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| Don't Rock the Cradle - Episode XVIII (Josh Ziregbe) |
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#LastTime
Mama Nnena looks up from the vegetables she's slicing. she sees three of the children and the wife to be, holding hands, skipping round in circles, their heads tilted at the midday sky. Suddenly they break off and fall to the ground, one boy is at the corner, lost in thought. The other four get up again, scooping nothing from the ground and blowing nothing at each other.
Mama Nnenna: Children of nowadays, very lazy, all they want to do is play.
She does not see any petals.
Mama Nnenna: Children of nowadays, very lazy, all they want to do is play.
She does not see any petals.
#Now
Omalicha and Olomma hit it off, just as Omalicha had hit it off with Ijeoma. The girls talk for the rest of the day and then well into the night. Omalicha sleeps in the same chambers as the sisters, tactfully neglecting her own and whatever nightmares may be awaiting her.
Dotun got bored playing with the girls not too long after the flowers, so he went after Uzo who had gone looking for Ozo’s sons. The boys spent the afternoon shooting at game, not to kill, but for the bragging rights of marksmanship. Uzo was quite good, hitting difficult targets like between the legs of a perching bird and between the antennae of ogongolo (praying mantis). Ozo's second son, Chinedu, was even better, getting between the bird's toes and between ogongolo's praying hands. In the heat of the moment, Chizitaram, Ozo’s youngest son, and the first to be taken out by Sopulu earlier, took a poor shot that hit a bird squarely on the head. It fell from the branch with a spray of feathers and hit the ground with a soft thud. He watched with eyes wide open as the poor thing fell, he really does hate killing animals and that's why he prefers to be a farmer, not a hunter. Last time, he killed Ijeoma’s little bird while he was trying to feed it. He forgot to wet or at least mash the piece of leftover yam that he stuffed down the baby bird's throat like it's mother would have done. The bird chocked to death and he still has scars from Ijeoma's attacks... no one knew she could be that vicious, they say even Ozo ran away. He was also responsible for the death of Olomma’s cat... a long story, but ironically, he got away Scot-free when everyone was sure he was going to die, even Ozo gaev him his final blessings.
It was a riot, the other boys laughed and rolled around on the ground, boys will be boys. The sun was setting, the moon rising, and Chibundu started with his stories. He thinks Chizitaram and his older brother, Chinedu, are too emotional, "Men must be strong..." their father always says and although he is physically the weakest of his brothers, Chibundu sees himself as the strongest. What he lacks in physical prowess, he more than makes up for with mental fortitude. Chibundu's stories all sounded believable, not overly exaggerated or fantastically flawless, and that is probably what made them even scarier. "Koin, koin, koin...", he described the footsteps of an evil she-spirit that comes ime abali, at midnight, looking for her victims and dragging them mercilessly back to her lair . "No one has ever survived..." he said, looking from the corner of his eyes, over his shoulder, into the looming darkness.
Chibundu: Do you know that one time, a tortoise fell from the sky??
He began again, but this time with bright bulging eyes, attempting to convey the unimaginable disbelief to his audience; his story of the tortoise that tricked birds to give it feathers from their wings, and how greed led to the tortoise's epic fall. The story was full of jokes and intricate dialogue, Dotun was sure that Chibundu had added bits and pieces to the original tale because his own father had told him a similar story before he left home, but Chibundu's version is definitely better. The day slowly crept to an end as more and more stories were spun, they all knew he was making them up as he went, but he is quite the storyteller.
The next morning is a blur. Arrangements had been made for decorations and the guests' accommodation. There was to be a feast after the union, and no expense was to be spared. Young men moved swiftly and the women were not idle. Gourd after gourd after gourd of drinks were hauled in, there could be a shortage of anything, but there would definitely be no one in need of palm wine at Ozo’s daughters wedding. Omalicha watches as Olomma is pampered and dressed, her nails polished, her skin oiled, her face lined with tiro and slowly the wrapper put on her by the older women. The fabric is the finest that Omalicha has ever seen, a gift from the father of the groom. Lastly, beads are placed on Olomma's head and her neck, they are so many that she complains, the weight threatening to cripple her, but this is the custom. Perhaps, it is to slow the bride down, prevent her from running away, if she thinks to try. Omalicha is given a large hand fan to help keep Olomma cool while the other ladies add the finishing touches to her hair, and of course, more beads are added here.
