Before the war

History is a story told by men and of men's making. Of the battles won, lands taken, of ruined villages and broken Kings. For is that not how it is told, but in this tale of mine, like the glimmer of light in a peat dark vacuum the women do shine. It is the men who make the story though, but the women also, for it was one who made Oraeje ungovernable with a curse and then a king died. And it was one also who saved our fate, by her doughtiness. and truthfully it was the men who brought us low, for there were hundreds of us, all of us were armed, not only with Spears or swords or Shields and armour, but with a cancerous greed and selfish desire to conquer and rule, and in that way, it was a man and a woman that brought us low.

This story has different versions to it, this shows how people add up different tales that never were, for self absorbed reasons. That is how people change history and in the long run if you are an onlooker that is unbiased, you will agree with me that history must consist of a lie, it must be polished, substituted, converged or divulged or even buried, never to be remembered, because in every story, a winner and the looser has different things to say, the latter might even find reasons to take the glory even in the aftermath of defeat or to make the story to be forgotten. That's how many contradictory versions of this story you will read came to be.

My name is mmaduchi, Peter mmaduchi Obiekwe, I am telling you the story of our civilization and glory, and also my own story. It is my sincere desire that you do not drop off a tear* or ask why so and so had being the way it went, for that will be to my greatest consolation and delightment.

Oraeje is a kingdom of peace, tranquility and love, that's how it has always being. We were the most revered warriors in Igbo land and our notoriety had gained for us the largest boundaries among all our entire race. We where in short form, the fighters of the gods and from all our tributaries, our king, my father, Eze obibuenyi Obiekwe (I) took taxes and slaves for the royal family and the lords. But slowly as the years rolled on and Obiekwe went down in age, the knot grew weak and weaker, until the rebellion came and then the war.

'The land of peace' was unarguably the best acronym for Oraeje. For generations of hard working farmers, merchants, hunters and warriors who had contributed in making it a home of peace were everyone was welcomed, it had flourished in commerce and culture for hundreds of years, being a home to skilled and unskilled Craftsmen, blacksmiths, woodcarvers and Goldsmith's. The prosperity of the region was shared among the people and everyone lived on in happiness and serenity.

Oraeje's rich history, dated from the mid-fifteenth century, when Ogiziagu its founder had settled in it with his household. Ogiziagu had two sons owelle and Oraeje. Oraeje married Anumbosi and gave birth to five children, these make up the five villages in Oraeje; Umuoji, ihienu, ikenga, ideani and Ihembosi.

Umuoji was first son, and he was a great Hunter and warrior, ihienu was a skilled wine tapper and a farmer, ikenga was a warrior and is still known up till this day, ideani became a fisherman and married an Onitsha woman named Adaora. And Ihembosi was also an illustrious farmer

As time went on, their progenies multiplied, and Oraeje became a kingdom to be reckoned with, it had the most powerful Kings in Igbo land. War those days were fought by villages who were sharing close borders, and was the result of boundaries or land fighting, but the rivalry that grew between Oraeje and Onitsha who were neighbours only by a tiny margin of garbage lot, went on to become a bitter history. Successive kings had to fight the same battle for many other reasons. Perhaps the most striking of those battles in history is the one event that reshaped our history at the waters of ideani, a battle I championed, and in which a king died. It's one that folktales never forget to carry, and iconic as it would be the very last of such bloody meetings of war.

It was a season of warm fuzzies as the íwa-ji festival finally came. The new yam festival was a time when we prayed to the gods especially Ani, the earth goddess of fertility. So they won't abandon us to great darkness and doom. In the cradle of the harvest, these prayers often seemed like pleas of hope and happiness, and it was never more so than in the year before, even when now our world was deadened and crusted with the battles looming ahead. For Obosi's King was preparing to lay a siege upon us and together in alliance with him was the wily wicked obi of Onitsha.

For those of us who were adepts of Ani, this festival had a double meaning, it was a feast in honour of our matriarch god and also the solstice feast of the harvest. I took arinze with me to the great square, for he was just old enough to understand the basic rituals of the ceremony. He was seven and so not yet matured to be initiated into the cult of the masquerades

Yam was not seen and treated as any other food, it was held supreme and sacred, apart from being a man's cultivation alone, it was believed to had grown out of the dead rived pieces of Ahajioku, the son of Eze Nri, when once upon a time, there had been severe famine, and the king seeking to put an end to this famine had to sacrifice two of his children, as he was told to by the gods. killing and cutting their bodies to small bits, and six months later on, the young tendrils began to grow out from the grave of Ahajioku, while his sister's mounds produced cocoyams. The yams had brought the village out of famine.

