They sang, eulogizing my father as a hero. But I could hardly remember him to be one.
By evening, when they had eaten all we prepared, the aged men rose from their seats, each of them taking glances at us and Mother. Soon, other young mothers fastened their babies to their backs and went home in the company of the old women to answer their chores. Now, the reality of the saying that the owner of the corpse carries it on the head came clear to me. It was our time to face the reality of my father’s demise.
With the eight-day funeral period over, lonely nights soon followed. The same arrival and departure of friends, relatives and close neighbors continued. It was a pleasant time for us all, especially for my two younger brother Uzor and Obi. They wished it could continue, just as I had wished it. They had been well fed, cared for and pampered by visiting friends and relatives. Gradually, these ones departed to their homes and our house was lonely again. The last day was tiring for us. Few close friends and relatives proved helpful to grandfather and Mother. They answered their calls whenever they were needed to attend to people who had come to pay their condolences. I had little to do.
When everyone had departed, including my grandfather, I was the only ‘thing‘ around to give Mother some happiness. Young Mma did not disturb and Mother was happy for that. All through the mourning period, she huddled near a fire, providing the wood needed, and later cleared the ashes that had accumulated.
Mother was always there since the death of father. She trusted my little effort and answered me whenever I called her. Sometimes, when she wanted to cry, she would look at me, shaking her head as she did so. I could go close to her, patting her and she would be comforted.
At nights, I would come out to look around my environment. Those years I knew no fear. I was only a young boy of ten or more who had to carry the burden that was suddenly entrusted upon him by fate.
I remember everything clearly: there were days that, while Mother was sleeping, I would be awake thinking of how and when it would all end.
CHAPTER FOUR
Flies by Night
Some exits herald new beginnings. Sometimes, the knowledge of some beginnings still brings discomfort. This was the position which we found ourselves with Mma. Even when Father was sick, we had a foreboding that Mma’s birth would mark the beginning of years of agony for Mother. Combining duties of widowhood and caring for not only us but also an infant child was a difficult task for her and I tried to help out with what I could. I was always thinking that Mother was too young to give us the care we needed.
One evening, she sat in her mourning room, staring at the wall. Ukeje, one of the men my father had to contend with to claiming Mother’s hand, paid us a sudden visit, bringing with him a rabbit his trap fetched that morning. He went straight to the room after inquiring from me how he could locate Mother. The visit was unusual; I used to see Ukeje visiting my dead father. My room was the closest to Mother’s, and it was from there that I overheard some of the conversation that went on between them. Gasping over and over, he told my Mother in a stifled voice.
“The mourning period will soon be over. We shall determine what to do then. You know I was to marry you, until your late husband snatched you away from me. That was the beginning of our quarrel” he said, breaking the long established silence between them.
Mother stood up and looked at Ukeje in the eyes.
“Ukeje, please, there is nothing to determine after what you said, and if that is the reason why you have come here with this dead rabbit, you can please go back with it. You are married and I think you have forgotten that after all. Besides, I am still mourning Obidike and his children are still too young to be left for another man.” Mother told him.
Ukeje was torn into two. That, of course, was not the right thing he could have done. But he was only trying to intimate my Mother if there was anyone who had intended to do so. As it was generally known, widows got into many pressures and temptations during the first year of their husband’s death. Either being two bodies, which was a more mature way of saying that a woman is pregnant in Igbo culture, or secretly engaging another man, that soon after the one year mourning, she would be made to marry the man of her choice.