It is fascinating with an absorbing narrative on the intrigues of African Political leaders. Discover what happens when the gods, warriors, mighty and mere mortals engage in warfare. A hilarious fiction on African traditional politics...
Grab your copy now, call: 2349021231569, 2348033450901 or e-mail: thenigerianpost2001@yahoo.com
The sky was gloomy with clouds
hovering over the air. There was a grave silence as the night grew cold and
colder beneath and darkness covered the face of the earth. Only sounds of
hollow drums and harsh trumpets from spirits making a guffaw to the graveyard
could be heard. It was like the ancestors were meeting in the village square as
the entire kingdom went into absolute tranquility. Ancestors seldom meet, but when they meet, no
human being would be seen outside eavesdropping to their deliberations. People
would be rescinded to their various houses. Only those with dual citizenship of
the spirit and mortal could go out to perform their extra-mundane communication.
It was axiomatic that
ancestors meetings bestow good climate as the moon usually peep through the sky
to watch the mother earth hosting the ancestors. And that “Usumani”
river usually overflows its banks to greet the ancestors. Those ancient
diviners derive inspiration from the meeting of the ancestors.
The horrendous weather was
observed with mixed grill as the grave stillness persisted for a while and the
priest of “Kalu nde ebe” had started
consulting the oracle to conjure the gods.
“Kookorokoo” the rooster cried
to pronounce the crack of dawn. But the weather looked like the night was only
half spent.
After the second cockcrow, the
atmosphere changed from serenity to chaotic situation. The village began to
crack in aggressive and stubborn wind with successive sound of roaring thunder
tearing the sky. It came hurrying with heavy wind and rainfall. Great water
drops were dribbling and droning with insistent devotion upon roofs. There were
lightening and thunderstorm. And people were cornered by the fear gnawing at
their heart. The rain bellowed and beat her chest angrily as the accomplished
wind rummaged about the villages and provoked the big “Achi” tree at the village square to produce aggressive and
stubborn flung.
It was an Nkwor day, when
everybody in the village was expected to be in the market with their wares.
Only children were usually seen in compounds on Nkwor days. They would
be doing the house chores like scrubbing the floors and painting the walls with
new leafs after fetching water from the stream. People were forbidden from
going to the farm on Nkwo days Everybody
always look forward to see the Nkwor day as it goes with merry making.
But this Nkwor day was
different, it was full of sorrow. The harsh weather came with early rainstorm
that destroyed properties in the village and dismayed the people. While the
people were still howling over the calamitous confrontation, the town crier
went round the village to announce the meeting of kingmakers. He announced that
any member of the palace that was found absent in meeting would be adequately
penalized.
The town crier was seen as the
medium between the village and the palace. The respect bestowed on him makes
his announcements indubitable. There was an air of sacrosanct around the town
crier as went round the village beating the gong and proclaiming his message.
It was already in the
mid-morning, palm wine tapers had returned from their vineyards. And members of
the king makers were gathering with great anxiety. They were grieved by inkling of the matter
for deliberation in the meeting. Some of them construed the weather condition
as a bad omen as calamity and doom were written all over their faces.
Grab your copy now, call:
2349021231569, 2348033450901 or e-mail: thenigerianpost2001@yahoo.com
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