By Chukwu John David
I had never witnessed a war since I was born, but I was about to have a taste of it – a grave one. I had only heard stories of wars going on in faraway clans and how people were killed like fowls. I feared war desperately and wished not to experience it before my ancestors called me to rest in the underworld. But war stories were exactly what my father liked telling me about whenever we would sit to converse on diverse matters. He liked telling me stories about war with passion.
One cool night, while I stayed with my father under an orange tree in our compound, he told me a story about the first war he had lived through while he was still a very young lad.
“It was a terrible encounter for me,” he said.
I watched his wrinkled face and felt a sudden interest to hear more of the story from him, and so I asked:
“What was the experience like, Papa?”
“I nearly lost my life. My mother and two sisters died in the war, and my father hid me in a village faraway from Arochukwu where I was bitten by a snake in the cliffs of a small valley on the way,” he showed me his scar.
Just then I became aware of what it was that gave my father a permanent wound. I wondered if it were the gods that decided to distinguish him with a scarification. I tried to find out from him why he refused to show off his arm because of such a mark, but he kept turning me down.
“Tell me more about the war, Papa,” I urged.
“The war claimed hundreds of lives in Arochukwu clan. It came to life when the people of Nsukka tried to evict us to an unknown clan. The people of Arochukwu refused to abandon what was theirs and then the Nsukka warriors invaded Arochukwu in no time, killing many children and leaving more than thirty-five families homeless. That was on the night of Oye market day. Soon thereafter, the elders of Arochukwu had a meeting and concluded to fight for the course they believed in – to fight back against the clan of Nsukka and to revenge the innocent children who lost their lives prematurely.
Arochukwu built a strong bloc and formed troops of warriors that fought for the land. The war lasted for a very long time, claiming many lives and homes. But in the end we defeated the Nsukka and captured many of their warriors and chiefs, using them now as efulefu. That war then served to remind me of the war my own father told me about, one that the Arochukwu clan had fought against the Ibibio people before the founding of Arochukwu. He used to say that war strengthened a clan, and Arochukwu has never lost in wars since,” my father said and smiled.
That morning, I woke up to shocking news from the village. Warriors from the Nri clan had come to Arochukwu last night and kidnapped five of our daughters. Maazi Ibekwe’s daughter was among them. Adaaku, Maazi Mbaonu’s daughter, was also abducted.
Maazi Mbaonu’s in-laws would come sooner than later to pay his daughter’s dowry. He was preparing adequately for that day until his daughter was captured. He was in despair. He wanted his daughter back.
I questioned the sky but it remained quiet. I needed to know why the clan of Nri had decided to wake a tiger from its sleep. I went to the shrine and performed incantations. I could then clearly hear the gods speak to me:
“They will engage in a violent war that will last for long. The Nri people need female slaves who would produce children for their men, and soon, they would return to capture young boys who will work in their farms as slaves also. They are well prepared for this war and they shall win against Arochukwu if Nnachi is not consulted fast,” the voice revealed and went silent again.
My father who knew how to handle the issues of war had not returned from his pilgrimage yet. Fear gripped me first. But then I remembered how my father used to tell me never to get afraid of war for the reason that the bravery of a lion was not only found in its heart but also in its appearance. He told me that I was a lion and lions were never afraid of any danger, rather they faced and destroyed dangers.
I was still standing in front of the shrine, surveying the sky when two chiefs rushed into my dwelling with serious faces as if they wanted to shed torrential tears. They were Chief Edeh and Chief Uzondu – my father’s best friends. I knew they had come to talk to me about the daughters of Arochukwu who were captured the previous night.
“Ikemefuna,” Chief Uzondu called. “Are you not aware that people from the Nri captured our daughters last night?” He asked.
“I heard about that,” I said.
“You heard about that?” Chief Edeh cut in. “Then what do we do to bring them back at once?” He asked.
“An immediate gathering shall be called for between elders of the land. We shall gather and talk it out this morning,” I replied.
“How do we go about summoning the elders one by one?” Chief Uzondu wondered.
“Chief Edeh shall arrange seven fast runners who would pass the message. We shall meet before the sun rises. I want a group of three maidens to tidy up the ilo before the arrival of the elders. Perhaps Chief Uzondu can arrange for the maidens,” I concluded and the chiefs left immediately.
