The Purity of Aduole

The cat’s meow beckoned the morning and awakened the village. The sun rose through the green palm fronds, its light falling on the restless birds and the crickets still chirping from their night’s duty. The red sand that split Aduole’s rainforest in two stretched lazily toward the village square, dull and quiet in the first breath of dawn.

In Aduole, the women were usually the first to begin the day, if the daily reminder of their babies crying, did not stir them from sleep, the need to draw from the river with their calabash while the waters had settled, was as important, but it was usually the babies. They would wrap them around their backs, in their coloured ankaras, and would have their calabash on their heads with a serious balance so that their babies, or whatever else they needed to do with their hands was not bothered. They would meet themselves on the muddy pathway, everyone familiar, and it was typical to move in pairs of twos and threes all the way to draw water.

It was common to hear the most recent gossip, being bounced around, at the start of the day, the women were always the first to know what was brewing or stirring in the village.

“Have you heard that Edugo, has taken a second wife, even with his Oluchi being pregnant”

“Okpara climbed the palm tree, and refused to come back, hmm, do you know he was drinking and tapping wine all at once, chief Emenike, had to climb all the way, to fetch him”.

 The gossip floated between laughter and the bleating of goats, pausing only when the story grew too sweet to leave behind.

The men were palm wine tappers, and farmers, faithful, and usually hardworking. The size of your harvest over a period of years, was what brought you closer, and closer to the village square, this square was where the maidens would gather for evening dances, and the children played hysterically, the old men and women, shared wisdom or sat and stared into the evening, reminiscing. Every man gained a sense of pride for having a hut around the square, and it was an endless pursuit, so the men worked fervently. The young men, lived by the rivers bank, it was where you began life from, after departing from your father’s household. Through the years, they would move huts before the rains began, after a previous year of good harvest or sweet wine, well tapped and sold.

At the head of the village square, was Obis hut, he was the Eze Udo, the most senior chief, and was in charge of the physical and spiritual affairs of the village. Before, the year of planting, it was his duty to line seven birds, and seven goats, right at the centre of the village, while the entire community gathered to observe the sacrifice. He would raise a gourd of fresh wine, and call on Chi Ukwu, the great spirit to bless them with good harvest, to give their children hairs, and their wives blessings from Idemili, then he would strip himself, almost naked, and with a sharpened knife, slaughter the seven birds, and seven goats, and the wine would be shared among the elders, who would take turns to incant blessings for the entire village.

Obi had fifteen wives, and forty-seven children, and owned a large compound to himself, at the squares end, he was a warrior, but most of all, a peacemaker, and settled countless disputes of every kind and had headed the village for twenty years.

The villagers adored him, and when he would play the Oja in the evenings, the sound would send a stillness around the village, he would blow on it between sips of palm wine, and children by his feet, paying rapt attention, and young maidens giggling or shedding a tear, as the sound would go on. For every war Aduole had conquered, a sound had been made and passed down from one ancestor to the other, and Obi had his own, from two wars won, gifted to him by the sea spirits and their conveyor, Eze Nwanyi, the chief priestess. On a particular morning of an Eke, the market day, even before a baby stirred, and at the point between the dusk and dawn, when even the crickets lose their voice, the village had heard her call out aloud from the riverside, raining praises on Obi.

Dike n’agha, Ebubedike, Dike zuru Ezu, Agbawo dike izu, Ozo eme ogu agwula.

On and on she went, until even Obi, who had been asleep, in Udoka, his sixth wife’s hut, woke up to her loud singing. He knew the tradition, and the singing was to go on, until he tapped on her shoulders with his Ulu, reserved for the toughest of battles.

With a feeling like never before, Obi walked into the night, past some of the young men, also awakened by the singing, and willingly placed the sword on her. She stopped the chanting, and went back towards the river, without a word said. Nobody knew what happened when she walked all the way into the water at night, they had seen her head go under on several occasions, but it was always quite dark, and it was believed, she lived deep under. There were whispers, that she had fishes for brothers, and had met Udo Dika, the first ancestor that found the land and fought the first battle, and that despite the wrinkles obviously drawn on her face, she never died.

Nobody ever lived long enough to know if this was true, but she had always been there, coming and going, as she pleased.

…

Now, with this new morning, same cat, now hunting a rat, so big, with a seriousness and urgency, and with the women with heavy ears from words and whispers shared. And the river path plastered with footprints, of a morning well worked, Eze Nwanyi, appeared. The women saw her first — Eze Nwanyi, the river’s daughter — cane in hand, wrapped in a red Akwa George glimmering with golden fish. Everyone on her path stopped whatever they were doing, even the women coming from the river, watched as she walked rather slowly, towards the square, while they all followed behind, not saying a single word. Eze Nwanyi would take a few steps, and pause to mutter words nobody could understand, and would look towards the sun, and then continue walking towards the village square. She repeated this a few times.

