CHAPTER TWELVE
The Proud Udodi
One morning, I was coming home from the stream with a head load of my water pot when I heard several voices coming down from the hill. I identified the voice of Udodi who had envied me the day Mother bought me khaki. From that day, I never stopped reminding myself of him. He could do some harm.
‘Oh! Look at him. A very proud thing,’ one of the boys said as I came into view.
‘Just because his mother bought him a khaki shorts. Even the khaki short is an old one worn by one leper from Okoto,’ said the other.
They all burst into laughter.
Okoto was the place where the old British government established a leprosy center for the care of leprosy patients. For one to have referred to your belonging as coming from there was a big insult that those around could laugh their head out for. I kept quiet and did not say anything. One of them held me by my short and the rope I used in tying it broke.
‘Leave me Udodi!’ I shouted.
‘I hope you are not finding my trouble? ‘I asked again.
They all laughed loudly.
‘Anyways, I don’t know what he is even hiding, a very small thing,‘ another boy said.
I was conscious of my pot. I held it firmly and let out tears over the humiliation. Once a person puts on abanto which was Igbo name for the khaki short, he hides his manhood from public view, even from friends. My khaki short had fallen off down to my foot and I was naked. If I broke the pot even with an excuse, poor Mother would send me to my early grave as it was the only pot we had then. That very moment, my manhood was less important. Udodi held me by my left hand, tempting me with more words.
‘You are only a proud little thing. Do you know you are powerless now?’ He said.
‘You are finding my trouble. You know in this village everyone knows you are a spoilt brat. Just leave my hand.’
‘Me, a spoilt brat?’
He slapped me in the mouth and hit me a little in my manhood. Blood was already in my mouth and my manhood gathered strength. It had been torched by a different hand which was not supposed to and so it pulled out from its resting place. I cried like a child because I was trying to hold firmly the pot and save myself from Mother’s beating. They left me laughing loudly and walked down the stream path. I carried my pot down and dressed myself back to normal. I had been humiliated and did not think I was going to do anything about it. Udodi was not a good boy and almost everyone feared him for his recklessness. So, I concluded he was too old for me to fight him back. I carried the shame home; shame which would have been eternal had it been made public, especially outside our age mates.
I approached home with anticipation that I would finally be relieved of the load I carried. Mother was sweeping the compound and immediately made to the door when she saw me. She shouted my name twice at the sight of my bruised face. I nearly threw down my pot.
‘Drop down your water pot now and go out there and fight them back. You are growing up a young weakling in this house. If they kill you I will bury you. None of them I know is older than you.’
I was shocked. Mother had not seen them and how many they were. I stared at her. I did make a move, not knowing where to go. I blamed myself for coming home with those tears. If I had pretended that nothing happened, it would have been better.
‘If you cannot go out there to fight for yourself, I will teach you a lesson you will not forget your whole life.’
She dropped the broom in her hand, went to the main door and blocked me from gaining entrance into the house. She made for her room and came out with a stick which she was hiding behind her back.
I dropped my pot and walked slowly out of the compound and looking back at every step to know if I would be called back. But she was in an air of bitterness, shouting and raising her hands at me. I was totally burdened with grief, disappointed that Mother was sending me to fight. A thing she had never done before. I stopped, looked back at her and cried:
‘Please.’
‘Shut up,‘ she shouted. ’Please for what? Your mates beat and humiliate you and you are here saying please. You will be saying please until they come here and claim our house and lands.’
‘Mother please,’ I cried again.
‘Do not step into this house until you fight those boys or whosoever had beaten you. It would make them fear you.’