“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.
Ejima yawned widely, not bothering to cover her mouth. She rested her weight on the broom and allowed her bright gaze to wander through the place she now calls home. It was nothing close to the size of her husband's compound, and the dried leaves that carpeted the floor made her want to cuddle under her skin. Bloody cashew tree. She hissed and wiped the sweat drop that had strolled towards her eyelid. Leaning away from the broomstick, she continued with her chore, hoping to be done before the sun hangs on the centre of the earth. But for the many trees, nothing stood for miles, just her small hut and the grasses. It would take about eight to ten miles before the next house could be seen. Seven weeks have passed since they drove her out of her husband's place, to this serene environment whose loneliness could make a ghost run out of wit. If hardship had not been her best companion all these years, she would have died of boredom. Dropping the broomstick, she packed the gathered leaves
Culture and tradition? They are nothing but twin sisters in a symbiotic relationship. It would be hard to tell which of the two was sucking the virtue and the moral rights of the people. Generations have come and gone. Good and bad people fading with its hood. These traditions that govern the cultures of the people had been enacted by some of the fathers who had lived long before the village had been born. But, thinking about it now, it would be difficult to pinpoint the moment in history when evil had crept in. The people had lived long enough with the folk tales of the fathers to blot the dent in the dough that had swelled in the batch of morality. Perhaps the adage, Ihe ojo gba afo, obulu omenala (If evil remains long enough it becomes a culture), was in play at the moment. Or was it the people? Why was it so hard to play the good card in life? Ejima hissed as she traced her path into the forest. She tried to keep her mind from wandering, but too many things tussled for her attenti
It would have been a frosty night if the sound of the ikoro had not beaten down the serenity and dethroned it from its place. Not even the people dancing around the fire could tell the maturity of the cold night. They had forgotten their wine calabash, for the first time in history. These men who love palm wine more than they loved their lives, had left their wine on the bench all because they were dancing. Unbelievable. Jidenna smiled as his almond eyes darted away from the gyrating men to the boys who knelt in front of the Dibia. The palm leaf that lined their lips made them look like an agent of death. Even though they looked tough and held a gaze that was stone cold, he couldn't count any of the five who hadn't fallen under his prey. Those bulging muscles that lined their skin were intimidating, but the boys were weaklings and would do anything to keep their reputation and ego. Jidenna yawned but covered his mouth when he caught the expression on his father's face. They were cold
Jidenna rubbed his eyes and walked out from his little bamboo bed. He yawned wide, giving no care to his father’s instructions to always cover his mouth whenever the need to ease his air tract arises. The good news was that his father was nowhere near his little hut. He was away to the Igwe’s (King’s) palace and will not return until the birds retire to their nest. The man’s lectures never cease. They always went on and on until the sun was high on the cloud. If the ears could get filled up, Jide was sure that his ears would be overflowing with all the instructions his father was laying down for him. He picked his clay cup, and with his free hands, washed the drool from his face, before gulping a good quantity to rinse his mouth. He was becoming a man and his father always forgets that part. Obi will not remain a boy forever, will he? A voice at the back of his head affirmed. Besides, Ugomma was living next to their compound. What will she say when she sees the drool on his face?
"Why Papa?" Jide asked, "why are men so cruel and attack with insult things they don't understand?" Maduka stroked his ears and smelled his first finger before returning to his stool. Jide thought he was going to lick the finger, like some of the elders in the village. But instead, his father washed his hands and returned to sharpening his machete. The lines on his face were deepened, adding more wrinkles to his aging features. Two years ago, his face was as straight as the white stones which he uses to sharpen his swords. Two years ago, he was the best warrior in Umudike and had fought with valor to return the lost glory of the kingdom. Two years ago. Jide shook his head with pity. His father was a man of honor, a brave soldier that put down anything that stood in his way. But now, everything had changed. His life and his position. Everything. His glory days were now reduced to lullabies as if they were some epitaph meant for the ears of the dead alone. "It's a human thing, my so
Another east wind drifted through the trees and rested upon him, easing out the discomfort of the last twelve years. He shifted to the side and smiled when the golden rays that tubes from the trees' leaves, seemed to knock on the door of his eyes. Only one word came to his mind. Peace. Indeed, one does not know the value of what they have until they lose it. But it is also true that one does not know the value of what they have been missing until it arrives. Before now it was wars, killing, revenge, and anger. There have been several sacrifices to different deities and for different purposes. But now, everything has changed. It was the introduction of the divine, the coming of the king of kings that has blotted away the darkness which plagued the land for a very long time."Still enjoying the view or should I say the peace?"Jide's smile broaden as he took the cup of palm wine. It was obvious, the peace. Everyone was enjoying it
It was his only place of solace, his last resort. Even as he walked blindly through the foliage of green, the word ‘I am your son’ kept his mind awake. It was a bold claim, and for the moment, Uche could have sworn that his powers had turned into water. He wanted to run into the boy's arm and wrapped his hands around him. If Bozo was his son, then everything he had been fighting for was useless. Bozo had the kingdom and the power, which Uche could lay claim to once he took the boy in as his father. He could have amassed the boy’s riches to himself since Bozo seemed to be richer than Ame a hundredfold. That way, he would have control of the land, and everyone would bow to him. But on the other hand, accepting Bozo would also mean accepting Ejima. And that was a curse he wouldn’t wish for his enemy, not while the woman was a bag of misfortune and evil. He would rather spend his days in poverty than accept Ejima into his home again.Uche added pressure on
