THE STORY TELLER. AFRICAN FOLK TALES
Curled from Bonded by Chris Dahi
The men had cut the Uru, a light wood the natives use in making canoes and rafts. They had hastily constructed a makeshift cart with tough vine ropes. Dumping the sack containing the heads of the Mbaukwu hunters on it, they use it as a carriage to drag and convey the heads.
Now in the outskirts of Mbaukwu, the group led by Isiburuekperi take a turn to the wide dusty road that will lead them straight to the king’s palace. It is very early in the morning, They have trekked all through the night.
Coming to a point Isiburuekperi stops, and points.
“See that Iroko tree there, that is the boundary of Mbaukwu and Oja. Now listen well, from that point on, as we enter into Mbaukwu land, no one of you should walk in front of me. Again, sometime before this morning is over, I will draw a circle on the ground, you will all instantly step into it and on no account will any of you step out of that circle unless I say so. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Nnayi.” They chorused, but one did it with a guffaw. Isiburuekperi stops momentarily on hearing the smirk as if he intends to say something, then continued going as one who has changed his mind. He knows the laughter had come from Azu, a young hunter from Ekwe’s family. The Ekwe family are famous rain makers. However, they recently have started boasting that they also can call Thunder. This of course started when Akpatta the great native doctor of Mbato, who was an openly antagonistic competitor in the art of rain making against Ekwes died. The rain maker of Mbato was struck dead in an open field, according to the Ekwe family by Thunder. Everyone in Oja and beyond immediately believed their claims that they sent the thunder to kill their challenger. Therefore according to them any other person that dares them will meet the same fate. To add strength to their claims, they built an impressive shrine for the god of thunder and without much more from them, a willing followership soon gathered and the religion gained momentum and the Ekwe soon became a powerful family, that is feared and respected. Naturally some of the young ones in the family, riding on the wing of this popularity soon developed chips on their shoulders and started arrogating certain powers to themselves. Isiburuekperi, whom it is not his business to interfere in these things, just ignored them. Of course, he knows that the Mbato rain maker had allowed his exuberance to overcloud his caution. Akpatta had called rain, which naturally is complimented by thunder and lightning. He was standing in an open field, wearing a thick white calico agbada caftan and holding his Oji above his head. Isiburuekperi knows that lightening is attracted to bright objects and high metals and naturally strikes the highest object. So, Akpakarita, standing in an open field, wearing a bright cloth and with a heavy metal rod above his head had called lightening on himself. Isiburuekperi had wondered how dangerous over zealousness and even ambition could be.
He had noticed the carelessness of the arrogant young man in the battle against the head hunters, it had resulted in injuries to some of his colleagues. Now, he is at it again, a natural loud mouth.
“And none of you should say a word there without my permission. I will do all the talking necessary”. He cuts the central fresh frond of a small palm tree, and extricating the leaves, gives one to each warrior with him. They all put them length wise in their mouths, with each ends protruding from the corners of their mouths. This is a sign in the land that means anyone or group with it is on a dangerous mission or that the circumstance that has caused them to put the “omu” in their mouths is past discussion and the next step is action, bloody action. It’s a sign that blood will flow.
The march to the palace had taken a reasonable part of the dawn. Trees, buildings and other standing objects in dark silhouette are starting to become more obvious. They passed early rising folks and late returnees. The former being people going to the village stream or to the market or the farmland and the later are night hunters coming home from the forest. Halfway to the village of the king, the wooden gong had begun its resonance. It is the warning signal in the land to tell the people that a threat has entered the land. The discordance in the rhythm and sound conveys the message; whether it is a celebration and a feast or a warning of bad tidings as in this case. Those early risers had warned the village chiefs or elders living by the borders and they immediately had swung into action and in no time, the whole land is alerted. This alert method is what the clans use to successfully ward off invaders.
Needless to say, that Amadi who is the regent of Mbaukwu has long been alerted of the presence of these outside warriors with Omu in their mouths marching towards his palace. He has also already been informed by the “talking drums” that they are from Oja, and that Isiburuekperi is with them.
The result is that before Isiburuekperi and his army got to the palace, there are already well armed combat ready warriors guarding the palace entrance. They have their faces painted to pass the message to any intruders that they would brook no nonsense, and that they have the authority of the king backing them. So any action from anyone which they interpret as hostile in any way would be met with deadly response. A palm wine tapper who had witnessed the scene from the top of a palm tree and was describing it in the local drinking tavern later that day had admitted that he did not know which looked more fierce, the Mbakwu warriors fresh from sleep and rested, with fresh war paints of diverse colours and patterns on their faces, torsos, arms and legs and with warrior bands and feathers on their foreheads, biceps, wrists and ankles or the Oja hunter warriors, with the paints mixed with grime and blood and sweat lines forming tracks on the marks on their faces, torsos and every other part of their bodies. One band looked prim and spic, and rearing to engage while the other looked battle weary and cautious, dragging a cart with a bloody sack on it. They looked every inch a band of hunters returning from a hunt. However, according to the bar room story teller, their leader, the legendary Isiburuekperi is totally another story, everything about him looked like a thousand thunders about to explode. He did not seem to walk rather he seemed to float.
As the Oja warriors got closer, the Mbaukwu men started clashing their spear heads and machetes against their raffia and bamboo shields; this they synchronized with a rhythmic war chant. Folks who were coming out to know why the unceasing message of the Ikoro, wooden gongs and now the war chants of the warriors, on seeing what is about to happen dove back into the supposed safety of their homes, quaking with fear.
As the home warrior’s chants reached a frenzy, they started approaching with stamping feet and raising so much dust with their clamour and stumping. Isiburuekperi watched them with ….
To be continued … continue reading the Scope News and in two days ….
