The fourth man to get bitten was an old man called Joab. He had never seen the gates of school. He lived in a tiny mud house. It had long wooden rectangular plank for a door. Not screwed in any hinges, just balanced on the upper part of the entrance hole. Sometimes Joab would nail in an okd gray bed sheet to replace the plank. The plank couldn’t close the gap like the bed sheet did when it’s windy. 

He’d only have clothes when the villagers wanted to give some away. That’s if the clothes weren’t too small or weren’t female and were wearable. He’d only have a meal when the neighbouring homes they had cooked extra. Joab would also ask if there aren’t any left overs. Other instances he’d sit alone in his mud house with a lot candle for company. Mama Kidder would get in with a smile, carrying a warm plate of the night’s supper. He’d clap his dusty hands and she’d give him the food in a curtsy – Joab was sixty-eight. Then he’d thank her, promise to wash the plate and return it once he’s finished. And mama Kidder would leave her smile, without saying any word. But all of that stopped when she passed away due to breast cancer. To Joab’s unlock her kindness wasn’t legt unto her three remaining daughters. 

If he never got food from other people he’d be seen fiddling with trash bins. He never cared if they saw him do that. Pride cannot feed a starving man. Things became so bad Joab felt like those who’d give him food have forgotten about him. Of course he’d never expect a free meal everyday. But… 

“Any leftovers?” 

“No,” they would say. They would close the door on his face and then they would start to hear a shuffle of bottles, cans, plastics and papers outside. When they’d look through the window or get out of the house they’d see his hands deep in their trash bins, his face looking down inside. Some would feel pity and give him money or see what they can get for him from the fridge or cupboard. Others would simply return inside the house or close the curtains. 

Joab began looking at the peaches on that tree. Days went by and Joab would still pass by the tree and bush, talking to himself. So many trees in the village but only that one could produce such fat peaches that no one had a single drop of their juice on the tongue. Of all the thousands of bushes scattered around the village only that one had to be the home of a snake and a tree of such beautiful peaches. 

Joab’s heart hurt when he thought about it. But he couldn’t have spit and water as the two main things down his throat.