The ilo was filled with happy locals and elders. The most titled men (the nze's and the ozo's)had taken their seats at the square's prominence. Ezemmuo offered prayers and supplications to the gods and ancestors. The ritual included gratitude's for protection and kindness throughout the time of planting and waiting, and for sparing the lives of those present. After the prayers, the king tasted of the yam. This part was called drinking poison, he ate the slice of roasted yam with palm oil.

Soon after there was a flaunt of folk dances and masquerades.

How lovely it is to watch Izaga and ijele display, Izaga is not always displayed except on festivals such as this and it could make anyone's day ravishing and winsome by its vaults. Ijele was the king of all masquerades and the largest of them all, being bumptious, it was last to be unfolded, as he shared no ground with any other masquerade. As for Izaga—the tallest, saying intense delectation was what he offered would be just a quick fix of a description

Age groups met and partied on, while I joined the royal dinning. My father was at table already with all of his sons, Amuche and chimobi, sons of Nneka, Nnamdi, chike, and Obiorah who were from ifenyiwa, and ikechukwu who was the youngest wife' only son. I took my proper chair, greeting our dad, and quietly ignoring the vicious stares of the two brothers. I wasn't struggling for royalty and even Obiekwe respected me for that.

The yams roasted in full were brought in, filled in big rounded earthen dishes with palm oil and mixed spices. We ate and Obiekwe praised the gods even more.

After dinner, I left the palace immediately, trying to avoid getting myself entangled in unnecessary conversations and long windy greetings, with most elders, who cheesed off in their conversations could keep someone glued down for hours. I'd barely crossed the massive porch when I saw an owl, patching on a tip of the lowest branch of the Indian almond, it was silent and flew away as soon as it perceived the atmosphere of my presence. It looked odd and I spat to avert the evil omen. Seeing an owl that close had a bad significance of death or sickness.

"Ichie!" "Ichie mmaduchi!" I turned back and Chidiogor was sprinting forward, he was a renowned warrior and also one of the warlords who commanded a band of Oraeje's fighters.

" I must've looked for you everywhere in the palace, ichie"

He sounded breathless, but kept talking. It reminded me of how old we've become, those days were gone when Chidiogor could run from Nwasike to Nkpor without flicker. I smiled at how unwilling it can be to accept old age when it was coming, but we were inevitably getting old.

"Thanks to the gods! I found you!"

"oh, how's the family? I didn't see nwunye ayi—our wife, today? Odi kwa na mma!

"she was there, maybe you didn't just look very well, you would have seen her. And my people are fine, how about yours?"

"Chinelo is okay, and the children are all fine."

I cleared a lump in my throat as we walked down ugwu obiekwe.

" It must surprise you ichie, that this year, our yams did so well, it wasn't as we predicted." Chidiogor was in high spirits from the drinking, and he surely must have drank without engrossment.

"every one was expecting a duffer harvest, but the gods surprised us!"

"Of course Ani heard our prayers last year, I just hope she will hear us once again." I laughed at how ironical it seemed to me that the gods do really care. I hadn't always been too religious or bugged to any affiliation either, I was in between, and not even sure if they existed.

"Oh yes, she should, she just has to ." Chidiogor spat at the carcass of an animal been feasted upon by flies and second generation larvae, before he continued. " I heard that Obosi are not leaving any stone unturned in their preparations, and I guess the same for the verruca at Onitsha."

His referring to Eze Onitsha as a wart made me laugh, but it wasn't funny. Chidiogor had an eternal hatred for Onitsha's ruler, so it was normal.

" I also heard that Obosi have already made three human sacrifices already, when this war is still far off." Chidiogor continued, " stupid fools they are, weaklings that can't even hold a spear against us, all of them."

I laughed the more, knowing fully well, how both Onitsha and Obosi were taking this war serious, and I knew our chances against them could be very slim.

"Ichie, the war is still far off, like you said, but I am making preparations and I've told my wife that she and the children will not be in here to witness the war."

" But why? How does she see it?"

"A bad idea, and weak if I may call it that way, she does not see any reason why she should leave. But I don't know what would happen, who knows anyway, the truth is Chidiogor we are weak, and our enemies are more determined than ever, they want to tear us down, what do we have?"

