CONFLICTED DESTINY
Chronicle of a Natural Born Warrior



Prologue

Owerri Nkworji Town was founded and established in the eastern part of Nigeria by my ancestors in the 1800s. The inhabitants of the town were no different from those of other traditional African societies that believed in deities, traditional practices, and values passed on to them from a long line of ancestors—practices that included polygamy and ancestral veneration, and stood the test of time; values that were guarded closely generation after generation and fiercely protected by great warriors of the time. As one of the prominent traditional practices demanded, two social institutions were established through which children were indoctrinated and socialized depending on their gender. The girls were trained by older women, while the boys were trained by older men. Each group of male trainees would graduate at the age of thirteen, while the girls would graduate at twelve. During this time of indoctrination and socialization, which was normally scheduled at a certain time of the year, it was considered a taboo and a punishable offense for non-participants or opposite groups to spy on each other. Neither the trainers nor the trainees were permitted to visit their village during training.

These unisex institutions were highly revered and their practices closely guarded by the indigenes. The training grounds were normally located deep in the jungle. Females were taught important norms and values in the culture, and how to become good wives so they could take care of their homes. The males learned their traditional roles. They were trained to become strong wrestlers and well-rounded, skilled traditional warriors able to attack and defend their communities against dissidence or intruders from other villages seeking to invade or encroach on their land. They were taught to build huts, climb up palm trees to cut palm nuts and settle family disputes. They were also trained to be dauntless hunters and farmers, as these were regarded as essential skills for a man to have in order to provide for his family.....

Other practices brought untold hardship, fear, and agony to my ancestral community during that era. It was said, for example, that whenever an Igwe (traditional ruler/king) died, all women and non-secret society members had to remain indoors until some traditional ceremonies and rituals were performed. In those days, tradition demanded that Igwes be buried in a grave with live humans, so they could keep him company in eternity. At such times warriors would go out in search of young people to bury alive, and virgins to kill for sacrifices, before the burial. They would attempt to capture men and women from neighboring towns, but when that wasn’t possible, the warriors wouldn’t hesitate to take from their own.
When a man desired to marry a woman, he would inform his father and his kindred. If they consented, his father and kindred—excluding the intending groom—would meet with the woman’s father and her kindred to make a proposal on behalf of their son. If the proposal was accepted, both parties would schedule a date for the woman to go to the man’s home. When the set date arrived, the woman would then be accompanied to the man’s home by her age-grades. By tradition, she would stay with him for four days, during which the groom’s family would observe her, and then she would return to her family. After several weeks, she would be required to return to the man’s home for a ceremony at which she would be “disvirgined.” This was done through the insertion of a special ritual object into her vagina by some seasoned old ladies. The object, when forcefully inserted, would break her hymen if she was a virgin. Other ritual activities would be performed by the man’s family, after which she would be allowed to go back to her parents. After a few more weeks, the girl’s parents were obligated by tradition to send her back to the man’s home so she could sleep with him for eight consecutive days and nights. After the eight days—within which the bride-to-be was expected to conceive—she would return to her parents. If she did not conceive during those eight days, the marriage was canceled.
Polygamy was also the order of the day at that time. Men who had many wives and children were highly respected and popular, and were considered productive to society. As a..........

Both positive and negative critics are welcome..so give me your best shot cuz I've got a thick skin or as some would say a "block head"

Thanks

Achebe II, please stop being a pain in the you-know-what. Must you assault other people's threads in the bid to get crowd into yours? Be original.

Noted Larry..will do. I like the Achebe compliment though.

Larry-Sun:
Achebe II, please stop being a pain in the you-know-what. Must you assault other people's threads in the bid to get crowd into yours? Be original.

I feel u bro...I should review a preview!? smh

Okay, this story is still in its beginning stages so I can't say much yet, d narrative almost sent me to snooze ville possibly because its an epic (although I think I like epic tales). Anyway, its jst beginning so I can't critic it fairly.let's see when d main tale starts
I woke up however at the part of the marriage rites, caught my attention and then if they expect a woman to coceive in 8 days, quite a lot of marriages will be cancelled o. A womans ovulation cycle lasts 28 days of which at most 5 are spent in menstruation,the next 9days are safe then the next 14days when ovulation starts again are not safe.
What happens if they stay together during those 9 days when a child can't be conceived?
Okay, that's all I have to say for now, looking forward to reading more.

Good observation..now you've got my attention and I have 20 minutes to go catch my flight. that said your deep insight merits another snippet. so here we go:

#3
result, most towns in the area, including Owerri Nkworji, were densely populated. The most logical reason that the system thrived was that people’s livelihoods depended solely on subsistence farming. In order to cultivate large farms easily, men found it necessary to take many wives so they could bear more children, especially boys, who would work on the land. The children also helped with domestic work. The inhabitants of Owerri Nkworji lived in traditional huts that were mainly covered with palm thatch. Some of the huts were beautified with drawings of past heroes, great warriors, and dead ancestors. It was said that the presence of those heroes and ancestors could be felt through the drawings. These drawings were a constant reminder to the people that the gods and the spirits of their ancestors watched over them.
My grandfather, Onyechere Nmaduagwu, was a revered warrior. He was highly acclaimed for his fearlessness and bravery in battle. He single-handedly defeated notorious and fierce warriors from other towns. His gallantry and bravery earned him awards and favor among the people of Owerri Nkworji, including the king and his cabinet. His popularity went beyond his community, and people from neighboring towns would visit Owerri Nkworji just to see and shake the hand of the great warrior.

During this period, it was virtually impossible to travel from one town or village to another unchallenged. Travelers always had to anticipate being challenged to a duel at some point in their journey, and therefore employed strong fighters to travel with them. People who were defeated in duels lost their honor, and sometimes their homes and families. Traders were constantly anxious about being attacked during their travels. But my grandfather offered protection. He followed many traders to other villages, and no one dared to attack while he was with them.

