ORIGIN - Chapter Six

It took a long time for Echi to go inside his hut, and when he finally did, Olanna was sitting on a low stool with her hands folded. Her legs were stretched forwards, pointing in the direction of the earthen wall of their hut.

“Echi, how are you?” she asked, lovely, exuberant, and full of hope. 

She watched as he mumbled some words, raise his eyes to the ceiling, and shake his head. He stood for a while before he dashed to their room, shutting the door behind him.

“Echi!” she called again, louder. 

He did not respond. Only a faint snore came back. She got up from the stool, and for a moment, her mind began to take a silent lucid ride to the past three months when Echi had high expectations when he had pampered her, cared for her and even restricted her from partaking in any chores, but everything changed the day before. The day he held his palm-wine drink in his left hand and slapped her for the first time in their married life for taking away his palm-wine drink from the abode of his left hand. It was a day she would not quickly forget. It was a day that a thin line was drawn between them to test the competence of their love through the action of one spouse over another, and they both failed woefully.

Uchendu came in the evening when the sun was collecting its wages from the light blue sky. His voice was hoarse with a touch of desperation in it as he continued to scratch his black hair as if he was trying to catch lice hiding inside it. “Where is your husband?” he asked.

“He is asleep,” Olanna replied.

“Did his mother come today?”

“She did. I guess it is easy to tell the day his mother comes around by his mood. She always leaves him in a bad mood.”

Uchendu was silent for a while. Silence and whispers were grave entities that had taken a stronghold in Echi’s compound. He brushed his left elbow with the tip of an out-stretched index finger.

“Is anything wrong?” Olanna asked.

“No! Nothing is wrong. Has he eaten?”

“Not yet. I tried offering him some food in the afternoon, but he refused.”

“Why did he refuse?”

“I don’t know. You can ask him.”

Uchendu moved slowly towards Echi’s room. The room he shared with Olanna. It was common for men in their time to have a separate room from the rooms their wives slept in, but Echi had refused to sleep in a different room than Olanna just as he had refused to take another wife since his first wife was having difficulty conceiving. 

When Uchendu came back, his eyes were wide open and only closed itself after some series of unperturbed straining of his eyelids. He placed his hands on his hips and sighed as if he had just experienced something unpleasant, he could not explain.

“Your husband is dying.” The words flowed out freely as his hands fell from his hips. He turned his gaze towards Olanna and watched as she ran like a fleeing grasshopper towards the threshold of their room. 

“I will go and get help,” Uchendu yelled.

*

Isiewu was giving herbs to a young man when Uchendu entered his shrine. They quickly exchanged greetings, and he beckoned Uchendu to wait outside of the shrine. “I will soon be done solving this young man problem,” Isiewu said.

He coughed slightly, as he muttered some incantations before giving the young man he was attending to, some thick brown leaves that were wrapped around with two thin ropes.

“May the gods bless you,” the young man prayed as he accepted the brown leaves.

“Don’t forget to follow the instructions I told you about carefully, or else, something terrible would befall your family,” Isiewu warned.

“I will do as you have said. I promise.”

“You may leave now.”

After the young man left, he called Uchendu inside the shrine, studying the sweat that was slowly forming on his forehead. “What is wrong?” Isiewu asked.

“Eye of the gods,” Uchendu said, almost in a rush. “Echi is dying.”

Isiewu pushed a black pot that was beside him as the news hit home. The liquid that the black pot contained spilled on the floor, noiselessly. The liquid was clear with meanings drawn on every part of it, and Isiewu could see the symbols it contained. The answers of Echi’s present state.

“It can’t be possible.” Isiewu voice rose.

“Whether you choose to believe it or not, my friend is dying, and you need to come quickly before he gives up and goes to the land of the dead.”

Isiewu started to bite his fingers, standing. He told Uchendu to bring his goatskin bag. He turned his face away from Uchendu, so Uchendu would not see the distress that had captured his face. Even his breathing seemed to be getting quiet from the shock he had just received. He grabbed the goatskin bag from Uchendu as soon as he came, and they both took off, facing the path that led to Echi’s home.

“Can anything be done?” Uchendu asked.

“Only the gods know. There are the ones who will decide whether your friend will live or die. The decision is in their

hands.”

Uchendu stared at Isiewu and then turned away. “His body was very hot. It was as if they were cooking him to death.”

