The first thing Enahoro did upon discovering the dark form obstructing the road to his farm was to cover his nose. Whatever it was, it didn't smell good at all.

The second thing Enahoro did was to scout the area. If this was what he thought it was, it would not do to be found in the vicinity of the most mephitic smell he'd ever come across in his entire life.

It was obviously something dead. The sun hadn't yet peeped out from behind the moon so he couldn't see what it really was. But something was definitely dead. And it wasn't dead yesterday otherwise he would've seen it. But that didn't matter to Enahoro. Whoever owned this body had blocked the path to his farm and he was now obliged to report this to the Baale. That meant being placed as a suspect and potentially being forced to stand trial to confirm his innocence before the Baale.

Maybe if I go back home now and go back to sleep, no one will know. Modele is asleep. Let someone else discover this mess and report to the Baale. Then his common sense kicked him. If someone else reported to the Baale that the dead body was found on the road nearest to his farm, no one would listen to whatever he had to say in defense. Everyone knew Enahoro to be the earliest bird among early birds. He would be done with his farm work and be sleeping by the time his mates dragged their hoes to their fields. So there was no way around this mess. It was a nuisance and he knew no way to avoid it.

This time his sense of honor kicked him. It would not do for the dead man to be left on the bare road, it deserved respect. He also needed to sate his morbid sense of curiosity and find out just who had met his end. So he brought out the flashlight he usually reserved for farm work. And he directed its beams at the body before him.

His reaction initially was one of relief. After all, there was no need to report the unfortunate death of a cow to the Baale. Those foolish herdsmen and their foolish cows. Why didn't they just stick to the agreement and stay on the grazing land they were given? Enahoro frowned. He'd spent over five minutes worrying over some dead cow and now the sun was starting to rise. He would walk faster to recoup the lost time. He took one step over the shapeless mass of flesh and then stopped. Something other than his common sense and sense of honor kicked him. He took one more look at the cow and froze. Now he understood what he had just seen. The cow was discolored and it had foamed at the mouth. His hands started shaking and he made a conscious effort to remain calm even though the ugly truth stared him in the face. This cow did not die naturally.

Thoughts of blood, guns, bullets and bodies flooded his mind. He'd read about the bloody clashes between farmers and herdsmen in the newspapers but never once imagined that one day he would be stuck in the middle of outright war. Unless... he could hide the body and hope the herdsmen wouldn't notice and this whole thing would die down. Acting on this impulse, he grabbed two legs and prepared to swing the cow to the side of the road when his eyes caught something in front. He swung his flashlight at what he saw and cried out in shock. In the near distance, lay more bodies. And Enahoro knew there was no way this would ever die down.

***

The community was rocked by the discovery of sixteen dead cows on the path leading to Enahoro's farm. By 12 noon, the Baale summoned an emergency meeting of all the farmers. They came en masse and filled the Baale's palace with their shouting, putting on a mask of belligerence to disguise the fear grabbing each man's heart.

"What happened?" One farmer shouted.

"Sixteen cows? Jesus Is Lord!" Another placed his hands on his head.

"Is it true that Enahoro found the cows?"

"Those herdsmen will kill us now."

"Who is responsible?"

"Silence." The soft-spoken voice belonged to Baale Oyinkan. Gradually the strident arguing died down as each farmer recognized the presence of the community head. Enahoro used this time to observe the faces of his mates. He knew many of them held him with contempt and would be willing to lay blame at his doorstep. He wasn't sure how he would defend himself.

"Now many of you are aware of the reason I called you here. But for those who aren't aware, I will say it again. Early this morning, Enahoro found sixteen dead cows on the road to his farm."

A roar rose within the crowd, both made by the farmers first hearing the news and the ones who didn't want to believe it.

"That's enough." The Baale gestured for calm. "Before we continue we have to find out what happened to them. And to do that we must know who poisoned them."

Another outcry rose from the crowd and it took several rings of a bell to quiet down the people. When the atmosphere was sufficiently quieted, one short, bald farmer stood up.