Onyechere had seven wives and several children, and they all joined in cultivating his vast farmland, as well as doing domestic work. Before marrying his seventh and most beloved wife, his six wives were like a thorn in his side; they fought constantly among themselves. One day Onyechere traveled to a nearby village, where he was mesmerized by a young, beautiful, and absolutely charming girl named Nwaibari, known as Nwanyi Burunnu. She was twelve years old, with long, black hair and a celestial smile that revealed well-crafted, sparkling teeth parted in the middle with a slight gap. Her beauty and elegance put young men in and around her village in a trance-like state whenever they met her. She was admired by all, but had given in to none. Onyechere was overwhelmed by her beauty and fell deeply in love with her. He quickly obtained information about her family and met with them to express his desire to marry their daughter. Her family was pleased at the prospect of giving their daughter to a renowned warrior. Onyechere’s people were notified as to what traditions and customs had to be performed and fulfilled in order for the marriage take place.

However, due to financial constraints, my grandfather was unable to marry Nwanyi Burunnu right away. The demands from her family were so great that he could not meet them immediately. But he was not deterred. He sold some of his valuables, including his entire farm yield for that year, in order to pay Nwanyi Burunnu’s dowry and pay for the traditional wedding ceremony. He and his people completed all the traditional obligations, and he took her to his home as his seventh wife.

My grandfather’s love for Nwanyi Burunnu was extraordinary. He spent most of his leisure time with her, focusing all his attention on her and inadvertently neglecting his other six wives. This state of affairs did not sit well with them. They weren’t going to stand around and watch a twelve-year-old girl steal the heart of their man, at least not without a fight. They ganged up against Nwanyi Burunnu and were determined to make her life a living hell. She was treated badly, beaten, and brutalized. Even their children—some of whom were much older than Nwanyi Burunnu—taunted and abused her when their father was not around. She was isolated and treated like a slave. They compelled her do all the housework, and whenever Onyechere gave Nwanyi Burunnu money, foodstuff, or cloth, the other wives would intimidate her and steal all the gifts........

Na wa o!
#lips sealed#

Nna nawaoo!! na you biko..pls keep feeding me more and don't ever stop. what a tantalizing epic story!!

A good piece, fit for a recommendation for schools' literature texts. A purely, nicely-written prose. I'm sure the great Achebe would be smiling in the freezer now; his legacy still lives in you.

The post is entirely devoid of errors, in a manner of writing (except of course the use of neighboring instead of neighbouring; the former is of the American English usage). This shows an evidence of extensive grammatical edits, which is a dragon many of us are still struggling to slay. Weldone buddy. You've caught my attention with this.

Bless you, sir.

Larry-Sun:
A good piece, fit for a recommendation for schools' literature texts. A purely, nicely-written prose. I'm sure the great Achebe would be smiling in [color=#006600][/color]the freezer now; his legacy still lives in you.

The post is entirely devoid of errors, in a manner of writing (except of course the use of neighboring instead of neighbouring; the former is of the American English usage). This shows an evidence of extensive grammatical edits, which is a dragon many of us are still struggling to slay. Weldone buddy. You've caught my attention with this.

Bless you, sir.

Larry, I agree wit u oh!!! good writing but I want to know where and how the story go before i compare wit the great Achebe writing.

[color=#006600][/color]

Larry-Sun:
A good piece, fit for a recommendation for schools' literature texts. A purely, nicely-written prose. I'm sure the great Achebe would be smiling in the freezer now; his legacy still lives in you.

The post is entirely devoid of errors, in a manner of writing (except of course the use of neighboring instead of neighbouring; the former is of the American English usage). This shows an evidence of extensive grammatical edits, which is a dragon many of us are still struggling to slay. Weldone buddy. You've caught my attention with this.

Bless you, sir.

Larry: Thanks for your very thoughtful and compelling review.

All: Please forgive the recent tardiness in updating my story, I've been having a little trouble posting with my previous account.However, problem solved, hence the new ID "JAKEMOND1"

#4

....from her. Despite the hostilities and rejection from the other wives, Nwanyi Burunnu endured because of her husband’s great love for her.

The other wives and their children persisted in their vitriolic hatred and formed a diabolic united front against their common enemy. On one occasion they called a meeting among themselves to find a way to get rid of Nwanyi Burunnu and possibly win back the love of their husband. They decided to meet Old Man Ikuku, a powerful, well-known witch doctor whose specialty was telling fortunes, selling charms (voodoo objects), and remotely controlling people’s lives through his magic mirror. Ikuku was said to be capable of performing all types of magic and rituals, including taking people’s lives. The wives agreed to send two from their group on this mission.

Two days later, the second and third wives asked their husband’s permission to visit their parents in the next village. Onyechere, ignorant of their plans, allowed them to go ahead with the visit. The next day, they took off to meet Old Man Ikuku, arriving at his shrine at sunset. To their amazement, before they stepped into the shrine or uttered a word, the witch doctor proceeded to tell them of their reason for coming to see him. He requested three red kola nuts, two black hens, and three red cocks that would be used to make a sacrifice. The wives went away, and later returned with the requested items, pleading with Ikuku to help them win back the heart of their husband. Ikuku commenced his incantations: “Okirikiri ka ana agba ukwu ose adigi ariya elu … ochu nwa okuko nwe ada, nwa okuko nwe nwenwe oso.” He then said to the women, “Go. Go, my daughters, it shall be well with you!”

The women left with great joy, believing that the mighty witch doctor had solved their problems. When they arrived home, they found Onyechere’s compound crowded and noisy with celebration. They wondered what was going on, and then the first wife told them that it was a surprise celebration in honor of Nwanyi Burunnu. They were shocked at this news, especially since Ikuku had told them that all their problems had been solved. They were getting the exact opposite of what they wanted.

