Silent Tears (Short Story) Chapter Two and the end – by Emeka Ubesie

Rev. Osondu explicitly gave a touching sermon after they had finished chanting the hymns and so many people that were there felt the power that was in his words. He also confessed that the rate at which some villagers maltreat their fellow villagers, and even kill them had reached to an alarming state in Alum. He pleaded that they should stay away from committing evil. It was obvious that everybody that heard about the death of Nwanyi Oma sensed a foul play in her death, but the question on who was responsible for her death still remained an unravelled puzzle to them all.

Nwokenife and his family members relocated back to their village from Lagos two years ago. Despite this, his wife’s burial ceremony was able to pull great crowd that paid their condolences to his family. Within this short interval of their stay in Alum village, everybody that had ever come in contact with them would attests to their unalloyed good behaviour.

Nwanyi Oma had a first class in assisting people that are in need. In many occasions, she would give out all the food that she had made for her family to some village orphans and widows that usually pay her a visit. The wrappers that her husband bought for her at Oshodi market before they left Lagos, suddenly became the best attire that most widows in village had because, she had distributed all of it to them. She was also very active in their church activities and she does that with her full heart and joy. She was never seen or heard arguing or quarrelling with anybody, since their arrival in the village. Nwanyi Oma was later nicknamed nwunye ukochukwu, the wife of the priest, by some of their church members because she always spent most of her precious time in the church, cleaning the floor and dusting the chairs. She would always smile, when flattered with the name. Her demise touched so many orphans and widows that she had impacted into their lives in one way or the other and they mourned her uncontrollably.

‘May her gentle soul rest in peace,’ Rev. Osondu muttered, as he finished his long sermon. Ebube and Nwokenife who were seated in their parlour were called upon and both of them were escorted outside by Nwokenife’s friends. At once, the reverend requested that the coffin of Nwanyi Oma should be open, so that everybody would have a glance of her for the last time, before her body would be committed into her everlasting resting place. Instantaneously, three Alum youths surfaced, after Osondu’s announcement and her chocolate coloured coffin that lay on two long wooden bench was opened in their midst.

Like roaring hyenas in the jungle, cries ensued again from every corner, as her coffin lay open. The villagers, friends and their church members crumpled in a single file to grasp at her lifeless body and as well, to say final farewell to her. Rev. Osondu quietly had his seat and watched his congregation and other friends of the family, as they tagged along in the queue.

‘Chai! Nwanyi Oma is this how your chapter ended?’ Adanne, who was the first person on the queue howled, as she came closer to her coffin. She shook her head and watched her friend fully dressed in a pure white linen, like a bride on her wedding day. Her hands were stretched on both sides in the coffin, like a soldier that stood on attention, on sighting his superior, and Adanne sobered the more. Everyone took their time to look at her carefully and beaded goodbye to her, because this was the last time they would ever set their mortal eyes on her again.

The crowd that flooded Nwokenife’s compound was something else. Alum village had never witnessed such population in the burial of just an ordinary person. Even when Mazi Ego Igwe, one of the richest men in their village died few months ago, the turnout of the villagers was little to compare to what swamped Nwokenife’s abode. His friends from the Oloko Company where he worked before weren’t absent in anyway. Most of them came all the way from Lagos to this remote village, which was located in the Eastern part of Nigeria.

As time was ticking so fast, the queue was getting longer and longer. Most people found it very difficult to give way from the queue, after they must had taken their turn. Rev. Osondu who was seated on one side and was flipping through his bible looked up and observed the dawdling motion of the line. He appealed to them to walk faster a bit, so that he could finish up the burial mass at the appropriate time, as he had envisaged.

Nwokenife, his two sons and his friends stood at a distance and watched as everybody were all matching on the queue, so as to have a glimpse of Nwanyi Oma’s dead body that lay like a chopped timber inside her coffin. As the culture of the village had it, the husband, wife or the children of the deceased person would always be among the last people on the row that would sight the dead body, before it would be covered. Nwokenife, his sons and his two friends waited patiently for everybody to take their turn and gradually, they proceeded.

