SOMUANYIRO - CHAPTER 1

Watching the elders argue, I can’t help but laugh in my head. These men are so predictable; sometimes I wonder why I'm always the topic of disagreement among the council of elders in my village. I give myself an inward smile, of course I know why; If my father were here, this gathering would disperse faster and every man here would either be at home or going about other activities for the evening.

My father would have given more logical reasons than Ukaama, the oldest man in my Umunna, my kindred. He would use his famous line “Why attempt a fight the gods have already won for me?” and this would have settled these unnecessary talk.

I remember vividly, the meeting eighteen years ago that put a final end to the useless side talks the villagers went on about me. Now no one dares to talk about me that way to another, it is considered a taboo. Oh! Except these elders.

Back then my father had made me sleep on a tree branch for two market weeks. His reason was that I needed training, so I could attend my first council meeting, even though my attendance was a secret.

That fateful evening at the meeting, I clung to a big branch on the Udara tree, that marked the Ilo, the centre of our village. Mosquitoes were buzzing around my ears and trying to distract me, but I was focused, my father  had warned me, I need to prove myself to him if he was to speak on my behalf, besides I had used the herbs he gave me to repel the mosquito bites, so I had nothing to fear.

The Ilo is the cleanest part of the village anyway, so the mosquitoes to fight off weren’t much. The members of my Ogbo (my age grade), had the responsibility of cleaning the Ilo every day and clearing most of the general footpaths in the village. Besides the Udara tree has never soaked up any human excrement. It is considered a taboo. Culprits, be it animal or human, would have face serious consequences. So no one dared.

I just had to hold on with my life, I didn’t want to fall off and expose my father. For the past two weeks I had woken up to find myself in my mother’s Unu, her personal hut, obviously my father had picked me up when I fell.

I could hear my father’s baritone clearly from my branch.  “Why attempt a fight the gods have already won for me? The gods ate all the sacrifices, and Uzolue has assured us counts without number that it means they accept my son. So which one of you wants to go against the words of the gods?” my father asked the elders. I could see some of the elders from my Umunna giving a nod of agreement.  “Who amongst us knows the traditions of our land better than Uzolue our Ezemmuo?”

“Olujubem, mechi onu!” this harsh words were spoken by Kachiobi, the second oldest man in the village.

Why isn't he dead yet? I asked myself.

The man is quiet old, from what I hear, he was the greatest warrior during his time and was feared by neighbouring villages. His skin irritates me, scars run up and down his face and arms, who knows the kind of ugly scars one would behold underneath his uwe nwuda, the long flowing gown worn by titled men. 

As I look down from my tree branch I have this sudden urge to jump on his back and beat him up. But I know better. He may be old but he is stronger than most of the young men I know.  Beside my father will kill me, I wasn’t ready to die before my manhood initiation.

Kachiobi continued his talk. “We are all titled men here; you have no right to talk that way. The gods may have accepted your son but what kind of message are we leaving for generations to come. That is the essence of this gathering. We are deviating too much from our traditions and that is wrong. I am older than Uzolue, I know more about the traditions of our lands and what has been and should be passed on. I do not condone this.”

As soon as Kachiobi finished there was uproar of voices, they all wanted to talk at the same time. I wanted to burst out laughing, “These men are pathetic”, is this how all council of elders meetings went? Full of argument, no wonder they never talk about the proceeding of the meeting with anyone. No wonder my father trained me to cling to a tree and witness.

“Nzoli! Nzoli!” this is Umedike speaking, there was absolute silence immediately. No one will dare to interrupt him; he stammers and is also slow in speech.

The man is my favourite elder in the entire village and I too was one of his favourite boys in the village. He happens to be the oldest too, which means he has more influence in the final decision of this gathering. I was in luck as always I thought with a wide smile placed on my face. I knew his speech will sway to my favour.

“Uzolue assured us when this boy was but four years old, that we have nothing to fear from the gods, they have accepted the boy, so why can’t we. He even brought the Osu dibia from the evil forest for reaffirmation.”

An idiot cleared his throat from the crowd. I suspected it would be Mbanefo, the man was very jealous of my family. Well that is the worse he can do. Besides he doesn’t have much say in the meeting, he has lesser title than most men here.

Umedike ignored him as I expected and continued talking, “Our traditions were passed on to us from the gods, and they have approved an alteration in the tradition, so of what use are all these arguments?”

“Umedike let me answer you.” Ojukwu the wealthy dwarf said.

“Allow me finish.” Umedike cut him short. “We are descendants of the Nri people, we cannot deny our roots. We believe strongly in the approval of the gods and that is exactly what we got years ago, I really do not see the reason we have to gather in this Ilo to discuss this issue. We should allow the young boy do exactly what boys of his age are doing, and at the same time. Now Ojukwu, you can speak your mind, I am done talking. You all have heard my say clearly.”

The elders answered “Anyi anugo, we have heard”.

“Mmmn mmmn!”  Ojukwu started by clearing his throat, very unnecessary, if I am asked. “Umedike, you have spoken wisely as you always do. We are very traditional and our beliefs are deeply rooted in Nri land. But in this case there is a big problem.”

