairs, yet i could sense an underlying friction between them. Barrister Bola, uncle Saad’s lawyer was also seated in the room.

Barrister Bola cleared his throat, picked up a document and began to read.

Oh! That’s what this is. I thought, Uncle Saad's will.

I regarded on as Barrister Bola spoke, observing my uncle and aunties; appeared different, afraid and tense. They were all hoping for a share of the money.

Barrister Bola completed a statement I didn’t quite catch as i wasn't paying full attention, I only heard mention of a hundred thousand dollars and Uncle Du jumped up and punched the air as he screamed

Yes!

I felt sad and disgusted at how delighted Uncle Du appeared.

Well, the dead have no use for wealth. I thought to myself right before I was shaken out of my thoughts at the sound of more than one voice talking at the same time.

Apparently, my mother, my aunties and my uncle were willed just cash. Uncle Du began to enquire about his brother’s assets but Barrister Bola told him to be patient.

It has to be done the right way with all protocols observed.

Uncle Du lost his smile, he was getting suspicious. Barrister Bola turned to me and said, Finally, Michael, the statement reads that your uncle, Saad willed firstly Article A; the library to you and secondly Article B; every asset he owned. There is a something else; a diary. A really old diary…

The barrister held out an old book to me.

…with a note attached - Unravel the myth of a god and entity_ close to heart and blood and you shall find the key you seek.

I took the diary from the lawyer and studied it, turning it over in my hands as I tried to remember where I had heard or seen those words before.

He continued, When you get the key, you get your inheritance, but there is a catch. If the key is not found one year from today, Michael’s claim to Article B will be revoked and it will be donated to an orphanage of his choice.

What! Uncle Du exclaimed but no one paid attention to him, his sisters were murmuring in excitement to the lot they had inherited. Uncle Du repeated himself, this time with a startling higher pitch. We turned to meet his sadistic gaze, he said;

Now i know Saad was clearly insane, he overlooked me and willed the entire of his assets to young Micheal; a sixteen year old nephew, only if he can solve a riddle which he definitely cannot. Shit! It's over. Saad has succeeded in having us lose out on his huge wealth, the stingy bastard. I never trusted him

At this point my mother had had it up to her neck; she lost her smile and interrupted him.

Hey!

She shouted, confronting him,

Insane you say! Perhaps maybe; Saad must have been insane to give your lazy, scheming, gambling ass a hundred grand. You deserve nothing, not even a penny.

"Well, I suppose you feel your ass deserves all Zaleka.

After all Saad was spending and giving a lot more than cash on that large ass of yours, y'all were working overtime." Uncle Du replied.

This was the first time I had heard him openly allude to an illicit relationship between Uncle Saad and my mother. Suddenly, the exchange of words erupted into a fight and they had to be separated. I was quiet throughout the exchange, focused only on trying to understand Uncle Saad’s motive for willing it all to me and the contract clause.

After the long day, when everyone had calmed down a bit and gone home, mother decided we would stay at Uncle Saad’s for the main time, so I went to the library with the diary. I opened the door to the library and locked it behind me, walked in and sat at Uncle Saad’s table thinking about how old the diary appeared, then I opened it and began to read.

****

Standing still, filled with emotions and my heart incomplete; I hear the drizzle of the rain like a memory. It falls soft and warm, continuously tapping on my roof and walls. From the shelter of my mind, through the windows of my eyes, I gaze beyond the rain drops and drenched streets to Nigeria where my heart lies. My mind is distracted and my thoughts are many