EJIMA

CHAPTER 34

Kpa ngolo

Kpa ngolo, kpa ngolo

Dudume, oghene

Dudume, oghene

Onyamara 

Dudu yayaya, duduya…

The moonlight songs faded Ugomma's ears as the words of her father resonated, spreading through her chest and making her shift her weight to the other foot. It was hard to keep Jide off her mind. Nothing was right. The village square was not fun and will never be fun if Jide was not around. Most of the children were happy of course or perhaps pretended to be. The space of Jide was still empty and that void could never be filled by anyone. And as if to add more salt on the injury, nobody was saying anything. Its true rumors were like harmattan fire, but so far, none of it was burning through the dry straws of curiosity. It’s as if what the King’s messenger had told her father yesterday were false. She had tried to observe some of the elders within their vicinity. There was nothing odd about them; the only extraordinary thing was that aura of joy and celebration hanging on their shoulders which Ugomma could hardly place a hand on. Conceivably, their happiness must be because of the new yam festival. 

Ugomma sniffed and held the loose end of the sackcloth on her waist, yanking them and not minding the fact that it was exposing her naked body. Silently, there was a still voice in her head, praying and wishing that peradventure, the King’s messenger must have borne a false message. 

“Ugomma, it’s your turn,” 

The cold hands made Ugomma jump. She turned sharply and frowned at the dark face smiling at her. He was at least some inches away from her, and his dreadlock signaled him as one of those children believed to possess spiritual power in the community. Mba was her friend. They have known each other forever, and as long as they had been playmates, Ugo has not seen any spiritual manifestation or signs. It often made her wonder if the villager’s admiration for such children as Mba, was based on facts from the stories of the storytellers. Or was it the many hairs that the people were afraid of? Because for all she could tell, Mba was not just a jerk but a fool whose ability was like a fluid and who always goes around looking for trouble.  

“Please, don’t do that again,” Ugo hugged herself and returned her gaze to the torch, whose light was dancing to the rhyme of the gentle wind.

“I said it’s your turn or do you have mud in your ears?”

Ugo bit her under lips and averted her gaze from the fire. The smirk on Mba’s face made her want to pick him up from the ground and throw him off like she would throw a pebble. But despite her burning rage, she tried to heed the words of her mother. You are a young lady and would be betrothed soon. Start building your obedience towards the male fork or one day you would bring disgrace to your husband’s house.

“I don’t feel like playing. Just let me be, Biko (please)”

“Let you be?” Mba laughed. “And why will I do that? We came here for fun. So let’s have fun.”

“Onukwu (fool),” Ugo rubbed her nose when she suddenly picked the smell of sweat and urine from the boy’s pelt, “You can have your fun but try and do that with a clean cloth.”

"Hey, look who's talking" Mba’s laughter went wild this time, and it took some time for Ugo to realize that the children had stopped singing and had engulfed them. “Can you hear yourself? Of all the people to speak about personal hygiene, you are the last person I expected to hear such from.” Mba signaled with his first finger and one of his close friends, whose face Ugo could hardly pick from the shadows, came hurrying towards his direction. The boy started sniffing Mba’s body and Ugomma wanted to laugh but deterred herself when the children standing behind her started to back away.

“You smell like a decayed egg,” Someone said.

“Me?” Ugomma chuckled, amazed by the sudden turn of events. She looked at herself and for the first time, she noticed the sackcloth. It was the same cloth she had worn yesterday. She had slept with the cloth and had not changed them, even though she had urinated on them. But how can that be? She rubbed her nose sheepishly. The last few days have been bad, and thinking about Jide has made her forget everything about herself.

“Black kettle calling a pot black. Your father claims to be the wealthiest in the village, yet he can’t afford to change your clothes.” Mba folded his hands on his chest, posing with pride as some of the children nodded their heads in approval.

“Watch your tongue, or I will cut them and feed you.” Ugo grunted, “Have you forgotten that my father was the one that helped your helpless father with yam seedling last planting season?”

“So generous,” Mba’s laughter echoed, “Whose father ran away from the battlefield.”

“Mmiri (water)” The rest of the children chorused and burst out with laughter.

Ugo could feel the skin under her jaw as they fidgeted, sending a fresh wave of anger that flattened through her body, this time, activating that fury which she had kept at bay since she heard the news of Jide’s disappearance. Fastening her knuckle, she hurried towards Mba’s direction and grabbed him by the neck. 

He was tall and could pass for a giant, given his age. But Ugo gave no whims, she had managed to hold him somehow, and without giving him the room to think, she drove her knuckle into his face, brushing away the smirk and the mockery.

Pin drop silence followed when Mba let out a cry of anguish and staggered backward. The rest of the children backway too, and the wideness of their eyes depicted the fear that had suddenly grabbed them. Ugo might be a girl and small, but nobody challenges her, not to combat.

“How dare you?” Mba shouted and held his bleeding nose.

“Onukwu (fool), you still have the words?” Ugo asked as she advanced, but Mba did not wait, instead, he took to his heel, just like the rest of the children.

“I will report you and your cowardly father to the Igwe,” Mba shouted from a safe distance.

“Who is the coward?” Ugomma asked. The anger in her stomach was still boiling, “Why not…”

She trailed off when a sudden noise resounded through the village square, extending its hands towards every sphere of the earth and shaking the bones in her body. At first, Ugo thought it was a cow. The sound was so synonymous with the mooning of a cow that she would have bet her life on it. But when the sound came again, she remembered the story her father told her when she was still little. Without being told, she started towards home, not paying mind to the rest of the children whose feet were still rooted on the sand by confusion.

The wind sang in Ugomma’s ears as she hurried home. That sound. It was not the mooning of a cow. No, it was much worse. It sounded more like a horn. And according to her father, the horn was never blown unless a great disaster was about to befall the village. And this time, she could only guess the disaster to be war.