"I don't understand why we are wasting time on this matter. Isn't it obvious that we must question the person who discovered the cows? Wasn't it on the way to his farm?" He pointed at Enahoro and scattered shouts of approval accompanied him.

Enahoro remembered him. It was a year and a few months ago, he'd referred to his tribal marks as resembling a two-handed slap from a lion. Obviously the bad blood still flowed.

"While that would normally be the first course of action, there is no need. Someone has come forward already. Will he please rise for recognition?" announced Baale Oyinkan.

A man stood up. Enahoro's eyes popped out in shock. It was Anjola, his friend and neighbor. Surely there was a mistake somewhere, maybe he'd seen someone instead...

"It was me. I planted Castor beans among my crops."

Angry murmuring greeted this new development. The Baale waited a few seconds before calling for calm.

"I'm afraid the times call for a decision. If Anjola had not done this thing, we could have negotiated with the herdsmen. That is no longer possible."

Enahoro covered his head with his hands and prayed for time to turn back its hands.

"We know what these people can do." Baale Oyinkan continued, "So the question is, what do we do? Do we attack or pray they do not attack?"

Some farmers began to furiously argue among themselves the best course of action. One farmer stood up and motioned for calm before stating her point. Enahoro knew her brother was killed in a herdsmen attack and prayed she wouldn't say what he knew she would say.

"I can't understand the reason for this meeting, isn't the answer obvious to you all?" She paused, "We must wipe them out." The farmers began arguing among themselves again. She allowed them work into a frenzy before continuing her assault.

"I never understood why the Baale allowed these invaders graze on our land. Now see what has happened. If we do not kill them, they will kill us and destroy our homes."

A murmur of approval echoed throughout the crowd and Enahoro found himself standing up in protest.

"If we attack these people, we will only give them reason to kill us all. And what will we attack them with? Machetes? Hoes? Hunting guns? They have machine guns. If we fight them, we will lose." He said. Some of the farmers nodded, others hissed with contempt.

"Would you have us negotiate peace with that herd of animals? They want nothing but to soak our soil, our grass with our blood and feed it to their family members." The lady farmer's sneer was enough to wither Enahoro's courage. He sat down amidst jeers and shouts.

Baale Oyinkan frowned, weighing the grave options before him. He didn't want his people to be killed off and he didn't want to kill off other people. He looked first at a surly Anjola, an apprehensive Enahoro and the hostility written on every other man's face.

He motioned for calm and made his choice.

"We will wait."

***

Baale Oyinkan and his community of farmers could not have known this but far away, on the outskirts of their territory, on the patch of fallow land they had leased out, the Fulani herdsmen too were holding an emergency meeting.

"They killed sixteen of our cows. Sixteen and you want us to wait? At the going rate for one head, over half a million Naira has been lost and we should wait?"

Mamado Lamine frowned at the bloodthirsty look he was seeing in his herdsmen. They had been unhappy with his leadership for a long time, Saikou saw to that with his consistent and public undermining of his efforts. Now he was facing the greatest challenge of his life and Saikou had the upper hand.

"You all seem to forget that the cause of this was purely Maba's fault. They were his cows and he failed to see to them properly."

"And how would you know of this, Mamado Lamine?" Saikou challenged.

"Why else would they be found so far away? Maba lost them three days ago and he said nothing out of shame. Now they are dead, what other reason would you suggest?"

"Easier to say the infidels stole the herd and poisoned them to offend us."

"And waste good meat?"

"You have no authority in this matter, Mamado Lamine. You have sullied your hands with the dirt of the infidels. You have eaten their food and you lay down like a dog when they asked you to." Saikou spoke with utter contempt. "Why else would you agree to graze on this worthless dunghill when the green grass is hidden in their secret places?" Now he spoke to the crowd, "Everyone knows all the land is given to us by Allah, it is our birthright. The infidels hold no claim to our land, we ought to have taken it by force!" The crowd affirmed their approval with a roar.

Mamado Lamine knew he was losing control quickly and tried to call for calm.