The love between Onyechere and Nwanyi Burunnu grew stronger, and the other wives remained steadfast in their quest to destroy her and win back their husband. Things became so bad that even the gods of Nwanyi Burunnu’s ancestors felt her pain and took pity on her.

A year after she came to live with Onyechere, Nwanyi Burunnu had a dream that changed her life forever. In the dream, she was visited by the spirit of her ancestors, who revealed the secret of success and told her what she should do to survive and prosper. In this revelation, she was taught how to prepare a ngbam, a unique traditional cake.

She woke up the next morning with the dream very vivid in her mind. She immediately started preparing the cake, and when she was done, it turned out to be so delicious and extraordinary that whoever tasted it wanted more. In time, she became famous in the entire region for her cakes, with some people coming great distances to buy them. Anyone who traveled to Owerri Nkworji and did not return with Nwanyi Burunnu’s traditional cake was said to not have traveled at all. At every joyful occasion, including wedding ceremonies, her ngbam was usually the “icing on the cake.” In fact, it was these cakes that earned her the nickname “Nwanyi Burunnu,” meaning “lady of salt” (“salt” in this sense meaning “good thing” or “sweet”). Nwanyi Burunnu became very independent and was able to support herself from this business.

About nine months after her marriage to Onyechere, Nwanyi Burunnu had her first son. My grandfather was very happy and showered her with gifts. His love for her increased with the arrival of baby, and she in turn loved and adored him, and remained very loyal to him. Despite the fact that she had just given birth, Nwanyi Burunnu continued to prepare her cakes. On the seventh day, according to tradition, the child was circumcised and named Monday.

When Monday turned one year old, his mother conceived again and gave birth to triplets—two boys and a girl, making Nwanyi Burunnu the first woman to raise triplets in Owerri Nkworji. According to tradition, it was a bad omen to raise twins or triplets, and such babies were taken into the evil forest, where they were sacrificed. The news of Nwanyi Burunnu’s triplets spread among the inhabitants of the town like wildfire. The other wives were thrilled with the situation and fanned the flames, broadcasting the news to whoever would listen. To their astonishment, there was no punishment for Nwanyi Burunnu and Onyechere for refusing to give up their triplets to be sacrificed.

Nwanyi Burunnu got pregnant again and, as usual, it did not deter her from her normal routine; she still prepared her cakes and cared for her four children. She hoped that this time she would have a “normal” single birth instead of twins or triplets. She worried every day and asked Chinaeke (God Almighty) not to give her twins or triplets again.

Unfortunately or fortunately—depending on who was asked—and to her greatest surprise, she gave birth to twin girls. The birth created uproar among the inhabitants of Owerri Nkworji once again. They became convinced that Nwanyi Burunnu was abnormal and began to discuss her fate.

The Igwe and the elders of the village decided to meet with the gods and present Nwanyi Burunnu’s situation, which they believed constituted a gross violation of their beliefs and customs. She’d had a set of twins and triplets, but she and her husband had refused to give them up for sacrifice as required by tradition. The Igwe and elders urged the gods to take prompt action against Nwanyi Burunnu and her children in order to restore the sanctity of Owerri Nkworji.

Meanwhile, Onyechere continued spending a lot of time with Nwanyi Burunnu, who kept getting pregnant and delivering twins or triplets, giving birth to twelve children within six years of marriage.

After seven years, the gods visited Owerri Nkworji, supposedly to reprimand and mete out punishment to the families that had kept their twins or triplets. Prior to the gods’ visitation, the Igwe and elders would go into the evil forest and render sacrifices of cows and cocks. The sacrificial cow would be guided by a virgin into the evil forest, located on a hill called Agbaala, on the outskirts of Ofeorie village. The group would face numerous obstacles to overcome to get to the top of the hill, where the sacrifices would be made. Upon reaching the top, the virgin would present the sacrifices to the gods, and then the oracle head, or Eze Nmo, would praise the gods with powerful incantations, followed by a speech from the Igwe. Although the gods were invisible, they were said to become very active and interactive at different stages during the sacrifices. All who went into the evil forest would be seated on cobras and rattlesnakes without any fear because the snakes had been subdued by the gods. The snakes would only react if a member of the party showed fear by remaining standing, at which point a snake would wrap itself around the person and compel him or her to sit. Through their powers the gods would slaughter the cow and cocks in the presence of the group. The virgin would then cook some of the beef, and those present would be served by the invisible hands of the gods. After the meal the Igwe would thank the gods, and officially invite them to visit the town and render judgment accordingly. At the end of the ceremony, they would all descend the hill and return to the town.

Every time the gods were about to visit, black worms would appear all around the town, and the people would know immediately what was to come. Visits from the gods usually caused a lot of trauma, as the people could never be sure what grudges the gods might have against them or what kind of punishment they would be given. The gods would come at midnight, and they were heralded by a forerunner whose feet sounded like stampeding buffaloes. Around 2 a.m., the townspeople would hear bizarre voices from the forest and from all corners of the town. Then they would hear deafening cries, like roars of dragons, emanating from the center of the town, sending panic across the entire village. During each visit of the gods, many children and adults would lose their lives. Coincidentally, after the visit of the gods, two of Nwanyi Burunnu’s children died of snake bites, and it was believed that the death of the children was a direct result of the gods’ visit. Nwanyi Burunnu was devastated by the loss, and Onyechere did his best to stay by her side and console her. He also blamed the gods for taking their children.

A few months after Nwanyi Burunnu had lost her twin daughters, while she was away selling her cakes, the other wives gave her triplets poisoned food. When she returned, she found her children lying dead in the house with the leftover food beside them. She was too shocked and confused to even cry. Five of her twelve children were dead. She ran around asking everybody in the area if they knew who had poisoned her children, but no one took responsibility or claimed to know anything. She began questioning God for allowing such calamities to befall her.

