₦airaland Forum

OKE’S REBIRTH

There was insistent knocking on the wooden door.
It happened twice first, four times next, and the next six times threatened the hinges of the door which could have bellowed at Miss Connor to pay whatever ransom she owed the assailants, if they had the voice.
She wondered who it could be at such time of the day when most productive people were toiling away at their farms. She listened intently for the gender of the knock, and her heart froze when it dawned on her. She put four of the twins deep into the deepest layer of the wooden basket, covered and muffled it for any sound, and proceeded to the door after what seemed like a day’s sojourn at the farm. Four stocky men with menacing faces and rippling chest muscles sauntered into the room and scanned it with eyes that seemed like it could see beyond the physical. While she was still wondering what they came for, a wizened, tall interpreter appeared. He spoke explicitly and factually to her.
‘We know you are hiding things we do not want in this village, in your house. We have explained time and again to you how we feel regarding what you seek so much to protect. You can go to the next village or town to liberate them; we know our gods and ancestors and they do not joke with what they tell us. You won’t be there to bear the consequences when it begins to happen. For peace’s sake, bring out the twins you are hiding.’
Miss Connor, coming to the realization of what this was about, faced Idim squarely, not minding the obvious disadvantage in both gender and stature, and irritated him with her rolly British accent. ‘What if you had come as a twin, and faced the risk of being killed like you are so vehement on doing now? If you can’t answer that, you have no right to raid my house in such a manner. At any rate, I am alone for now. There is no one else here. If you are satisfied, can you please leave my house with your henchmen?’
It took just a nod from him to get the men to work, flinging things over while it took just one man to keep her at bay from obstructing them, even though it wasn’t without having to endure her scratches on his arm and ear-filling rants about who owned the house and what right they had to have forceful access into it.
The basket was found.
It was brought into the open compound.
One after the other, eight fledgling, insanely beautiful, pink legs and arms kicking the air innocently, were extracted from the container, and put out in the midday sun.
The tallest two of the four men came, and one steadied himself as the other mounted his shoulder, and stood stout and tall. One after the other, the babies were handed to the top of the man-ladder, who released them from that height after series of incantations. The process was repeated until there was an inseparable mass of brains and blood splattered on the floor, and not one of them breathing.
In the recesses of the inner room, the guard whose job designation was to pin Miss Connor to the wall had somehow become intrigued at how fair and supple her skin was, and his hand had left her neck to experiment the feel of the moderate mounds on her chest, and had gone further and further, having no problems with her weak resistance and shouts for help. He descended on her womanhood with a mixture of curiosity and mad pleasure, and only stopped when there seemed to be no movement from underneath him. He hastened up and out, wondering how the others had forgotten about him.



The sun could as well burn off Meti’s back for all he cared. He was done.
What sort of thing was this? The curse Idiko, the creator of mankind placed on man for disobeying him could not have been as bad as this. It was too much. He was tired, thirsty, and when he looked at how many yam mounds he had made since morning, he almost wept. To add to his woes, his waist ached like he had been clubbed, all the circumference of his lower back. But he would not kill himself. Kill himself, only for someone else to come reap his labour? No way.
He reached for his water gourd. Only three drops, when he turned it upside down.
Thankfully, there was a stream nearby.



