COMFORTS OF INSANITY

Maybe the world will never know her, maybe no songs of praise will be

sung in her name, maybe she will die sooner than expected and save herself this misery,

the world is so cruel after all and how does it concern us?,

It does concern me, though I might not be the best of Orators, I might not be good enough

to be compared to Ojadili the son of Okeke whose flute wakes the Mighty king of our

kingdom, whose voice sings the eulogies of gods and pleases wandering spirits, I am not

Ojadili, I don’t wake kings and my voice neither pleases gods nor spirits, I am Ataka the

wayward son of Okafor, I did not choose orating, Ala blessed me with it and it pleases me

and my chi therefore I sing only for myself and my chi, but for Nwakaego I will sing for the

world to hear, I will not stop telling the world about you Nwaka, I will not stop asking her

if it’s a crime to love that which Ana has blessed one with, I swore that until my nose no

longer embrace the thrill of snuff and my hands no longer able to drive flies away from

my anus I will not stop telling the world about Nwakaego, and it still stands till such time

comes.

Nwakaego the humble snail that trades on thorns, she whose chastity moves the hands

of gods, blessed with beauty so divine that some who saw her thought her to be a goddess,

with my voice I will tell the world that I walked the same path with the daughter of Igwekala,

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COMFORTS OF INSANITY

she whose skin is so dark and smooth like the walnut nut, she whose smile was radiating

as the moon that lights the Ilo during the night’s Egwu onwa, her beauty made Obika the

crippled son of Enyika to climb the sacred anthill In other to ascertain if she is human or

an Ogbanje, Nwakaego I will not curse your chi for your fate might be an agreement with

her and my curse will backfire, but if it is not an agreement may she never be your chi in

your next life.

I sing your song even without the expectation of a little tip to clean my nose with, “maka

ogbu oja na efisha imi”, but I don’t care, my only concern is that I don’t have an audience

who wants to know about you Nwaka, they all see you as the mad woman that sits under

the Dogoyaro tree all day, muttering inaudible words to herself and the winds, and with a

very dirty wrapper that is torn in various places, barely covering your nudity, who told

them that you are mad?, Do they know that this wrapper is the only one worthy enough

to welcome Ikemefuna?, Do they know the story behind the fading Red Uru stains on it?,

of course they know but they have hidden it from their children and like a trapped game

your chi has deserted you Nwaka, don’t worry Nwanyi Oma my chi will fight for you

peradventure yours has forsaken you.

Nwakaego you see?, an ear at last, or is it two I see?, may the gods be blessed, let me

not bore them, let me tell them about you at once before their parents come to drag them

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away and Ani will curse me if I do loose them, see the way they look at you with scorn

and no pity in their eyes, They know nothing about your madness, they know absolutely

nothing, they don’t know that the mad man moves with his senses, how will they know

when their parents have hidden the truth from them perhaps telling them that you are an

evil woman that has meet a deserved end?, forgive me my children if I raise my voice,

that which beats a child over and over again may not be stronger than the child, it may

be that the child lacks courage to face it, and whenever I think of Nwakaego I lack courage

to remain the same, I dare not, who would hear her story and remain the same?, I see

the impatience on your faces, The impatience that defines your generation, let me tell you

at once before I loose you too like the ones I lost at Eke the other day.

Nwakaego was the most beautiful woman in the whole seven clans of this kingdom, she

was so beautiful that the Ururu sang her praises and the Abuzu stayed awake at night to

sing of her beauty, With the guidance of her Chi and the total support of her parents and

Umunna she married Oseloka who didn’t inform her of his intended journey to mother

earth after just two years of their matrimony, she was sad and cried all day, but still she

refused to acknowledge the marriage to Oseloka as a mistake and insisted on not taking

a new husband even when suitors like Ebube the Dinta and Okonkwo the Diji asked for

her hand, she was left with Ikemefuna who became her support and hope, her reward of

nine long months of pain, sorrow, betrayal and suffering. The Umunna lead by Ejioffor,

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Oseloka’s elder brother rejected the pregnancy saying that Oseloka did not impregnate

Nwaka from the other side, she was nearly thrown out of the house if not for the

intervention of the high chiefs who gave her an extra nine months grace for her to climb

down from the Oji tree and nurse the child a little, but when Ikemefuna came, he answered

the questions of the Umunna against her mother's chastity, all who saw him said that

Oseloka vomited him, he was the exact portrait of Oseloka.

Ikemefuna grew into a very strong, healthy, hardworking and happy boy, he was the best

wrestler among his age grades in this kingdom and the neighboring ones, the best of his

victory being the one against Nwaologbo of Umunze, Ikemefuna had gone to Umunze

and defeated all the wrestlers of Umunze within his age group during their Iwa Ji

ceremony, and like a man possessed with victory he dared Nwaologbo the son of the

King to a duel,Nwaologbo was not the best wrestler among the Umunzes but he was

renowned for being the only one in Umunze whose back has not kissed the earth in the

hands of Otigbu, their best wrestler, Nwaologbo's craftiness and speed ensured this.