Nwanyi Burunnu decided not to have more children and stopped sleeping with Onyechere.

*****

Folks feedback is required in order to continue the story...this epic tells goes from rural African village to Europe and ultimately America..story is complete and ready to be posted at popular demand; therefore, you constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Intriguing, I was reading so fast hoping it would never end but alas ...it did . I like the fast pace(or was it me reading too fast?) and its getting really interesting. More more more please!

repogirl: Intriguing, I was reading so fast hoping it would never end but alas ...it did . I like the fast pace(or was it me reading too fast?) and its getting really interesting. More more more please!

[color=#006600][/color]

repogirl: your power of persuasion can not be matched..your wish is my command. Meanwhile, I truly value your opinion a lot and would like you to critic "Call me Simple Minded" and Fourth Generation Warfare"

#5 coming your way in second.

Thanks much.

Jakemond.

#5

*****

Nwanyi Burunnu’s first child—my father, Monday Amadi Onyechere—grew up to be a very bright boy. He could read and write even before he started school. He was a very respectful and determined boy. Many people in the town admired and adored him, and believed that one day he would become a very successful man. Unfortunately, when my father reached school age, his mother could not afford to send him to school. Although she still made her cakes, the proceeds weren’t adequate enough to take care of her children’s needs and pay my father’s school fees. According to Nwanyi Burunnu, Onyechere remained committed to her, but could not help her due to the enormous responsibility of raising dozens of children, as well as meeting the needs of half a dozen wives. Therefore, at a very tender age, my father decided to leave Owerri Nkworji in search of better prospects. He told his mother that he wanted to live with his half-brother, the first son of his father’s first wife, who was a teacher in Owerri-Nta Town, so he could attend school there. His mother had no choice but to let him go.

Owerri-Nta was a lot more developed than Owerri Nkworji. It had somewhat more modern facilities like palm processing plants and a modern market. It also had good roads, primary schools, clinics, and so on. When he arrived in town, my father located his half-brother, Godfrey, and explained the difficulties the family was facing at home, and his desire to be educated and perhaps be in a position to help his mother and siblings. Godfrey sympathized with him and agreed to enroll him in school.

My father happily started primary school the next academic year. He was smart, outspoken, yet respectful to all. He quickly became very popular and was adored and admired by students and teachers alike. He always came first in his class and was exceptionally good at mathematics. He did so well that he was given double promotions (allowed to skip grades), advancing to primary six (sixth grade) within a short period of time. The school authorities asked him to teach mathematics to the lower classes, but he politely declined because he did not want to offend his half-brother, who might interpret this as competition.

My father never stopped thinking about his mother and siblings. He was eager to finish school and get a better paying job so he could begin sending money back home. As he became more desperate to earn money, my father started tutoring classes for struggling students, accepting small fees. When Godfrey got wind of this, he became jealous and started treating my father badly. With time Godfrey’s relationship with my father deteriorated. Godfrey humiliated him at every opportunity until my father could no longer take it. It became clear to my father that things were never going to get better, and he was no longer willing to tolerate the continuous, unwarranted assault and abuse.

My father decided to quit school, leave Godfrey’s house, and try to fend for himself. Luckily for him, it was already the end of semester of his final year in primary school. He traveled to Enugu, where he joined up with other “hustlers”—young boys who usually help transit drivers load their vehicles for a fee.

Enugu was a densely populated city. My father established a rapport with some boys and gradually learned how to survive on his own. His friends told him of a motor park where he could find work as a bus conductor and, luckily, my father was given a job. He carried out his duties with zeal and enthusiasm, knowing what was at stake for him and his family. Sadly, he was not able to make enough money in his new job to make ends meet. He worried about his future and what would become of his family if he could not support them financially. ***Dad, left (bus Conductor).jpg*** (Dad (left) as bus Conductor)

As he struggled with this problem, my father began to lose focus and took a bad turn. He began to associate with hoodlums and people of questionable character who got him into smoking marijuana and other less than honorable activities. Despite his new lifestyle, he managed to cling to his job, and worked as a conductor for several years.
Eventually, fortune smiled on my father, or so he thought. He met another bus owner, Moses, who owned a mechanic shop on the main street. Moses took a keen interest in my father and promised to help him.

A few days later, Moses purchased a bus and was looking for a reliable person to drive it. Coincidentally, he ran into my father again and asked him if he knew how to drive a bus. My father had secretly learned to drive by practicing with his current driver’s bus at night without the driver’s knowledge, and had obtained a driver’s license a few months earlier. My father enthusiastically exclaimed that he could drive, and was given the job. He could hardly suppress the tears of joy running down his face as he went to pick up the new bus the next morning. He was convinced that things would change for the better, and he would now be able to support his mother and siblings with the money he would be making as a driver.

However, things did not improve as my father had anticipated. The bad economic situation besieging the country at the time was also felt heavily in Enugu. Prices of commodities rose dramatically and the cost of living was unbearably high. Even though, as a driver, my father was earning more than double what he had been making as a conductor, he still slept in his bus, as he could not afford to rent a place. He became discouraged and dejected, and would often cry himself to sleep at night.

One day, while driving through one of his routes, a passenger on board his bus—whom he would come to know as Ibu—narrated an incredible story. The story was almost too good to be true. Some of the passengers seemed to believe him, while others discounted it as crazy talk, but my father listened keenly. Ibu noticed my father’s interest, and waited until everyone got off the bus before he approached my father. Ibu then went deep into the philosophy of existentiality, karma, destiny, and secret societies, as well as magic powers that could bring wealth and prosperity. My father was intrigued and wanted to know more. The fantasy of having the power to change his fortunes was intensely alluring. Ibu concluded by telling him that he could become rich if he joined their secret society. He gave my father his address and encouraged him to come see him when he was ready to join.

