Okike: the Mystic: Okike One

By Emeka K. Duru

The bridge over the Udemba river which connected the two towns of Umuizu and Amankpa,had shown some signs of weakness at two points, which one of the women pointed out,on their way to Umuizu; fresh omu fronds had been tied at the rail-like ropes lining the side. Now as Mgbechi got into her elements, she was singing and urging a follow on from her backers, when she stepped on the weak plank, which gave way under her.
Ebele the ogene woman was about to call out for her to be careful, when Mgbechi went down. Her right foot had broken the plank and she had slid under the rail like rope into the river, in a split second. Shock and wailing accosted the early evening sun. Some of the women could only open their mouth dumbfounded, unable to make head or tail of what has just happened, peering down into the Udemba River, bent over with their hands clutching their throats in a manner designed to stop them from retching. But the women from Umuizu gave out the alarm; running back to the town in search of men to the rescue.Ebele sent some women of Amankpa to go back with the children of the deceased to inform their kinsmen of what has happened.
But the Udemba River has a history of never letting go of an unfortunate victim, whose turn, either by fate or providence; it was to be sacrificed to satisfy the gods of the river.Mgbechis slip in to the river was an accident that lived a tragedy. When the men came, from both towns, the fit and unfit, the swimmer and the non swimmer, they chased the evening into the night to no avail. Not even the morning could yield an answer to the lingering question, what happened to Mgbechi? The river was deep but not swift. If she drowned we are supposed to see the body sail said a young boy of about ten years who had come from the immediate kindred in Umuizu yes my boy that is what one hoped for, but not with the Udemba River, when you drown in this river, you disappear entirely. There are no tell-tale signs. Since we built this bridge, it has curtailed the sudden disappearances associated with this river. Even as it is very welcoming to the good swimmer, it hides the bad ones in its entrails responded an elderly man sitting at his side by the bank of the river.
Chike was yet to recover from the loss of his mother, when Okories trip to Afor Ogwe, 16 market days from that incident, met with the inexplicable. He had gone to sell one of his he-goats. He did sell it as confirmed by one of the people who saw him leaving the market with some fish he had bought Asa. I am going to prepare ji mmiri oku he had said and the woman selling vegetables teased him okopkoro , you wont go and marry. Your mates have two children now, and you are still cooking for youself.You dont want a woman to look after you. You are handsome, hardworking and kind-hearted; whoever did this to you is evil. she spat out as she clapped her hands, by her side. Okorie laughed at her and quipped its you I wanted to marry but unfortunately you were gone before I could announce my intentions its not nwa Udo that you were hoping to marry, when did this one begin? Please go and collect your towel where you left it. Even if, are there no more women in the whole of Igbo land?She queried. Try as hard as the community could, these were the last known conversation he had with anybody that day.Okorie never came back from that trip to the market and remained at large.
Even the harvest was poor that year. The late crops were not growing well. Though they now were supposed to inherit Mgbechi and okorie, there was no immediate agenda to do so. They still hoped for their return as the eji-asikwa syndrome paralysed them into allowing members of their extended family plunder Mgbechi and Okories goods.

The child came into the world laughing. He did not cry like other children do. He was bedecked with amulets and charms adorning his neck, wrist, ankle and his torso. It was hideously beautiful to behold. Astounding in its uniqueness; border

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Dec 10, 2010
• ISBN: 9781456830113

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Copyright © 2010 by Emeka K. Duru.

ISBN: Softcover    978-1-4568-3010-6

ISBN: Ebook        978-1-4568-3011-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Glossary

Acknowledgement

This write up has undergone many changes from 1976, when bored from doing nothing, after my ordinary level certificate examination, I dabbled into writing. Amongst my peers in my hometown Amaigbo, it was a common past time. We wrote poems, recited poems and drafted mini plays.

This is to late Squadron Leader Dr. Leo Ade Chinwuba Igbokwe, whose prolific writings endeared him to many in our town.

To my parents, Chief Nze Hon. C.A.O.Duru and Lolo (Hon.) Eunice. A.Duru, who have since joined the realms of our ancestors: for being there for me.

To my children Nikky Felicity C. Duru and Samuel C Duru; for urging me to give it a go: Respect.

I extend my immense appreciation to Mrs. Queen U Njemanze, who checked out my Ibo spellings.

Emeka Kenneth Duru 2010

Preface

This is a fable that has taken a life of its own. It is a folklore that evokes and captures the thinking and world view of our African ancestors.

The more you understand the stories which were weaved and handed down to us as fire-side entertainment, you come to realise that encapsulated in these tales are reflections of the society as anecdotes or satire. We become audience in a mini theatre series without knowing it.

I am Saul converted to Paul and will be wandering around opening lockers and recesses which hold the key to our journey in life.

We must look deeper.

