When Gods Bleed (4 page)

On more than one occasion, Nneka told Obi about his real mother, but he would always say that she was his only mother. She died immediately after she came out of seclusion at the end of the funeral. Nobody could detect what she died of, but everyone knew she went in search of her husband's soul. Nneka’s funeral was not crowded because she was a woman of lower respect. Top delegates from her province of Utagba were present. The people who came were of a younger age than she was because it was forbidden to go to the funeral of someone younger.

The people from his mother's province were known for their loyalty to anyone who was still accepted by them. The men from Utagba gave Obi a chain made out of the teeth of lions, letting him know that he had a home at Utagba at anytime. The whole funeral was organized by Obi; he was the only son in the house and the first daughter did the cooking for everyone in the funeral, as was custom.

His two sisters were both married and he cared deeply for them
. He was positive when they left he would drown in an intense form of loneliness. Obi wished the funeral would last forever so he could feel the presence of his parents within him. When the ceremony was over and everyone had gone, his sisters stayed with him for a while.

After they had gone back to their former lives, Obi started work
ing on the family land. Day after day, he tilled the soil. In the evenings, he sold the antidotes for different kinds of poisons. He never left his land for anything pleasurable. Traders came to his farm because his harvest grew in a very healthy fashion. Alone at night Obi wondered about who his father was planning to arrange for him to marry; all he knew was that she was the daughter of another Ikaza named Ikpong.

On one of those
provocative sunny days a man came to his home with a haughty aura. His horses were a fine breed and he was escorted by more servants than was required. The man definitely dwelt in the realm of luxury and he was not an Omee; he did not have the beads on his hands to show his position in society. He walked through the land with a certain determination that made its owner come into view.

“May I help you?” Obi asked politely.

“Depends. Who owns this land?” the man said as he continued walking around the farm.

“If you are talking to me, I suggest you stand and look me in the eye whilst you speak, or else you leave my property.”

“I take it you are the son of the Ikaza who owns the land.”

Obi did not say a word, but kept his eyes locked
on the man.

“I am Okonjo. Some say I am the greatest merchant who has seen this earth, but I just let them know I am an ordinary man.
I have lots of things to do. I came to inspect this land they say flourishes with great crops, and I am impressed. I would like to purchase it from you.”

“You are not the first to ask for this land
, and what I told the people before you is what I am telling you now—the land is family land and it will remain that way for generations to come.”

“You look
devilishly familiar,” Okonjo said, looking intently at Obi. “By the way, I am ready to offer you more than you can imagine.”

“Okonjo, goodbye.”

“You have a sharp tongue for the son of an Ikaza. Listen young man, I can get this land in two ways—either we make a peaceful bargain, or you learn the price of being the son of an Ikaza.”

“You see this land
, my father and his father before him sweated and bled on this land. Before you can take it, you will have to wash this land with my blood.”

After Obi spoke, Okonjo looked at him as though he missed something
.

“Do you really know who I am?”

“I have never set eyes on you before, but your name I know. You are the nephew of the King-Mother.”

“If that is your final decision, then I will have to get what I want by other means.” Okonjo turned to leave, but looked back and said, “Has anyone told you that you look and talk in an identical manner to the
King?”

Obi turned around, leaving the man still standing on the same spot
, wondering how such a person could come close to resembling his distinct looking cousin.

As Okonjo left
on a carriage pulled by servants, he thought more about the King and Obi.

The
King has only one son alive who cannot stand on his feet. He has no resemblance to the King and is weak with words. A so-called prince that cannot stand where the wind blows
.
The men in power all long for the King to die. I don’t blame them; even I wish the bastard would choke in his greed
,
but the man was born with an immortal spirit. His poor excuse for a son is the opening of power for anyone who can get access to him. Apart from him being young in the head, he also is young in the heart of a man.

Okonjo frowned at the thought of the sardonic Obi coming out publicly in the capital.

All the elders would claim him the lost prince. How ironic this life is
—
the elders pushed the King to kill the only heir at that time and now they would rather give the throne to a demon than the only son the King has. There is no way that arrogant Obi can be the son of the King, unless he is the son of Aneaton, who was positively killed by the Ogun priest. Unless, the Ogun priest did not kill the child. That can’t be possible; he suggested the death of the child. What is going through my head? Obi
is the son of Nneka and she is also
the sister to Aneaton. She was supposed to be the King’s wife, but he chose her sister and continued sleeping with Nneka during her marriage to the Ikaza. It is outstandingly obvious that he looks like the King. How come no one has ever spoken of it?

Okonjo's servants had gotten to the town and were heading to his home. Their master kept looking at the people in the capital, how they crowded together talking of anything they could think of
. He smiled knowing that the walls of status prevented him from having anything to talk about with these commoners, but at the same time being the subject their gossip.
Disgusting sets of beings
,
he thought,
they talk so much about me and most of them do not know what I look like.
He scratched his head for a while, then his smile was rekindled.
That is it. Most men have not stood in the presence of the King and looked him in the eye; that is why they can't detect the resemblance between Obi and the King. His friend Gbangba never noticed the resemblance because they grew up together.

Now
, he grinned and rubbed his chin
, how
can this information benefit me?

When he arrived at his home,
his servants and slaves along with his family were all waiting outside. He ignored all three wives and nine children, who were trying to get his attention, and ran into his house like a mad man. He grabbed a servant, who followed him at the same pace. 

