One of the words that trended in #Bbnaija season7 reality show, was “ekuke”. Chizzy hurled the word at Bella in a verbal trade-off between the two housemates.
Ekuke is an indigenous name that refers to our local breed of dogs, also know as mongrels.
A typical ekuke is slender and small in size, and I guess that was the connection Chizzy was going for, seeing that Bella has a petite frame.
With the social media buzz prevalent with the BBNaija show, you would often see “ekuke” bants with derogatory intents on the timeline.
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Personally, I get the derogation about ekukes but I sincerely can’t relate. I associate ekukes with fondness and delight.
And this is because of Whisky, my ekuke.
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I grew up with dogs. There was this period we had three dogs simultaneously: Tango, Smokey and Whisky.
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Tango was an australian shepherd breed. Female, lithe, shy. She was the resident hunter. We would wake up to carcasses of rats and snakes, courtesy of Tango.
There was this undeveloped plot of land west of our fence, which housed creatures thriving in the bush that took over the plot. The death sentence for those creatures was to climb over to our side of the fence. Tango showed no mercy. “You come over, you die”, was her mantra for them rodents and snakes.
Usually, she would leave her kills on the battle field to be found or rot away.
There was this one time though she dragged a kill to our back doorstep. She had caught a proper bush meat and she knew it, and was super proud of herself. She dropped it at the balcony and guarded it until morning. It was a grasscutter. We cooked and served it to her. Such a smart sweet dog.
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Smokey was a caucasian male. Huge, largely honey coloured, except his face which was charcoal black hence his name smokey (face).
Smokey was an ill-tempered dog. Once you serve him his food, you dare not come close or you’d risk a bite. He nipped at me one time and the scar stayed for years.
Even bathing time was war. Generally, the dogs were not enthusiastic about shower times but smokey was a special case. He would refuse to move on his own to the bathing space and his large size made him a chore to pull. Bathing smokey meant plenty muscle and mouth-guard (to cage his jaws).
My dad loved smokey though. His barks were spectacular; the reverberation from them were epic. You could hear him yards away. And then the fact that he was largely aloof and rarely sought out human affection, also pleased my dad.
Me shaa, that smokey is bottom on my list of fave dogs. Lol.
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Then there was Whisky, our ekuke. Deep brown and little white mix. Petite but dominant. If the dogs were a “money heist” team, Whisky was the professor.
The fishes et al Whisky tapped from the kitchen ehnn.
My mum christened him, “Whisky-onye oshi” at some point.
Whisky was very loyal and he was loyal to only “us”. It didn’t matter the length of time relations had stayed with us, the fact that Whisky didn’t meet them when he was first brought to our home meant they were not his people and were not welcomed. Lol.
On the flip side, no matter how long you’re away from home, the fact that you were there when Whisky was brought home means you will always be his person.
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Whisky was the oldest of the trio yet the smallest physically, however that had nothing on him.
Tango was subservient and smokey accorded him respect.
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I would never forget Whisky’s death. I am not sure about year, but I clearly remember he died on the 31st of December. We didn’t travel to the village that year.
I remember it was 31st December, because my mum was particularly consoled about the sad event “going with the year”. Imagine if it had happened on the 1st of January!?
Surely would have been unnerving.
That morning, we woke up to Whisky vigorously convulsing in his cage. The other dogs were fine. My dad called the vet doctor. Vet was not around, he had travelled to his village. My dad explained Whisky’s state, and the vet said he may have taken something poisonous into his system and we should prepare for the worst.
Dad called a few other alternatives, but no one clicked.
Whisky had grown weaker and still. His eyes calmly gazed at us. It was as if he was telling us not bother that he would be “fine”.
I remember running to my wardrobe to gather some old clothes and folding them into a sort of pillow for his head.
I was just thinking of making him as comfortable as possible. I lifted his head and placed the “pillow”.
I vaguely heard my mum shouting at me not to get too close since the vet alluded to a possibility of “something poisonous”, but I didn’t care.
Whisky lost the battle.
When I heard my dad instructing my brothers to dig a grave north of the garden, my heart shattered. I went off to bawl. My beloved ekuke. Whisky of life.
It’s been well over ten years we lost him, but the memories are still fresh as green.
Ekuke wey sabi ❤