The snake must have had some serious prior training on how to slither through grasses without alerting anyone, thought Meti as he stopped from giving himself generous helpings of the clear, cool stream water and turned to see the grasses moving like they were giving way to something behind him. He hadn’t had some snake stew in nearly two years, and the prospect of the delicacy propelled him to lift himself quickly from the water body and pick up his cutlass.
When he got there, the grass moved alright, but it was not a passing animal. In the stead of the snake he so much wanted to kill and brag to his wife about, were two of the loveliest creatures Idiko had ever created that he had ever seen. He knew what he had felt the first day he set eyes on his wife Eto, with that long shock of hair which got down to the small of her back, and the exhilarating feeling he got when his first daughter was handed to him some twenty two years ago, but he could swear by his mother’s grave that those were nothing compared to the beauties which lay before him, eyes wide and starry, peaceful and silent, their thumbs in their mouths, making loud slurping noises which made it look like they were enjoying what they were doing. He bent down to scoop them up.
A voice inside him asked him what he was doing, moments after the novelty of the innocence of what he was seeing, wore off. He made to drop them, but stopped to think. What kind of ancestors would forbid twins? Were these not the same ancestors whom the priests and priestesses claimed had their interests and protection at heart? At the behest of what he was dropping back where he saw it, the explanations and reasons given for killing these creatures suddenly began to lose weight, and made less and less sense to him. What exactly was a curse about having two children who looked exactly alike? Was that not supposed to be a blessing? Ositi had had three of them like that, and the thugs of the shrine had set all three of them on fire before their hapless parents. He could not understand it. But there was not a single time he cast eyes on what was before him that the senselessness and wickedness of killing them did not tug at his heart, without consideration. Let whatever will happen, happen. These ones would live.
He scooped them up and headed to his farm, and waited till it was pitch dark. He went home straight, and brushed aside every cautious question directed at what he had brought home. Surprisingly, his entire family felt the same way he felt about the bundles of beauty, and there was an unspoken but water-tight bond of secrecy they all entered into that night.






‘Relax…..
‘You know I love you too much to let you throw your life in jeopardy like this. What do you mean by that?’
‘I said relax. Don’t you trust me anymore? When I say relax, you relax. I have everything under control.’
‘How exactly are you going to pull this off? You and I both know you are a bad boy, a bad influence, and an undesirable person among the village folk. How I ended up loving you this much is still a surprise to me. My father almost sliced off your head the last time you came to our house. How do you imagine you can convince my father to let you have my hand in marriage?’
Osa looked deep in the eyes of Itim, and felt her cheeks, and the rush of blood to the supple fair skin was almost heard, turning her pink instantly. He reveled in their softness and brought his face closer to hers. ‘I told you to trust me’, the air coming from his mouth hot as he blurted the words. He felt for the loose end of her wrapper, and tugged at it, but she was faster. She caught hold of the item of clothing before his eyes could be fed, and tightened it ever so well above her bosom. ‘You know we can’t do this now’, she stuttered, and brushed her hands lightly over his bearded cheek, disappearing that instant.
‘Itim…….’
He didn’t even get a backward glance.



The first toilet in the village of Dinki was the one in Miss Connor’s house. Meti had used it when he had gone to deliver some maize to her sometime ago. She had even paid some people to construct one in the market square, the Izi’s palace, and some select spots in the village, and ever since, people had begun to have something similar in their houses. It consisted of a hole deep enough into the ground which was fitted with three to four stones strategically placed, in a small space walled round with raffia palm, and it was made very appealing to the user. Meti had one in his house too, but somehow did not like the idea of dropping the load in a closed space. He liked the early morning feel of the cool breeze on his buttocks as he relieved himself, and the nearby bush close to the farm presented a ready alternative.
Even now, as he had learnt of her gruesome death, Meti could not help but shudder at the thought of what they called tradition and how it was affecting them all in this village. She had been extracted from her room, unclothed and bloodied all over, and had been thrown to the evil forest. The priest had called her death ‘the spoils of a struggle’ and had rubbed that dark substance all over her, amidst incantations, before turning her over to the henchmen for disposal. But the entire thing confused him. After Isako and his entire family died of swollen stomach for trying to hide a set of twins, no one dared to do it anymore, for fear of the gods. But he was ready to dare the gods on this one. How can the gods who created them, support killing in this way? By now there was not a fibre in his body that saw the sense in the whole thing. His children were grown, and could farm well. What did he have to lose in the first place? Well, his wife……but who said he would die?
A large breadfruit dropped with a loud thud behind him just as he was cleaning himself up. When what, or rather who it was, materialized before him, with one smile he couldn’t quite place, he reached for his cutlass. But there seemed to be no fear in the youngster’s face, even though he stood a respectful distance away.
‘Diiiii’, he greeted.
‘If it is about my daughter, you know the answer.’
‘But please, I love the ground that girl steps on. Don’t do this to me. I may not be good enough, but who knows if she could change me? When last did you hear of, or see me fight or steal? If you are honest, you will agree that it’s quite an age. Please, I am doubly sure I can take care of her, and I know she loves me too. Don’t deny me love, please…’
‘Even if I were to allow you on your own account, which would still be impossible, haven’t your parents told you what they did to me? How they stole all of my father’s inheritance? How they used their connections with the Izi to strip my family of all they had? Please don’t come here to re-open old wounds. Does it mean my daughter is still seeing you despite my warnings? Leave this place this instant, before the gods descend on me for murder…’

