KingzPen:
Keep It Flowing Boss... #Waiting

thanks man....hope your ok?

season's greetings

KingzPen:
Keep It Flowing Boss... #Waiting

thanks man!!
hope you are ok?
season's greetings

BLACKPEN:





To everyone who has been following this story !!!THE LAST SLAVE!!! I just returned from camp....and would not be posting the next Episode until sunday cos i will be sitting for my exams this week....my apology for not notifying you before now....thanks for your understanding....season's greetings!!!!

We gat no option than to be patient with you.....
Wishing you all the best in your exams

thanks cherijee.... sorry a had no time to even respond to my promise of interpreting the song on the fifth EPISODE but i will do that right away thanks

charijee:
We gat no option than to be patient with you.....
Wishing you all the best in your exams

thanks charijee sorry a had no time to even respond to my promise of interpreting the song on the fifth EPISODE but i will do that right away thanks

BLACKPEN:




thanks charijee sorry a had no time to even respond to my promise of interpreting the song on the fifth EPISODE but i will do that right away thanks

It's all good you fulfilled your promise at last.....better than never......at least now I'm not lost in any part of the story......gracias
Good morning to you

EPISODE SEVEN

It was a hot afternoon; the sun was back-scraping. The shrubs were as still as dried woods. People had gone into their huts and some who were on the farm had taken shelter under the cover of trees including the birds while others explored the moment in Azuwajaja; a collected stream, gushing out of the dotes of rocks which descended from a little upland that seemed to hide away under a thick cover of trees.

People seemed to gather round the stream especially in hot afternoons like today not only to seek shelter but also to explore the adventure of kids swimming and organizing osommini; ‘the game of the stream’. Azuwajaja seemed to be a garden of fun-seeking children who often left their huts bearing earthenware to gather at the stream in the guise of water fetching especially at mid-days; running up and down the rocky surface of the stream till sun down.

Today seemed to be much entertaining as the children chased one another up the rock from whence they jumped into the stream and then swimming to the shore, they ran up the rock again, repeating the circle continually as they screamed their heads off in awe of excitement while the adults watched and washed from the bank of the stream, occasionally tilting their heads in entertaining disbelief. Some farmers, who had retreated from the sun, soaked themselves in the water at the foot of the stream, amusingly staring at the kids as they seemed engrossed in the Osommni.

“UcheChi! We re nwayo ka ighara imeru aghu o! ‘Uchechi! Be careful so you don’t sustain injury’” Adagu cautioned her daughter who seemed to be leading the game as she almost stumbled over a stone.

Every child in the stream seemed to be part of the game except Ezeoha who sat at the heart of the branches of a tree up the hill. He had been there for a while now, though nobody seemed to be aware of him. He had stolen in from the other side of the hill where he had been wandering all day, chasing after the birds with his slingshot.


And now exhausted, he not only sought shelter beneath the tree but also water to dip his itching body. Azuwajaja seemed to offer it but the fact that other children had taken over the stream made it detestable. He could have preferred Onuegbu as people rarely cluster the river but his trip through the forest had brought him here which now made Onuegbu seem in the distance. Yet, he would still have gone back to Onuegbu, if he had hungered; for he rarely missed the fruits of Ofia Abani.

From where he sat on the tree, he could see everyone on the stream including Ugonkwo who had been at the further foot of the stream washing and preparing her waned cassava into raw foo foo. She seemed given to her chore as she faced down whistling all the while. She occasionally looked up to smile over the funny events of the children running round the stream. Though the fact that the husband had gone into isolation for some time now made her heart bleed, even as she bent over her chore at the stream, Ugonkwo could not resist the charm of laughter oozing out from the gallery of these children running up the stream.

She seemed hooked up now in laughter by the clown display of Osondu who walked on his palms like a goat, following Uchechi who led him with a tether of woven fronds round his neck. Everybody seemed to be under the spell of the display as they all smiled and laughed.
Ezeoha seemed to be caught in the charm too, though his mouth did not display it.

He suddenly jumped down from the tree and began to walk down the stream as the crowd appeared to be reducing; the farmers had picked up their cutlasses and began to return to the farm while Uchechi and few other children too had followed Adagu as she returned with shreds of leaves wrapped in cocoa yam’s leaves underneath her armpit as well as an earthenware of water on her head. Ezeoha did not descend down to the stream from the hill; he went back and followed the bush-path that joined the foot of the stream.

“Nne ndewo!, ‘mama well done!’” he said as he walked pass Ugonkwo as if she was just a woman from the village and not her aunt. Ugonkwo lifted up her face to see who greeted her.

