One day, he dipped four fingers and took away some lumps of meat from his mother’s soup pot. It was on the day his elder sister’s husband who would come to put wine on her head. The soup which had been prepared for the visit spoilt and got a bad taste in the process and the visitors could not eat, but made do with wine and left. His father cursed him and never knew that the curse would follow him and his children for life. Though the blend of marriage and intermarriage had reduced it greatly, but it still lived with them. So anyone from Amato would steal anything that came his way. Stealing was a way of life. The young and the old stole. So, it was known and was told that no matter a child’s offence that he should not be given an expensive course but could be chastised in any other way, or even selling as a slave. It would be preferable to a curse. So, apart from marriage to men from the same clan, their women were hardly married out to other clans. In Umudi, it was said that lying and stealing were next-door neighbours and it would be bad to associate an Umudi son with stealing.
Amato and his children were shaken by such criticism based on that truth and they felt ashamed. It was bad for one to be known as a thief. They could not openly mix with the men of other clans or speak their mind. It was the only criticism they got, which was as bad as anything. In those days in the history of Amato clan, unknown thieves operated all in Amato and beyond, stealing chickens, sheep, goats, yams in the barn and cocoyam at random.
Not until some years after did some who came from the mixed blood clan started becoming ashamed of the criticism and fought to put an end to that trend, but it was like what one was holding in his mouth, what no one can touch. It could not be possible. It was a life that had continued with them. In Amato every newborn child was a potential thief. They didn’t suspect themselves and when anything got lost; they did not complain or bother to ask. When a fowl got lost nobody cared to ask, and they would conclude that the elders were suffering from scratch of the throat.
Ugoji was a very intelligent small boy in Amato, wiser than his age. He had been considered a threat to anyone that knew him, because he could ask a question too difficult for one and more answers to his questions brought new questions more difficult.
One afternoon he was sitting in his father’s obi when his father was preparing rope for tying of yams in his barn. He had finished selecting the yams by their different sizes and was waiting for them to be tied by his father. It was a boy’s job to hand over yams to his father for tying.
“Nna,” he called.
Omeaka, his father, looked at him and sensed he had something to ask him. He was preparing his mind. He knew how to dodge his questions. Children of one’s old age were wiser. They think wise and slowly.
“Why it that our clan is always accused of stealing when we visit our mates or when we go to the stream of Obedu and Umudi? I was shaken by the criticism of their song.”
“What is their song about?” His father asked in pretence.
When they pass,
Things must miss
Where they keep
We don’t know
Where they learn such,
We don’t know
He, he, he
We are asking.
Omeaka listened with keen interest. He, too, was a wise man. He transferred such wisdom to a son, to his son, and so he knew it. He was not irritated but managed a silence. He knew. Every reasonable child was supposed to ask that question.
“It is a long story, my son; let us give our work the concentration it deserves. Your question is as old as the clan and I will answer it later,” he said consolingly.
Ugoji looked up at his father’s face and accepted those words with faith.
“Nna anyi,” he continued, “why do we die?”
His father smiled toothlessly, adjusted himself and said, “Listen, my son, let me tell you the story my father told me in a day like this when he was alive.
“Chukwu was the all owner of the heavens and earth and in the days of our fathers, he talked to them and animals. One day, Chukwu sent a dog to the earth to tell them that dead bodies should be covered with ashes and buried. This would bring the person back to life. On his long journey to earth, the dog became weary and too stretched to continue the journey. So, Chukwu then sent a sheep to deliver the message faster, but the silly sheep forgot part of the message. The sheep only told the people of Earth that bodies should be buried. Because of this, human bodies remained dead. When the dog finally arrived, nobody believed his story and thus death became permanent.”
That was all he could narrate. It was really a good attempt. Among these people, folk tales and proverbs were used to instil the clan's morality into their children and to pass on their beliefs about spirituality and the nature of the universe. Folktales were always so touching that children gave all their attention when it was being told.