FADE IN:
EXT. BAKED RED SOIL –DAY.
ISHOLA (VO)
My father never taught me how to use a hoe.
IMPACT! ISHOLA falls unto the ground in view. He writhes from the fall, arching his back. The lad is young and slightly pulped from the wear and tear of battle. He is dressed like a warrior, but hardly looks the part.
ISHOLA (VO)
Instead, he’d take me to the plantation and give me lessons on what it takes to be a good farmer.
Part of his assailant comes into view. We see enough of the man to see him draw his blade.
ISHOLA (VO)
And I’d say, “Father, when would these lessons ever stop?”
Ishola has recovered enough to know that this is the end of the line for him.
ISHOLA (VO)
And he’d say, “We never stop learning, my son…”
The assailant begins to advance onto him.
ISHOLA (VO)
“…Until the day we die.”
FADE TO BLACK
WHAM!
Everyone and everything about the firewood lit square seem to feel the impact of IRINLE ramming into the other wrestler…
Neither falls or budges. Each man’s legs strain as they push against one another, barrel chest to barrel chest…
Suddenly, Irinle, 38, pulls a move that has him looming over his BULKY OPPONENT, almost pinning him to the ground.
BULKY is able to swerve and spin away before, Irinle can hold him down.
Both men rise to their feet, panting. The crowd is chanting Irinle’s name. Irinle’s eyes moves over the head of the crowd to see JAGUNLAYE walking by. Jagunlaye, 43, walks on by, oblivious, and enters the Balogun’s hut.
Irinle’s eyes barely snap back in time to see the BULKY’s charge!
Head-down, BULKY rams into him so hard his eyes bulge from the impact!
The watching crowd gasp in shock as Irinle rocks hard.
Irinle’s feet struggles to regain some footing as his feet shuffle through the mud.
BULKY deepens his shove. Irinle is struggling.
With a grit of his teeth, Irinle stamps his feet down, one after the other. Finding his bearings, he brings both his arms up under the wrestler’s armpits. With a mighty heave, he sends the man sprawling hard on the ground unto his back.
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