Dotun got bored playing with the girls not too long after the flowers, so he went after Uzo who had gone looking for Ozo’s sons. The boys spent the afternoon shooting at game, not to kill, but for the bragging rights of marksmanship. Uzo was quite good, hitting difficult targets like between the legs of a perching bird and between the antennae of ogongolo (praying mantis). Ozo's second son, Chinedu, was even better, getting between the bird's toes and between ogongolo's praying hands. In the heat of the moment, Chizitaram, Ozo’s youngest son, and the first to be taken out by Sopulu earlier, took a poor shot that hit a bird squarely on the head. It fell from the branch with a spray of feathers and hit the ground with a soft thud. He watched with eyes wide open as the poor thing fell, he really does hate killing animals and that's why he prefers to be a farmer, not a hunter. Last time, he killed Ijeoma’s little bird while he was trying to feed it. He forgot to wet or at least mash the piece of leftover yam that he stuffed down the baby bird's throat like it's mother would have done. The bird chocked to death and he still has scars from Ijeoma's attacks... no one knew she could be that vicious, they say even Ozo ran away. He was also responsible for the death of Olomma’s cat... a long story, but ironically, he got away Scot-free when everyone was sure he was going to die, even Ozo gaev him his final blessings.
It was a riot, the other boys laughed and rolled around on the ground, boys will be boys. The sun was setting, the moon rising, and Chibundu started with his stories. He thinks Chizitaram and his older brother, Chinedu, are too emotional, "Men must be strong..." their father always says and although he is physically the weakest of his brothers, Chibundu sees himself as the strongest. What he lacks in physical prowess, he more than makes up for with mental fortitude. Chibundu's stories all sounded believable, not overly exaggerated or fantastically flawless, and that is probably what made them even scarier. "Koin, koin, koin...", he described the footsteps of an evil she-spirit that comes ime abali, at midnight, looking for her victims and dragging them mercilessly back to her lair . "No one has ever survived..." he said, looking from the corner of his eyes, over his shoulder, into the looming darkness.
Chibundu: Do you know that one time, a tortoise fell from the sky??
He began again, but this time with bright bulging eyes, attempting to convey the unimaginable disbelief to his audience; his story of the tortoise that tricked birds to give it feathers from their wings, and how greed led to the tortoise's epic fall. The story was full of jokes and intricate dialogue, Dotun was sure that Chibundu had added bits and pieces to the original tale because his own father had told him a similar story before he left home, but Chibundu's version is definitely better. The day slowly crept to an end as more and more stories were spun, they all knew he was making them up as he went, but he is quite the storyteller.
The next morning is a blur. Arrangements had been made for decorations and the guests' accommodation. There was to be a feast after the union, and no expense was to be spared. Young men moved swiftly and the women were not idle. Gourd after gourd after gourd of drinks were hauled in, there could be a shortage of anything, but there would definitely be no one in need of palm wine at Ozo’s daughters wedding. Omalicha watches as Olomma is pampered and dressed, her nails polished, her skin oiled, her face lined with tiro and slowly the wrapper put on her by the older women. The fabric is the finest that Omalicha has ever seen, a gift from the father of the groom. Lastly, beads are placed on Olomma's head and her neck, they are so many that she complains, the weight threatening to cripple her, but this is the custom. Perhaps, it is to slow the bride down, prevent her from running away, if she thinks to try. Omalicha is given a large hand fan to help keep Olomma cool while the other ladies add the finishing touches to her hair, and of course, more beads are added here.
Guests have begun to arrive and the different bands present are out performing themselves, this is a harmonious battle for supremacy! The sounds of the instruments: ekwe (slit-drum), ichaka (rattle), igba (drum), oja (flute), ubo (thumb paino) and all the others are melding melodiously and carrying through the air, hypnotically causing even the just arriving guests to disobey comportment and dance. In no time, the grooms family appear. Men pull goats, carry calabashes, more palm-wine, there are beads, fabric and the list of gifts go on. Ozo and his kinsmen take their seats and the ceremony begins. A spokesman emerges from the brides family introducing the men, starting with the eldest, of course. The floor is then opened to the grooms' family, who produce their own speaker. He introduces his family, in more detail, narrating their exploits and triumphs, then he proceeds to a play with words, hinting at the already obvious reason they are here. More palm-wine is passed around and after beating around the bush, they declare, “We have come to pluck a beautiful flower that we have seen in your garden.” Olomma is sent for.
Her mother has come to get her. Both ladies would walk to Ozo who would hand his daughter a cup of palm-wine and ask her to find her husband. She would hold the cup with one hand and cover the top with another. The groomsmen would try to deceive her that they each are Azubike, calling to her, "My wife, my wife, it is me o" but she would ignore them, smiling till she reaches her husband where she would kneel and present him with the cup after taking a sip. He would take the cup and finish what his wife has presented him to drink. No!! Olomma remembered, before all that, the flowers would fall. She turns and winks at Dotun as she leaves her hut and Dotun takes the cue, he assumes the same stance that he did yesterday.
