Chapter 2: Chapter 2

The state Obiageli met her mother’s garden saddened her. It was almost dead in the hands of her brother’s wives. The women hungered for the proceeds but did so little to keep it healthy and alive. This was synonymous with what happens to a great man’s homestead after his demise. He will leave in the hands of strangers and nature the walls he once labored to erect and guard against wear. Now, homesteads belong to the men, and the woman belonged to her husband. A woman owns nothing of her own. But Nne-Ukwu was a woman like a man, or even greater. This is because a man inherits his homestead from his father, but out of nothing, she built hers, and it gave life to many. Like the man, she was the principal of her possession. In her own case as with the great man, she has not gone before the tearing and wearing. The garden she once nurtured was giving in to the test it stood. But she has seen the beauties and has had her cut. She has lived life to its fullness. Now she is waiting for the second event of her lifetime, and dreaming about the world she has left behind.

The sight of Nne-Ukwu’s garden looked worse than being under the siege of pests. Obiageli later learned the garden has become a source of petty squabble for her brother’s wives. Every one of the women vied with the others who took the largest proceeds.

The men knew their boundaries. It was clear to them what was theirs and what was not, from what their father left them. But their mother’s possession was not inclusive of their inheritance. It only laid there in the courtyard. The female children would have inherited it, but they belonged to the men whom they later married.

The advice Nne-Ukwu offered her was worth more than replanting on diseased soil. She advised her to purge her garden of all crops and start anew. Exactly what Obiageli did. She cleared her garden and went to her sisters for fresh seedlings. After some time, she began to see a yield of positive results.

Fresh vegetables littered everywhere in Obiageli’s garden. The sight of the garden was remarkable. While Ijeoma was still admiring her mother’s piece of architecture, she heard her name. The caller wailed as stylish as typical of young girls. She thought the voice could be of one of her friends, but kept quiet and listened again. She needed to be sure it was a human call. Evil spirits did call in a like manner. A countless number of people had answered the spirit call and lost their lives. The custom has warned against answering when one is not sure. When in doubt, one can wait until after the third. Evil spirits do not exceed the third limit.

She recited until she hears the fourth call, “my head belongs to me, your head belongs to you. Keep your head and let me keep mine.”

“Ije...”

Only her friends shortened her name. Even so, she must be conscious in the world of uncertainties. When the evil spirits sang a new rhythm, humans learn the new dance step. In the days of their great grandfather, the beauty of a lady from a faraway land overwhelmed Onwubiko. So, he married her to his court without seeking the consent of her parents.

Trouble began when Onwubiko’s relatives clamor to pay homage to the lady’s parents. They wanted to remain true to their persons.

“We are men of good reputations; we do not steal people’s daughters for marriage. Lead us to your parents, so we may pay homage.”

On all the occasions that Onwubiko’s people roused this matter, the lady would strive to ease them.

“My people will not conceive such thought. My father held the Ofor to my name, and nobody can steal me.”

“This is truth,” Onwubiko’s relatives would say. “One with the Ofor does not get lost.” They went with the satisfaction they found the answer to their question. Other days they came back with not a question, but a resolution.

“We have consulted our custom. In our custom, we do not marry a woman for anything. The father of the maiden will not forgive us.”

“My parents are generous people. They do not need your dime,” the lady would say.

“Our marriage is not about generosity. It is about our tradition,” Onwubiko’s relatives countered. They caught the lady in a daze, and she has no more response to give.

The pressure became so much, and she agreed to lead them to her fathers’ land. To cut the long story short, let us not talk about the many spirits they battled on their way, and how they overcame. The lady took them to her community of descent and showed them to her parents’ courtyard. Then, to their very own eyes, she vanished as a voice responded to their salutation.

People who told the story said by truth, that was her father’s court. The lady’s name was Odina. Her people had shown her portrait to Onwubiko and his relatives, and they recognized her. Then they led them to see her grave, and it dawned on them they have encountered a ghost.

Since that age, the custom banned marriages outside the community. The new custom has lifted this ban but on the premise of digging into the family roots. Even so, the young generation finds it unfashionable to venture beyond the spheres.

“Uh...” Ijeoma responded.

“Come let us go and fetch water from the stream.”

The caller was Ugonne from the next compound to theirs in the neighborhood. Ijeoma recognized her voice. She was never expecting that Ugonne called her name in such a manner as a friend.

Argonne was in the same circle as her, but she went her way after a little misunderstanding. Ijeoma would have declined if not that she thought it over. She knew tomorrow could be her turn. Whenever she needed urgent help, Ugonne would be the closest to come to her rescue.