“Onye Ije! Ke ka Ofia Umu uburu na eme?, ‘the traveller! How is the forest of Umu uburu doing?” she asked rhetorically as she continued with her chore.

Ezeoha dangled on to a bed of rock that formed just by the head of the stream and sat down, staring at the leftover children that now played in the stream. They had made an end to their game as their play mates had gone home. Though they still splashed water against each other and laughed aloud but nobody ascended the rock anymore. Ezeoha stared at them indifferently as he threw stones at the trees across the stream. His appetite for dipping himself in the stream seemed to have vanished but then he would not go home; for the only thing that did take him home each day was the nightfall.

As he threw the stones less mindfully, still staring at the children, he could hear a song from the bush behind the stream. It was a familiar voice; everyone left in the stream seemed to be drawn to its direction. Even Ugonkwo, though her eyes were fastened to her pot of cassava. Then out of the bush, half up the hill, Uneke appeared bearing a stick he had picked as he danced his way to the stream. He was drunk as usual which made his voice less alluring except for the humbling images it created in the minds of people who listened to him. Uneke had a particular way he deployed his words each time he lifted his voice either to sing his wine-anchored song or speak.

He stood as he got to the edge of the rock that overlooked the depth of the stream, still singing, staring about as if he had been set up to guard the stream.

“Eze mme! Inami nyo na nwuocha’ a? ‘King of wine! How is the labour with wine under this sun?” Agozia who washed bitter leaves next to Ugonkwo said gleefully while Ezeoha seemed to fix his eyes on Uneke as if he was Enyi, the warrior who flogged him at the village square. He had been seeking opportunity to get at him since that incident. He almost had the chance yesterday, if not that Enyi was in an open field where it was impossible for him not to be discovered. He had aimed his shot at him from the tree but knowing he would not only be discovered but also outran, he gave it over.


But revenge was not why he seemed to monitor Uneke with his eyes; Uneke could not swim. He had been watching him, wishing he would just wander back away from the stream. Not that he so much cared about him or anybody else getting hurt; at least not to the point of venting his emotions. But being quite afresh with his pains as he struggled alone to rescue uneke the last time he almost drowned at Onwuegbu, he so much wished Uneke did not come to Azuwajaja. He thought of leaving the stream but being exhausted and was just waiting for the sun to go down so he could bath and go home, he voted down the option.


“Ndudi na ndi otu eyee! Ngwa! Unu awaw...unu awaw unu awaw unu awaw...unu wuta ro nyii, ‘Ndudi and co pack your things and go home...you have swam enough.” Agozia yelled at the children who were still inside the water playing.
As if Uneke had been waiting for the children to leave the water and not considering the depth of the water from where he stood; nor did he so much as considered the range of rocks that formed the undulating wall from where he stood down to the stream but lifting himself up entirely from the bed of the hill, he jumped, screaming all along as he descended into the stream.


“Dike, ‘brave man’” said Agozia as Uneke landed into the stream like a sack of corn while Ugonkwo who could no longer hold back her excitement started laughing as she emptied the last of the cassava into the pot. Ezeoha who only moved his legs from where he sat, only stared, awaiting the next episode which seemed hidden from the sight of Agozia and Ugonkwo.
Just as Ezeoha had feared, Uneke, emerging from the depth of the water, he sank again; gushing out water from his mouth at every occasion. The gleeful faces of Agozia and Ugonkwo now had panic written all over them as they watched Uneke struggled with his breath in the water while Ezeoha stared, waiting for Uneke to drink some more before he would lunch after him.


“Ezeoha!” screamed Ugonkwo staring at him angrily as if he was the saving goes or perhaps he was the ill-luck that had got Uneke drunk and now sought to drown him in the stream. Although Ugonkwo could swim, rescuing Uneke was another thing; it would take someone like Ezeoha, who could do more than swimming to save a fellow like Uneke.


Then Ezeoha, satisfied with the amount of water Uneke had taken, as if he measured it, stood and then stretched himself as if he had just woken up from sleep and began to descend to the foot of the stream. Uneke who seemed to have lost strength struggling with the water, now began to sink while Ezeoha, now almost at the middle of the water dove after him. Sinking together with him, he caught him by his waist ogodo and began to pull him away, raising his head to catch his breath from time to time as he pulled toward the shore. He was just twelve but the masculine built up of his shoulders made him look fourteen. And Uneke haven’t been eaten up by the blade of wine, seemed like a dried leave that even the wind could pull about.