Some of the elderly men, who were out to offer tufuo mmanya, libations to the gods, called after her, when she walked by, but she only looked through them, and it would seem she perhaps was seeing no one, but knew where she was headed. She made a bend, and took steps towards the outside of Obis hut.

“Obi, warrior, where are you, Obi, come now and see the gods, come and hear from they that walk among you, above you and rise with you” she called aloud

Her voice was shrill and hoarse at the same time, even some dogs, in contention with the flies fighting for a space on their heads, stood up and fled into the bushes.

Obi ran out, as a boy would at the call of a father, he knew that voice rather well, but it was not one he expected to hear, at this point when Aduole was most prosperous, with riches and with no wars to fight or lose.

When Obi emerged, the air thickened,

“My priestess, what calls you out from the waters, is all well, I greet you” Obi said, slightly puzzled as to what she had come for.

For the first time, Eze Nwanyi, turned around at the villagers, backing Obi.

“I bring you news, I the daughter of the sea, so that no shadow may befall Aduole, or their beloved leader, you”

She turned around sharply again towards Obi, her fingers pointing towards him, with her nails pale from maybe being alive for so long, and crooked but straight enough to find Obis face, and now he shivered.

“The Spirits blessed Udo Dika with this land, and his sons and his sons’ sons, for generations, rarely needing its people, taking the blood of your sacrifice, and feeling its belly with your victories, wars only won through their eyes, and hands. But now, they come, with a demand, the land must feed the spirits, completely, with no questions raised. The gods have pondered on your death Obi, but gods are merciful, a sacrifice has been requested instead, for the next ten weeks, no boy or girl, man or woman, is expected to lay on each other. The purity would be the reward, and would spare your life, and spare Aduole, you have been informed, and the message has been sent, has been sent!”.

“But Eze Nwanyi I have been a good le..”

She was already on her way, walking briskly now towards the river, it was still very dark, but no one dared to uncover how she went underneath, and most were startled by the warnings she had just announced.

…..

Obi retreated to his hut, while the whisperings resumed, the villagers murmured, and passed complaints, but Obi knew he had to think deeply. He knew his people adored him, and he also knew Eze Nwanyi meant everything that had been spoken, her words always stood, but to make such a request from a village of warriors, blessed with maidens with the fairest of faces, and a certain restlessness that came with a war village, was unseen. Every woman had a man they lay with, even some young children in the past, had been severely punished for laying and coming out of a hut together. To make this request was to have him really consider death, the possibility that one maiden blessed by the full moon, would venture into a warrior’s hut was daunting.

Obi did not want to die, he still had children sucking their mothers’ breasts, and believed he was the only one that could lead Aduole as he had. Through dialogues, and negotiations, through strength in words and not swords, through diplomacy and a firm political structure, where power was shared among the chiefs, each with a structured duty, that not only brought a sense of balance, but helped keep the land prosperous and strife free. Previous leaders, had controlled and handled their affairs very differently, with force and a need to seek new lands, new women, new wine. The very things that made men chose war and find death, so he was quite worried.

He decided he would have his Obuefis, the warrior guards, split the entire village into two, the women would all live and sleep towards the stream, separated by a line of guards, from one end of the rain forest to the other, and provided with food supplies by the men every morning, while the men would stay around the village square with him. Obi instructed the guards to ensure every young man took it upon themselves to provide food to the women every morning, but dropping it on marked spots a few kilometres away from the women, who would send out representatives to lift the food items towards the river, and share it in equal portions so that everyone, young and old, had food to eat.

While the women would own the collective duty of delivering water from the river to the men, at start of the square, he requested that this duty be left for the middle-aged women, so that his guards would not be forced to turn towards disobedience, after all, it was going to be a miracle if this plan worked, and for success, the boundaries would have to be well set and enforced.

He asked the town crier, to stand between both edges, every morning and remind them of what life meant, and that with each sunset, they were getting closer to victory, and they only had to be strong, as a village they would make it through. The gods had to be pleased, and this was but a small price to pay.

Obi believed it was the only way, but there was a problem, he wondered what to do about his fifteen wives, especially Nneka his seventh wife, while the villagers could be forced to obey, could be isolated and kept away from men, he knew his wife Nneka, had to lay with a man every two days, if not every day. Nneka, was a light brown skinned woman, with the roundest bosom in the village, and a face only Chi could have forged on a merry night, with his divine and willing hands. Her eyes lit up, even when she was sad, and she had dimples on both sides of her oval face, and full lips, squeezed together, so it looked like an endless pout. Her skin was smooth and spotless, and her waist was slender, but opened up into a burst towards her bottom, which was beautifully rounded, and danced from each end when she walked. She was a beauty and she knew this. Nneka, was the granddaughter of Ezike, a famous farmer, and she had come from a line of wealth, and pride, and it rubbed off on her. She was the only one of his wives that kept him on his toes, around his guards, around other men, around his house.