Creating the illusion seems to be more tasking this time, so he adds more force, his dim red aura increasing in intensity to a richer red, still not enough, now a bright red. Strange, the petals covered a vast area yesterday, just about the same radius he needs to cover today, why is it more difficult? He revs things up and his aura is a dim orange, a richer orange, now a bight orange and the first petal falls, finally. He wobbles down to one knee, exhausted. Olomma was too happy to notice Dotun fall, but Omalicha ran out to help him back up. Dotun is panting and then...
Creating the illusion seems to be more tasking this time, so he adds more force, his dim red aura increasing in intensity to a richer red, still not enough, now a bright red. Strange, the petals covered a vast area yesterday, just about the same radius he needs to cover today, why is it more difficult? He revs things up and his aura is a dim orange, a richer orange, now a bight orange and the first petal falls, finally. He wobbles down to one knee, exhausted. Olomma was too happy to notice Dotun fall, but Omalicha ran out to help him back up. Dotun is panting and then...
#grrrgrrgrgrgrrrrr
Dotun: soooo huuungryyy!
He jet's out of Omalicha's helping hand and follows the smell of food, out of sight. Omalicha shakes her head and returns her more deserved attention to the ceremony. The guests and the host alike are surprised by this remarkable weather. It is undeniably like a dream and just as Olomma collects the palm wine from her father in this picture perfect wedding, the first drop hits Ozo between his brows. He frowns briefly, but remembering that his daughter is right before him, returns to a smile. There is no cloud in sight but a heavy downpour is about to begin. "The stupid wiccan boy has messed up this simple task", she thinks to herself but Olomma doesn't truly understand the ways of a wiccan, otherwise she would know that Dotun did not actually create any flowers and definitely has nothing to do with the impending rain. It was easier yesterday for him because there were only four targets but today the number is far more and there are a few powerful men who are probably aware of his tomfoolery but have allowed it. The falling flowers look even more beautiful today, maybe it's the impending rain mixed with the sunlight.
Olomma, like her mother knew, is determined and will not let even a thunderstorm ruin her wedding, she makes straight for her husband to be. The wind begins to howl and people start to move for cover. Ozo stays put. There is still no rain cloud in sight but now, there is thunder. "I will get to my husband, stupid rain. "The wet petals are falling faster and some have clung to Olomma’s well oiled skin. She smiles as she kneels before Azubuike and hands him the cup, he betrays a muted laugh as if to say, "I am getting married to one heck of a woman, she's not even bothered by this rain." He empty's the cup in two gulps and takes his wife's hand, bidding her to stand. He couldn't help but feel that they were meant to be, like they had fallen in love in a past life but were tragically separated and so have come back to tease fate. The crowd cheers, and Ozo smiles.
Azubike sees his wife looking even more beautiful as the rain washes off her tiro. He wants to kiss her but that is not part of the custom. Olomma is already leaning close, she is cold but the thought of stealing a quick kiss warms her up and with this new look in Azubike's eyes, that thought is here to stay. The wind is still in a frenzy, blowing things any- and everywhere, even up to the sky; now there is a large plantain leaf right above the wedding grounds. Omalicha looks up and giggles, it's quite funny to see a plantain leaf flying about and then, it begins...
Azubike sees his wife looking even more beautiful as the rain washes off her tiro. He wants to kiss her but that is not part of the custom. Olomma is already leaning close, she is cold but the thought of stealing a quick kiss warms her up and with this new look in Azubike's eyes, that thought is here to stay. The wind is still in a frenzy, blowing things any- and everywhere, even up to the sky; now there is a large plantain leaf right above the wedding grounds. Omalicha looks up and giggles, it's quite funny to see a plantain leaf flying about and then, it begins...
#BoOOOOOOOM!!!
The loudest clap of thunder yet, explodes!
#Tsssrssrssrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!
The mid-rib of the plantain leaf Omalicha is looking at tears along its length! Lightning flashes! Something forces itself from the tear in the leaf and shoots straight down to the ground! It lands with a bang and another eerie clap of thunder echoes!
Ozo and his guests feel the tremors as it lands! Omalicha's jaw drops. There is a man, standing, in the center of the ceremony, between the bride's and groom's families. He points a hateful finger at Ozo.
#BoOOOOOOOM!!!
Ozo and his guests feel the tremors as it lands! Omalicha's jaw drops. There is a man, standing, in the center of the ceremony, between the bride's and groom's families. He points a hateful finger at Ozo.
Man: Taa'a ka i ga akwu ugwo maka'ihe ojoo niile imegoo! (Today is the day you pay for your wickedness!)
He turns and zooms towards Olomma and her groom, a dagger in hand, intent in his eyes, the intention is to kill.
He turns and zooms towards Olomma and her groom, a dagger in hand, intent in his eyes, the intention is to kill.
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