Okoroafor Chike
01-21-2010, 06:58 AM
Pre-colonial south-eastern Nigeria.
The morning was still virgin; some parts of it yet to be intruded by the contrasting effect of daylight. Silence had ravished the air until the clunk sounds of metal gongs could be heard from the distance. The pattern in which the gongs were hit, though strange, was unique only to one person-the chief priest.
Tradition played in quickly. Little children were forced into their huts by their parents who did not want them to be besieged by the evil-of-day. Those returning from the stream who suddenly came across the highly-revered-human lowered their heads in explicit reverence.
The gong-boys were arrogantly dancing to the rythm of their gongs. Their fresh blood energized their vigor and masculinity as they rattled the ground under their feet with their sacred dances. Their voices were strong, deep and pierced quickly before and all around them.
"Uzoagbara abiala! Bia! Bia! Bia!" they chorused.
The chief priest was 5ft7; hairy black, had a commanding figure-despite his old age-and had a leathery concotion bag swinging loosely around his waist.
Trouble was looming in the king's palace. The king, Eze Mbata, had his sleep short-lived by his first wife who shook him ferverently in fright.
"Nna anyi," she muttered nervously."The chief priest is here."
The king was quickly taken aback. It was strange for the non-visiting chief priest to pay him a visit at such an odd hour. He cared less to knot his wrapper properly as he dashed out of his big hut leaving the comfort of his bamboo bed behind.
When he came out to meet the chief priest in his 'obi', their eyes locked effortlessly. Mbata's breath cut in his throat. He yielded to his wild immaginations that ran amoc in his head.
The chief priest knitted his grey brows. His form was simply packaged with anger."Eze Mbata, he who breaks a yam tuber because he is digging it standing will soon bend down to dig up the rest of it."
The king was lost. He gawped helplessly at the gods' messenger."Explain to me, please.What is happening?" Mbata's voice came froggy.
"An evil wind is fast approaching. You've failed to see it!" Uzoagbara, the chief priest, snorted.
(To be continued later...)
The morning was still virgin; some parts of it yet to be intruded by the contrasting effect of daylight. Silence had ravished the air until the clunk sounds of metal gongs could be heard from the distance. The pattern in which the gongs were hit, though strange, was unique only to one person-the chief priest.
Tradition played in quickly. Little children were forced into their huts by their parents who did not want them to be besieged by the evil-of-day. Those returning from the stream who suddenly came across the highly-revered-human lowered their heads in explicit reverence.
The gong-boys were arrogantly dancing to the rythm of their gongs. Their fresh blood energized their vigor and masculinity as they rattled the ground under their feet with their sacred dances. Their voices were strong, deep and pierced quickly before and all around them.
"Uzoagbara abiala! Bia! Bia! Bia!" they chorused.
The chief priest was 5ft7; hairy black, had a commanding figure-despite his old age-and had a leathery concotion bag swinging loosely around his waist.
Trouble was looming in the king's palace. The king, Eze Mbata, had his sleep short-lived by his first wife who shook him ferverently in fright.
"Nna anyi," she muttered nervously."The chief priest is here."
The king was quickly taken aback. It was strange for the non-visiting chief priest to pay him a visit at such an odd hour. He cared less to knot his wrapper properly as he dashed out of his big hut leaving the comfort of his bamboo bed behind.
When he came out to meet the chief priest in his 'obi', their eyes locked effortlessly. Mbata's breath cut in his throat. He yielded to his wild immaginations that ran amoc in his head.
The chief priest knitted his grey brows. His form was simply packaged with anger."Eze Mbata, he who breaks a yam tuber because he is digging it standing will soon bend down to dig up the rest of it."
The king was lost. He gawped helplessly at the gods' messenger."Explain to me, please.What is happening?" Mbata's voice came froggy.
"An evil wind is fast approaching. You've failed to see it!" Uzoagbara, the chief priest, snorted.
(To be continued later...)