As time went by and the city’s economic situation did not get better, my father started to imagine all the good things he could do and get for himself and his family if he became rich and prosperous. He decided to look for Ibu.

He located him in a remote part of Enugu, a very sparsely populated neighborhood with beautifully fenced compounds. When my father arrived, Ibu was sitting in a lotus position under a tree in front of his house. He welcomed my father and asked him to come into the house and join him for lunch. Afterward they went back to sit under the tree and had some local wine to wash down the meal. My father told Ibu that he was ready to join the secret society so he could become rich and powerful. He was told to go home and return in a week.

Seven days passed, and my father returned to Ibu’s house. Ibu asked him to follow him into what appeared to be a secret room in the house. Inside the room, Ibu chanted some incantations for a while and, all of a sudden, both men were transported to a completely different location. My father found himself flying across a big river and then breezing through what looked like an evil forest, but his determination to get wealth and power robbed him of whatever fear he might otherwise have felt. Finally, they landed in a big auditorium-type house. Seated in that auditorium, to my father’s surprise, were mostly prominent and well-respected men and women, including businessmen, Igwes, ministers, and witch doctors. My father was introduced to all the members and then the initiation began.

My father was ordered to drink a cup of human blood, after which he was taken to a cemetery to sleep with the spirits of the dead for a night. While at the cemetery, at about 3 a.m., he saw flame-like figures hovering around him and heard hoarse voices from the figures muttering some gibberish. After a while, a dragon-like figure appeared, carrying a human skull with blood in it, and a fresh human heart. The figure ordered him to bathe with the blood from the skull and eat the heart. My father obeyed. The dragon figure disappeared and my father found himself at the feet of the chief priest of the society. He was asked to reveal his desires; what he wanted out of life. He told the chief priest and the members, without fear or hesitation, that all he wanted was to become wealthy and powerful. He was instantly granted special spiritual powers. My father would later say that he knew he had gotten the powers because of the overpowering cloud of smoke that descended upon him after the chief priest’s proclamation. He was happy and felt that he had, indeed, become a new person.

Yet things did not turn out as my father had expected. Two weeks after his initiation into the secret society, he became aggressive and abusive. His marijuana habit worsened and his physical appearance changed as he let his hair and beard grow wild. His close friends did not understand why he had changed, and tried to help him, but he humiliated some of them and they kept away from him.

After more than a year, my father still did not become rich, but he continued to attend the secret society meetings. He did have some measure of spiritual power that enabled him to predict certain future events, but he could not make himself rich. Starting to feel homesick and miss his family, he decided to return home to Owerri Nkworji.
He arrived in the evening. His brothers and sisters did not recognize him until he asked about their mother. They were surprised at his appearance—the overgrown beard and hair, and his all-around unkempt look. When his mother returned home that night, she was taken aback, too, but she welcomed him wholeheartedly.

The next morning Nwanyi Burunnu asked my father where he had been living all the years he’d been away and what he had been doing. He gave vague, snappy responses to her—and to everyone else who asked—and eventually, no one dared ask anymore. He no longer respected elders and was aggressive and abusive toward everyone. He openly smoked marijuana and would beat up anyone who tried to talk to him about his smoking and his behavior. Everyone became increasingly afraid of him.

With his mystical powers, my father was able to do amazing things. He had a room to himself in his father’s compound, and his door was always left open, but he could tell when someone had gone into his room, even in his absence. He told people exactly when they were going to die. He could tell pregnant women the gender of their children, and whether or not the child would be stillborn. He could predict the future of newborn babies. But one of the most amazing things he did was to sleep for several days, without waking up, in his open room. While asleep, my father attended the meetings of his secret society. People marveled at this and became even more afraid of him.

According to my father, the god of the secret society was a gigantic monster with eyes that could pierce through any object. He could see things happening anywhere in the world, and when he spoke, sparks of fire emanated from his mouth and nose. The monster carried a rod in his hand that looked like a cobra, sat on a throne made of gold, and was guarded by two fierce lions on his right and a dragon with seven heads on his left. His servants were positioned all around him and did whatever he commanded. Whenever there was an impromptu meeting, the monster would dispatch his servants to go and inform all society members. During meetings all members wore black gowns, red hats, and no shoes. In the center of the meeting hall there was always a human skull filled with human blood, and all members would dip a special cup into it and drink from it, symbolizing their commitment to the society. Each member was also required to sacrifice a beloved relative at a designated time during their membership in the society. This had to be done even if a member were to abandon the society at some point. It was a sworn oath that each member had taken and was bound by.

Months later, my father, having fully accepted that although he had some spiritual powers, his financial situation had not improved as he had been promised—which was his primary reason for joining the secret society—decided he wanted to become a trader. Completely broke, without prospects, and still unable to cater to his family, he felt it was time to take matters into his own hands. He asked his mother for a piece of land that Onyechere had given her, saying that he wanted to plant crops and sell them to raise funds to start his trade. She agreed to let him use the land. My father was able to till and plant vast areas of land in a few hours all by himself. Despite his unkempt appearance, he was a very strong man, tall and muscular. He was built like a warrior, just like his father, and he had also inherited his bravery. My father worked hard on his farm, and when it was harvest time, he harvested the crops, sold them, and made a lot of money.

He also decided it was time to get married, even though he had pledged at the secret society that he would not get married or have children. If he broke the oath and went ahead to have children, they would all die before reaching adult age.

My father concluded that he would escape this by becoming a Christian, and thus began his quest for true Christian religion.