"They did not give us the best land because they are a farming community and the land is what they use to farm, Saikou. Despite your intentions, this is not Islam. We do not kill other human beings, fellow Nigerians at that, over a dispute caused by our own carelessness!" Mamado had never spoken so many words in anger before but he felt it now. If he failed to keep the peace here, there would be war and everyone would lose. He had seen it many times as a young man, he lost his father and brothers to meaningless fighting. He had no intention of suffering such again.

"We attack them, a few days later they attack us and over and over again it continues. If we go to war, we will not win." He finished.

"We have the weapons Allah blessed us with!" Saikou raised his rifle in the air and waved it menacingly. "They have nothing. And they already expect us to attack them. If we don't, they will strike first and we lose."

"They're afraid we'll attack them. Attacking them will not help our cause."

"But it leaves us open to their attack. A trapped animal will lunge at its enemy."

"What do you want, Saikou? The deaths of our brothers to satisfy your lust for death?"

Saikou paid him no more heed, his attention was focused on the people before him.

"Ever since the time of the Prophet, we have been at war. Us against the enemies of Allah. A war we have grown complacent with. That is why we are relegated to watching our livelihood be destroyed by our enemies who are dwelling on our land! This man asks me what I want. I want our land back. I want it soaked with the blood of the infidels who dared challenge Allah. I want blood and I want grass." The crowd of herdsmen cheered and Saikou marveled at the power he held over their imaginations. He pointed towards Mamado, eager to see him destroyed.

"You would know nothing of this for you have no authority, no idea whatsoever. Would you negotiate with the infidels again? Maybe if the leader tells you to lick his faeces you would be willing to do so, Mamado Lamine?"

Mamado smiled grimly, his eyes flashing.

"Be careful, Saikou. I have tolerated your insults long enough. And you are wrong. I do have authority. The authority given by the Caliph as the head of this herd. And I will be sure to tell him of your blasphemous speech tonight." Mamado Lamine took great pleasure in seeing the blanched face of Saikou. He turned to the rest of the herdsmen.

"No one will attack the community as long as my blood flows. Anyone who dares will lose his life. Until the farmers call for peace, we will wait."

***

A nervous peace settled over the community as each side remained unwilling to go to war. A peace that grated on Enahoro. He didn't want war anymore than he wanted another wife but the daily silence disturbed him. No one had gone to their farms in three days, unwilling to risk losing their lives. It was a depressing silence and it showed in his daily activities with Modele and when they talked to their daughter via phone call.

"Maybe you both should come here. Seyi and I would be happy to have you stay with us until the matter blows over." Their daughter said. It was a tempting offer to Enahoro and Modele yet for some reason they couldn't fathom, they declined.

"It's blown over already. We just wish things were back to normal, that's all." They said on the fourth day of silence and the fourth time Tosin had tried convincing them otherwise.

On the fifth day, Enahoro had had enough.

"I'm going to the farm. I need to be sure the plants are getting enough water."

Modele didn't protest. Her husband had been restless ever since the whole cattle issue came up. She waved him off and watched him take the well-worn path to the farm. Perhaps he would be okay once he saw to his plants.

***

Enahoro cursed. It was the first time in years he'd done so. For some reason he was afraid. He was afraid and wasn't sure why. His farm had been a mess. There were weeds strewn everywhere and his plants were yellowing. There was work to be done to get his farm back on track. Yet he couldn't shake off a sense of portending evil.

***

The sun was at its highest point, bearing down its merciless dry season heat on those unfortunate to be caught out in it. Every self-respecting human being was at home or under a shade either eating, resting or playing. Only one was still asleep.

Still lain supine on his mattress, Mamado Lamine was still asleep. He didn't wake up when his carotid arteries were completely severed, emptying their burdens for his mattress to absorb. His blood had drained out too fast for him to wake up and avenge himself.

His blood no longer flowed.