As soon as he got him to the spot where his feet could feel the sand, Ugonkwo and Agozia rendered hands as they brought him to the shore.

“Anwu m o!, ‘ I am dead o!’” yelled Uneke after Ezeoha pressed some water off his stomach.

“Ina din ndu mbu?, ume mma’i ka ina eku, ‘were you living all the while? You have only a breath of wine” Ezeoha responded immediately as if he had waited for that acclamation as Agozia smiled walking back to her chore. Ugonkwo returned to her pot too but as she washed the calabash she had used to filter the cassava, she beheld Mazi Mbakara accompanied by a guard just at the bank of the stream.

“Nna yi ndewo, ‘my father I greet you’” she said, prostrating.

“Nna yi do” greeted Agozia while Mazi Mbakara seemed to be caught up by the site of Uneke who now lay on his back on the shore, sleeping.

“What is it with the man over there?” he requested.

“He is drunken Nna yi” Responded Ugonkwo who seemed troubled by the presence of Mazi Mbakara; for whatever had brought the Elephant to the gathering of the squirrels, must not be a call of the merry.

“Who among you is Ugonkwo, the wife of Umukafor?” he asked withdrawing his mind from Uneke, who now snored aloud.

“I am Nna yi” Ugonkwo answered.

“It must have been favoured that had kept you away from home for so long?” he said. But Ugonkwo seemed lost by his words and did not know if it was a question or remarks

“I am lost Nna yi” she admitted.

“You don’t have to be...I have been waiting a while at your compound when somebody informed me you were here.” He clarified.

“Hope all is well Nne yi” Ugonkwo asked.

“The ends often display how well the deeds have been; for all is well that ends. Therefore all is not well until the end is satisfied. I have come to enquire from you the where about of your husband Umukafor, as he has seemed absent since the last meeting of the council despite the unfolding events that had expected the honour of his presence. Is he okay? The council seek to understand” mazi Mbakara asked, cautiously trying to find out what had kept the brave Umukafor away from the face of Umu Uburu. He was not suspicious and did not nurse the feeling that the pending Mmani sacrifice could be responsible for his disappearance. Though Ugonkwo did not entirely discern his riddles, she had sensed an undertone of danger. And fitting into the fact of Umukafor falling into silence, she found fears rekindled.

“He is Nne yi. He had had a brief illness which had kept him withdrawn these few days. But haven’t regained his strength yesterday evening, he had left for Enuegu early this morning.” Ugonkwo seemed to deliver her response as if she had prepared for the question.

“Okay. Let him know I was here to see him when he returns. And most importantly, let him know that the Igwe would like to know how the calabash is faring and should not forget we are gathering again by nightfall tomorrow against Ekeukwu...Thank you” he turned and began to walk away while the guard followed him as Ugonkwo pondered over his message.

ya thanks

Introduction of more names seems somewhat confusing to me.......that not withstanding, love the scene at the stream, reminds me of those days
Thanks boss, you're doing great

charijee:
Introduction of more names seems somewhat confusing to me.......that not withstanding, love the scene at the stream, reminds me of those days
Thanks boss, you're doing great

thanks Charijee for that keen observation,....i will take note on my subsequent Episodes....i actually left my reply to you yesterday before the site began the problem that would not let me post my next Episode yesterday . but opening the thread now, i found out the reply was gone. Hence, this one......thanks and God bless you....

BLACKPEN:





thanks Charijee for that keen observation,....i will take note on my subsequent Episodes....i actually left my reply to you yesterday before the site began the problem that would not let me post my next Episode yesterday . but opening the thread now, i found out the reply was gone. Hence, this one......thanks and God bless you....

You're the boss here......I'm just a follower......do what seems best to you.......waiting for updates

EPISODE EIGHT

It’s a full moon; the cover of darkness was made light by the glowing moon as the leg could easily find footing on the surroundings without the carriage of firebrand. It was already three bells after the midnight. Umukafor suddenly sprang up from where he sat as if he had been beaten by a scorpion and moved steadily, in a confusing circular form. He then paused and picked up a goatskin bag hung on the dropping branch of bamboo from the wall just next to him. The bag had feathers of vultures pricking all over the body like the Ezemmuo’s. He sat down and spreading his legs apart, he placed the bag before him and began to a search.

