CHAPTER 14

Jidenna rubbed his eyes and walked out from his little bamboo bed. He yawned wide, giving no care to his father’s instructions to always cover his mouth whenever the need to ease his air tract arises. The good news was that his father was nowhere near his little hut. He was away to the Igwe’s (King’s) palace and will not return until the birds retire to their nest. The man’s lectures never cease. They always went on and on until the sun was high on the cloud. If the ears could get filled up, Jide was sure that his ears would be overflowing with all the instructions his father was laying down for him.

He picked his clay cup, and with his free hands, washed the drool from his face, before gulping a good quantity to rinse his mouth. He was becoming a man and his father always forgets that part.

Obi will not remain a boy forever, will he? A voice at the back of his head affirmed. Besides, Ugomma was living next to their compound. What will she say when she sees the drool on his face?

Jide returned the calabash on the rack, spluttering the water on the dusty floor. Ugomma would mock him. Her flair was tormenting other children and as bad as it may sound, he would defile his father’s instructions to avoid any insult, especially from Ugomma. He will not be the laughing stock today, not anymore. Two days ago had been bad. They had mocked him because he broke his water pot. None of the children would laugh at him again, anyone who tried will taste the wrath of his growing maturity.

“Jidennaya,” Came the yell from somewhere in the compound.

“Yes mama,” Jide shouted in return. He dropped the cup on the pot before holding fast the wolf fur by tying the girdle around his weight.

A smile dropped on his face despite his effort. It was the voice of his mother. Her voice was a harbinger of food. She would never call him like that if breakfast was not ready. She was the best mother in the world and knows how to answer the call of a hungry stomach.

Picking up his plate, he was about to step outside when he heard the voice of the wooden gong, coming faintly from an unknown distance. The sound of the gong made him bite his lower lips. It had disturbed his sleep. He had returned with his father after the festival, but could not sleep because the village Town Crier would not let the village rest. The man had announced the upcoming new yam festival all through the night, beating his old wooden gong like an army in a parade.

Jide remembered battling the man in his dream. He had wrestled with the village Town Crier until he had won. The noise had not resounded again after the dream and he had slept the remaining hours of the night, unperturbed until now.

"I think I will need that food now," Jide said, hoping to keep thoughts about the town crier and his gong would remain at bay. He was about to step out when his elbow nudged the basket hanging on the door frame and something fell off.

It was a small wood, fashioned like the tail of a hawk and designed with delicate black pencils.

The smile on Jide’s face folded into a frown. The Town crier’s wooden gong? Confusion stared at him as he tried to recollect. Unless the wooden gong had developed legs of their own and had walked into his room, then there was no way it could have been in his possession. The Town Crier never part ways with his gong. The adage ‘take the gong of the crier and you take his voice’ was not a joke. Without the gong, the town crier was nothing but a crier.

But what Is this gong doing in my room?

That question was left unanswered when Maazi Maduka started shouting out his name.

What am I going to do now?

Jide panicked. He searched his room and the frown on his face deepened when some sticky object held his toes. He looked down and was surprised to see mud all over his feet.

What Is Happening?

It was a shock to him but the confusion seemed to clear when he remembered the dream he’d had. He had battled with the village town crier and had ceased his gong. .?

“Jidennaya” his father shouted again.

Jide only mumbled the response as he hurriedly washed his feet. Picking up the wooden gong, he hid them under his bed and hurried outside.

“You will not kill me in this house,” His father was saying when Jide walked up to him.

“Did you call me, Papa? I think I overhead your voice in my sleep. I wasn’t sure you were the one calling that was why I choose not to answer, you know, with the rumour of that evil spirit going about in the village and calling out to people” Jide rubbed his eyes and yawned. It was a deliberate effort. He wanted his father to see the dizziness in his eyes.

He didn’t look at the town crier who stood some paces away from his father's right. The man was tall and dark and would have been muscular if the excessive wine and pipe he smoked had left any flesh within his bones. His hair lacked proper grooming. He was a bag of bones and veins. It was said once that the man didn’t need a stick to make the wooden gong produce sounds. Most people believed that the man’s hands had grown so stiff that they could make the wooden gong produce the highest sound the ears could ever imagine. Looking at the man now, Jide could not help but believe the rumours.

“Why do you go about causing trouble?” Maazi Maduka said. His brown eyes were heating, and the skin under his jaw twitched as if compelled by an unseen force, “How many times will I teach you the ethics of the people. Ina anukwa nti? You are forcing my hair to turn grey. Should I dig my own grave simply because I gave birth to a child?”

Jide swallowed but tried not to drop his sleepy face as that was the only way to avoid the imminent punishment.

“Papa, what are you talking about?” He yawned and stretched himself, “I think there must have been a mistake somewhere.”

“Mistake?” Maazi Chidi, the town crier asked, “Why not start by telling your father how you attacked me with your sling and stole my wooden gong?”

“Attack you? How can a child like me attack a grown-up man like you? Hear yourself talk, sir. What can a child do to a Buffalo?"

"Are you calling me a Buffalo?" The town crier's eyes narrowed.

"I am just stating the fact."

“Manners, Jide. Manners,” Jide’s father yelled.

Jide took a step back but clanged to the act. He knows that if he dropped them for a second, his father will notice and give him the beating of his life. Besides, his back was still aching from the beating of yesterday.

“But Papa, this is absurd. I was with you all through the night, and after the festival, we had returned home together. How could I possibly attack the Town Crier?”

“I am not here to argue with you.” Maazi Chidi groaned like a wounded dog, “As you can see, I bought a new wooden gong this morning” He flared the object in the air, “I came to report you to your father. Mend your ways, Jidenna. Wepu aka enwe n’ofe.”

“Papa,” Jidenna said, turning to his father as if asking for help, “I don’t know what this man is talking about.”

“You will never know. That’s how your ancestors played the fool and ran into the abode of the gods. See where it got you now. Osu (outcast)”

Jide’s ears flickered at the word. He hated the word as much as he hated his faeces.

“Now you are making this personal.” Jide hissed as the anger seemed to course through his stomach. “You claim to be freeborn yet you cannot stand your ground against a child with a sling.”

“Wait, Jide,” Maazi Maduka stood up. “Are you admitting to having attacked the town crier?”

Jide swallowed, knowing fully well that he just blew his cover. He was watching his father’s right hands at the moment. One wrong move and a slap from those muscular hands would send his head aching for weeks.

“Em…” He stammered, “Papa, let me explain. Maazi Chidi had attacked me because I was trying to protect myself”

“Protect yourself from what?” His father’s eyes narrowed.

Jide took a step back, but his face straightened out in delight when he saw confusion lining the edge of his father’s face. That was his way out and he reached out for it.

“Last night,” He said as the image seemed to flash in his mind's eyes “I caught the town crier and Maazi Izu’s wife, rolling over each other, in our farm. Papa, they destroyed our cassava.”

“What?” Jide’s father jumped and turned his gaze back to the town crier,

“Yes Papa,” Jide went on, “Maazi Chidi was moaning like that our dog that died six years ago. He was telling Maazi Izu’s wife, ‘do you feel it, do you feel it? And the woman was screaming. I thought he was hurting the woman so I had to intervene. I only shot him with three stones. It was the only way to make him put his clothes on.”

“Maazi Chidi,” Jide’s father held himself as if cold, “This is an abomination. Alu”

“Emm…” The town crier swallowed, “Just warn your son. He should mind his own business,” He said and walked out of the compound with his tail between his legs.