“Eziokwu! N’eje, n’ekwu!” Again I suspect that this stupid head-on is from Mbanefo.

“And what, if I may ask is the cause of this problem? Or what is this problem exactly?” My father asked in annoyance. He knew where Ojukwu’s argument would lead, and we didn’t want that at all. “Haven’t we heard enough arguments? So many people have already sa….”

“Nzoli Olujubem! Let him have his say” Umedike hushed my father. He alone could dare. I know, my father is one of the high ranking title men, and one has to be his equal or senior, to challenge him like that. My father sat down quietly. “Hian, unlike him!”

“If I may ask you Olujubem,” Ojukwu boldly continued. ” What exactly will your son offer to the gods at the ritual sacrificial day? Have you forgotten that he isn’t like all the other young males in this village? Or have the gods decided to go on a fast for your son? What will they take in exchange for the manhood rights they will confer on our son?”

From, my vantage point I could see my father fuming.  I know how angry he would be at this point. We had thought, expected, hoped and prayed that this argument wouldn’t get to this point. So many people had spoken already, so why did they have to argue up to this point.

My father had discussed this aspect with me. What can I sacrifice? I had nothing to give. Except I want to sacrifice the only thing that came to this world with me as a new born. My father and I weren’t ready to give that up.

Surely that’s unheard of in our land. Not even in Nri, though we heard from the Ukwuije that the Ngwunzala people do it often, even for normal women. I prayed to Akwanzo that Ojukwu wouldn’t suggest it.

My father stood up and cleared his throat; his handsome face was in a tight frown.

“We are ready to sacrifice whatever the gods ask of us. Uzolue will give us the verdict the gods passed on...”

There was silence. No one wanted to mention it, but of cause they all knew what was being said. Ilonze, the highest tittle holder in our land stood up. No one ever knows what he would say; he has no confidant to leak his thoughts to the village.

“We can’t go that far surely. The young man is our son. Rather I have a suggestion.” I could see a smile playing on my father’s face. I think he and I know what is about to be suggested. That would have been my father’s next move anyway. Thank god it was coming from another person, from such person too.

“We should send a delegate of five lower titled men to Nri.”

“What exactly are they going there for?”  Kachiobi asked.

“We will send them to Nri to consult our ancestral gods. To find out what they have to say, and if anything have to be sacrificed.”

“Gbam!”  Ukaama said. “Ekwem!”

Umedike nodded and so did a lot of others. It seemed logical for our people to come to this conclusion.

My father’s smile could no longer be contained; things were going just as we had expected.

A few months ago, Ukwuije, had gone on a personal and secret mission for my father, to find out what our ancestral gods in Nri had to say about this issue. Of course they favoured me. I smiled, the gods always do.

Secretly I believed I am one of their chosen ones. In fact, I am their favourite chosen one. That’s a good feeling. My Chi must be fat.

An agreement was made, and two men were chosen, Mbanefo and Ofoha. Then Umedike suggested three young men should accompany them, so as to learn the routes to Nri. That was agreed upon.

My father threw in a good measure, “I will provide them with the provisions for their travels, they can come to my house on afor market day as agreed and I will give them all they need for the journey.” This proclamation was welcomed. The men hailed him by his title and my father’s shoulders rose with pride. Good fortune and grace were ours once again.

Six market weeks later the delegation returned from Nri with the expected good news.  The ancestral gods of Nri land affirmed my rights to manhood initiation. It’s fine for me to go along with my fellow boys and pass through the normal initiation, participate in all the activities and rituals, best of all; I was to sacrifice nothing special.

I am joyful; this is a good time to make my father proud and put to shame all the fellows that never accepted me fully. With this I will be a real man; my father will have a real son, I can marry as many wives as I please, and acquire as many titles of the land as I could afford. I was pleased and I knew my father was too. My father started walking with a bounce in his gait. Sweet!

Eighteen years later, I watch the elders argue, in the venue with the same logs used as seats around the Udara tree (well, a few got worn out some years back but they were replaced with similar logs, to give the impression that nothing has changed).

I wonder why we are gathered here. Have they forgotten so soon that it is fine for me to take up titles? Just three years ago, I took up a minor title. So what can their problem be this time? I believe they come up with these meeting to pass time. 

Just last night, Omeka and I had a discussion about this gathering, and we came to a conclusion; they will agree of course, they always do.

As I half listen to them I suddenly realize that the place was silent and Omeka was giving me his questioning look. I see smiles on the faces of my family members. That could mean one thing; obviously the verdict is in my favour.

We had used the Nri consent on them; they had no reason to resist. My family members were giving each other the chief style handshake. Some of the other council members extended their goodwill to me.

All is well I know. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to take up higher titles? Rubbish! I am more of a man than most of them are.

I may have been born a woman, with physical features of a woman, but I am a man, a real man, with children of my own, a woman to call my wife and wealth beyond my father’s comprehension. No one could trifle with me.

Besides, I winked at Omeka, we had secretly paid off most of the elders to take up my fight. Like my father would say; “Why attempt a fight the gods have already won for me.”