He hummed as he picked each item from the bag and set it aside on the foreground. These were sacred items with which he consulted his chi or gods each time he prepared for a journey to Ofia Abani. The kangaroo first stands to survey the distance before he plunges ahead in his journey into the unknown. Umukafor often engaged himself in these rituals to ascertain the state of the often tasking pathways to ofia Abani. He then picked up a lobe of kola and splitting it, he let them fall to the ground as if they were hot. He then stared about them and plucked them up again and shook them in his enclosed palms and let them to the ground again as he hummed.
While he made his consultations, his mind ran through series of lives he had watched pass through the same route that now pointed to-ward his household. He remembered the piercing words of Ihukamma, the son of Obunah, while he was being slaughtered to the deity, in which he praised the gods of Umu Uburu for their seeming guidance and bounty to the mortals. And then he commended the elders for carrying out the orders of the gods. But pausing, he said, “but of what value are blades of grass to the goat, when the knife awaits his throat not a distance away...and tend not to forget, you elders of Umu Uburu that in the herd of sheep, the shepherd is the most backward” Umukafor then breathed hard as if the ritual was ongoing and Ezeoha already in the grip of the guards, bleeding to the shrine of Mmani.

“The life of man is complicated...the knives of the butchers are now pointed to them” he shook his head sadly as he recounted.

“The meal we served others in good faith, is set before us in a feast of loyalty” he tilted his shoulders as he swam in his thought.

“But have the instructions of the gods been altered be-fore?...what was the consequences to the guilty? Death?...” he sighed and continued.

“...I’m not scared of that; for it is a necessary end...man has never been to eternity, only the dead. So death is a witness of he who has lived; I shall embrace it with open arms when it does come. But until then, Mmani would be starved of the blood of Ezeoha” he seemed to rebel in his thoughts. Umukafor never engaged himself in things over which he had no explanations. But bravery not choice, sometimes dictating the honorary placement of a man, Umukafor had found himself passively following a path of a culture whose certain rituals, he had struggled in his heart to honour.

“But he becomes a goat that allows his head pass into a tether that not only takes him to a stake but delivers his throat to the knives of his butchers without questions” He lowered his head toward the items as if they were the gods and he waited for their response. Of course, they were the gods he saw before him; for the bees do gather where savours are perceived.

“Even the decisions of the gods are questioned, when their demands point to the gallows”. He protested as if he was in the council elders, countering the point Mazi Mbakara had made.

“Everything is questioned. The mouth ought to ask questions, if the tongue must be speared from the burn of a hot soup” He con-cluded as he made short lines on the floor with a white stone he had picked from the goatskin bag. He paused suddenly, staring around as if he had sensed the evil spirit on the thatch roof of his Obi and then continuing his humming, he picked alligator peppers and began to chew them, nodding his head along. He then spat them around the lines he had made on the mud floor.
“No!” he shook his head sadly in disbelieve “this is not good....not good at all!” he sprang up and walked to the window and waited as if someone whispered to him from the outside.
“Though the path seems not promising, to the journey head I... I shall go; I am not scared. Ujo adi atu afo oburu uzor , ‘ the belly was never afraid when it took the front row’” he returned to his bag and stooping down, he gathered his items.

“What becomes of a man is not for him to decide. He is but a coward that is scared of things over which he has no power...death is a crown awaiting the heads of all mortals and he is honourable that chooses his own death” he made an end with the items.

“He has but lived that dies;” He jumped up and paced around singing;

“Agam agbaje ogu be mmuo, ‘I will go fighting in the land of the spirit’

Agam agbaje ogu bem mmuo, ‘I will go fighting in the land of the spirit’

Obiara izi m uzo biko gwam, ‘my torchbearer, lead me on, I beg of you’

Ekolam akpa je azu m’ahia, ‘I have carried a bag, to the market I head’

Onye bila ije uwa ga kwa alahu azu, ‘He must go back home that journeys through life’

Ma ka ani nile bia le ije, ‘for we are all Sojourners’”

He sang as he headed for the wooden door of his Obi. Stomping out of his obi into his compound, he ceased his voice as he sensed a figure under the ukwa tree. He then paused abruptly, trying to understand what the figure was. At first, he had mistaken it to be Uchichi but being aware that the goat was not only unorganised fellow but had also made the night her meal gathering hours and would hardly be seen around, he decided to plunge further. As he made toward it, he drew his cutlass from its shield round his waist.

“Are you a ghost or mortal that I may spare or devour you at once?” He questioned as he made toward it, pointing his cutlass upfront. “Speak! My patience is not humble”

“Nna yi! My lord” Ugonkwo who had been on her feet, whim-pered in terror, collapsing to her kneels.

“Ugongwo!” he shook his head sadly.

“The calling of the moment leaves me but a thorny bed to lie on. You shouldn’t be outside in the heart of darkness like this. Rest is a rare gift; not everybody has it. You should make use of yours while you have it” he turned and headed for the gum trees that guarded the entrance and then stopped abruptly and returned to Ugonkwo, who was still on her knees.

