Time and Chance

By George Anetomang

Sociopolitical upheavals and natural disasters in a country compel young men to emigrate from their realm. After perilous journeys, they settle in wealthier and more stable countries, but they don't want to be detached from their roots. Therefore, the young men go back home to marry and bring their wives with them to live in their new domiciles. However, many of the men are disappointed because they are engaged in nasty rat race with their spouses. The struggle for creature comforts in the affluent countries relegates the fear and love of God to the background and dissolves marriages irresponsibly. But the mad quest for riches leaves many a couple none the better because: The race is not to the swift, Nor the battle to the strong, Nor bread to the wise, Nor riches to men of understanding, Nor favor to men of skill, But time and chance happen to them all. (Ecclesiastes 9:11)  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643006383

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Time and Chance

George Anetomang

ISBN 978-1-64300-637-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64300-638-3 (Digital)

Copyright © 2018 George Anetomang

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

About the Author

Dedicated to Newton, Julia, Chelsea, and Janice

And

In loving memory of

Deborah Abena Moase

Chapter 1

For more than three weeks, the rains which had been falling heavily and destroying life and property at Obrayebona had stopped, but humidity was still very high. When the rains fell, many of the villagers occasionally woke up in the night to collect rainwater that dripped through apertures in the thatched roofs of their mud houses with buckets, bowls, and calabashes to prevent their mats and beds from getting wet. The weary village folks had little time to rest in the night when the tropical rainstorms pounded their dilapidated buildings, some of which collapsed, and thus compelled their occupants to stay with their friends and relatives till the dry season. Life sometimes crushed out of goats and sheep on free range, which sought shelter under the eaves of ramshackle buildings when the buildings collapsed because of the heavy tropical rains.

In the dry season, inhabitants of the village who lost their houses during the rainy season usually constructed new ones because they had very little work to do in their farms. Also, it was not likely the newly built houses would be washed away by rains. However, after the rains had subsided, the inhabitants of Obrayebona faced another challenge when they went to bed in the night—clamminess in the atmosphere was so high that their rooms were as warm as ovens that had just been used to bake bread. As a result, they felt very uncomfortable when they hit the hay.

After the day’s hard work in his farm, Obinnim was reclining in his bed, but the warm and humid weather made him perspire profusely in his lightless room. Occasionally, he wiped perspiration from his face and armpits, and fanned himself with a towel. He lay almost unclothed in his bed because it was so warm that he could not cover himself with a cloth, and he could not sleep in a calico mosquito net either. But mosquitoes, which the rains had helped to breed, wailed ominously around Obinnim and fed on him when he fell asleep. Occasionally, a mosquito bite woke him up and he violently slapped the spot that the predator bit him in an attempt to kill it. Sometimes, he cursed the little but bothersome creatures that were tormenting him in bed. Indeed, he hated them to the core.

Obinnim frequently swung his towel in the dark room to kill any mosquito that might be flying around. Suddenly, he heard a faint sound on his door. Obinnim shouted, Who is it?

His daughter, Nkrabeah, responded, Father, it is I, Nkrabeah.

Obinnim quickly opened the door with agitation and saw his daughter holding a lantern and beaming with excitement. What is it? He inquired.

My mother has given birth to a boy, Nkrabeah said.

Go and call your aunt, Ataa, Obinnim said with enthusiasm.

She is already with my mother in her room, Nkrabeah said. Ataa was Obinnim’s sister. Therefore, she was the first person Akese sent for when she started feeling the pain of parturition. Akese did not send for her mother because she lived many blocks away, and the night was impenetrably dark. Because of the darkness, which she knew scared Nkrabeah, Akese asked her to call Ataa who lived just a block away.