Odinaka, Nwokenife’s first son was about twenty years old. He had calmly sat outside alone, since the arrival of the ambulance and he looked stronger than every other family member. He was Ebube’s consoler, before the arrival of his father in the early hours of the day. Mbanefo and Ejiofor were very amazed and excited towards the young man’s courage. At least, he had saved them some joules of energy that would had been dissipated, trying to calm both himself, Nwokenife and Ebube. Consoling Nwokenife and Ebube wasn’t too much of a task for both of them to handle.

All the people that came for the burial were so fervent and nervous to have a peek of Nwanyi Oma’s left over. Finally, Nwokenife, his two sons and his friends matched onwards, towards the opened coffin, with Mbanefo leading the line. Ebube and his brother were in between Ejiofor and his father on the queue. They all walked majestically to say goodbye to their beloved mother, wife and a good friend. Mbanefo who was leading them paused for a while as they got closer to the coffin. He turned and yanked Ebube’s right fist, who was right behind him. Viewing through few meters away, in front of them on the two parallel bench was Nwanyi Oma’s body, which was smiling at her husband and her prodigy that would keep her memories alive and also tell her stories to their unborn children and wives, if the orchestrator of her death would have pity on them and allow them to unleash all their dreams on earth. Ebube was very scared on sighting the dead body of his mother and he couldn’t stand that sight. Mbanefo, who had anticipated what was going to happen ab initial, quickly glanced at her body and pulled Ebube along, as fast as he could and off they went to the other side.

At this point, the reality of Nwanyi Oma’s death became very much obvious to Nwokenife. Odinaka who had been strong and calm all this while broke down, immediately he stood in front of his mother’s dead body. His knees clunked at one another and off he went flat to the ground. He held the edge of her coffin and squealed aloud, farewell mama! Ejiofor who was right behind him gently tapped his back, held his arm and lifted him. Gradually, both of them strode away.

The whole crowd that were there felt Odinaka’s pain. Some of the old women rolled back their pool of tears, which had dried up, because of this touching scene the young man just created in their midst. Most especially, those that had loss either their parents or loved ones understood the depth of agony that had swathed his young heart.

‘Gbosa! Gbosa! Gbosa! Thunder storm hollered suddenly, immediately Nwokenife loomed closer to his wife’s coffin. Everybody were astounded and they all shivered. He felt cold rashes on his body and his heart almost hopped out from his mouth.

There is a saying in Alum village that the spirit of great men and women are always escorted into their everlasting resting place with loud boom sounds. This sound could be humanly created like; sound from the local gun or the nkponana. It could also be triggered by the gods or God through the use of nature, like the thunder storm that rumbled few minutes ago in Nwokenife’s compound.

Rev. Osondu was surprised at what just happened and he looked up, thinking that rain was about to fall, but it’s practically impossible, to have rain at this period in the Eastern part of Nigeria because, it was during the dry season.

‘Nwanyi Oma my lovely wife, I never expected that you are going to leave me and your sons on this earth this soon. Our dreams and plans just disappeared so quickly than I ever imagined. What a life.’ Nwokenife cried and silent tears flowed from his eyes, as he stood in front of his wife’s coffin. He stared at her, with his eyes covered with cloud of tears. He couldn’t stop staring at her remains or move his feet an inch any longer because, he knew that this was going to be the last time he would ever set his eyes again on the mother of his children, the only woman he had ever loved and who stood by him all these years of tough grind. He lifted his face to the heaven and wept bitterly, with droplets of tears from his eyes dwindling to the dust and his two friends came closer, held him and took him away.

The truth of the matter was that Nwanyi Oma was killed by somebody in their village, but Nwokenife had chosen not to enquire from the gods, because he believed in one God that does his own things in a mysterious way.

Straightaway, according to Osondu’s instruction, Nwanyi Oma’s coffin was covered and sealed by these three youths and it was then taken to her everlasting resting place. They lowered it into the heart of the mother earth and her role in the drama of life on earth came to a halt.