“Where is she?”

“In her room, sir,” the servant answered submissively.

Okonjo went to
the room to see his most prized possession. If someone did not recognize his arrival, he took it as an insult. The woman he was looking for knew that and purposely did not come out, letting everyone in his home see her power over him. Only she, Weruche, had the fullness of the earth he craved. He had begged her a thousand times to let him dispose of the thorns of his flesh, but she preferred to remain the fourth wife than the only wife. Everyone believed she put him under a spell, but he did not seem to care, and those who voiced their view were no longer under the blanket of his generosity.

*

The loneliness started eating into Obi’s spine. On a few occasions he went to visit his only friend, Gbangba, but these visits were rare because of the intensity of his friend’s position. One sunny morning Obi’s oldest relative, who was from his mother's lineage, came to his home with his sisters and their husbands. He welcomed them in, and his youngest sister offered kola nuts and palm wine to everyone in order of age. After the oldest relative had blessed what was being offered, eaten the kola nut, and drank the wine, they began what they came for.

“Obiani,”
his oldest relative spoke while everyone sat down and listened attentively. “Your sisters came all the way to Utagba to tell me that you are still living alone without a wife. Listen young man, if you take one broomstick, it can break with ease, but when it forms a broom it does not break.”

The old man coughed and then continued
.

“A man cannot stand alone without women or at least a woman. Do you intend cooking for yourself forever, or sweeping the ground by yourself? As much as the chicken spreads its feathers and rises above the ground, it can't fly like an eagle.
May the gods forbid such a destiny for you, my son?”

“Papa, I really do not understand why they have to put you through all this trouble because they want to choose a bride for me.”

“It is not
they
, it is
we
, who have chosen your bride. The girl is the daughter of an Ikaza with lost honor. Your parents before they died introduced you to her father. We have checked their background and noticed nothing of concern, except the fact that the father is an Ikaza like your father, but his case was a little different—he was embezzling the chief’s dues. Anyway, we tried other women and their dowries were too high because you are the son of an Ikaza and we all know you are not that wealthy.”

“How am I sure that I will like this woman?”

“Believe me, my brother, she glides with the wind and she is his first daughter,” the younger sister interjected.

“Beauty is but a spice; the inner desire is the main dish, my dear sister,” Obi said.

“Why don’t you meet her first?” suggested his younger sister's husband.

The
oldest relative continued as though he was never interrupted.

“The dowry is five healthy looking cows, one bull, two he-goats, thirteen kegs of
palm wine, a basin of kola nut and garden eggs, twelve fowls, and enough lace material for their whole family.”

“I have to admit the dowry requires quite some funds but it is relatively cheap. Why don't you people tell me the truth? Ikpong’s
daughter is as ugly as a monkey.”

“Even if she cannot capture your fancy, the major thing is that you have a woman to look after your house and bear your children
,’’ said his oldest sister. “Maybe you do not realize it, but you are the only accepted son of our father. We intend to let his legacy flow forever.”

“The introduction is in four days, so look for the sweetest
palm wine you can find today. By tomorrow morning we shall all leave.”

*

In three days they got to Ikpong’s home in the Ozuoba province. As any Ikaza, his house was secluded from the main town, but he seemed to keep a level of affluence. His home was built to a man's exceptional taste. Although he bore the title of Ikaza, all his sons were Omees in the same province and he had constant dealings with Chief Atani, who treated him like a doormat.

Immediately
they arrived, they directed them to Ikpong who was surrounded by slaves. They all bowed as a mark of respect except for Obi’s oldest relative, who was the oldest person in the room.

“Great Ikpong, in your days no man could look into your eyes in battle and live,” the
oldest relative said.

“I understand the procedures that this introduction requires, but could we leave the flattering behind and move on
.”  Ikpong replied.

“I, too, always liked to kill the fowl by cutting its neck instead of playing with it,” the
oldest man grunted. “We have come for the hand of your daughter in marriage. We intend to build a dynasty of sons from her.”

The
oldest relative glanced at Obi giving him a signal to proceed. Obi’s head was still low, and he stretched out his hands with the keg of palm wine and calabash of kola nut.

“Good friend of my father, I come to your glorious
presence to humbly ask for your daughter in wedlock.” 

“Your father was a good friend to me and he had a spirit I will respect till my grave. Please sit
,” Ikpong replied, taking the gifts as if they were dirt.

Everyone sat on the raffia mats. Hanging on the walls were elephant tusks and feline skins.

“
Did your father tell you people what the price of the dowry was?”

“Yes
, he did,” the oldest relative replied confidently.

“Well
, the price has doubled.”

“Why?” Obi's youngest sister screamed.

“Has anyone not told you that when men talk women listen?” Ikpong said.

“Forgive her,
” the oldest relative said, “the youth in her blood overcomes her. I think the women can wait for us outside while we conclude.”

The women hesitated
and then left angrily.

“Let’s face it, the only reason I wanted my daughter to marry into your family was because of Ifeanyi. In spite of the fact that he was an
Ikaza, he still commanded respect. But now he is dead and you are not even an Omee. I watched you grow and I was proud of what I saw, but you will end up putting our name in a deeper hole than it already is. You are the son of an Ikaza and it haunts you wherever you go. If my daughter married a man with respect, no one will ever remember that her father was an Ikaza.”