EPIC STORY (INNOCENT SEED)

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PART ONE

It exists in the heart of West Africa a gigantic country; in her life made it way to a measly society called Ofiala situated at the eastern part of Nigeria.

In this trifling society was a maniac traditionalist living with his two children: Obele and Omasirichi. The chaps grew up loving each other despite their father’s crummy attitude.

Ofiala village had rich cultural potentials. They were among the set of people in Igboland that will never disrespect the rules and cultural ethics laid down by their progenitor. Because of her hideous cultural beliefs they were capable of sacrificing a human being who went contrary to the laws of the land. In addition to these all the obsolete and barbaric practices were still duly observed.

Okafor had a lovely wife. He loved Adammiri so much. She died immediately she gave birth to Omasirichi, and following this he hated the child and never paid attention to him. He believed Omasirichi was a wizard and should not be called his son. He only loved and trusted Obele.

It all happened in a graceful moist evening when the sun had turned red. The wife of a prominent red-cap chief in the village was in labour. Inside the hut she lay trying with all her strength to give birth. Two women were helping her. The hut was dark and two local lamps were burning. Their faces shimmered in the dim light. Meanwhile Okafor natively referred to as Mpa by the young chaps were outside tensed up.

“The gods of our land strengthen her,” he stammered.

“They will my friend,” affirmed Ichie Okagbo his good friend.

“I wonder why she has stayed this long in labour, yet no good news.” He complained, exuding sweat.

“Be courageous and strong. She will soon be free.” Ichie advised. 

She screamed aloud.

“Okagbo, are you sure she will make it?”

“Remember who you are. Be strong and hopeful over this situation.”

“Okay! I heard you,” he replied and shook his head.

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Omereda had a calabash that contained medicinal leaves. She dipped her hand into the medicine and wiped her face now and then. They believed it gives strength.

“Try harder. The baby will soon be out,” Adaowa said optimistically.

“Don’t give up. Try harder, Nnenneoma,” Omereda said to encourage her and patted her lightly on the shoulder.

Crying……………

She cried and screamed very loudly and with all her strength till she was delivered of a baby boy.

“Hmm         Hmm Hmm,” she breathed. Her breath was quick and unsteady and she whispered: “Please tell Nni to take good care of my children. The name of this child shall be called Omasirichi.” Adaowa the midwife made a sharp move of surprise and was carrying the new-born baby.

“I don’t understand. I hope all is well,” she enquired, astonished. She continued in weak and faint voice: “Yes! Tell him to take proper care of my boys.”  And she gave up.

Louder cry from the women. Okafor and Okagbo rushed inside and beheld the painful tragedy.

Okafor folded his arms in deep sorrow gazing at the new-born baby. Three obvious gullies ran parallel down his dark flattened face. His reddish eyes sparkle fearfully like the replica of an African hero, Okammadu. They were sitting on a local bench. Okafor was at the extreme. Next to him was his first son Obele who was about two years of age, followed by Adaowa who cuddled the baby in a thick fabric. At the other extreme sat Ichie Okagbo startled.

          “Our people have it that Mkpuru onye kuru ka o ga aghota. Whatever a man sows that shall he also reap. What shall we do with this baby?” he asked to the surprise of the listening ears, pointing at the baby.

“So eze na emebe iwu na gburugburu y. Only a king makes a standing decision in his domain. You decide. He is your son,” Okagbo replied wisely.

“Whose son? You called this little brat my son. You must be joking,” he retorted sonorously.

“What next do you intend to do?” he asked, bewildered.

“Throw him away into the evil forest as the custom demands. A stubborn fly follows the corpse into the grave,” he answered sharply.

“No! That is very wrong of you: the custom demands he grow up before facing the consequences of his crime. That was the binding principle. Have you forgotten how the son of Olante suffered grievously over this same crime and was finally banished into the evil forest?” he explained convincingly.

 “I am very upset; I just want it done now.”

“Nni before her death she said twice that you should take good care of her children.” Adaowa touched by Okafor’s bitter idea of the baby, recalled and delivered the message of the child’s mother.

“Tufia kwa! Not for this one you are carrying. He wickedly and stone-heartedly killed my lovely wife,” he refuted with an intense anger.

Adaowa breathed in and out. She hummed and continued, “She also said that his name should be called Omasirichi.”

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“Enough! I don’t want to hear any of that nonsense. You can go ahead and name him anything. It is none of my business. Of what importance is it to me? After all, he is destined to perish in the evil forest. That is where he belongs,” he hollered and left.

“Adaowa, we heard you. You have done well. Our gods will reward you, but you have to nurse this child for ten years before bringing him back to his father,” Ichie Okagbo appreciated wisely.

“It is accepted. I will do just that for my friend,” she answered, brightening up.

Ten years went past and the child grew in wisdom and was energetically well-structure.

Obele never accepted that his only brother killed their mother, rather he kept on doubting the funny belief of his father and the entire village. Obele and Omasirichi had a halcyon brotherly relationship irrespective of Mpa’s persuasive actions to separate them. The extensive increase in mutual love shared by the two brothers caused resentment to their father. He observed that Obele’s love for Omasirichi his brother was strong. In the quest to have his first son dislike his brother, he started devising new means of how to actualize this. He believed that if nothing was done quickly the gods will get angry and the doom pronounced by their deity upon Omasirichi for taking the life of his mother might extend to Obele. In the past he had devised many means of sending him away but to no avail because of the forceful objection of his brother.

The two boys went out for a walk in the coldness of the evening, availing a desolate environment for their father to plan his evil intention. The atmosphere had a fabulous feature. The wind was moving the trees gently and steadily and this made them dance carelessly. The surrounding

weather was cold and mild. Okafor was sitting on a local sofa made of bamboo sticks. He inherited it from his father Mazi Mbanefo, a great wrestler of his time. He sat right in front of his obi, which was among the best in the village.

With a perfect relaxation, he was surrounded by trees which created a nice shade as good as that of a modern-day canopy. Birds were chirping from different corners in the compound. This added a unique attribute to the serenity of the compound. Okafor was engrossed in thought concerning his lingering problem. Suddenly he was saying something, talking as if the trees around him had ears. “What have I done to deserve all this bad things? How can Obele, after being told that his brother was responsible for the death of his mother still go ahead loving and caring for him, instead of supporting me, Okammadu and have him maltreated and finally sent away to avert the jinx he may cause us in the nearest future. No! Something is behind this: how can a man in his right senses accept the one who willfully killed his mother? Mbano. I said it. Omasirichi is a wizard. Who now knows what he had done to his brother. He had probably bewitched his mind not to realize his dreadful crime.” He paused a while and sighed. “I must do something before it gets out of hand. Odumegwu the powerful witch-doctor will be in position to know the right thing to be done. I must visit him tomorrow. I must, yes, before sunrise. 

THE STORY CONTINUES.....

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© MARTINS FRANCIS I.E