“I have conquered storm, conquered rain, conquered sunshine but the scars remain. I have known many pains. This is because the land, whose son I have saved, have now branded me evil and spat on my face.” Uloma soliloquized to herself as she walked alone in a windy road that snaked into Umuaka village. She continued without looking at anyone with her daughter hanging on her back with a half torn wrapper binding the mother and the child together. Uloma stopped to fasten the pieces of cloth holding her child just as the child was about to slide off from her back.
AUTHOR:
Attah Damian Uzochukwu Victor lives in Nsukka, Nigeria.
She continued to speak to herself, “I shall leave, as they have commanded, but I know that the event of today shall bleed forever. I know it shall be remembered. History shall never forgot because truth has a tongue”.
The elders had made their decision in a meeting that began immediately after the cock crowed for the first time signifying the birth of a new day. Their judgment sounded like a canon gun, signaling the beginning of the tribal war between Umuaka and her neighboring town, Umuede. Our people believed that when a lightening is seen, the earth expects a thunder blast.
“You are then, banished from the village,” the standing elder said, “blotted out from the privileges bequeathed to our people and the protection given by the gods. You are mandated to leave before the next Eke market day.”
Banishment had been the methodology employed by the people of Umuaka to improve loyalty and to ensure obedience among their people since the coming of the white man’s traditional religion.
The first victim of such a dehumanizing treatment meted out for those who disobeyed the culture of the people was Ifeoma. She lost her husband at the earlier stage of their marriage. She was forced to accept that she was responsible for her husband’s death.
Ikenna, Ifeoma’s husband increased the numbers of his ancestors after enjoying a palatable dish prepared for him by his wife. His death raised dust where there was no sand. The elders later resolved among themselves that Ifeoma be put in a state of isolation in the village.
But before Ikenna died, Ifeoma had a seed in her womb for him. Now Ikenna had gone and the elders had placed her in such a social condition, left her in such excruciating pains.
“To save life is better than to destroy it.” Uloma, the midwife of the village, told herself when she heard a slow but painful cry at midnight emanating from Ifeoma’s hut, signifying that the woman was in labour. Uloma wanted to stand up but couldn’t. It was as if something glued her to her old bamboo bed. She tried again but was restrained by the sanction placed by the elders on whoever was seen giving a helping hand to or being helped by Ifeoma. Everybody was to keep her at an arms length, or so the chief priest advised. Their words re-echoed in her memory. Uloma, was lost in thought and engrossed on what step to take. By this moment, the cry that was coming from Ifeoma’s hut was becoming deplorable as the sound was like a sword piercing through Uloma’s heart. Uloma jacked forward from her bed as if something pushed her. She flew to her door and took to her heels towards Ifeoma’s hut.
“Open the door and let me in”, Uloma shouted to the hearing of the whole villagers. She went close to the door, pushed it but found that it was locked. She shouted again to Ifeoma and at the same time gave the door a continuous push. Then she said: “I doubt my doubts, doubt my belief, doubt your judgement and doubt your sanction. Ifeoma’s child must see the world.”
She went backwards, rushed forward, broke the hinges holding the door and made her way into Ifeoma’s bedroom.
Earlier today, all heads gathered to witness the banishment placed on Uloma, who risked herself to keep the messenger on bare foot alive by visiting Ifeoma’s household. Before Uloma left with her child tied on her back, she said:
“I’m going not to a place of no return, but to a place where I am made for, where I will engrave my name in the list of virtues, where neither rain nor storm shall wither it. But bear it in mind and may it bleed in you always that I love you all”.
AUTHOR:
Attah Damian Uzochukwu Victor lives in Nsukka, Nigeria.