Chidiogor was silent, I continued

" A weakened army, an old king, a divided people."

"No! " Chidiogor finally spoke up. " Ichie madu, we can not do our own and do the work of the gods, let the gods decide who wins and who looses, but one thing I know for sure is that, both ndi Obosi and their counterparts are scared of us to their teeth. We are undefeated in any battle remember that my friend. And also remember that when it comes down to us, you are one man everyone looks up to, if you shriek in fear, what will become of the boys...hmm… we will have to fight and we will win, I believe mmaduchi that I believe, the gods will not allow mud to be painted upon them.."

I knew Chidiogor as a confident man, his type of sanguinity was rare, but so was I, there were only few warriors in the whole of Igbo who could match our aggression and speed and skills, but now I decided, was a time to face our future as it was and not to rely on past glories, and as it were, it looked bleak..

" kachifo!"

We parted ways at mkputu.

Evening the next day, igwe sent for me, the Messengers insisted that everything was fine, I put on my isiagu and followed them.

Dad was sitting by the fireside alone, a worried man he looked, as he looked up at me as if staring at a stranger.

"Papa is anything the problem? You know I don't get enlivened seeing you that way."

I took the sit which he gestured me to, a small stool, and he spoke, when he did he did so much painstaking effort, like a man buttered up "Mmaduchi, as it is now, everything is the problem, the difference between someone who wins always and a looser is that the winner knows when he is not capable of anything and also tells himself the truth. My son, I am an old man, and the whole kingdom is staggering. It's a time we must tell ourselves the truth, if we can go to battle or not. If we can fight Amobi and Chima and gain the glory, or are we going to shame ourselves.."

I stared at the fire, unable to put up a reply, which I knew was quite irrelevant.

" Mmaduchi, I will seek a favor from you, and it's only you I can count on."

"as always Papa, I will do anything for you."

Obiekwe cleared his throat and looked at me, " you will go to Amobi and give him my message, you will tell him not to fight with Chima, and I will grant him all the lands that were once his, and also he is sure of our words he will have peace."

I froze in fear, knowing that my father was sending me to my death and he was doing it very cleverly. Like a man throwing the last dice on the gambling table.

" But Papa, Amobi is not receiving any emissaries and you know it, even our merchants who cross into Obosi are killed, why will they spare me either?"

"Amobi will not kill his son in law, even if he was enchanted to do so, no man would, son, what about his only daughter, his grandchildren, what will people say of him—the man who killed his son in law. Think of it eh!"

And it was true, no sane man would do so, and that meant I was going to Obosi.

Probably the only reason Amobi allowed our marriage was because of his daughter's resilience and my faithfulness to her, but I could only imagine how all that and the fondness I shared with him over the years could be of little value now that my life was been placed on the board. That night all I imagined was the cruel fate awaiting me in Obosi, although Chinelo had persuaded me to cheer up, when I had disclosed and had even given me ample words for her father.

I started quite early the next day, I carried my water gourd for the journey was almost a days journey, I also went with my sheathed sword in case it might need to draw some blood. I wore my complete attire, that of a renowned warrior prince. I traveled in the harmattan**, when the clouds was clear, the atmosphere dull and the cold a Misty haze. I went alone, for if Amobi was to reward an emissary's coming with death, then it was better that only one man should die, Chinelo had urged me to take my shield but to what purpose. could one shield protect me from the power of Amobi's army. And so as the wind stripped the first yellow leaves from the trees, I journeyed eastwards, I didn't take the road that would lead me directly to Obosi for that would have taken me dangerously close to the heart of Obosi, where there were more merciless warriors of Amobi, I instead went through Nkpor and then eastwards aiming towards Obosi.

For most part of the journey, I passed through the rich farmlands of Nkpor, passing small villages and homesteads where smoke blew from roof holes. The air that had first been smoggy now hung low and pale in the mist, the landscape changed as I went eastwards, by then I was getting tired and I rested under a tree beside one of the new churches. A crucifix hung low above the door of the small building, and I wondered how fastly Nkpor were becoming Christian's. It was barely three years since the religion was planted by a group of black priests and a white missionary who had settled in Onitsha. But it was embraced by a lot of folks especially those who were carried away by the idea of reading and writing the white man's language, and the few stories they could understand from the white man's book.