Emeka Kenneth Duru 2010

Chapter 1

Reaching out for his snuffbox, Unigwe cleared his throat, umhuuu!!! The child who was sitting with his legs tucked in-between his laps, looked up. He saw his grand dad’s Adam’s apple move up and down, a little wave of flesh coursed its way through the upper region of his abdomen. The old man hit on his snuffbox three times, with his index finger. He smiled to himself. Boy, that was the story of Okike, enacted all over again. Who said our forefathers were not wise, who said? he asked rhetorically bemused with smiles.

Unigwe had just come back from a reception organized for Egemgbe, the son of Nwankwo and Uloma Isiuzo, who had returned from his sojourn abroad. The whole town went agog for his sake. He was not the first to have gone overseas and back neighther was he was not the second, nor the third, but he was the one whose return was marked with pomp and pageantry.

Egemgbe was the second son to Madam Uloma Isiuzo who was married to Mr. Nwankwo Isiuzo of Agboo town. The Isiuzo’s were a family with name. When you said you were from the Isiuzo family, those who did not notice you before, readjusted their interest and angled for an engagement of sort . . ." hai, what are you doing here? How is your uncle, your mother and did the driver make it back from Ogwe? Yes, anything to embed it in you, that they knew the Isiuzos.

It had not been all plain sailing for Uloma and her husband; Egemgbe’s arrival to this world was a long-time in coming. There was ten years gap between him and his Elder brother, Uzodinma.

The old man recalled the story of Okike in the folklore of his fathers: The took place in the land of the Iduu.

A certain poor woman in the land of Iduu, put to bed a male child. He was her second child, who was 10years in coming, after several calls at the native doctor’s shrine. She was Onyemachi.

As the tale goes, Onyemachi woke up with a sudden start. She had been dreaming. In her dream she saw a very long python curled up by the corner of her door side, a viper standing on its tails with her tongue darting in and out and ready to strike; her. She shouted! Ewo-o!.

That was when she woke up with beads of sweat adorning all her face like ornaments on a layer of bumpy skin made of goose pimple. She shivered, as the rippling fear coursed through her in a wave of electrical impulses, tinkling her brain and the root of her hair follicles. She was a bit disorientated. She reached out for her husband who had been lying beside her, but he was not there.

They had touched themselves and cuddled, in another attempt, of their several tries, to make a baby. This was her ovulation period, when her eggs were matured and very ripe to receive the birth water from her husband. And Chike had played his part that night, not once but thrice, enough to hope for a score. But now, he was not there. She panicked, and made to leave in search of him, when she heard the voices, hushed as they were, they still filtered into her ears like memory battling through the grip of alcohol-induced murkiness in the brain.

It was her mother-in-law’s voice she heard first, as it pierced through the haze and funny vibrations in her head, cutting through icily and de-cluttering her head as her heart raced: Chike, you must marry another woman. Your wife has brought nothing but bad luck to you, Mgbechi said in a baroque voice that marched her sturdiness. Everything your father bequeathed to you has gone under; your business, your farmland and now your manhood. All gone! She blurted out. Even your brothers cannot visit your home anymore. All these because you married a woman, I dare say a witch. Onyemachi shook her head to ease the pain she felt and the growing pressure around her neck, as she heard Mgbechi continue her rant this woman is a wedge between you and your future.

Mama cut in Chike sharply, unable to take it anymore life is full of trials; Onyema (that was his fun-name for his wife) is not a curse to me. Ah! retorted Mgbechi, her mouth open in astonishment, as she circled Chike like a bull about to do battle with a matador. "Look at who is talking. I say look at who is talking. A woman you married for donkey-years who had given you only one child the so-many years, and an avalanche of life’s vicissitudes and tribulations; and you still have the mouth to defend her. Mbanu!1 No! Anaghi emeya eme2." Her aggression reminds one of why she was a well respected woman. In her hay days, she single handedly wrestled one of the most-feared village bandits to the ground, when he tried it with her. This gave her the nickname achara ugo nwanyi3. You have been bewitched! She concluded, tapping her right foot on the ground with her two arms stretched behind her and her palms cupped as if in want of some expiatory sacrifice from an invisible donor while bending forward with her face just interfacing with her eldest son’s. She rocked her body in a rhythmic, back to front and front to back style, like a basket being shaken to separate the sheaves from the seed after threshing, before finally blowing off the chaff Mhmm, You are lost! She spat the words out, as she suddenly jerked her head upwards, moving it in a way, as to grind the words into his skull.

Okorie, Chike’s junior brother, in a calm and measured tone, bearing the air of finality, broke through the tense atmosphere created by Mgbechi’s last statement, with the finesse of a hot knife through a block of butter, we, the members of Okoroego family have decided that you must send Onyemachi back to her family. Let her stay with her family for some time. They probably would find the answer to her bad omen and this evil aura that has invaded the whole family since she stepped into this compound. Maybe after that we shall go and bring her back. Ahughim m ugu n’ ofe gi4 he concluded. This was the unkindest cut, and Chike, though aware that what was unfolding was the