“Do not tempt the gods. Their ways are very different from the ways of man.”

“How am I tempting the gods? I was just telling you the problem you are going to face.”

“I warn you for the last time. Do not question the superiority of the gods. They respect the power of speech so much that they can kill unnecessarily if you make them angry.”

Uchendu nodded absent-mindedly as the chief priest kept on warning him not to tempt the gods.

“We really need to get there quickly.” Uchendu was feeling slightly infuriated now.

“There is no need to rush the gods. The gods does not derive pleasure in hasty things. They like doing their things patiently so that they can achieve their desired goal through us.”

*

When they arrived at Echi’s hut, Olanna helped Isiewu carry his goatskin bag. She wore a smile that seemed curiously impatient as she looked at the chief priest’s bag as if she would find a potent cure for her husband.

“Is everything well with you?” Isiewu asked as he entered the hut.

“Everything is not well, eye of the gods. Can’t you see that my husband is in a terrible condition?” Olanna said. She tried to glance inside the goatskin bag, but she knew it was impossible for her to see what was inside it unless she took a look.

“Everything will be fine,” Isiewu assured her.

Isiewu swung into action and into the work that he had done for almost all of his lifetime. He started by opening his patient’s door. Echi’s door. The door made a creaking sound as if it had been expecting the hands of the chief priest for a long time. He entered with his goatskin bag firmly beside him. He touched Echi’s chest, hands, and legs before opening the bag.

“This will revive him,” he said. 

He brought out a bottle of palm oil from his bag. He poured the palm oil on his hands and rubbed them together before applying it on Echi’s forehead. “Spirit of our ancestors, protect him. Spirits from the land of the dwarfs, guide him. Spirits from the land of the giants, keep him. Let my prayers not die in vain like a powerless wind blowing around and pushing leaves without pulling them away from their branches,” Isiewu prayed as he released his hands from Echi’s head and placed the palm oil bottle inside his goatskin bag before leaving the room. 

He muttered a silent prayer on the doorstep. It was a tradition he had become accustomed to since his transmission from an ordinary man to a chief priest.

*

Echi woke up in the most disturbing of all forms. His face was squeezed and shaped like a masquerade mask, that had just lost contact with his ancestral spirit during a failed transition parade.

“What is wrong?” Uchendu asked.

“I need my wife.” An annoyed Echi replied. His stalwart eyes glazed searchingly around the room. His husky voice rose as quickly as it had descended. “Where is my wife?”

“Your wife?”

“Yes! Where is my wife? Where is she?”

“You need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down. How can I calm down when I have not seen my wife. I need to see my wife.”

“You must have had a bad dream. Come and sit down.”

“Leave me alone.”

Uchendu surveyed the room. Blood and water flowed in his shaking body.

“Don’t do this,” Uchendu begged.

“Don’t do what? All I want is my wife. Give me my wife.”

Uchendu stared at him. Disgust and agony flowed within him. Isiewu had been right. The curse would not rest until it had torn him apart. He waited for Echi to come forward towards him, and he did after his demand had not been given to him. He watched as Echi tried to break free from his restricting hands, pushing and swirling around his limbs unusually. Echi’s face was crammed with anger and looked like thick brown mud that had been trampled upon by swift restless daunting feet.

“Uchendu! Leave me alone.” Echi managed to say. His face tightened up, fueled with more anger as Uchendu’s hands remained firm. Unmoved and unwilling. 

There were pieces of unfolded wrapper lying in a corner, near the bamboo bed, hopelessly. Echi drove his eyes from the pieces of wrappers he had shared with Olanna to the hands that had created an irritating border around him. Uchendu’s hands.

“Leave me alone.” 

“You are not going anywhere,” Uchendu said, raising his voice.

“You are playing with fire. You are too small for me to handle.”

Uchendu turned to stare at the window. The only air inlet in the room. He took a deep breath and let it out. He tightened his grip. “Listen, you know that I can’t fight you. It is impossible for me to think of fighting you, but you need to calm down and rest for a while. Look at yourself, you are not feeling too good, and yet you are overworking this tired body of yours. You will soon grow tired and faint. Please, just lie down and sleep for the sake of your wife.”