Osa spread-eagled himself on the grassy floor, and curled himself in such a way that his legs became shorter than they actually were. He put out his shortened left arm in a way that made it look like he interlocked it with another person’s, and put his right thumb in his mouth, and closed his eyes, sucking profusely. He would open it at intervals to wink at Meti, in the midst of smiling lips, and continue until he felt he had appropriately passed his message.
‘What is this? What are you doing?’
‘You see, even though I would not want to partake in any curse on your account, I am beginning to think again about the customs you people parade as tradition in this village. But on the other hand, I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to, because I am also in love with those pretty little things. But as it stands now, this is something I must do. I love your daughter, and since I cannot think of any soft way of doing this, this is my only resort. I saw you take those twins from the stream the other day. You either allow me have my way with your daughter ,or I report you to the priest.’
The cutlass dropped from Meti’s hand.
‘Don’t go hurting Itim; she didn’t tell me. She doesn’t even know that I know. Like I said, I would not do this if I didn’t have to. I just hope I will not be forced to report you. Diiiii’.
Two months later, ten thugs appeared and surrounded Meti’s compound one morning, turning the sweet maize he was chewing into mud in his mouth on sighting them, and deciphering why they had come. He quietly shepherded his wife and children to the back of the house while they did their do.





‘What took you so long?’
‘What sort of question is that? Is it because I agreed to meet you up here? It’s like you are taking my love for you for granted. Don’t you know I have work to do? You think I am as lazy as you are, or my parents are as wealthy as yours?’
The questions threatened to go higher and higher, but Osa had not come to fight. He placed the magical hand on her cheeks, and the seas calmed instantly.
‘I’m sorry, my sun. I can’t bear the thought of you away from me for a second. It would be worse still if it were someone else keeping you. I would kill myself if it happens……’
‘Have I ever done anything to make you doubt me? Look at my lips when I’m talking: this body, this heart and this soul, are all yours. Believe me……’
Things went farther than she had planned. But Osa was determined. It was this way or no other. She just had to bear with him. It was love, nothing more. No other girl touched him deep like this piece of divinity who had no business being among humans, and the only place she was going to was anywhere beside him. Surprisingly, he did not meet with much resistance. This was good. The desire was mutual. Before long they had become inseparable, the feel of the moment heightened by the feathery caress of the grass on their bodies. The heavens touched the earth, and shook hands.







‘You are pregnant.’
It was more like she was being accused than asked. But, what was the use of running round in circles? Whatever wanted to happen would not kill her. Wasn’t it the elders that said that there was nothing the eyes would see that would make it weep blood? There was no speck of regret over what she had done. Father was the one making all of this so complicated because of some family feud years before she knew what was called a world. One way or the other, this was bound to happen. It was to be either in honour or ignobly; in pride or humility. Anyway, she didn’t care. She would have cared if it were anyone else other than the man who made her world swirl.
‘It’s Osa’s’.
She did not wait for the exasperated screams of her mother bemoaning what a disgrace she was bringing to the family and asking the gods what she had done to deserve such a treatment of a child, nor the hate-burned gaze of her father who had heard the commotion and had appeared to silently take in what was happening; she disappeared into the inner room to wait for what would come next.
In a question of a month, her father was forced to, in a meeting devoid of the funfare and pleasantries of families whose relationships were to be thus cemented, accept the offerings and statutes for the hand of Itim in marriage.