Navigating through the forest was not as easy as the masters had predicted. But that was partly due to the malfunctioning compass which had misled them twice. Goddison had taken charge after the third trial had failed. He was leading them now, through a path in the forest, trusting his nose and ears. Mary on the other hand had said fewer words since they departed four days ago. She had kept to herself, speaking only when spoken to. As usual, there was no age on her face, despite the scorching heat, her expression was plain, yet each time Jide looked in her direction, the woman was always muttering to herself. It was called prayer, Jide had learned from one of the masters, which made him wonder if the prayer is everlasting.Five people had embarked on this journey, excluding Ugomma and Jide. The locale in the village had provided them with horses and supplies and had bid them farewell with the grace of God. Jide had made a few friends though, a man n
She thought she heard herself screaming, but that was a thought that her consciousness did not register. Her head was heating, and the sweat that streamed from her body was like a pool. Uche was laughing now, and the triumph in his eyes only dug the anger that Ejima had harbored for the past twenty years."No, this is not happening,"Ejima panted and watched in horror as Kachi and his men, lifted Bozo out of the pit and placed him on the dusty floor. She trotted towards their direction and rested Bozo's head on her lap, using her free hand to add pressure on his wounded chest. It would have been worse, but his metallic armor had prevented some damage."I will do it all over," Bozo coughed and blood dribbled out of his mouth. His brown eyes had lost their grandness, mixed now with tears and regrets."Please, don't die. Please." Ejima cried amid the hot breath that came pouring out of her nostril. Some inches away was the pit which Uche had dug. Ghost, Bozo
He kept looking into the bright eyes, lost in the exuberance of the woman he had longed so much to meet. The past twenty years had not changed her much, just the crease that was gliding towards the sides of her face. Despite the age, her chocolate skin was almost radiating like that of a baby. Gray was the song of old age, yet her hair had failed to sing its songs. She fitted the picture he knew since he was still ten years. Nothing about her had changed nothing.She has been through a lot. Guilt crawled through Bozo's stomach triggering regrets and maybes. He should have remained here to help her. He should have found her earlier.“You are my son? You are…Bozo?”“How did you know my name, Mmechi made sure we remained hidden from the rest of the village?” Bozo said as he helped her to her feet. He could still hear the rustle and the crushing leaves, he still remembered the night when Mmechi had smuggled them out of the village, for
Cold went through her nape as she went on down the lonely path. Raining season had pathways for the harmattan wind, which fogged the treetops like the smoke of a burning bush. Until today, coming here wouldn't have crossed her mind in ages. It's been a long time and every step into the forest flushes back the memory. How long has it been? Why was the forest notorious for harboring evil?Ejima steadied her hands on her staff. The burning sensation on her side was still there and her head ached. She needed a good sleep. She needs to clear her mind. Life has indeed dealt with her, she could sense the heavy stripes on her soul and the weight crashing on her shoulders. It has always been from one problem to another, one death or misfortune to another. She was the victim. Maybe the villagers were right? Maybe the words of the Dibia were right? Maybe she indeed was a daughter of misfortune.No, that can't be. A voice assured in her head as she continued. She had not met anyon
The almond eyes flashed into Ejima's memory and instantly she could place the horny skin and the rich dark hair that had turned grey. "My goodness. What happened to you? You look-" "Old?" Mmechi laughed, "Ije Uwa. Constantly working on the farm, with the sun blistering its heat on your head could leave your hair as snow white as mine." She laughed again. "But those are the good days. It brought me here." "You look fine." Ejima smiled. The woman's hunchback was gone and even though Ejima would love to know how she didn't ask. With the misery that came with the woman's condition, Ejima decided to keep that part aside. Unless Mmechi told her along the line, she was not ready to prey out the information. The past should remain buried sometimes. "I never thought I would see you again." Ejima helped herself out of the bed. Mmechi was already lost in thought. The woman was once her servant. Ejima had taken her in after the villagers had condemned her because
She opened her eyes to the pounding noise of the mortar and pestle. It sounded distant at first, yet the tantrum on her head, registered like two stones, rubbing over one another. It was a dark room, candled by a dim light, burning wastefully by her right. Horrible-looking creatures hung on the ceilings. Skull of animals, different types and breeds. The soapy smell also made her rub her nose, she couldn’t help but think of some dead fish, left by the riverside to decay. Not that it affected her much, the headache and the occasional blurring vision left her in doubt. Maybe she had hit her head on something. It was hard to tell. But she remembered lying on the cave bed and begging Uche for her life. He had not freed her, the blood lust had driven him into stabbing her continuously with his dagger. And she had...is this the land of the dead? “You are awake.” The pounding noise ceased as an old woman appeared, smiling weakly at her. Her hands were a tendril of vein
Another wave of dust followed the marching feet as the men snailed through the mountain peaks like migrating ants. From one end of the hill to the far side on the horizon, war songs upheld the calmness that once asserted the forest. There were at least a hundred men on horseback and a thousand or so on foot. These were husbands, fathers, farmers, brothers, and uncles. Before now, they were familiar with pitchforks, knives, and other household materials. But not anymore. Years of torture and torment from the Freeborns have drilled them into valiant warriors of anger and vengeance. They were fearless and would battle anything that stood in their way. While some people in the council had argued about their brutality, the truth no one was seeing was the fact that these men had kept the land safe for the past fifty years. It was the will to keep their family and loved ones from oppression that kept them going. That love was so stronger than any force in the universe.Bozo deepened