Agumba rose and went out on his instruction. His word was forceful, too forceful to question on anything. For the first time in many years, Emenike had a feeling that was akin to happiness.
The moon for that night shone clearly, so clear that everything could clearly be seen with details. That was good advice from a father to his son. From that moment, the life of the two revolved around waiting and trying.
Next was Ikoro beating. Immediately everything in the earth took a different shape and ran with the wild ever known. The moon was hidden behind the cloud and the night grew dark and darker to literal eyes. The night was like pitch, a night without stars in the heavens. Darkness had eaten the moon and enveloped the world. Then an unusual breeze followed the beating. The beating sounded in a mournful tune, the first ever since the death of Ula the first wife of Dimokwu, the surviving grandson of Dika, the direct ancestor of Umudi. The woman who outlived four generations of hers, who practiced heathen to the core and died one. She was believed to be the oldest woman in all ancient kingdoms. It was then a general belief that longevity had made the people of the clan to struggle over who married any daughter born to that family.
The beating was continuous. It sounded in a mournful tune as it lasted and never stopped. It sounded again and again from one end of the clan to the other till the early morning of the next day.
The beating was consistent and unending and many elderly men in their dark rooms feared a great deal. They knew they would lose another great man. It was an ikoro night; its gong never beat for nothing. It carried the most worrisome and mournful sound. For that night, it made it darker and fearsome. It did not boom without a sad result.
Ikoro. It was a huge carved wood with human form seconded to Ikenga in most clans in most ancient kingdoms. It was said that in the land of the ancestors, Ikenga was older than Ikoro because Ikenga was one’s direct living chi in his image which stood to represent him even when he had died. It was the personal chi of great men. For years, it slept inside a room in the hall of gathering without booming, standing lifeless. Then in the event of war and introduction of important meetings, or death of an important person and when the gods were hungry for young human blood, the most prominent elders with the highest titles dusted them. It was a gong highly feared and the beater was not someone to stop until bad news was heard.
Emenike was not a man without the knowledge of these things. He listened keenly and carefully, as the beating was deft. It was an order for his death. The booming was purely an order for a selected few and for special reasons, a call to order and consciousness. Great men were in fear. No more delay in coming to say the minds of the gods. No stopover, no whispers. The world was all ears, too wide open for one to talk; only the children and women were sleeping. They knew nothing about this. The gods were ready to vent their anger over a son who could not keep rules. It could be punishment, it could be discipline, and they knew which one.
Gom, Gom Gom Gom Gom Gom
Gom Gom Gom Gom Gom Gom Gom Gom Gom………….
It boomed consistently and died off.
The singing birds had gone silent and hid under the cover of leaves, sleeping silently. The air was silent too, with no movement even of leaves. That night, the drum of Umudi spoke to the nine villages in a great tone. For a relatively long time, there had never been a beating like that heard. Theirs was a land where almost everything was said with the beating of the drums, but this one was different. It did not beat out of season or reason. It beat with important things, messages and persons. It was beating for an important person, for his life or for his death. Emenike was important. The peals came so low and time -paced that no one could easily see any meaning anymore. It was only what they thought. It did not really convey emergency as it used to, but mourning, sadness, grief, danger, loss and confusion.
It was soon the early morning. The whole clan seemed to be quiet. The evil birds were calling; the cocks from distant clans were calling and those from Umudi were responding. He listened to them all with keenness and most carefulness as the beating was deft in the airless morning. That would really be his end. Great men, it was said, were conceived in the most secretive night and died in the earliest part of day.