‘Just a little more. A little more. Its coming! See the head!’
Twelve women surrounded her in a semi-circle, their wrapper forming an opaque wall which was made even so by their bodies which would have made sure nothing was left to the view of whoever it was that had no right of pass to view whatever was happening in the middle of that circle, save for the earth-shattering cries of the woman who was in the fine dividing line between two worlds, and perhaps the first cry of what came forth out of her. The birth pains had come suddenly to Itim, and before she knew what was happening and could gather herself to run to Aku, the local healer, who also was well versed in these things, the water had broken and it had happened right there in the centre of the large compound where they lived. Her marriage to Osa under such peculiar circumstances had been noised about, tottered about, nosed about by the market women and the hair stylists, and it did not matter to her the occasional smirk she thought she caught with her side eye whenever she passed by a group of women: she was content with, happy with, and cared only for the explosive love she shared with Osa.
But when help mattered the most, the women of Oke knew the difference between what they felt and what needed to be done, and so, hardly had her first cry for help rung out, than the first set of women mobilized themselves and sent word round to whoever was available, and Itim was enmeshed in a mixture of feelings when it was obvious that it was not just a single baby in her womb. As for the women, they had come, they had come. It had to be seen through, to its end.
They prodded, and prompted, and encouraged, and inspired, until one last burst of strength shot out the second hairy, pink, smallish mass of little flesh and noise.
At that same instant, unknown to each and every one of the people of Oke, two identical babies came forth in the homesteads of the Izi, the priest, ten chiefs, and twenty other families.

News travelled fast in the village of Oke. It was public knowledge in no time that the village had become on the verge of being exterminated. The gods must have deemed them fit for annihilation to have visited them in this manner. The next market day, there was a distraught chief priest at the market square, kneeling with his hands in the air. There were twelve boys kneeling beside him, and there was a surprised gasp when everyone saw what each person saw.
The twelve boys were twins.
‘Kinsmen, I am sorry. I don’t know where to begin. I am tired of this killing and bloodshed. There is no curse anywhere. All the killings, I am responsible. There is nothing like swollen stomach. I made it happen.’

The beep brings my phone to life
And like Sinach
All I see is You
Like Josh Groban
You raise me High
Scampering from[ogbonnasview..com][/url]

The eyes that looked ready to swallow mine were insistent and had this air of urgency in them. As it came closer and closer to my face, I found myself more and more powerless against its hypnotizing power. I was pinned down on the bed, motionless down to my throat, and I did not even notice that the face which contained those blazing eyes had a pert nose and nice mouth until much later when it had made an end of its attempt to pass its message, or so it seemed. It looked so human, yet scaringly forceful, like a mix between a horror movie character and someone I knew. All the same, the what he had to say was direct, clear and emotion-laden.
‘Don’t!’



