Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Ijeoma and her friends have been busy all day in their service to the Igwe’s inn, fetching water and firewood. She has been wanting to steal a moment to attend Kachi whom she saw trailing her. This day was her busiest of all. She belonged to some groups which would be displayed during the funeral. Her mother, Obiageli was in the Akunaechenyi while Nwosu belonged to Otimgba. This position did not start from the present age. It had an ancestral tracing. Ijeoma has heard the stories of her paternal grandfather who formed the Otimgba. Before his generation, no such group was in existence. He was born to a palm wine drunkard. If one cast his memory to remember who his father was, nothing comes to mind other than a man who drinks and forgets. He gives a cheerful smile no matter what circumstance was in contention.

As the ancestral gene carried on, Ikeaguna was a born merriest. His own generation took a different turn. Chineke-Nna, the high god gifted him the magic fingers. His drumbeats confused not only humans but the spirits. The flute sang in response when he drummed.

Ikeaguna’s drumming exploits started from a hunting expedition. That day, the gods blessed him with mgbada. Usually, they skimmed a game’s hide and used it to produce storage bags. There were these trunks of tree they cut and hollowed half-way through which served as mortar. One day, Ikeaguna hollowed one all through and his father showed him his other side. The side he has never seen before and he never saw again. Nobody ever believes him when he told them he has seen his father’s anger. Not even when he did tell it as the source of his inspiration. After his father has chastised him for the error, he carried the chunk of wood home. It was not all useless as it seemed. They could use it for firewood when it dried up, but he refused anyone putting it into any use. He had wanted to save the trunk as a memorial to the day he tasted his father’s wrath.

After seasoning the hide, he thought it was tough to serve as the cover on the one end of the hollowed timber. Even so, they would not use it for the same purpose as the mortar, but if one willed, it could help in storage. After he tied the hide to the trunk, he loved the smooth feel, so he gave it a tap, and something magical happened. It produced this tone that sounded like there was something talking back at him. His curiosity led him to tap the hide in quick succession. He did until people heard, and began to gather. Each one who came examined the tool and held his arms across his chest after declaring it is the hide of mgbada. The women took turns announcing to all and sundry that Ikeaguna has recreated a talking mgbada.

“Come and see o, Ikeaguna has given new life to mgbada and it can talk.”

The people’s amazement inspired Ikeaguna. He continued drumming into the hide as hard as the strength of his arms carried. No one had ever beaten a drum before. In fact, they have never had any in the entire community life. Similar sounds they have heard were the ancestral drumbeats which were from Enu-Igwe. Only the mouthpiece of the gods understood the language and danced to the rhythm of the beats.

The news of Ikeaguna’s innovation went viral. His name became popular throughout the whole community. Some people who only heard from others retold the story as if they were there when it happened. Not everyone who heard the story believed, some Thomas had their reasons not to. Some labeled the news a feeble lie. The diviner was one of such persons. Whenever his households told the story to his hearing, he got furious, but still began to boast.

“I have not heard that a man can replicate the drumbeat of the gods. I am the only man who can understand and interpret the ancestral tongue. If it is not the man who understood the drumbeats, who else can dance surged? Unless I see with my two naked eyes, I refuse to concur.”

His wife’s assurance did no good. She heard the story from her sister who heard from a friend who knew Ikeaguna’s family, but he remained adamant. The diviner carried on doubting until one day when Ikeaguna was passing in a nearby path to the shrine. He was drumming as he went. The priest started to his feet in reverence to the rhythm. He danced a few steps, and declare his usual readiness to decode the message.

“I am the mouthpiece of the gods. Speak, the spirit of our father, I can hear you.”

Upon his statement, the flute began to play alongside the drum. He listened, holding his palm across his ear. He raised the side of his cheek up to the heavens as if to channel the voices into his ear. He remained like so, trying to concentrate his hearing until he saw the drummer boy. He felt embarrassed for stooping to the drumming of a mere mortal, and not able to tell it from that of the gods. Despite his emotions, he went on to acknowledge the blessings of Ikeaguna.