(Emeka is a young Nigerian writer who is endowed in a special way with storytelling knack, just   like his ancestors. His short fiction stories and poems have emerged as Guest Post on ‘ALocoVivaVoce,’ and host of other literary blogs. {Email: emekaubesie@yahoo.com, Twitter: @emeka_ubesie})

Silent Tears (Short Story) Chapter One – by Emeka Ubesie

 

“Eeeeeee”, “eeeoooeeeooo”, “weeeoooeee”, “whoop, whoop, whoop”, “wooo, wooo, wooo” ‘Ebube, can you hear the wailing of the siren from afar?’

‘Yes Odinaka’, Ebube replied in a sulky tone, as they were seated on mounds that were on a farmland, which was close to a tiny pathway that steered into their compound that was barricaded with rafters.

‘Chai! So it’s true that mama has finally died? Chineke! This life is just a mysterious drama that everyone just has to play his or her own minuscule script which was squeezed into these black thin lines that are on the faces of our palms called akaraka. I just wonder the secret behind death. The plans that I have for her and her dreams just whisked away into the air and soonest, her story and history will be forgotten. What an unfair world. Why must people die?’

‘My brother, I don’t know oh! Ask God.’ Ebube shook his head and responded, as he was deeply in an agonising mood and rain of tears flowed down from his eyes to the ground.

‘Just imagine mama lying inside that wood called coffin and decaying their few days later, in the belly of the mother earth that can never get tired of eating dead bodies like a chunk of meat. If truth is to be told, I really wonder why men were created, since after this whole stress and drudgery, all will just lie down helplessly in a box one day and the lowest creatures ever, the akikas will feast on their bodies. I’m just confused with this set up called life and the ordeal surrounding it. I can’t even figure out how papa will feel, sitting down close to the dead body of his wife inside that ambulance. You know papa too well that anything that has to do with mama bothers him very much, let alone this unending demarcation that nature and destiny have finally brought in between them. I just pray that he will be strong enough to get over this pain and learn how to live with them.’

‘I pray so oh!’ Ebube hushed quietly.

‘Ebube! I can see the ambulance now, look, look, it’s a white one. Ah! My lovely mother is gone’, Odinaka bawled, as the white ambulance that conveyed the dead body of his mother rolled in between their village bush pathway and clogged in front of their small two rooms apartment, which his father Nwokenife built with the last money he got as pay-off, from the Oloko company where he worked as a carpenter, at CMS, in Lagos State, during the 1990’s. But he later resigned due to strabismus.

Onaa, onaa n’udo, onaa ebe osiri bia na uwa…! The Alum village women, who were already seated under a canopy that was made from bamboo sticks and palm leaves chanted the burial song gently, as they watched the coffin of their member, Nwanyi Oma as it was been brought out from the white ambulance by some Alum youths, who had converged at Nwokenife’s house very early in the morning to dig the grave where her remains would sleep and rest for eternity. Immediately, an outburst of cry ensued from all the angles where the villagers, family and friends sat under their respective bamboo canopies as her coffin was laid on two wooden long bench which were kept parallel to one another in the centre of the crowd.

‘Father! Father!’ Ebube who was fifteen years old yelled, as he sighted his father, who was been held gently, as he alighted from the ambulance and was led quietly into their house by his two friends Mbanefo and Ejiofor. As the boy ran closer to him, he tossed his hands round his father’s thighs, held it and wept bitterly.

‘Father, so it’s true?’ Ebube whose heart had been gulfed by sorrow enquired of his father, as his arm were still girdled on his thighs, very tight.

‘Ebube my son it’s okay, God knows the best,’ Nwokenife managed to mutter these words from his shaky mouth, as he tried to let loose the boy’s arm that twisted round his thighs like an agbu, which was knotted round the stem of a palm tree.

‘It’s okay my son,’ Mbanefo told the young man, bent down and assisted Nwokenife to forcefully unwrap the boy’s arm. He pulled him to his side and they all sauntered straight into Nwokenife’s parlour where so many people clustered around like bees and were weeping.

