Call it luck. Whatever be the definition, but the way Fanyi's chest rose and fell in a constant rhyme made Uche wonder how the man had survived the first tribal war. They had raged into combat together and had battled death itself. However, fatigue was something their enemy had preyed upon. It was the same reason why some of the men had lost their lives, leaving memories and emptiness as a testimony. But how had the man survived?
Ducking to the left, Uche jumped back, missing the wooden sword which swung freely above his face.
"Same old tricks? Impressive." Fanyi said and took a different stance. It was the 'ice on water' stance. A technique that only a good swordsman can muster.
Uche clenched his weapon. He had been on the defensive as always, waiting for the right moment. But knowing who his friend was, Fanyi would never leave a weak spot. The lanky man was too smart for that.
"I will beat you on this one."
"Not in your dreams," Fanyi said.
The morning sun was on his dark skin, glittering with the sweat that trickled down in heavy drops. His hairless face was devoid of confusion, but amidst the arduous expression lies the mocking gaze of fatigue which the man was trying so hard to smolder. He has lost his stamina of steel. Maybe the many years were finally getting into his bones.
Woods clattered as Uche's sword met Fanyi's, mid-air. The lanky man's blow was weak, and not powerful enough to cause vibrations. That was a blessing.
Uche did not let thought dwell in his head, as he twisted his feet, ready to launch his first attack.
Instead of jumping back, he drove his right knee towards the man's rib, powerful enough to leave the man leaping for days.
"Chimo
oo" Uche screamed as Fanyi took a different stance in the last hour and swept him from his feet, causing him to land on the dust like a bag of groundnuts."Was that meant to scare me?" Fanyi mocked.
Uche did not respond as he coughed himself up to a sitting position. He had played the fool again and had fallen for the man's rusty pranks.
"What kind of warrior uses such exclamations?"
"The one that is going to beat you to a duel one day," Uche said. He was on his feet now and was dusting his pelt.
"Haha. The same one who just kissed the dirt." Fanyi eased his stance and lowered his wooden sword. "When will you learn? I am unstoppable. The best swordsman in the seven kingdoms."
"Second best, point of correction"
"Blah. Women are pathetic." Fanyi said and threw his wooden sword to the far side of the training ground.
A little boy hurried towards the fallen object and picked it as if he had anticipated the older man's move. His hair was shaved to the skin and the branding on his chest gave him out as one of the many slaves of Fanyi.
"The judges were unfair," Fanyi continued. Tinny lines creased his brow, portraying the anger that was beginning to heat his face. "I had the situation under control. Ah, I should have won that competition."
"But you didn't." Uche smiled triumphantly and started towards the mango tree "You lost the fight. And for the fight time, to a woman."
"Biko. Let me hear. You and I know that Ejima is not just any woman. Your wife has special qualities which I have not seen in anyone before."
"Tell me about it," Uche said and rested his weight on the chair, grateful for the mango tree that stood in the middle of the compound, casting a shadow from the hot dry season sun.
He was already gulping the cold water before Fanyi walked up to him and took the seat on the right.
"Have you told her yet?"
Uche paused for a moment, but his face narrowed when he met his friend's brown eyes.
"I have no intention to." He said as he refilled the cup and handed it to Fanyi.
"It is going to break her, and you know it. I think it's best if you tell her," Fanyi shrugged, "maybe find out what she has to say. She is a tough one and I know she would see reasons."
"No," the coweris on Uche's long hair dangled to the side as he shook his head, "I have respected her well enough. It's twenty years of childlessness. I am tired. Nwoke na agbada."
"No," Fanyi licked his lips as his brown eyes looked away from his friend. It was difficult to place a finger on what he was looking at.
"It's been twenty years of misery." Fanyi continued, "Four miscarriages yet she has been strong enough to keep pushing. Why not give her time?"
"Marriage is not like swordsmanship, dear friend. It is more like a work of pottery. One crack is all you need to get a broken piece. And as it stands, mine has four."