The sun that came up that morning looked like it was battle ready to exact revenge on whoever lived on the earth today, our part of the earth, for some wrong done to it sometime in the past that it was not willing to forgive. This was not the kind of sun that 7 a.m brings even in the summer bays of Tampa. For some nondescript reason I felt very insecure and uptight. It was much later that evening I was able to connect the uneasy feeling to some sense of foreboding which had something to do with something that happened the night before regarding some people I knew….
A plastic cup hit me by the side of my head. Three more followed, followed by five voices which spoke all at once, and said the same thing.
‘What are you still doing in bed?’
I knew the whys and whens of the question, the hows and wheres and everything that followed it; I was just not in the mood to give anyone any answer. I raised my hand in depiction of what I wanted more than anything else at that moment-a complete stop to all of that. Maria, not done yet, flew at me from nowhere in that thong of hers that would have had my blood racing on any other day, and twerked her load before my face for a few seconds, and gave up when she found my mood irredeemable. If Maria could not get me, no one else could, the look on their faces said. They concluded I was truly not up to anything.
‘Hey, keep being a wussy around the house…this weather is too much of an allure to be cramped up indoors….I will be with you shortly…..’
They tramped out without another word.
I watched all five of them give me that look you give a stray cat in the cold in your front porch- Brandon, the six-foot ball player who felt he was God’s gift to the ladies, Hagin who had a bad word for everyone at every point, Kyle, my friend whose strength gave him all he needed at all times, one way or another, Barth, the wavy-haired negro who was already a four pointer so early in our sojourn at Creams, despite his substance abuse issues, and Maria who had the hots for me but always received a gentle brick wall. Maria was the last to leave the room, but not before giving me that motherly look that could extract the deepest of secrets, while sitting on my lap. Her anger and disappointment at not getting at any explanation for not wanting to go out at such an opportune time of the day, was thinly veiled, as the thought of today not being a day for cozy talk dawned on her slowly but surely.
I knew I had woken up with a slight bang on my temple, but it was nowhere near the reason anything outdoors repelled me this morning with so much gusto. I just could not explain it to myself, talk more of Maria or anyone.
The whirr of an ambulance reminded me.
In a flurry, activity had ensued in the otherwise quiet bar beach morning. Four boys had been in a very bad accident, and there was no telling if they would make it. I raced to the venue, shielding my face with the shades I had seen on Maria’s table, and got there just in time to see my friends, all four of them being wheeled behind the ambulance, blood oozing out of their heads at the same spot, all four of them. The effort of the first aid they had received was fast failing them, and even at that point I could see that their breathing was loud and laborious. They had been skiing or something, according to the confusing accounts I had heard, and the wave had gone up so bad it flung the four of them at the same time so far and so bad, they had smashed their heads against a yacht. Looking up and as far as I could see, the sea was as clear and calm as when Jesus spoke to it in the Bible, with nothing in sight.
When my sensibilities asked me where Maria could be, I looked involuntarily to the right, and saw a group of men around her, with people shrieking in horror and men shielding their little children’s eyes from the gory sight. A part of her femur on the right leg was sticking out from the skin in a mesh of blood and whitish tissue, and it was defeating every labour the men were applying to stabilize her.
Just then, I heard the loud bang of the ambulance door, and the driver looked round, shouting orders to get Maria in. I recognized the voice; he removed his shades, and I almost fainted. Those eyes, I had seen before.
Twice.
That night my friends had called me a wimp and had gone ahead to rob that jewellery shop.
It all came back now, like a tsunami, sweeping every memory barrier away. Last night.
The voice which accompanied those insistent eyes was the same. Yesterday was the second time I heard it, and I remembered every detail clearly now.
‘Don’t!’

stblessing:
Episode 2 continues
I froze at this point. It felt as if cold water had been poured into my feet and that a hammer had hit my head. I looked left,squatted and asked"why are you asking such a question darling?""Because I got into a fight with my classmate because she said I didn't have a dad"I stood up angrily and asked"who is the insolent baboon that would dare say such a thing"Nelly took my hand and led me to her classmate at the waiting room obviously gossiping with other girls. Nelly pointed her to me and I called"hey you!come here noww!"I cried and she obediently walked towards me. I grabbed her ear and began pulling"how dare you talk to my daughter in such a manner? are you mad!"I continued pulling her ear as she yelled and a teacher quickly rushed in"madam?what is the matter?"She asked and pulled the young girl out of my grasp"good thing you are here!I want you to ask that insolent brat what gave her the right to assault my daughter both physically and verbally"she was just about to talk when I heard from behind me,a harsh but familiar voice"and what gives you the right to hurt my daughter?"I slowly turned back and saw one of my greatest enemies. It was Chika!