“Take Ezeoha to Agbaenyim, your maternal home, if I did not return before nightfall” he paused as he stared deep into her barely lit face.

“The crow of the cock must not meet you here tomorrow, in case I did not return.” He flew from her, after he made an end to his instructions, vanishing into darkness.

He seemed to have regained his confidence for the ground now quaked as he walked on. Though she stood and stared as he disap-peared into silvery darkness tearlessly, Ugonkwo was broken inside. Her heart had felt the punches her eyes could not shed in tears or her mouth deliver in words. All she could do was allow her eyes stare at him as he lost into the night while her mind meditated on the in-structions he had left behind.

Although ugonkwo was less worried about his destination, his in-structions hit her hard.

‘What could be wrong?’ she thought rhetorically as she fell under the ukwa tree. Ugonkwo knew something had not been right ever since Umukafor returned from Ogbako Ukwu but she could not lay hands on whatever it was. She had had many questions but only to her desolate mind. Resting against the scarp of the tree now, she lost en-tirely in thought, unaware of the swooping breeze from the harmattan weather that bit into her bare chest as she only tied a string of hay around her waist, leaving her breasts to jostle after the move of her body; as it was already a dry season.

Though she still could not piece the fragments of her thought into a believable whole, ugonkwo was beginning to feel that her thought and worry, ever since Umukafor fell into silence, were beginning to gather flesh; after the visit of Mazi Mbakara yesterday before nightfall, she could now sense the very being of the nightmare that had befallen her husband Umukafor for what seemed like eternity to her now. But if what had taken over her mind now would happen, Ugonkwo was undone.

EPISODE NINE

It was now three and half bells after the mid-night. The entire Umu Uburu village seemed more lit up by the glow of the full moon now as the night hastened into dawn. Swooping wind from harmattan weather seemed biting as Enekata wrapped her hands together underneath her armpits with earthenware on a knot of fronds on head as she hurried to a widespread Ugbaka tree beside Azuwajaja stream. Everywhere seemed silent except for the occasional cockcrows from different trees and hay-roofs of in different huts in the village, the persistent snorting of frogs from the stream and bushes and the rapid-fire conversations from under the Ugbaka tree where others have gathered, waiting for those who were still behind.

They were all women ranging from grandmothers, mothers, single women to the kids who could bear pot on their heads. The Ugbaka tree seemed to be their gathering spot every four months they gathered to walk the tedious distance to Enuegu, where they fetch salt water from Mmani, the salt lake. This trip to this salt lake was called NJEM AGADI NWANYI, ‘the journey of grandmother’ because only the old women were permitted to fetch the water from the lake. And this trip was usually made a day to the festival so as people could prepare cakes of salt as gifts to their visitors, who would be coming from different villages.

“Enekata a ga ana gi Iwu maka igburu anyi oge, ‘Enekata you are going to pay fine for keeping us waiting” Agozie who sat on a harvested yam ridge just under the Ugbaka tree, said jokingly from mouth sealed chewing stick as Enekata walked in.

“Iwe unu adi na oku umu mma umu uburu, ‘My apology to you the beauties of Umu Uburu’ Enekata pleaded, smiling. It was one of Agozie’s teasing jokes and Enekata seemed to be accustomed to them. Enekata had come late because she had gone to call Ugonkwo who told her she would not be joining them. Ugonkwo was still tied to her worries, wishing the day would not break forth her fears, which now seemed to be standing within as the festival was no longer approaching but here; though she did not know it. She seemed certain there was problem but whatever that constituted the problem, she was yet to lay her hands.

As if they had been waiting for Enekata, everybody sprang to her feet and fetching each her pot, their head out into the moonlit harvested farm land that stretched into the distance. Although they brought along their firebrand, there seemed to be no need for it as everywhere was as bright as the morning. Uchechi had followed Agozie as the mother had fallen sick after they returned from the Azuwajaja yesterday. Uchechi had not gone on this trip before and seemed to have brought along her playful habit as she appeared to be everywhere, running further than everyone else even as the day was still far from breaking. While the mothers seemed to talk about their experiences at Nkwo market yesterday, the single women gathered around the most elderly woman among them who regaled them with the stories of the NJEM AGADI NWANYI when she was young. Stories are tethers of morals with which the young are woven into the future.