“Ahead does not always want to carry water pots,” Ijeoma thought. She knew Ugonne’s mother must have stood on her neck to get the water. There must be such pressing conditions to warrant this impromptu call.

“Becoming out. I will join you soon,” Ijeoma responded and went ahead to harvest the vegetables. She did with caution as her mother had taught her. Obiageli seldom allowed her to carry on the harvesting of produce from the garden. Ijeoma has had to convince her she has mastered all the techniques before. Many do not know the harvest is a technical task. They do not understand that reckless harvest can harm plant growth.

When she harvested enough ugu and okra she took them to the kitchen. Then, she would inform her mother of going to the stream to get more water. She has fetched water early in the morning, but it was never enough. Going for more would please her mother.

Obiageli was not in the kitchen when she returned. She has gone outside to receive some fresh air before the vegetables arrived. Ijeoma dropped the items in the kitchen and collected a water pot. Then went out to look for her mother to inform her she was going to the stream. If not that she was doing Ugonne a favor, she would have started shredding the vegetables. But she is dashing away this opportunity she has ever desired.

“Mother, I am going to get more water.”

“Have you harvested the vegetables?”

“Yes, mother.”

“But the world is growing cold. Are you sure you can go alone?”

“Ugonne is coming with me.”

“Please do not stay long.”

Having wasted much time, Ijeoma walked fast to catch up with Ugonne. If she let her anger to heart, she has every justifiable reason. From the onset, she would have told her she was not ready. If she had, Ugonne would have shopped for another person. But she kept her waiting for a long time. By truth, Ijeoma was not prepared to embark on the stream journey. She wanted to build a diplomatic relation that will benefit her later. Ugonne was very hot-tempered, and she was going to beg her if she annoyed her so much. She met Ugonne sitting in the front of their yard with her water pot.

“Ah! You took forever.”

“I am sorry. I was doing something for my mother,” Ijeoma begged. But much to her surprise, Ugonne did not get as furious as she has expected. This could be because they were only getting on after a long time. Ugonne was one person who had the tolerance issue.

The new hairstyle Ijeoma wore was beautiful. It soon caught Ugonne’s sight. She could guess whose handiwork it was. Chiwendu was her only enemy. It has been because of her that she withdrew from the circle. Acknowledging Ijeoma’s fine look meant praising the stylist. But she never wanted to hear or talk about her. Chiwendu played the judge all the time, and demand they stamped everything she said.

During Ugonne’s times in the circle, she fell into the constant clash with the godmother. Chiwendu always countered everything she said, and this was the much she could take. When she got too tensed, she burst and excused herself for good.

When they got to the stream, Ugonne cleared the soiled water. During the dry seasons, the water dried up so that they had to excavate the soil. The holes looked like caves, and there were high risks of the accident as the topsoil could collapse.

The water which came out later was the cleanest. Ugonne knew but humbled to take the first. She finished filling her water pot and helped Ijeoma with hers. This was selfless, quite unlike what Ijeoma thought she knew about her.

Strings of thoughts kept flooding Ijeoma’s mind as Ugonne tried to make an impression. She filled the two water pots to the brim, and when they set to go, she helped Ijeoma to place her water pot on her head. The words forced themselves out of her mouth. Those words she had withheld from home.

“This water pot will stain your hair.”

“I have no option. I will plait another one,” Ijeoma responded, staring at Ugonne’s hair. “You look beautiful too.”

“Please stop. I know how I look. I don’t expect to match your beauty when I have no one to plait my hair.”

A girl admitting her own ugliness and in truth was the sincerity of how she looked was pitiable.

“Why did you leave our circle? Chiwendu has been the one styling our hair.”

“I do not like that girl. I hate the way she carries herself.”

“Stop taking her this serious. If you want, I can talk to Chiwendu and the other girls.”

Loneliness has drenched Ugonne’s doggedness, so she accepted the proposal with gladness.

Both girls seemed to be in haste as none picked interest in gossiping. Ugonne was in a hurry to deliver the water to ease her mother’s temper. Her mother had gone to Ngozi Njoku’s yard in the morning, and Ugonne abandoned her house chores. When she returned to make food for her household, she met her court unprepared. The plates from last night’s dish were untidy, and worst of all there was no water. Ugonne would be thankful to Ijeoma. She could not have imagined going to the stream alone when the path was devoid of people. Every other girl in the community had filled their mother’s water pots in the morning.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” Ugonne said with all honesty as they approached her compound. There was no need to fain otherwise. Everyone knew a single person cannot venture into the stream. “I will drop my water pot and see you at your house.”

“Do not bother yourself. It has been a long journey,” Ijeoma said to dissuade her. She knew allowing Ugonne to come with her would not be healthy. There must be many chores awaiting her in the house.