“The one whom the creator had blessed with the magic fingers. The one who gave life to mgbada and it talks. The one who drums and the flute sang...” overwhelmed in his praises, he drummed a blow into his forehead and bowed to the drummer boy. Ikeaguna took turns to leave him with many drumbeats, enough for him to explore new dance steps.

From that day onwards, the priest joined the file of people retelling the story as an eyewitness. His own version carried a new effect.

“The boy stroke into the hide and the flute sang. I did not see the flutist, but I heard the language of the gods,” he would tell his audience. Only those who knew what it meant for a flute to play alongside drumbeats knew the gravity of his claim.

This invention endeared Ikeaguna to his father whom he had once thought resented him. He came to understand that everything worked together for a good purpose. If he had not made the mistake, his father would not have scolded him. He might have let the women ax the trunk into firewood. Ikeaguna became the first son to receive a gourd of palm wine from his father. His father would say he need it to replenish his energies for some more drumming. Each time he had guests, being a jolly man, he would invite his son, the drummer boy to come and cheer them. This strategy worked very well for those moments he welcomed aggrieved visitors. No one left his yard with a heavy heart.

As he heard these sounds most often, he began learning the dance of surugede.

“It is not only one man who has legs for surugede. I can dance too,” he would say to his spectators. This act got him into trouble. The diviner unleashed his villainy on him as he goes about making such a declaration in public. Wherever he went, he carried his drummer boy son as a man carries his storage bag across his shoulder. In public gatherings, he made his boy beat the drum, and he danced to its rhythm. As if this was not enough, he called the people’s attention as a town crier would.

“Community people listen o! It is not only one man who understands the language of the spirit. People, look at my own style of surged.”

Moments ago, Ijeoma was full of strength, bouncing along the paths to fetch water and firewood. Only now, she started walking with difficulty as if her foot became too heavy for her.

“My legs ache,” Ijeoma announced, sounding so worn out. She had begun from dragging her feet to hissing every here and now. To drive her message, she refused to proceed any further. “My legs will break.”

“Be strong, we have a lot to do today,” Chiwendu said, attempting to no avail to pull her to walk. If one can share her strength, she was willing to relinquish hers, pulling Ijeoma was like giving a lot. She heaved like one who pursued a mad horse without catching it. Ijeoma was like a heavyweight, not the kind one could lift with a piece of finger. Every quantum of food she consumed remained in her body. She was unlike the skinny kinds whose feces amounts to the same quantity as the meal consumed.

“Please let us go. We will take some rest after this turn,” Chiwendu began to plead. Ijeoma helped herself to sit on the pieces of wrapper she carried. All the girls carried some pieces of fabric. It is necessary if one must avoid hurts from the firewood when balanced on the head. The wrapper formed a barrier between the load and its carrier’s bare head. The carrier will only have the weight of the load to contend with.

The others who did not have the time for an old woman crying for the treatment of a child started leaving the scene. Within a couple of blinks, they all carried on with the journey. Only a handful of them who were in essence close allies to Ijeoma remained to soothe the baby woman.

“Let us join the others before they go far,” Kasara said. She did not want to lose the companionship of the other girls. Their presence gave her so much strength that for the much work she did, she felt like she has done nothing.

Ijeoma was important to Chiwendu today. It was she who had led her to join the ikorodo dance group. Ever since she had been schooling her on the various dancing antics. She promised her a private session to teach her the dance steps for the late Igwe’s funeral outing. If anyone does wish to make the list of performers on a certain event, she must master the styles for it.

“Remember our schedule. If you start like this, I am getting discouraged,” Chiwendu said. She pulled her ear and receded towards Ijeoma as she said. Then she turned to Ugonne who had been holding her peace. Ugonne knew how itchy her words could sound to those who swore against her perception. The fact was, as always, she has a contrasting view. “Talk to your friend. This was not in our plans for today.”