“...we had left our huts that morning a little bit earlier than we did today. I had followed my grandmother with a pot as little as my head could bear; I had barely seen my ninth season of life...” she paused as she coughed covering her mouth with her palms. She had nothing in her hands as her pot and knot of fronds were borne by the girls who flanked her about.

“...it was unlike today when people gather and go in group; I went alone with my grandmother and walked the then fearful Aja-azu forest which was then so covered in thick woods that one heard the foot sound of wild animals as they went about the forest in the darknest...” she coughed again and this time, longer as if she had been afflicted with arthritis. She then unfolded a lump on her waist and brought out a lobe of bitter kola and lounged in her mouth and then continued.

“...the cocks were beginning to crow when we got to the foot of the forest of Mmani; I could tell from the position of the moon at that time that is would be some four bells and half passed the mid-night. the moon was not as liberal as she is today for we lit our firebrands from our hut” she stopped as she became as node as the spirits of the Ofia Abani in the daytime; for the skin round her waist had sagged and fallen down to her feet. But the maidens round her quickly picked up the skin and fastened it to her waist and made another lump of her bitter kola at the edge of the skin as she continued her story. The mothers seemed to be further affront now with Uchechi leading the trip even further.

“...our lit firebrand was almost burning my grandmother’s fingers and the forest being well covered in great trees, the path was in great darkness so that she fetched another firebrand and lit it as we began to enter the forest.” She paused as they got to Aja-azu. The mothers had waited as they got to the mouth of the forest. Aja-azu was the forest that separated Umu Uburu from Onuogo, a clan before Enuegu where the lake lay. Uchiche waited too but seemed to be jumping around on a spot as if she was an insane hound tied to a stake. The mothers had lit their firebrands and now stretched forth theirs for the maiden to light theirs so they would continue their journey.

Everywhere seemed to glow as they held forth their lit firebrands while they entered the forest. Uchechi had taken the front, though she had no firebrand. Her spirit of adventure seemed to ignore the darkness that surrounded her foreground as she dove ahead. The narrow foot-path forced the maidens as well as the mothers into a single file like the ducks. To the ears who could hear her, the old woman continued her story.

“We were not quite further from the foot of the forest we had left but we ran into a body of a young man just by the bush next to my grandmother. I was still as the statue of Ajakuno at the village square and began to shake terribly, for the body looked like a fowl whose feathers had been removed in hot water. He had a thick cover from his waist to his feet parted in-between his leg(trouser) and round each of his feet was hard seal like a fashioned skin(shoes), the kind I had not seen before neither had my grandmother for she was as fascinated as I was. But bringing afore, she urged me to go ahead while followed behind” she paused again as they got to a bamboo bridge at the heart of Aja-azu and began to cross one after the other, holding the handles of enormous wool of palm fronds woven together and tied to both sides, from edge to edge of the bridge.

“As soon as we got to the bed of Mmani, we beheld about two or three bodies of same sort we had passed earlier littered the place as if the one we saw at the foot of the forest had multiplied and scattered all over the place...” she continued as they all got through the bridge. They were now in Onuogo. Nobody seemed to be interrupting her as everybody was engrossed in the story frantically as if they were going to encounter the same thing at the lake.

“At this time I was at the cliff of my fear. My grandmother, being strangely fearless, held forth the firebrand and moved about the lake as if to survey the place. Beside these bodies, were the materials of a sort, like long hallowed metals and the debris of metal the sort I had never seen; not until that gods forsaking morning. Some of these materials littered the foreground of the lake while others were down in a wide trench just at the other side of the lake that wandered away into the valley. The trench seemed to be fresh as if it was dug few bells before we arrived” she seemed to have finished the first lobe of the kola and now plunged another into her mouth and continued as she cleared her throat.

“But my grandmother appearing somewhat less composed compared to how she had been before, she plucked my little pot from my quivering arms and went over to the lake and filled them, saying her sacred prayers all along in undertone. She then lifted hers to her head while she fetched mind in her right arm. As soon as she was up and set mine on my head, we were on our heels out of the lake” she paused as if she had ended the story. They were at the foot of the forest of the lake now, preparing to go into the forest.

“But what happened to those strange bodies you found at the lake?” a maiden asked curiously.