Obinnim went closer to his wife, Akese’s room, and called Ataa. He wanted to have a discussion with his sister, but he could not enter his wife’s room because among the Nchongpo, men were prohibited from talking to or going very close to women when the women were in puerperium. Therefore, he stood at a reasonable distance away from the entrance to his wife’s room and shouted, Ataa! Ataa came out of Akese’s room, looking very eventful. Is everything alright? Obinnim queried.

Yes, the baby and his mother are doing fine, said Ataa. After a short discussion with his sister, Obinnim went back to bed.

Having heard that he had a son, Obinnim was filled with exhilaration. He spent a couple of hours thinking of what name he should give to the child and how he should raise him. He might name the child after his father who passed away not long ago, or should he name the baby after his grandfather? Obinnim was undecided, but he would have a final decision within two weeks when the baby was supposed to be christened.

If Obinnim’s father were alive, naming the child would have been his responsibility. Obinnim would have informed his father about the birth of the child the very day he was born. Two weeks later, Obinnim would have taken the baby to his father to be given a name he deemed appropriate. On the day of the naming ceremony, Obinnim’s father would have received the child wrapped in a cloth. He would have then said, My grandson, your name is… I have given that nanny goat over there to you. Your father may sell its offspring and use the money to buy clothes for you. I wish you well. May God and our ancestors guide and protect you so long as you live in this world. May you be sagacious, industrious, and courageous. Have my blessings! But Obinnim had no father. Therefore, naming his baby boy became his sole obligation. However, he was confident he would get a suitable name for the baby within two weeks.

Obinnim also contemplated what his son would grow up to be. As his first son, accompanying him to the farm and helping him with his farm work would have been apposite, but Obinnim wanted his son to be a literate. Indeed, Obinnim was highly intrigued when on his visit to Matabor (one of his uncles at Bobrapa, the nearest town to Obrayebona) one market day, a young man called Abam was invited to his uncle’s house to read a letter his uncle had received from one of his sons, who was working as a sanitary inspector in another town. After the lad had finished reading the letter, Obinnim asked his uncle to give it to him.

Without hesitation, Matabor handed the letter to Obinnim. He unfolded the letter, turned it upside down, and gazed sternly into it as though he were reading it, but Abam quickly drew his attention to the fact that the letter had been turned upside down. What do you mean by I have turned the letter upside down? Obinnim inquired.

Thereupon, Abam explained to Obinnim the alphabets on the paper were turned wrong side up. After Abam had answered his question, Obinnim became quite embarrassed. Nevertheless, he perused the letter again before he gave it back to his uncle.

Having collected the letter from Obinnim, Matabor winked at him mockingly and asked him, What did you see on the paper? Obinnim smiled and said, Nothing in particular. It is strange how literates join letters to form sentences.

You are right, Obinnim, said Matabor. Whenever this young man comes here to read your cousin’s letters to me, I realize how blind I am, even though I have not lost my vision. Matabor reached out for a calabash, which was filled with rice husk, spat into it, and continued, Yes, while every person has two eyes, every literate seems to have a third eye, thanks to the white man. Your cousin, Danso, told me some time ago that the white man travels from his homeland to our land in a very big canoe, which is about the size of ten rooms. When he lands at the shore of the sea, he comes here on a horseback. I was more baffled when he further said the white man has another canoe, which looks like a big fish. He can travel at the bottom of the sea with that canoe without anybody noticing him.

How does he breathe when he is in the water? Obinnim asked with agitation.

Obviously, Obinnim could not believe his ears. He was about to express his disbelief when a group of visitors knocked at the door of Matabor’s living room and abruptly stopped the conversation between him and Obinnim. Since that day, Obinnim made up his mind he surely would let his son have formal education in the future.

Obinnim went fishing in a nearby river, Nkeako, the day after his wife had given birth. Among the Nchongpo, provision of food to a new and lactating mother was a very important task every responsible man discharged when his wife gave birth. Therefore, on the morrow of the day his wife had given birth, Obinnim went to River Nkeako to discharge his virile duty. Obinnim spent about four hours at the river and caught a basketful of fish with a cast net. As Obinnim moved from one part of the river to another with his cast net, he enjoyed the wailing of many aquatic creatures. Just as he was about to go home, he decided to throw his cast net into the river for the last time. However, the net was entangled in the branches of a tree, which had been partially submerged by the floods created by the recent rains.

