The Boy Who Counted Wind

There was a boy in Edo called Osahon.

His job every evening was to count.

His grandmother would say, "Osahon, count the goats before you lock them."

So he would count: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

One day, the wind blew very hard and scattered some leaves. His grandmother joked, "You fit count wind?"

Osahon said, "Yes."

From that day, Osahon started counting wind.

He would sit down for hours. "One wind passed... two winds passed..."

Everybody said he is mumu. His friends left him.

But Osahon kept counting.

Years passed. He became a man.

One day, a big storm came to Edo. The kind that carries roofs. People were crying, running.

Osahon stood in the middle of the compound and raised his hand.

He said, "This is wind number 4,891. It always comes from the east and it always turns at the iroko tree. If we stand near the iroko, we are safe."

People ran to the iroko tree. The storm passed. Nobody got hurt.

After that, they called him Wind Man.

A journalist came from Lagos and asked him, "How did you know?"

Osahon said, "Because I was counting when everyone else was talking."

Sometimes what looks like wasting time is just learning a different language.