******

As usual continuation is base on popular demand and constructive criticism

******

Outstanding piece of work jake!! by far the most brilliant writing in this site.. have u thought about publishing ur work? please don't ever stop as I can't get enough this story...

benjames: Outstanding piece of work jake!! by far the most brilliant writing in this site.. have u thought about publishing ur work? please don't ever stop as I can't get enough this story...

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Thanks benjames but you give me too much credit than I deserve..please let me know what you think I should improve on.

So far, so good. It's going really well. Very relatable and very real life, its exactly what can happen to someone from a polygamous home. I like the straight to the point narrative, its not boring with unnecessary details I would usually jump pass. Good one, following the story bumper to bumper and will definitely go through those other stories.

Truly publishable. You and Ishilove have something in common; you both know literature. But you seem to swerve more to the American English usage rather that the British ('traveling' for 'travelling').

And, I'd prefer you use the term 'teleport' to 'transport', using the latter spells the use of vehicular machines like cars, bicycles or motorcycles...which, I believe, would be germane to the theme behind that part of the tale.

Larry-Sun:
I'm sure the great Achebe would be smiling in the freezer now; his legacy still lives in you.

Larry, your morbid imagination calls for concern.

Larry-Sun:

The post is entirely devoid of errors, in a manner of writing (except of course the use of neighboring instead of neighbouring; the former is of the American English usage). This shows an evidence of extensive grammatical edits, which is a dragon many of us are still struggling to slay. Weldone buddy. You've caught my attention with this.

Bless you, sir.

I agree totally with you

Jakemond, you are very talented writer. This is by far one of the best pieces I have ever read on this site. I want to be like you when I grow up!!

I noticed a few things. Nwanyi Burunnu was twelve years old when she got married. Nine months later, she had a child, Monday. Subsequently, she had a child every year after that. A twelve year old having children in such quick succession is harmful to a full grown woman, talk less of an adolescent. By your account, it means that by the time she was 18 or 19, she already had 12 children. Even the midwives of that era would have known how dangerous this is, and she definitely would have experienced severe complications. An adolescent achieving these birthing feats is highly bizzarre and very unlikely.

Let's say the gods blessed her with strength to turn to into a baby making factory, you should point it out in your narration.

Another thing. So far so good, you have not included any dialogue, save for old man Ikuku's pronouncement. This will not do at all. It is unclear if you have are still writing the prologue. If all you have posted so far is the prologue, then it is a VERY long prologue. If you have passed the prologue stage, then it is imperative you include some dialogue, no matter how little.

Your narration is a bit too fast paced for my taste (this is purely my personal opinion). You need to apply some brakes then and now. Again, this is where dialogue comes in. This will sustain the tension required to hold the reader spellbound (though you have been doing a remarkable job of that already).

The subject matter in each paragraph should be separated. I noticed some parts that where you mixed them up and the paragraph became too fleshy.

Aside these, dude, YOU ROCK!!! Mehn, you gat to give me some tutorials. I am following your story like a shadow. (Benefits of following Larry Sun)

Double post

Larry-Sun:
Truly publishable. You and Ishilove have something in common; you both know literature. But you seem to swerve more to the American English usage rather that the British ('traveling' for 'travelling').

And, I'd prefer you use the term 'teleport' to 'transport', using the latter spells the use of vehicular machines like cars, bicycles or motorcycles...which, I believe, would be germane to the theme behind that part of the tale.

Thanks Larry..Your observations are dully noted. I made a conscious decision to write in American diction because of the underlying intent of the book as well as my level of comfort.

As usual, your great insight and depth is greatly appreciated.

Respectfully,

Jakemond

Ishilove: Jakemond, you are very talented writer. This is by far one of the best pieces I have ever read on this site. I want to be like you when I grow up!!

I noticed a few things. Nwanyi Burunnu was twelve years old when she got married. Nine months later, she had a child, Monday. Subsequently, she had a child every year after that. A twelve year old having children in such quick succession is harmful to a full grown woman, talk less of an adolescent. By your account, it means that by the time she was 18 or 19, she already had 12 children. Even the midwives of that era would have known how dangerous this is, and she definitely would have experienced severe complications. An adolescent achieving these birthing feats is highly bizzarre and very unlikely.

Let's say the gods blessed her with strength to turn to into a baby making factory, you should point it out in your narration.

Another thing. So far so good, you have not included any dialogue, save for old man Ikuku's pronouncement. This will not do at all. It is unclear if you have are still writing the prologue. If all you have posted so far is the prologue, then it is a VERY long prologue. If you have passed the prologue stage, then it is imperative you include some dialogue, no matter how little.

Your narration is a bit too fast paced for my taste (this is purely my personal opinion). You need to apply some brakes then and now. Again, this is where dialogue comes in. This will sustain the tension required to hold the reader spellbound (though you have been doing a remarkable job of that already).

The subject matter in each paragraph should be separated. I noticed some parts that where you mixed them up and the paragraph became too fleshy.

Aside these, dude, YOU ROCK!!! Mehn, you gat to give me some tutorials. I am following your story like a shadow. (Benefits of following Larry Sun)

Ishilove: Indeed larry is the man, you are in good company.

Anyways, thanks for your very thoughtful critic and please keep it coming..

As for the pace, we're still on the prologue. though it might seem too long but it is by design, hence full understanding of the prologue is required to follow the main story...please indulge me for now and hit me back when we get to chapt 1,2,3. Also, I feel you about the absence of dialogue; once again, patience is a virtue and I urge you to indulge me just for a little while longer.
As for the paragraphs, I will try my best to remedy it..each time I transfer from my manuscript to the post box, things got jumbled up.

Thanks much,

Jakemond

#6
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My father traveled from Owerri Nkworji to other towns, searching for a church that practiced what it preached. He couldn’t find what he was looking for, claiming that in virtually all the churches he had visited, the pastors’ and members’ attitudes did not reflect what they preached. Rather, their doctrines seemed to suggest a “do as I say and not as I do” approach.