Nice story, but it seems rushed. take your time, build the story, connect with the reader. nice creativity anyways

It was one of those Friday nights.

You know, one of those nights when the hormones are on full duty and all of your armour has given way. You look for some little trouble to get into, you don’t get, and you turn to anything that has the semblance of solace.

And to complicate things, Shola had just been paid for the week. He could challenge Godzilla for all he cared.

Feelings. Feelings! Why didn’t he think of this all along? There was surely enough occupation to last him a lifetime at Feelings. He engaged the drive gear of the Acura he bought the week before, and his foot tortured the gas pedal. The protest he got from the car made the little voice in him to ask him to put himself in the car’s shoes. Could he stand it?

The building which housed the town’s largest club was not too far away, and he was glad the car didn’t have to suffer for so long. He got out, threw the keys to the handsome valet whose looks made him wish the gender could change at the snap of a finger, and sauntered into the reception. He could already hear Lil Wayne telling an imaginary girl to give him a good view of whatever it was her mother gave her, in that sneaky mischievous voice of his.

‘Licence, please?’ the burly six footer of a hulk asked him, with a protective and friendly slur to his voice.

He reached deep into his wallet, and fished out his driver’s licence. Even before the document came out, the shift in the eyes of the bouncer showed it was not what he wanted to see. Perplexity became etched on Shola’s face. Understandingly, the bouncer brought out a copy of what he wanted to see, and displayed it in Shola’s face. It was a new development, and people were yet to grasp what it meant.

Shola collected the plastic card, and peered into it in the revolving lights of the discotheque. It was not like anything he had seen before. To the right bore a large round insignia that bore the concentric inscription which read, ‘The World Council of Churches’.

The moment his eyes fell on that word and the full impact of what it meant registered in his head, it was like a space station which was expelling a rocket into the moon. His head gathered much heat and his hands became clammy as he handed the card back to the bouncer with shaky hands. Fainting was not necessary, but it would not change what had happened. He was halfway from the reception to his car, when his Samsung Grand let out a silent beep which notified him of text messages, along with a slight vibration. He fished out his phone. The text message read:
‘Dear Mr Shola, your application for the Master’s degree programme with the University of Wisconsin is almost through. We would like you to furnish us with the last three digits of your church licence code…’

He dropped the phone.
It fell on its face, and the multiple cracks on the screen made it reminiscent of a woman who frowned when the husband denied her money for victuals. He wondered if he was going to need a phone ever again.

He got into his car, and drove soberly a few yards. It was all over. He knew exactly what had happened. Suddenly the automatic dashboard lights came on. It only did so when there was an emergency.

The fuel indicator was blazing red lights. How had he been driving this car for weeks with the gas at this level?

He pedalled softly till he got to the gas station at Alton Drive. He parked, opened the fuel door of the car and went to the teller machine nearby to get some cash.
In place of his ATM identification number, the space appeared, with beautiful neon lights, and it read, ‘church identification code, please…..’

It was now official.
It had happened, and he knew exactly what had happened. The realization settled in him, took root, and he resigned himself to it.

Then, suddenly, another piece of the puzzle appeared in his head-it wasn’t even a puzzle anymore. His mother had been calling him for weeks complaining that no one had heard from Dupe, his sister, but he had shrugged it off, concluding that she may have gone for one of those month-long conventions or church programmes of theirs. She had introduced him to their church, and he had actually began to enjoy worshipping there and benefitting from the wonderful insight they had into the Scriptures. But their standards were too high for him. How on earth was a full-blooded bloke like him expected to be celibate till he married, or not have a dangerous drink or two once in a while?

The first tear dribbled through his eye, and like a confluence, joined forces with an adventurous line of phlegm which tried to see the world outside his nostrils, and they continued their southward journey.

‘And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark……(Rev 13.17)