“She is weary, let her rest. That is all she needs right now. You do not drag a person to the farm, except you will offer your head to carry her firewood.” Ugonne responded. This time her words had a different effect, instead of the usual vexation, it calmed storms. Chiwendu has learned to appreciate her inputs unlike in the past. Ikorodo has humbled her head. She has realized she did not know it all. Aside Ijeoma who carried the day in every outing, the next was Ugonne. Sometimes when these legs were absent, the spectators groaned. Most dancers were as unsatisfactory as not worth watching.

“Do we go back now that we have come this far?” The certitude with which Chiwendu asked sent some wave of the quiver. It was such that if Ugonne had carried water in her mouth, she would have to spit it. She was expecting a knock for her counter, but she received knuckles.

“No. We will not go back, but after this turn,” Ijeoma said. There were marks of relief. The ‘thank god she has regained some strength’ came almost at once.

“Get up let us get going,” Ugonne said.

“I will join you before you get to the place where the path broke into two,” Ijeoma responded. She threw her arms as she said, mapping the bearing of the place. “If you get there and you do not see me coming, wait for me, so we do not miss ways.”

“Hasten up, we will keep our pace down,” Chiwendu said.

Ijeoma followed them with her eyes until they took the bend and disappeared off contact. Then, she dashed into the bush, trailing Kachi who she had seen from far off.

The other girls had not noticed the young man walking behind them, or the ones who saw him had no business to do with him. They might have dismissed him as a voyager on the same path as they.

Kachi vanished within the little moment Ijeoma was trying to excuse the others. He was a very timid person and may not have had the courage of walking up to her in the presence of other girls. She searched all the nooks and crannies of the place she suspected he would be hiding his face but did not see him. The moment she got fade up and started to murmur, he jumped out and frightened her. Her heart stopped, and she leaped like one who had seen a snake an inch away from her legs.

The fright stole into her heart. It took her a good measure of time to regain her consciousness. When she realized the terror was Kachi, she buried her head into the earth, and shield her face with her arms. Kachi succeeded in raising her with many tinkles, but she turned her back to him. She did like how a little child does when vexed. She feigned anger which took Kachi several moments to comprehend. His little game of hide-and-seek has not augured well. About now, his smiles turned to soar.

“I am sorry, that was only a play,” Kachi apologized. He tried to see her face, but Ijeoma kept her grip firm, turning to match his effort. No matter what effort he pulled, he remained behind her.

When he exhausted his plea, he allowed silence to overwhelm the whole place. The peace was enough to collect all the chirps and trace them to the birds which produced the sounds. He held his head up, looking from one tree to the other with his ears following the trail of sounds.

“Why did you frighten me?”

“I told you it was a play,” Kachi said and whisked his face away. His stance dismayed Ijeoma when she turned to see. She thought he was still dying to see her face, but he has died and taken a new life. She felt ashamed as Kachi never lingered on her interlude.

“What if my mind had flown away and never returned? What would you have done?”

“Have I not told you I am sorry?”

“Your apologies would not have saved the situation.”

Kachi did not say anymore, and she lost patience in waiting to hear from him. He still held his face in the blank, even as she tried to read his expression. They ended up going around, completed five circles before she gave up. She stood for some time and started to regret her actions. She has overreacted and only succeeded in pushing Kachi to the walls.

“Why are you acting up? I am not even angry with you,” she said in her most distinct manner as Kachi remained mute.

“I am going if you will not talk to me,” she said and left before Kachi concluded what he thought to be a reasonable time.

Kachi sensed the quietness in another light, he turned around to see Ijeoma was no longer behind him. He followed her at once, asking her back, but she did not mind him. When she refused to yield, he doubled his pace. Ijeoma also started creeping like a snail, as if there were forces clutching her legs. Her senses must have warned her to let her guard down, even so, her ego never allowed her. Soon, Kachi was able to match her pace.

“You know where to find me if you want to see me,” Ijeoma said.

“I am sorry about all that happened.”

“I am not angry with you,” she said. “I have kept my friends waiting for so long, I have to get going.”