Like Urasi kingdom, many whites had lost their place and life in the search and effort to plant the British government in their clans. Emenike was in for the fight in this clan and ready to kill them off with his long machete if he ever perceived their smile.
One afternoon, he was not in the farm. It was on Nkwo market day, his only free day. He had chosen to see his friend to talk out past matters. In the previous night, he had a bad dream that had kept him awake and thinking. Most of his dreams were real and could come as he dreamed them since he was young. The children and their mothers had all gone either to the farm or the market to sell their wares. Despite the day, he needed to rest from many days he had toiled in the farm. But a man in his full did not sit at home.
“Stand up. Who is around? Help!” he heard a voice of someone.
It was Ukadi on the palm tree top, tapping his afternoon palm wine.
“It is not your time yet,” he said again.
It was Okoro, a young man who had gone to the farm that morning and met a bad evil spirit on the path who had kicked him in his left hand and he was unconscious, crying out loud for help.
Emenike, the action man, stood up, reached for his machete and bag, and ran to the path leading to the farm. Before he made an approach to the helpless, dying man, he was already oozing white foam from his mouth, lying unconscious. The evil spirit had severely beaten him.
“Akataka, take him up,” advised Ukadi who too was busy coming down from the palm tree.
Emenike dropped everything in his hands and took him up, but he was half gone to the land of the dead. He could get well or he could die. It was not a condition any dibia could work on. There would be no assurance that he would come back to his old self again.
He had been severely beaten.
“The gods should not be blamed,” he murmured.
“How do you mean?” asked Ukadi who had climbed down.
‘It was a punishment from the gods. Do you think we are wiser than the gods? They know us more than we know anything. Don’t think you are fast. My brother, you may not have heard. He had sent his son to the white men in Okene to wash their legs and feed from their droppings and pretended that he was with his grandparents. How could you trust a lying kinsman? How could you trust a man who tells you awu even when you housed him? Have you seen it now? That he pities us. When I tell people the dangers of tricking the gods, they laugh over it. Well, each one would carry his own load.”
“I also heard it that way, but he is our kinsman. Until he dies or goes to the white man, he remains one. He is our kinsman, my brother. A man does not suddenly reject his brother because he has njenwanyi. So let’s see what we can do to help him.”
“I know.”
Ukadi dropped his keg and tapping knife, turned his back and Emenike helped him to roll Okoro to his back.
Two days later, Okoro died. It was not the mbammuo Umudi people used to know. This one took his life in an instant and it was unusual. A full-fledged man of Okoro’s form dying helplessly and shamefully was a question in many mouths. Emenike encouraged himself that the new-formed religion of the white man in other clans would not survive in Umudi.
Okoro was thrown into the forest. He was an only son and his direct uncles had no reason to waste their resources burying him. He died for choosing a bad cause. His newly married wife, Adamma, left her aged mother-in-law and went back to her people.
With these two memorable events, Emenike relayed his steady gaze at the voice of the gods to Ogidi, his bosom friend. He sensed danger for he would always say, “The day has come in the moonlight.”
That afternoon, after taking Okoro to his house, he left and set for Ogidi’s compound.
Ogidi, who was seated in his obi, had quarrelled with his elder sister who never married because of the curse his father placed on her. She was very difficult and hard to please. She was his sister and lived in the house of her father and should not be asked to go anywhere. Like a fly in the groin, he should be handled with caution or else both the fly and groin suffer. She fought at will and took cover that she had the right to fight anyone, anytime; an ada.
That afternoon she had beaten the wife of her brother, saying that she had abused her publicly. But the young woman never did, for Odinga was a trouble fetcher. The woman was shedding tears, a reason to believe that she was innocent of her sister-in-law’s accusation. Ogidi never fought for his family, especially when there was a problem with his elder sister and his wife. He allowed them to settle their problem. But the treatment she gave the young woman that afternoon had passed the level of bearing so, he confronted his sister. They exchanged words that were bitter, that even the neighbours heard their voices.
“You should watch your tongue in this house or I report you to the daughters of the family. I was already a young girl when you were conceived. I am not your mate. You should be careful with your wives or I will set this house on fire.”
“Whose house? If you need a house to set ablaze or want to watch a house go in blazes, build your own or find…”
He could not say that. That could make his sister mad or come for a fight. She was ready for trouble at any time.
“Ogidi Osuofia, is it well with you today?” Emenike asked with a soft smile and looked up again his way.
He was walking in, in full manly walk and dignity.
“The Akataka of Umudi, what brought you to my little kingdom today?” he asked with a forced smile in return. “You have proved you are a lion. You never care to come out when other big heads are on the road. There could be a fight and you know when two cow fights, the grasses closer would see their end,” he replied.
“Oh yes, but I am not lazy. For a lion never goes out to find food, but his food is provided to him by his wife,” he replied.
Both sat facing each other and smiled heartily after a handshake.
“Do you forget that any man fed by a woman is as good as dead?”
“You are right, my brother. Let it never be thought of.”
They were exchanging proverbs that Emenike was known for and smiling in return. He hardly spoke a word without proverbs. These proverbs were naturally rooted in the power from his great grand ancestor that it registered in the mind of the younger generation as they grew. Emenike was so talented in proverbs that he whistled with it when he was young. The reason was simple. He listened to every detail from the elders.