His other wives had to make their intentions known throughout the day by service and actions, if they had it in mind to lay with him, but Nneka would simply push open the door and come in whenever she wanted, even if he was already in bed with a wife. So, it was not uncommon, that certain nights were spent in threes, which was a thing some of his other wives surprisingly enjoyed.

She simply got whatever she wanted, and he knew it was going to be a problem, keeping her in line with the new rules and laws that were being passed. He hoped beyond her loud screams through the night when they lay together, was a love sincere enough to want him alive, but knew she had to be his sole mission. Obi decided that his wives would all remain with him, while he would have Nneka in his hut for the weeks to follow, with a guard watching her every move, he went further to declare to his wives to ensure they were always around the huts surrounding his, and to be within sight of a guard at every time.

He had to survive, he thought.

*****

Rain drops fell heavily, piercing the silence of the night, with the tip taps of the water drops on the huts and raffia shelters, some of which had been newly placed around the river. In between rain drops, were stiff sighs and hisses, coming out from different corners, the women sulked heavily at these new developments, without the comfort of their men, they despised cold mornings, disliked their calabashes, and became rather intolerant to their usual chit chats. The village wore a dull pale color, without the presence of the usually bubbly women, the red sand between the river and town square was beginning to grow brown grass, and there was a different sort of silence that braced Aduole, the kind that was not deterred by sunlight, or quelled by the familiar stillness of night time.

The men now occupying the village square, slept together in huts in the area, and spent their mornings playing Mgba, a wrestling game, that in the past had been simply about grappling your opponent, and applying pressure, until a backside reached the ground, which was how victory was earned, but on these mornings, hands would go loose at different moments the rules would be abandoned, with fists thrown severely and blood drawn.  In the absence of their wives, there was no buffer and even when the games ended, the fighting would continue, until the guards would be forced to come in between. At different moments, a fight would break out, and between this hostility was the drinking. The usually sweet palm wine was now left to sour for days, and was more potent. It had the men singing songs, shedding tears, and on rare occasions raining curses at Eze Nwanyi.

His other wives had to make their intentions known throughout the day by service and actions, if they had it in mind to lay with him, but Nneka would simply push open the door and come in whenever she wanted, even if he was already in bed with one of his wives. So, it was not uncommon, that certain nights were spent in threes, which was a thing some of his other wives surprisingly enjoyed. 

As for Obi, he completely withdrew into his compound with his wives, he had his chief guard take on the responsibility of safe guarding the village. His main concern was his wife Nneka, he believed this was his sole responsibility, and if she was not watched closely, he could be a dead man in no time. Obi followed Nneka wherever she went, for as much as he could. The first few days had Nneka, walking around restlessly and sending his guards on more errands than usual, which had Obi worried, since the guards would need to arrive at the foot of her hut when these errands were passed out. She lost her usual poise, and moved around a lot. On certain nights Obi would walk around his compound and the surrounding huts, checking that everyone was asleep. If he had to be anywhere else, he would instruct Dimpka, a trusted guard, and childhood friend to ensure that Nneka was always accounted for.

While Obi kept watch, on the fifth night, walking past Nneka’s hut, he thought he heard some screaming, same sound she made when they lay together, and in that moment, he felt his chest drop to the floor, and rushed towards her hut, only to discover it was an owl, seated at the top of her hut, staring right at him, screaming and crying loudly, while through the tiny window, he could see she was fast asleep. Obi dropped to the floor, sweat beads, on his face, and for the first time in several decades, he felt the tears run down his eyes. Was this the price to pay for life, he thought, to distrust and consider her loyalty to this extent. To assume she was up to the worst, he wanted all of this to end, but there was still a lot of time between, based on the warnings shared by Eze Nwanyi.

The owl, unbothered by his crying, let out its deep wails, towards the sea of darkness. The moon was fast asleep that night.

Nneka, came to meet him a few days later, while he drank a very sour jar of wine, that had been put to sleep underneath his bed since the prophecy was shared.

She stared in his eyes for a moment, before uttering a word.

“My king, I am suffering, this is too much for me, take me and lay with me, and if you die, I will die too, but I cannot”.

The word death, had Obi’s wine jar, drop from his hands. He could see the blend of sadness and a sheer sense of desire in Nneka’s eyes.