"And you are willing to throw the cracks away, after twenty solid years of harmony? All because of...setbacks?"
"Setbacks," Uche laughed, "I would rather you call a snake a snake."
"What about love? I thought the fathers called it the oil that mellows the hurting heart. The bandage of a wounded soul and the glue of a broken spirit. Has this nature's gift lost its wondrous touch in your household?"
"You've never ceased to amaze me, Fanyi. You knew all these yet you have five wives at your disposal?"
"That's it, Uche," Fanyi said, dropping the cup and shifting his weight so he could get his friend's attention. "I have seen these things. I have experienced the joy of one and the trouble of five. I don't want you to wallow into this depth of despair and confusion. Ejima loves you. She is a tough woman who is going through a tough time. Love her and cherish her. You might not understand the hurting finger until you feel the ache."
"The ache is all over me," Uche breathed in as if suddenly tired, "Twenty years, yet without a child. Not even a leprous one."
"Be careful what you wish for, Uche. The trees have ears. And so are the gods."
"Then why have they not listened to my cries? Have I not been a brave warrior or shall my adventures stand as advocates?"
"You are indeed a great warrior," Fanyi picked the clay cup, "but you haven't defeated me yet."
Uche giggled, "Maybe I will leave that part to my wife"
"Hmm, I see." Fanyi gulped the water and returned the cup to Uche, "does that mean you've changed your mind?"
Uche shrugged as if struggling with the question.
"I can't say for sure. Only time will tell."
It’s been three moons since the episode in the forest, yet Ejima could not shake off those ecstatic faces. Their smiles still glossed her brave heart and mended it with a warmth that had kept her in disarray. Those bright eyes. They had glittered with the sun, chiseling on her soul, and driving her consciousness into that valley of hysteria. Her sleep had been inoculated with lurid sights which at a time made her wonder if she had offended the gods in touching the babies. She had even screamed herself up from sleep one night when she had seen a silhouette of some twin figures chasing her with a horsewhip. “Are you okay?” Ejima blinked and shifted her weight, hoping to find comfort on the wooden chair. She was terrible. The hollowness in her soul was anything but fine. This was the first sign she normally gets when she takes in. But her denial was something she was beginning to believe as truth. Yes, she was living a lie. A lie which she had perfected so well. "Don't worry, it will
The leaves had lost the morning dew and bashed her skin as she traced her way into the forest. The previously cleared paths were beginning to lose their visibility as the grasses tried to sprout their heads from them. It was becoming difficult to see the white sands, and even more difficult to keep the familiarity away. The moist decaying smell, the constant whistles of the birds, the shimmering sunlight which filtered from the canopies of the tall trees, creating a warmth that made her remember her evenings with her husband. She was trading this path again. Not because she was out to hunt. No, this was different. She was different. Those abandoned children were making her different. Gathering her sling on her waist, she rounded the last bend. Dried bones and leaves crushed under her weight. Decayed flesh of men and women alike. Fleshes of people who were rejected by the village. Men that had been buried alive. Lost in history. Forgotten. Ejima knew she was breaking the King's
The spark came from his fingers or was it his body? No, perhaps his soft lips were the force that was electrifying her, gulping her strength and leaving her moaning like a helpless child. He was a beast in the face of battle. She had seen him fight one or two times. But in bed, the story was different. His touch was as tender as the fur of a day-old chick and even though she had tried to master them, she always fell victim to this perpetual ecstasy that words can hardly express. “I wish I had you all along,” Nneamaka breathed in deeply as he caged her in his strong but tender grip. “Hmm, so romantic. Boredom would have killed us right before your late husband did. Besides, I have always been here. You were just too blind to notice me.” There he goes again, always with the habit of ruining the flawless moments. Nneamaka frowned and peeled away from him. It was a reluctant effort and even as she created a slight distance between them, she could hear the silent words that were yelling