“Ajuju oma!, ‘good question!’...neither of us could explain. It was a mystery my grandmother struggled to figure out till the morning when Nkata, a palm wine tapper from Onuogo clan was brought to the village where he confessed how he sold the lake to the Ndi ocha, ‘white men’ who came to steal the lake at night and were destroyed by the gods” they began to entered the forest as she made an end with the story. Uchechi had already started running ahead of them into the forest bearing the firebrand Agozia had given her to hold. Before the others would enter the bed of the lake, Uchachi was already standing on NKUME NSO, ‘the holy rock’ which was just at the foreground of the lake. As they walked in, they found the whole place filled with ABUBE, sacred two headed birds which were as big as goats and as dark as the night with wide eyes glowing like the stars; flying aimlessly within the lake. One rarely see them except there was a sacrilege in the lake. The mothers had sensed the trouble but before they could call Uchechi, she vanished into the air, leaving the firebrand fall to the ground. While Abube disappeared, the women ran out of the lake, rolling themselves to the ground

To everyone who has been following this story, i apologise for my seeming delay on updates......i encountered inexplicable system setbacks and administrative '...' few days ago, trying to update the story. I am apprehensive even as i type this note of apology to you; i fear if the system would get it posted....like i said, sorry... i pray it will not happen again.

THANKS AND HAPPY XMAS

Happy Christmas to you..... apology well accepted
Your use of proverbs is intriguing........I pray nothing happens to Lil Uchechi. .......

EPISODE TEN

The morning sun seemed to be accompanied by a chilling wind from harmattan weather; the atmosphere quite violent both from the occasional swoop of the wind headed by a heavy dust, the sporadic rise of a whirlwind that seemed to hawk anything that could travel with it and the frequent chattering of villagers who travelled to and fro the streams bearing earthen pots, calabash and other domestic items as they prepared for their visitors who would be coming from other villages to grace the festival tomorrow.

People appeared to be engaged in one chore or the other at their huts too. While some weeded their surroundings, others smeared their mud walls with cow dung to make them smooth and appealing to the eyes. Adagu seemed to have regained her strength as she now stood on the OBE, ‘ladder of hard Melilla branches woven together with the help of a tether of fronds at each joint. She mended her front thatch roof with hay; the roof had been eaten down by the rain. As she worked, she occasionally stared behind her expecting Uchechi her daughter especially when she heard the footsteps of by-passers. She was getting worried as the sun had already risen and the expected time of their return seemed far spent.

But just as she lined the edge of the roof with a pair of bamboo tree, two women entered into her compound from a path that descended further away into the woods.

“Adagu de eme o!, ‘Adagu well done o!’ They greeted her as they walked toward her. she turned to them from the ladder but did not respond to the greeting. It was strange that two woman would visit her this early and even worst that such visit should come from individuals with whom she had just a ‘kedu bye! Bye!’ Kind of relationship. Her spirit through a hay of ideas as she descended the ladder like a cat would after rat.

“Gini mere aghi na ututu’a, ‘What has happened to us this morning?” as she asked, she sighted the rest of the women come from a distance.

“Ewu! Ukwu eji emo! Otu anya mu akpo la nu o!, ‘Chai! I have become lame; my sole eye is gone blind o!” she fell to the ground and began to cry as the two women held her while the others joined them, weeping. The women who had joined her were not crying; they just tilted their heads in sorrow from time to time as they stared and listened to her spoken cry. But as if she was leaving, the old woman sprang up and stared at Adagu who littered to the floor and then to the other women.

“Adagu!” she said as she returned her gaze on Adagu.

“...tears and lamentations are the only gifts given to the faces of mortals by death. But no matter how wide the mouth gaps in agony and tearful the eyes seem, on that path of nature, the mortals throng on. You have wasted enough, save the rest perhaps, for your neighbour” she paused and as if she sought for her snuff box, she continued.

“Death of such that has befallen Uchechi, your daughter, are not lamentable but grieved in the spirit. The sight of umu uburu must not behold our eyes wet, lest we feed off your calabash; So for sympathy and weeping are we not gathered here with you but to do that which must be done in situation like this. Umu mma uburu while the hen cries after her chick as the hawk disappears with it, she seems to shade others to safety. Our hearts are of course heavy as we share the agony of our wife, Adagu, yet we must begin our chore to avert the wrath of the gods which seems imminent” she stared about the sky as if she could see the gods descending.

But her voice seasoned with lamentations rented the sky, the women round her suddenly began to stand and enter into the hut as they beheld the elders of the umu uburu coming in the distance. The elders were on a single file led by Ezemmuo walked down the foot-path in silence. The elders began to take the seat on the bench of wood placed at each side of the narrow compound under mango trees while Ezemmuo stood staring at the sky with a calabash on his left hand and on his right hand, a walking stick which had OYO tied round the ankle that seemed to make noise as he hit it to the ground. Adagu had stopped crying but sat against the ladder staring into the space. She seemed to have accepted her fate and now waited for her lot from the elders.