At first he didn’t consent to the challenge but like the Nza, Ikemefuna was bent on

challenging his chi to a duel, one thing lead to the other and a date was fixed, we waited

patiently, praying that nothing bad happens to Nwakaego’s only son.

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She pleaded with Ikemefuna to cancel the match but the young boy would not heed to

the words of his mother, she cried and prayed. When the day actually came the arena

was empty at first but when Ikemefuna beat Nwaologbo in the first and second round

everywhere became dusty and noisy, and almost every household sent a spectator to

witness the event and report to those who where too busy to make it. Again at the third

and final round he beat Nwaologbo to make history at the age when his age mates where

still hunting and eating lizards cooked by their mothers, During that year also, he climbed

the tall Oji tree at the center of the Ilo to tell us the direction from which the warriors of

Obinagu advanced from, we beat them with ease and retained that land by the river where

our women wash their Onugbu leaves and tapioca for sale all thanks to little Ikemefuna.

Where a crying child is pointing at should be examined properly because if his mother is

not there then his father must be there, Ejioffor, Oseloka's brother, I will not complete my

story if I don’t mention you Ejioffor, Ejioffor you said that Ikemefuna was too smart and

useful to rot in the village, you said the village is too crude for a child like him simply

because he did great deeds?.

Someone should help me ask Ejioffor if he did not play kpakpankoro on the sands of this

village? Did he not derive pleasure from the dusty waters of our earthen pots?, did you

not hunt lizards with arrows made from raffias?, Did you not abandon Ikemefuna and

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Nwakaego when Oseloka died? Why then did you snatch him from his mother when she

needed him most?, when she was already getting used to massaging his bones after

fights?. Don’t mind my tears my children for my heart bleeds.

Ejioffor took Ikemefuna away from his mother with the support of the umunna and the

backing of the Igwe after he told them that Ikemefuna will go to the University, acquire a

certificate that will make him be like Jude the son of Okaomee from Umuome, who helped

the people of Umukaome win a land dispute between them and Ire, everyone was excited

at the thought of having a lawyer in our village that will help us win the numerous land

dispute we have with the people of Obinagu almost every year,who knows he might also

help us snatch some lands from them.

Ejioffor also told us that Ikemefuna might become a Doctor like Sylavanus the son of

Amaechi the hump whose hump mysteriously reduced after Sylavanus had done some

magic on it, He said that Ikemefuna might become more advanced than Sylva and be

able to cure his mother’s brother of is scrotal ailment, he later told us that Ikemefuna might

choose to become an Engineer and bring the smooth paths to our village just like the

ones at the city, what did he not tell us? , all of his promises where mouth watering and

without thinking twice we casted our last palm nut into the fire, Ejioffor betrayed us all, he

did not tell us the whole truth, almost every month he cones back to the village to collect

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the proceeds from Nwaka's farm, leaving only a little for the poor woman, did she

complain?, No all she wanted was for her son to be safe and satisfied, she sold some of

her wrappers and some part of the land Oseloka left for his family all for her son to acquire

enough knowledge so that he could come back to her in warm embrace, she did not want

a lawyer, a Doctor or an Engineer, all she wanted was Ikemefuna. Amidst all these Ejioffor

did not warn us of the probability of a stray bullet and the dangers of a mistaken identity.

My children the only thing greater than man a is that which he does not know, Ejioffor told

us that Ikemefuna will return to us as a lawyer, Doctor or an Engineer and we all expected

such, we wanted to acquire more lands and have our sick cured, we wanted to have

tarred paths like the city people.

On the day of his return, Nwakaego wore her best attire which is the Nkpuru-oka wrapper

you see her with, she called friends and cooked delicacies, Ejioffor did not tell us that

Ikemefuna had fallen, killed by a cult group which mistook him for another person, you

see why I insisted that my son will not be named Collins?, that name sounds like cultism

itself, they shot him and sliced him like Abacha, Heeei ihe meru anyi!!, may the hand that

shot Ikemefuna never wield a gun again, may the gun that shot him never fire again and

may the blacksmith that crafted that gun never craft again, Iseee.

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You should have seen his corpse so you can imagine what it would be like if it was not a

case of mistaken identity, it never pays. Did nobody tell them of the Mmanwu society?, is

that one not a cult?, can't they learn from us?, did we kill each other?, yet we practiced

the most sacred form of cultism, we practiced cultism itself.

Ikem's grave was dug and the red earth seemed redder than most graves I had seen

some which I helped to dig, But as Ikem was about to be laid to mother earth, Nwakaego

refused her son to be buried, she broke loose from the hands of the Umuada that held

her jumped inside the grave insisting that we cover her up with her son, we begged her

to come out but she insisted, like a mad cow shot on the leg, Nwakaego attacked

everyone that dared go close to her and in the processes of all these drama she stained

herself with the Mud of the grave, an action which saw her ostracized from the community

as tradition demands. Since then, the Dogoyaro tree has become her home and insanity

her comfort zone, “I na achu ijiji na nsi I ga eri? “, allow the tears to flow my children for

Nwaka deserves it.