‘Please Nwokenife, just sit down here biko’, Ejiofor pleaded with him and pulled closer a long bench, which was empty very close to the window and they all sat down on it and viewed through the window space in order to have a sight of everything that was happening outside.

‘Nwokenife my good friend, please stop crying like a woman and be strong. If you continue this way, it won’t be a good idea. Think about this; who is going to console your two sons if you choose to weep like a child?’ Just look at what you are doing in the presence of Ebube, your son,’ Ejiofor squeezed out these words from his mouth, as his eyes were wet and reddish.

‘Ejiofor my good friend, aru emee! I can’t still believe that my wife is gone. Nwanyi Oma my lovely wife. If crying for her loss will make the whole villagers to classify me as a weak man, so be it, because I don’t care. Do you mean that my precious possession has disappeared just like that? Mbanefo, the most horrible part of this nightmare is that she was never ill; I mean nothing was wrong with her. She woke me up in the middle of the night six days ago and started screaming; her head! Her head! And that was it. Before I could run to Nwachi’s house to plead with him to convey us to our community hospital at Oji, she was already gone. We thought it was a joke so we insisted and drove her down to the hospital but Dr Obidigbo confirmed to us on our arrival that she had given up the ghost. Uwa!’ Nwokenife shook his head, folded his arm and kept them in between his legs and tears surged from his eyes, through his cheek and pasa, it landed on the ground.

At exactly 10:00am, Rev Osondu who was the parish priest at the Holy Trinity Anglican Church Alum village arrived in the deceased compound. Other church members, friends and families had already settled down under their respective bamboo canopies earlier and were patiently waiting for his arrival so that he could initiate the opening ceremony of the final burial rites of Nwanyi Oma, which would be given to her as a Christian woman.

Osondu’s arrival ushered in a kind of calmness in the atmosphere of Nwokenife’s compound, as those individual who wanted to cry and express their emotions had taken their time earlier to pour out as many tears as they wished, since Nwanyi Oma’s dead body arrived at about forty-five minutes ago. Shouting and crying was also part of the rites of a dead person in most African communities. Both the evil people and the good ones would always observe this rights and some individuals could even go to the extent of pulping themselves on the dust of the earth and inflicting injuries on their bodies.

Rev. Osondu who parked his motorcycle under an ugiri tree that was in front of Nwokenife’s compound on his arrival, strode straight towards the bamboo canopy where his church members were seated. He sat on a short bench that was in front, close to a wooden table that was covered with a white piece of cloth, and a bible and a hymn book were placed on it. Osondu bent down as he was seated, said a little prayer silently within some seconds and afterwards, he stood up and the burial mass began.

‘Shall we all stand on our feet’, he urged the congregation and some people stood up, while some others ignored him and fixed their buttocks very tight on their wooden bench. He led them in an opening prayer, after which he called out few hymns and it was chanted by the church members and other villagers that came with their ekpere n’abu.

While the burial mass was going on, so many women from Alum village that came for the burial were not paying attention to the mass, but rather, they gathered themselves and were seated under an orange tree that was few meters away from the canopy where the church people were. These women were busy discussing about this mysterious and untimely death of Nwanyi Oma. Some of the women were of the opinion that her death was not natural, that it must have been orchestrated by some evil people or forces. Some others narrated how premature death of young men and women had savaged their village, leaving no clue of those responsible for this evil act in the recent time. They pointed out how good Nwanyi Oma was and they wondered how someone on this earth would think of pointing a finger at her, let alone deleting her from the face of the earth. Adanne, a woman from Umuneri village, who was a very close friend of Nwanyi Oma told them that a similar incident happened in their neighbourhood a fortnight ago. In fact, they confessed that the rate at which people were dying in their villages in this recent time had become so anomalous and very excruciating. They wished and prayed that the law of karma would prevail someday in their land.

-Emeka Ubesie

Visit the blog next weekend to read Chapter two of Silent Tears.