Otem Ofor Agwu the brutally outspoken sat quietly like a tamed lion, nodding in support or against the various points made by other village council members. At intervals, he would murmur and raise his eyebrows like he was about to vomit a point but on a second thought would just gulp down a shot of dry gin and drown his points. He would frown and put up a finger in the strength of a beaten warrior in the presence of his maiden, then take it down humbly like a rejected child, after spontaneous thoughts within. All these happened repeatedly. He was utterly apprehensive. Even the gods would have been shocked to their marrows had it been their hands where clean in this matter. The village council meeting seemed very successful this time. Disputes were settled, points were made and everybody looked gleeful except Otem Ofor Agwu who wore a long face. It felt like only his matter was unattended to. He felt dumb. On a previous council meeting, he had insulted the gods and was struck with a chronic mouth odour!
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