Tade had stolen again. Human bodies in white garment moved frantically, the wind blowing the garments in opposite directions of wherever they went. Their feet sank into wet mud. They snatched palm fronds from their sheaths, whilst crying unto God to save this young man from the oh! too tight clutch of the devil’s hands. Tade felt the world spin around him as they forcefully lowered him to the ground and lashed him with the palm fronds, beating the demons inside of him. The bread Tade once held tightly in urgent hunger rolled out of his hands. Tade was dead.