Just before the sun had set up the elders had already reached the village ilo. When I arrived, murmurs welcomed me. I saw how the elders turned to one another, whispering something I could not hear clearly. Anger was written on their faces, and they looked uneasy. I could clearly see that.
I struck my metal cane to the earth and grabbed their attention. I was wearing a goat skin sokoto that enabled me some modesty, while my upper body remained naked. The hat that rested on my head was made of leopard skin and threaded with cowries. Uremma had used the newly produced uli to adorn my face and my arms. She drew flutes on my chest, and I put powdered nzu around my left eye.
My far less than desirable state of mind was in no need for words. My face and my entire demeanor must have mirrored it with accuracy. The whistling of angry birds from all corners of the earth cast a shadow everywhere. Arochukwu was angry. After sacrificing Obinna’s twins, I had expected for preparations to begin on our farmlands to greet the planting season. But apparently, an itch had irritated the flesh of a king, and the king needed to have his revenge on such sensation.
I sat among the elders on a bamboo bench. My eyes paused their survey of the surroundings in the hope to find something to sacrifice to the great god Ekwensu. The elders observed my demeanor and saw that I turned irate about the attack of the Nri clan. They must have read the call for bloodshed on my face. As for my eyes, they could not have hidden what I was visualizing: war.
“I greet you all, elders of Arochukwu,” I said and waited until the murmurs sweeping through them quieted down.
The elders wore different garbs. Ogbuefi Okeke came with his arm chair. It was presented to him on the day he received an honor in the village. A weaved hand fan graced the back of his body, and even his chest hair condemned the deed of the Nri clan.
“A child who attempts to steal meat from his mother’s burning pot of soup should be ready to face the danger of being hurt. And if care is not taken, the child may fall into the pot of soup and he too will be cooked as meat for others to feast on,” I said. I knew the elders understood what I was trying to say. I continued:
“The people of Nri have come to start a race that they will lose. How could they even think of such evil? How could they capture our daughters just to make war with us? Five young daughters of Arochukwu have been abducted, and we must bring them back as soon as possible,” I said and the elders joined me in louder voices.
“How do we start our action? How do we go about bringing our daughters home? I need my daughter home before her marriage ceremony, which comes up soon,” Maazi Mbaonu said.
“Arochukwu is known for having a capable troop of warriors. Our warriors have been hired several times to fight wars in faraway and nearby clans. Therefore, we shall send for Nnachi, the leader of the Arochukwu troop of warriors. He must use his warriors to bring back our daughters, and that will happen sooner than later,” I said and the elders were in agreement.
“Ikemefuna, when do we send for Nnachi? I hope you know that he does not live in the village with his troop of warriors. He lives far from here, near the boundaries between Arochukwu and Arondizuogu. It is almost a three days’ journey. Biko, please when are we sending our delegates to him?” Maazi Ike asked.
“Okwu will be sent tonight to announce to the hearing of every young man in this village to gather here tomorrow morning. We will select few young men whom Maazi Ofiafuluagu would take to summon Nnachi from the valley. We will go home now and wait for tomorrow,” I concluded and everyone departed.
All hearts in Arochukwu were aching and bitter. No one wore a smile until the daughters were brought home after the war. It was a war that lasted many moons, causing drought, hunger, and taking many lives.
That night, nobody slept in Arochukwu. Everyone kept awake, waiting to raid any unexpected danger from the Nri clan. Before I entered the obi to have some rest, I heard Okwu’s ekwe booming and passing news to the young men in the Arochukwu clan, and fireflies flew about, doing inyanga with their tiny green lights. For just a moment, a heavy darkness fell upon the world and blinded the earth. I went inside and waited until the next day had totally broken.
About the author
Chukwu John David is a young creative author with roots in Africa. He was born and raised in Abakaliki, a town in Southeastern part of Nigeria, West Africa where he avers his origin. David believes that everyone has a great future, and as such he works his way to leading the African literature to the extreme.
The people of Nri have come to start a race that they will lose. How could they even think of such evil? How could they capture our daughters just to make war with us? Five young daughters of Arochukwu have been abducted, and we must bring them back as soon as possible