While he searched for a church, he took various jobs and saved more money. The secret society started to torment him. Somehow they knew that he was about to abandon them, and they were determined not to let him go. On several occasions they would invade his dreams, and many nights he was attacked by roaches, snakes, dogs, and all kinds of animals.

Sometimes he would be beaten in his dreams and wake up with bruises on his body. At other times the members of his secret society would magically transport him to their secret house to kill him, but my father always managed to escape by muttering some powerful words that he had picked up on his quest for a true church: “The Blood of Jesus.”

After a while, my father thought it wise to start his trading business again. Though he still smoked and people were still afraid of him, he was making a tremendous effort to turn his life around for good, and his behavior and attitude got better every day. He began making trips to a town in the northeastern part of Nigeria called Abakeleke (Abakaliki), where he purchased food products to sell. He stored his goods in a room at his mother’s house, and began selling them at all the local markets. He would walk for many hours from village to village, town to town, selling his products. Though his trade was moving quite well, he was not, by any stretch of the imagination, getting rich.

As he continued in his quest to find a true Christian church, he also made a promise to himself that if he ever found one, he would definitely pick his bride from there as well. His determination to become a Christian was reinforced by a serious accident he was involved in while riding back from market on a bus. The journey was progressing smoothly until an unusual human-like figure suddenly appeared in the center of the road. The driver, who was speeding, had no time to think. He immediately swerved right, lost control of the vehicle, and crashed into a stream. Some of the bus passengers were injured, and five died on the spot, but my father didn’t sustain even a scratch. But he felt responsible because he believed the accident was orchestrated by the secret society. They were hell-bent on torturing, tormenting, and possibly killing him.

One day after selling his products, he decided to take a long walk to a village called Amaegbu, where he met a gentleman called Emmanuel. Emmanuel talked about Christianity and religious beliefs, and gave my father a Bible as he was leaving. My father read it from Genesis to Revelation trying to find meaning and, perhaps, salvation. Though he failed to understand the true importance of Jesus Christ, he found great value in the Bible. He concluded that the Catholic and Protestant churches he had visited were hypocrites, and did not teach the Bible correctly. However, he remained hopeful that one day he would find a true church with a sound doctrine.

My father continued to visit Amaegbu, and he and Emmanuel became good friends. Realizing that my father was deeply interested in religion, Emmanuel compiled a number of sermons he had received from Faith Tabernacle Congregation, an American church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. During one visit, he handed a sermon to my father, who noticed the Philadelphia address. Suddenly, my father remembered that in the Revelation, chapter three, verses seven to thirteen of the Bible, John the Apostle had a positive assessment of a church of Philadelphia. He concluded that these churches were one and the same.

Early the next morning, my father told Emmanuel that he would like them to establish a branch of the Faith Tabernacle Congregation in Owerri Nkworji. Emmanuel replied that he already started the church in Amaegbu, with services being held at his house and the congregation mostly consisting of Emmanuel’s family. My father immediately requested to become a member.

After my father joined the Faith Tabernacle church, his behavior began to improve dramatically. People noticed the change and were amazed. Many who knew of my father’s reputation decided that if he could change, so could they, inspiring many to join the church. The doctrine of Faith Tabernacle forbade smoking, drinking, worshipping false gods (idolatry), adultery, fornication, disrespect, and so on. Members were not allowed to associate with nonbelievers, and all non-Faith Tabernacle members were considered nonbelievers. Faith Tabernacle members could not marry from other denominations, were strictly monogamous, and believed in divine healing. They did not use medication to cure diseases and did not go to the hospital when they were sick.

My father and some of the new converts were baptized, and my father became one of the founding members of Faith Tabernacle Congregation in Owerri Nkworji. He worked hard to get more converts from his family. He had more than ten people from his extended family join the church, and was eventually appointed a deacon.

Gradually, the congregation of the church increased, and the issue of marriage became more important to my father. His search for a suitable wife eventually took him to Orji Uratta Town, where he met my mother, Grace Ewurum, born September 29, 1948. She was the last daughter of Eunice Ewurum, daughter of Igwe Ewurum, traditional ruler of Orji Uratta Kingdom.
King Ewurum was a wise and great man of his time. He had fought and won many inter-tribal battles, confiscating and annexing the territories of his enemies, and taking prisoners of war as his slaves. He was also very prosperous. He had many wives and concubines, and a lot of cattle, goats, pigs, and other animals. My grandmother, Eunice, was the second daughter of the king’s first wife. When Eunice got married, she moved with her husband to Uzoagbo Village. Much later, the king converted to Christianity after reading a pamphlet from Faith Tabernacle of Philadelphia, meeting with a local Faith Tabernacle pastor, and being baptized. To show his generosity and gratitude, the king built a church in his compound for the benefit of his family and subjects, and a station pastor was appointed by Faith Tabernacle headquarters to head the new church. The king, along with his wives, children, and grandchildren, worshipped at the new church. The name of the church became Faith Tabernacle Congregation of Orji Uratta, and it still bears this name to this day. As a result of his newfound faith, the king turned over the crown to his younger brother and dedicated his life to the church.

Eunice was converted after the birth of her third child. She started attending the same church at Uzoagba upon hearing that her father and family had converted. After observing how well behaved the members were, she became convinced that the church was indeed exceptional and later became a full member of the Faith Tabernacle Congregation of Uzoagbo. Her husband, Nzeh, followed in her footsteps and became a member of the church as well. As time went on, Eunice and Nzeh had two more daughters, who were born in accordance with rules and practices of the church. Upon the birth of my mother, Grace, Nzeh became very ill. His relatives recommended that he seek healing from local witch doctors. However, Eunice and Nzeh refused because the suggestion ran contrary to the doctrine of their church, which believed only in divine healing. Nzeh died after the protracted illness, leaving Eunice with their young children.