During the dry season, the tree formed part of the lower layer of the fringing forest along the banks of the river. But at the peak of the rainy season, the banks of the river were inundated by the billions of gallons of water that flowed from the upper and middle courses of the river, and the vegetation at the lower stratum of the fringing forest, including the accursed tree, was submerged in the floods.

As Obinnim stood in the river, trying to disengage the net from the branches of the tree, he was bitten by a tsetse fly on his right temple. He violently slapped himself on the temple to kill the tsetse fly, but it flew away to avoid the deadly blow. Obinnim cursed the tsetse fly and continued extricating the net from the branches of the tree. Suddenly, a huge, strong, and hungry crocodile jumped out of the water and grabbed him by the neck. Obinnim raised his voice and called his god, Kani, to come to his rescue. Kani was supposed to make Obinnim vanish, and thus free him from the grip of the monstrous creature, but Kani did not respond to Obinnim’s supplications. Obinnim’s god dwelled in an amulet, which he normally wore whenever he attended public gatherings or when he went to hunt buffaloes and other dangerous creatures. But that fateful day, Obinnim did not wear the amulet that could have made him vanish.

The mammoth crocodile pulled Obinnim into the river as he struggled to grab one of the branches of the tree, but the branch broke off the trunk of the tree. The crocodile dipped him into the fast-flowing river and raised him out of the water again, as if it was telling him to see the world for the last time. Obinnim grasped another branch of the tree in a desperate effort to free himself from the clutch of the ravenous reptile, but all to no avail. The crocodile violently splashed Obinnim in the water and immersed him in it again, prompting nearby birds to fly away in panic.

The aphorism among the Nchongpo that When an ill-fated person is being pursued by calamities, nothing around that person seems to be convivial, was confirmed in the way Obinnim passed away in the river. Despite the strenuous efforts he made to free himself from the grip of the crocodile, Obinnim could not release himself from the brawny jaws of the gigantic creature. Before very long, a few bubbles floated at the spot where Obinnim was asphyxiated in the river as he took his last breath. Other crocodiles soon joined in the foray, and Obinnim became carrion for them that day while vultures perched on trees and looked on enviously.

Ataa had been waiting for Obinnim to return from fishing so that she could get some fish with which to prepare Akese’s supper, but Obinnim had not shown up in the evening. Therefore, Ataa went to the palace of the Odikro (village chief), Nana Oteku Brimpong-Yiadom, and told him Obinnim had gone fishing since morning but had not returned. Upon realizing Ataa’s trepidations, the Odikro sent for the village crier. Soon, the village crier arrived at the palace of the Odikro, squatted, and deferentially greeted the chief. When the village crier had finished greeting the chief, he was ordered by the Odikro to summon all the men in the village to his palace.

It was in the evening and almost all the villagers had returned from their farms. Some of the men were reclining in their lazy chairs, watching their wives and daughters preparing supper, while others mended their leaky thatched roofs. Therefore, shortly after the village crier had stood at the entrance to the chief’s palace and blew a whistle, the palace was filled with men eager to know why they had been summoned to the chief’s palace at that odd time of the day.

Normally, when the Odikro had any news to break to his subjects, he waited till they had finished eating their supper before he called them to his palace and broke the news to them. But women were still preparing supper, so why did the Odikro call them at that time of the day? Many of the men soliloquized, Something must be amiss, as they headed toward the chief’s palace.

After the men had taken their positions in the chief’s palace, the elderly men sitting on stools and the younger ones standing, the Odikro cleared his throat and said, "I was here this evening when Ataa came and told me her brother,