The women who had gone inside had slaughtered one of Adagu’s goat, prepared it and now made a portage yam with it. This was the lot of anyone whose relative paid the price of ignorance to the gods especially Mmani. The elders would sit around the hut while the women prepared a feast with whatever they laid their hands around the hut.

“Adagu!” said Ezemmuo as he stared into her face.

“...the rain does beat the mother goat even as she cries after her missing child. It’s time to prepare you for your task, the land must be cleansed. Stand to your feet” he instructed as he placed the calabash on the ground and his walking stick against a wall.

Then plucking a sharp mental from his bag, he began to scrape her hairs, humming. After he made an end with the hairs, which now shone against the sun, he asked her to lower her blouse of skin which wrapped round her breast as he fetched the calabash off the ground which contained white mud. The mud is the symbol of purity from the sacrilege that surrounded her. Pouring the substance on her head, he began to rob it all over her face down her breast which left Adagu as white as MBANEUFE; spirits of the cave.

“What we do in life echo in eternity...” he said as he tied OYO round her waist, which would announce her as she walked through five clans of Umu Uburu.

“...a land besieged by the spades of an enemy is better than a village tormented by the wrath of the gods; for who has succeeded fighting the wind?” Ezemmuo seemed lost in words, communicating with the spirits as he softly flogged Adagu with a frond while he walked round her. The elders seemed to follow the words of Ezemmuo as they nodded their heads; for the words of the priest are the words of the gods and it is given to the elders to understand.

“The head must learn to stoop, if the hands would gather and the mouth fed” he then paused and stared behind him as if he heard a call. He then turned and went over and collected a spotless white cock from Mazi Mbakara and girded it round Adagu’s neck.

“The dirtiness of swine is neither foolishness nor insanity but an act of culture...” he said to Adagu, who now faced the elders with the cock dangling about her chest from her neck.

“...it is not insane or foolish that you are thus dressed Adagu but that the future of Umu Uburu, be taken away from the stake built early this morning by your daughter Uchechi who has gone to be with her ancestors.” He picked a pair of frond and placed it across her lips and returned to stand beside her.

“Therefore I send you forth with these instructions: you could hear anything on your way, respond to none and no matter what happens behind you, turn not about until you have gone through Onuogo, Enuegu, Ndiegu, Amechara and here in Isikerenu at the shrine where I shall be waiting with the elders to give you the final bath for your cleansing.” He the fetched some leaves from his goatskin bag and began to chew them.

“Now go!... go!... the gods shall be waiting when you return and we, praying for your return!” he concluded as Adagu began to leave while he followed her, chewing the leaves like Uchichi would when she fed off Ugonkwo's cassava.

Though they had finished preparing the portage, the women had remained inside, waiting for Ezemmuo to make an end with his preparations. But then, Enekata and another woman emerged from the hut with large calabash of portage each while others followed bearing little pairs of calabash of water to the elders who then washed their hands and began to eat off the two pairs of calabash now on the ground before them. As the women returned into the hut, the elders whispered together about the Ekeukwu; the last eke market of the season, where the sacred items for Umu Uburu festival and rituals were bought while Ezemmuo stood at the entrance like a guard, staring in the direction Adagu had gone as if to keep an eye on her.

[quote author=charijee post=29219652]Happy Christmas to you..... apology well accepted
Your use of proverbs is intriguing........I pray nothing happens to Lil Uchechi. .......



Thanks Charijee....i wish Uchichi would not die too, she is such admirable kid....but let's see what becomes of her...if the gods would be merciful

Nice piece 4rm black keep wondering if our so called nollywood has explored d depths of our various culture cos dis script ur writing its worthy of recognition cos I know nigeria is plunged with ethnicity bigotry cos I like d language tingy doe cannot speak it.

peter4d2:
Nice piece 4rm black keep wondering if our so called nollywood has explored d depths of our various culture cos dis script ur writing its worthy of recognition cos I know nigeria is plunged with ethnicity bigotry cos I like d language tingy doe cannot speak it.

thanks man! just much occupied to carry on right now but look forward to continue the story soon

charijee:

cherjee sorry; I could not escape the iron grip of what engages my time right now...but I look forward to continuing the story.....I sincerely apologize for the lapsed moments your grip of the story.

BLACKPEN:



cherjee sorry; I could not escape the iron grip of what engages my time right now...but I look forward to continuing the story.....I sincerely apologize for the lapsed moments your grip of the story.

Apology hanging until...........

BLACKPEN:



thanks man! just much occupied to carry on right now but look forward to continue the story soon

Take ur time boss writer blackpen