Ejima wiped away the sweat that walked down the bridge of her flat nose, but sneezed twice when she accidentally sniffed the dust in her hands. She wiped the tears that followed and tried to return to work but leaned away when a sharp pain strode through her waist. She hissed out the frustration from her teeth and tightened her grips on the wooden hoe. All the light-headedness and the weakness she had been feeling for the last four months, had turned out to be pregnancy. A pregnancy she never wanted. It was a curse to her. A punishment from the gods themselves. Tightening her grip on the farming hoe, she bent carefully but without ease, and was glad when her hands touched the heap of earth and grass. With the hoe, she dug around the brown tendril and tried to pull with her free hand. The yam obliged at the first trial but snapped in two when she tried forcing them the second time. She murmured and continued with the digging, hoping to bring out the rest of the yam that was still under
The lights of the sun were hiding on the other side of the world and the birds were retiring to their nest by the time Ejima decided that it was time to go home, having fed enough on the bread of affliction. She tried to swallow but the fluid in her mouth was all gone. Her lungs were like the face of two stones rubbing over each other and her stomach hadn’t rumbled in protest either. She wasn’t hungry; the sorrow had made sure of that. What kept flooding her mind was all the time she had spent with Uche. He was her first love. They had met on the eve of the new yam festival after she had danced with some of the virgins that were not betrothed. It was love at first sight. He too had performed that day. He had wrestled with Dinta—who turned out to be Nneamaka’s husband—and had lost. The villagers had been angry with Uche, for losing the crucial wrestling match. Most people called him a coward. But Ejima had seen his failure with one eye closed. Even though Uche had denied it, Ejima coul
“I don’t think she can make it” Someone was saying. The words were gibberish and echoed in Ejima’s ears like the voice of some market women, arguing over the price of a goat. Her legs and thigh were on fire and her body ached. Lifting a limb was almost impossible. She tried to raise her head, but the sudden weight of ten thousand people will not let her. Where am I? She tried to recall. Her memory flashed back and a new pain sparked through her spine. She saw her husband and her best friend in her mind's eyes, smiling together, and laughing at their jokes. Nonsense thought She sniffed just as the image of her fall also flashed in her vision. My baby. She panicked but her hands would not move when she tried. The only thing that was moving at the moment was her eyes, which provided her with multiple images. “Drink this,” A voice seemed to say. The multiple images appeared over her head and poured something into her mouth. “But she is still breathing” Came another strange voice.
How long had they carried her? Ejima whizzed, fighting through the rope that gaged her mouth. It was hard to get enough air, especially since her hands have been tied backwards. The firm grip of the guard which locked her to the body of the Ostrich did not add any ease at all. She tried to struggle but realized just then that there was no strength in her. The weakness of childbirth was kicking in and it was taking all of Will's power not to drift into the world of serenity. The pace of the Ostrich eased as they came before two burning torches. The Palace guards alighted, and one of them undid the rope that held her to the Ostrich. She fell heavily from the animal and cursed, but the gag in her mouth would only let a gibberish undertone. She coughed and sat up, trying to suck air into her burning lungs, but all effort was like water poured on a stone. Where were they taking her? Ejima's coppery eyes searched the night. The creeps of the cricket could be heard as they announced the de
“As promised” Uche signalled with his first finger and the servants dropped the baskets beside the small hut, “here are the gifts.” The Dibia stood and counted the baskets with her nose. There were ten baskets of yam, six baskets of tomatoes, five baskets of ogbono, and a calabash of undiluted palm wine. At least six chicken in their prime were tied together in another basket, just next to some edible vegetables. “You have done well,” the Dibia nodded and returned to her seat. The antelope skin that hung on her shoulders, kept her proud nature affirmed and nothing suggested if she was pleased with the present or not. “And here are the Six bags of cowries, for your trouble.” Uche smiled and dropped the bag into the Lion's skull, right in front of the diviner. He nodded once and his servants retired home while he took the wooden seat opposite the older woman. “I hope everything went as planned?” Uche asked The Dibia muttered some silent words and took a chalk from her goatskin bag.