“Nneka, you know I will lay with you on the mountain or mud, but this is a duty, and even if death was to walk away from my window, what would the people say, I promise, once this is over, I will live and dine with you even every single day, we will lay from dusk to dawn”.

She was sobbing now.

“All of my strength is gone, I have tried all these days to be strong, to obey you, but my body aches, and I fear my legs cannot carry me anymore”

Obi, full of the wine in his belly, felt her every word, every stare, every tear.

“Nne, if I die, I would go peacefully, but it is the thought of not seeing you my beautiful again, that burdens me, this has been hard Nne, for me and for our people, I have witnessed the sufferings of our men, and the wailings of wives and daughters, but we will do, as we would have them do, please, it will soon be over”.

Obi could not bear to gaze upon her strikingly beautiful face anymore, he staggered to his feet, and took slow drunken steps towards his hut, while her sobbing, trailed his behind.

Nneka grew a fever shortly afterwards, and would not eat or drink, the Dibia was called, but even he himself could not tell what was wrong with her. She lay shivering day by day and Obis nkwu ogwu, did not relive the fever. Her skin took a yellowish tone, and the white of her eyes looked brownish, and her deepened gaze, only went towards the thatched ceiling, she would not look left or right, even when the wives and maidens visited her, she barely muttered a word, but the servants heard her call for Obi on several days, only saying his name repeatedly, and pleading for him to be brought to her.

Obi sent for Dibias, and native doctors from Ejele-Nja, Ihiule, Ubenetiti, to find a cure to Nneka’s sudden but drastic illness, he made several sacrifices to the gods, to have mercy and to show kindness on the irony of this obligation and instruction, that now had the loveliest of his wives in a poor condition. He asked the gods to return her health, and grant him favour one more time, as they had done in the wars fought and won, in the peace they had enjoyed, and the riches they had graced his land. He prayed on the hills and mud, and at night time, he would go to see Nneka, and somehow, she always knew when it was him that had arrived. On the fourth day of the eight weeks, he walked into her hut, and there she was, covered in a red wrapper, head faced upwards.

“Obi, is that you”. She called.

“Yes Nne, it is me, I came here as soon as I finished addressing the village chiefs, it is almost over, please. Be strong”.

“Strong, I have been strong, but I believe there was always a price to pay from the day Eze Nwanyi walked into the village, this is perhaps the price”. She whispered, her voice barely coming out.

“No Nne, I have asked the gods to spare you, and you are going to be fine”.

“Obi, just know I have loved you from the very first, my desire to you has never been attached to my cravings, it has been passionate, and mindless at times, but just know that I love you, my great warrior”.

“I know this, I have always known this, I have fourteen other wives, but you remain my very best, you have tendered my heart like a young boy, and shown my bones can still survive a battle, you have troubled my mind only in a way that keeps me alive, and I know everything will be alright, Nneka.

“Okay”. She replied

“Yes, my love”.

The men towards the town square, slept together in the huts in the area, and spent their mornings playing Mgba, a wrestling game, that in the past had been simply about grappling your opponent, and applying pressure, until a backside reached the ground, which was how victory was earned, but on these mornings, hands would go loose at different moments the rules would be abandoned, with fists thrown severely and blood drawn.  In the absence of their wives, there was no buffer and even when the games ended, the fighting would continue, until the guards would be forced to come in between. At different moments, a fight would break out, and between this hostility was the drinking. The usually sweet palm wine was now left to sour for days, and was more potent. It had the men singing songs, shedding tears, and on rare occasions raining curses at Eze Nwanyi. 

***

There were shouts and dancing, and for the very first time in nine weeks, the men and women formed a confluence right at the village square, chanting various songs, the children jumped and danced as well, some of whom, had not seen a father or mother in the past weeks. They had obeyed the gods, and had not laid with one another, Obi was alive and well, while the separation was now over. The entire village gathered around his hut, raining praises on him for his delectable leadership, and for achieving the impossible. He had curbed their cravings with a firm hand, and had kept his house in order as well, for weeks. Through his ideas, somehow, he was able to inspire and draw a serious level of commitment from everyone in Aduole.

They called him Ogunnaėkwu, the war that speaks and silences others, they also called him Ijele Dike, the grand warrior Spirit.

Every single member of the village had now surrounded his hut, they screamed, and called for him to come celebrate with them.

He finally emerged, wearing his Asi Agu, coloured with red camwood and his Nkwu below his waist, he had his spear tied to his back, and took very slow steps towards the villagers, who had now grown silent. He was weeping profusely, and in his arm, was the lifeless body of Nneka.

“Nneka, Nneka!”. He screamed, and it echoed all around Aduole.