***

The attack had surprised everyone. In broad daylight, at the peak of the sun's powers, thirty herdsmen, ably led by Saikou, descended upon the community, guns blazing. They went from home to home, killing, looting and burning without prejudice. By the time the community rallied and fought back, the damage was done. By the time the last herdsman had fled or dropped dead, eighty two bodies soaked the grass with their blood.

Modele had been preparing the afternoon's meal when she heard the shouts. Once the guns began firing, she dropped to the ground immediately, meal forgotten. There was nothing in the house she could defend herself with and Enahoro was still at the farm. She remained still, hoping the herdsmen would pass over her house and that Enahoro was okay.

Until she smelled the smoke and realized they had set her home on fire.

Impulse took over rationale as Modele crawled towards her sitting room and began rummaging for her phone, dialing Tosin's number once she found it. The smoke was thickening and Modele was having trouble breathing properly. She knew there were two options now. To die in the smoke and flames or to try and escape. She knew the attackers would be  waiting for her to peep outside. She hoped they didn't know the house like she did.

The flames were visible now and growing, not much time left. Her face buried in her blouse, she ran to the kitchen, to the backdoor. Her head felt light and dizzy from lack of oxygen and she knew she had not much time until she fainted. She opened the door and fled outside, inhaling deep lungfuls of air as she did so. The urge to collapse proved too strong and she fell to the floor. Her eyes didn't register the two men behind her until it was too late. They approached her, guns at the ready.

Modele didn't care anymore. She just hoped they'd be fast with it.

***

The first thing Enahoro did when he saw the severed human leg and the bullet-riddled torso it had once been attached to, was to run. He had heard no gunshots, his farm was too far away. He ran past the pieces of human beings he'd spoken to only a few hours ago, past the lady he always bought his drinks from, the lady with half her face gone, ran past burning hulls of former homes, ran past Anjola, still wielding the machete he'd used to decapitate a herdsman who came too close, Anjola who he'd seen on his way to the farm playing with his son, Anjola whose intestines were getting too intimate with the dirt and sand. He didn't break down in tears when he saw the smoldering remains of the home he'd left only a few hours ago.

It was the sight of Modele lying in the grass just beyond their home.

He knelt in the grass and cradled her head softly, singing her favorite song to her over and over again until his voice broke and sobs wracked his body. In the distance, the choir of the living among the silent dead could be heard ministering to the god of pain and suffering. Enahoro lent his bass to the song, flowing in perfect harmony until his voice could no more. It was then the phone in Modele's hand rang. It was Tosin returning her mother's last call.

"Hello, mummy. What's up? I saw your call." Her cheery voice sounded harsh and foreign, like a loud fart during a church sermon.

"Hello, Tosin."

"Oh, hello daddy. Do you know where mummy is? She called me."

Enahoro smiled at the question.

"Your mother..." He began.

"What's wrong with your voice, daddy? And what happened to mummy?"

"Your mother..."

"What happened to mummy?" The formerly cheery voice was starting to sound worried. Her normally calm demeanor was starting to show panic.

Enahoro saw a man. Young-ish, maybe in his early thirties. He was holding a machete and walking with purpose somewhere. A few seconds later another man joined in, holding a hunting gun. And another one, a teenager wielding a fork. Now Enahoro knew where they were going. The Baale's Palace for assembly. A council of war. And Enahoro knew it would not be from him that Tosin would hear the news.

"What happened, Dad? What happened to mummy?!"

"Don't worry, Tosin. Your mother is at home," Enahoro said. "I have some things to take care of first before I'll join her. But know that we love you very much and we'll see you again very soon." His voice sounded eerily calm, as though he was not of this world any longer.

"What are you talking about, daddy? What's going on?"

"Goodbye Tosin."

"Dad—" Enahoro cut the call. He turned it off and threw it away. He rose respectfully from Modele's body and closed her eyes gently. Not too far away lay a dead herdsman, his gun still attached to the torso. After recovering the weapon and ammunition, Enahoro trudged off in the direction of the Palace, joining a growing mass of angered survivors and their sympathetic neighbors. Whether they would all live at the end of the coming war was uncertain. But what was certain was the blood that would nurture the grass in the coming days.