When Nzeh’s death was announced in the village, those who went to sympathize with the bereaved family started rumors that Eunice had killed her husband. She was accused of being a witch. At the time, Nzeh’s relatives did not know the doctrine of their church and could not understand why Eunice had not sought medical attention for her husband. According to the custom of the village, Eunice had to sleep in a room with the body of the deceased for three nights.

During the burial ceremony, gloom and doom prevailed as the sky turned dark and thunderstorms followed, with powerful winds that razed many houses. A powerful whirlwind followed a path through the village, circling it twice and stopping at Nzeh’s compound. Lightning touched ground several times, killing many animals. Rain continued unabated. The villagers believed that this destructive weather implied that the gods were furious and that Nzeh’s death was not natural. Nzeh’s kindred ordered the grieving Eunice to vacate her husband’s premises with her children. She pleaded with them, but they were determined not to show her any mercy. While she was still packing her things, her husband’s relatives entered the house and threw her belongings out into the heavy rain. She was not allowed to take anything that belonged to her husband, not even his traditional wedding ring.

Eunice clung to her younger daughter, Grace, while the other children surrounded her, confused and tormented. They sat in the rain and cried for hours, and no one in the village came to their aid. As they left the village, some of the women started singing, calling Eunice a witch. Some people stoned her and ridiculed the departing family. With pain in her heart, Eunice left with her children for the outskirts of Uzoagbo Village.

For a year, Eunice engaged in subsistence farming to sustain her family. One day all her children became seriously ill. She prayed and did her best to care for them, but their condition worsened. She eventually took them to the Faith Tabernacle pastor of the Uzoagbo branch, who, after praying for them, received a divine revelation that they needed to return to Orji Uratta.

They were given a warm welcome by the king, a one-room house located by the famous Nkwo-Orji market, and given some land so Eunice could farm and take care of her children. Days after returning to Orji, Eunice’s children got well and were enrolled in primary school. Eunice made sure that her children were brought up to be God-fearing. She taught them the values and beliefs of the Faith Tabernacle Congregation. Eunice bought a sewing machine and started teaching herself to sew. She decided to change the last names of her children to that of her father.

As years went by, the membership of Faith Tabernacle Congregation of Orji Uratta increased tremendously. A large number of Orji inhabitants, and the surrounding villages and towns, were attending the church. Eunice never wavered in her dedication to the church and her faith. She and her children continued to play a prominent role in the church, cleaning and maintaining the church building.

When my father’s search for a suitable wife took him to Orji Uratta, he attended the Sunday service there. He was pleased with the sermon and how the church members had seemed to respond positively to the preaching. He thought that this congregation could possibly be where he would find his wife. However, he had to follow the Faith Tabernacle marriage procedures. Typically, when a man wanted to marry from the church, he would reveal his intention to the pastor. The pastor and the prospective suitor would take the matter to God, after which the pastor would find a suitable time to address the issue to the unmarried females in the church. The pastor wouldn’t tell them that a man was looking to marry one of them; instead, he would make an announcement requesting that all single females wait behind after the service. Everyone knew what such announcements meant. This “meeting” would give the suitor the opportunity to observe the ladies from a distance, and after he had made up his mind on one, the ladies would be asked to leave, at which point the suitor would have a second opportunity to get a closer look at the ladies as they filed out.

The following Sunday, my father returned to Orji and made his intentions known to the station pastor, and the single young women, including Grace—and Mercy, her sister—were asked to stay after the service. After the regular process, my father identified Grace as the one that he would like to marry. The pastor informed her that my father wanted her hand in marriage, and my father and Grace were left alone to talk in private. Grace told him that she had already fallen in love with him when she had noticed him at the church the previous Sunday. My father was very relieved to have things turn out this way. The two agreed on a day that my father and his family would go to Eunice and King Ewurum to officially request Grace’s hand in marriage.

The morning after my father’s successful meeting with his future wife, he returned to his village to inform his kindred of the news. He could not contain his excitement. Nwanyi Burunnu immediately invited the elders of the clan, as tradition demanded, to let them know that her son had found someone he wanted to marry. My father recounted the news to the elders and requested that they, with other members of his family, accompany him to Orji Uratta so he could officially ask for Grace’s hand in marriage. Everyone was pleased and a date was set for their journey to Orji.

Nwanyi Burunnu was even more delighted about her son getting married than he was himself; she had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Finally, her son would give her some grandchildren. By this time her daughter, Comfort, had already married Godwin, younger brother of the reigning world Welterweight boxing champion, Dick Tiger, but she still wanted more grandchildren, especially from my father.

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As always your constructive criticism is required and follow up is dependent on popular demand.


larry and ishilove: when you get a chance can you critic "call me simple minded" and fourth generation warfare"..I value your opinions.

Okay Jake, we shall keep our fingers crossed.

Jake, is this story fiction, fact or 'faction'?

Ishilove: Jake, is this story fiction, fact or 'faction'?

Ishilove: good observation..indeed, its based on real life events. All characters and places were really.
It's actualy a memoir and will be avilable in book stores(in the US) and Amazone in July 2013.

JAKEMOND1:

Ishilove: good observation..indeed, its based on real life events. All characters and places were really.

Just couldn't help it

JAKEMOND1:
It's actualy a memoir and will be avilable in book stores(in the US) and Amazone in July 2013.

Wikkid!! So your granny was 12 when she started 'kponjaing' ?

Tell her to check her age well, she was prolly older!

Ishilove:

Just couldn't help it


Wikkid!! So your granny was 12 when she started 'kponjaing' ?

Tell her to check her age well, she was prolly older!

Perhaps in those days girls marry early.. Check the Igbo history my brother.