Whatever it was that they saw in it, we are Oraeje had banished the religion from our land for good.

I continued shortly after a brief rest, passing through more well built churches, but by afternoon they had started becoming smaller again and the farms less prosperous, until I reached the small border of Obosi, the land was much of a wasteland and muddy in the rainy season which gave it a foul smell, but now in the dry season, it was dry and dusty, Ravens tore through dead animals and dogs moved through the dirt looking for anything edible, pigs were in the cruddy pools of dirty water. And yet some folks lived here, people who were either born here and had family houses or those too poor to move to better settlements. I kept on with no sign of panic. Igwe Nkpor and his people weren't in any way interested in the battle, because neither Amobi or Chima had any need of their lands, it was us who had the biggest share of lands in the whole of Igbo, we had it in excess and also Obi Chima was a good friend of Obibata, especially after the latter had accepted the new religion and was publicly baptized and he made sure it blossomed under his watch.

As I crossed the shallow valley that separated Obosi from Nkpor, I wondered if Amobi will be kind to me, on the few occasions we had met, he was indeed kind, but that meant nothing for I was still an enemy and the longer I walked through the towering trees, and wet grass, the greater my despair, for I was sure I was been sent to my death, and worse more my father had done it callously not minding the risk.

Soon enough the trees ended, and I walked into a wide clearing through which a wide stream flowed. The bridge was old and shaky, so I picked my steps gently, I had not covered more than thirty yards when an axe hurtled out of the shadows beneath the thick branches and bushes, it turned as it came towards me, the blade flickering light, but the throw was poor, for it hissed passed a good four paces away. No one came out to challenge me , nor did any weapon come from the trees.

"A bum onye Obosi!" I called out, and stood still for a few more heartbeats, calling out again and wondering who the fools were? I was about to say that I meant no harm, when a voice spoke out.

" Throw your sword here!" a man commanded me

" you may come and have it!" I replied, and there was a pause.

" Aha gi- bu?" your name is? the voice demanded

"my name is mmaduchi obiekwe, the son of obiekwe obibuenyi " I called my father's name as a challenge and it must have unsettled them, because once I heard the low murmur of voices, and then a moment later, six men pushed through the brambles to come to the clearing. All wore thick furs, that Obosi natives favoured as body armour, and they all carried Spears. One wore a helmet evidently looking like he was the leader, he walked towards me. Aware of his steps.

"Mmaduchi!" he said, stopping a half dozen spaces from me.

Mmadu...chi!"

He said again.

"A prince of Oraeje, and not an Obosi man"

" Yes it's me, and an in-law to Amobi."

"An in-law?" he asked suspiciously,

"Eziokwu!" I said

He considered me for a moment. He was a tall man and his beard covered his chin and neck, his face wore a long and twisted moustache, one was twisted in his free hand.

"You are not an Obosi man, and what business brings you here?"

He hefted his spear noting that I wore only light armour and had no shield.

"Mmaduchi, the warrior of Oraeje! I know"

"You see him," I said. "and he has business with Amobi, his father-in-law."

"No Obosi man has business with igwe anyi" –our king.

He said, and his men growled their dissent.

"I am also part of Obosi." I retorted,

"Then state your business?"

"That is for my father-in-law to hear and for me to speak, you are not part of it."

He turned and gestured towards his men and said.

"And we make it our business."

"Aha gi?" I demanded

He hesitated, then decided that imparting his name, would do him no harm. "Chukwukadibia son of Ntukworah."

"so Chuka." I said, "do you think my father-in-law will reward you with gold or grave if he hears of how much you ill treatment you gave me?"

It was a fine bluff, although some of his men, did not mind, it did work anyway. I had no idea if Amobi would embrace me or kill me, it was nearly three years since we had seen each other, during his ofala festival. But Chuka had sufficient fear for his King's wrath, so he angrily gave me an escort of three men, who lead me deeper into Obosi land, a place no Oraeje man had trodden for almost a generation, these were the enemy heartlands. At first everything looked the same as in Oraeje, but then I noticed that their yam barns were more squarer. There were no Christian churches, neither did I see any offering –aja beneath trees or by junctions. Even though we did pass one tree which had some small offerings at it's base. We crossed through more farmlands and yam barns. My escorts were confident that they would win, they'd heard of how weak we were after uchendu's rebellion, the revolt which had encouraged both Kings to unite against us, aiming to utterly crush us.