Uchendu’s words did not move Echi. His anger only grew worse when he mentioned his wife. “All I want is my wife. I don’t want to argue or fight with you. All I want is my wife. Give me my wife.”

“But I am not with your wife.”

“Then let me pass and go and look for her since you have refused to help.”

“I am sorry, but I can’t let you do that,” Uchendu said as his eyes stole another glance at the unfolded wrapper, watching them silently in a corner with no thoughts. “I can’t let you pass. You will not understand.”

“Do I look like I am playing here?” Echi took a deep breath and pointed at the door. “I am going to try to walk towards that door, and if you try to hold me back, only Igweka-ala knows what I will do to you.”

As Echi’s mouth closed, a voice yelled out, whining past their ears. He made a move, but Uchendu did not stop him. He ran to the door, pressed the door handle, and pulled it open. He looked ahead and saw something in the darkness. The dark feet outside kept on scrubbing the red earth until a familiar voice stopped it.

“Olanna, don’t go inside there,” Isiewu shouted. “He is under the influence of the curse made on his head.”

“I can’t stand here and watch my husband cry for help. It is my duty to always be by his side.”

“No! You cannot go inside that place,” Isiewu persuaded again. He had been sitting outside with her since he left Echi’s room. “The curse is upon him, and the spirits responsible for it are angry at him.”

Olanna said nothing. She looked as if she did not know what to do. Isiewu had told them before that the curse was after Echi, not after her. They have done the sacrifice, which involved her torture, yet the spirits were still not satisfied. What else could be done to appease these selfish gods? 

“I will do as you say,” Olanna finally said. “After all, the gods are wise.”

Echi’s hands shivered when he knew Olanna was no longer coming. He took hold of himself and stepped outside his hut, guiding his eyes through the darkness to search for his lover.

“I have to drive away some evil spirits,” Isiewu said and got hold of herbs mixed with palm-wine. He sprinkled the mixture on the ground, directly in front of Echi’s hut. 

Echi came closer with Uchendu trailing behind. As Isiewu dropped the last piece of the mixture on the ground, he saw Echi standing in front of him like a wild cat who had lost his eyes in a ravaging battle.

“That is my wife,” Echi said to no one in particular. “My wife, how are you doing?”

“Olanna, don’t go anywhere,” Isiewu warned.

“Come here, my wife. Please come with me.”

“Don’t go anywhere close to him,” Isiewu warned again.

Olanna remained where she was. It must have been fear that made her not move. From the look in her eyes, Echi wondered if she was thinking of running as he approached.

Echi drew closer, stretching his legs as he increased his strides. His hands were drawn out wide, searching for his beloved, but suddenly, he stopped dead, like a torrent wind sent on a wrong journey. He squinted to look at the black water that was poured on his chest, the water that Isiewu poured on him.

He turned towards the chief priest in anger with a clenched fist held high in the air, ready for a fatal strike. Isiewu acted quickly and rushed for his charm. His charm of protection, but it was too late. Echi grabbed him and pushed him to the wall. Isiewu fell, bruising his elbow in one crash. Echi took hold of Isiewu’s charm, and in one thrust, he smashed it into two on the ground. He laughed violently like a mad man.

“The man who dances with trouble should not be afraid to serve trouble a dinner when he comes visiting.” Echi laughed again.

*

The noise drew Uchendu closer, and the sight of the broken charm and the wounded chief priest angered him. It was too much for an Igweka-ala’s worshipper to bear. He picked the staff Isiewu brought. He clamped the staff and swung it towards Echi. It struck him with a slow hiss, and Echi fell. His breathing was fierce, but Uchendu was ready for more action. He held the staff tightly with shaky hands. His fingers were betraying him. Olanna’s pleas delayed his movements, and in that slight moment of delay, Echi took advantage of it and hurled his body towards him.

Isiewu stood up, breathing heavily. Blood trickled slowly from his torn elbow. Olanna was crying. Although he was a chief priest, his position did not limit him from learning the art of wrestling, he charged towards Echi and pushed him aside. He took his staff from the ground and made to attack. 

Seeing the danger, Echi charged forward too, but it was too late. He only screamed and yelled when the edge of the staff hit his forehead. Frustrated blood gushed out quickly from the opening on his forehead, then he fell, his legs first and then his whole body. It was followed by a short moan and a swift snore before he slowly drifted into a slumber that lasted for a long time.