THE CLOCK

It was a cool evening, approaching the hour of twilight. The rains had been giving signs of early arrival. By late afternoon, the clouds had started to gather after an intense heat of the mid-day sun. One could watch the clouds racing swiftly as if pursued by hounds. Everyone was happy that the day's night rest would be peaceful after weeks and months of intense heat of the sun. As if with a consensus opinion that the weather had given enough warning of its unexpected changes, most villagers had closed shop early to go home. Farmers could be seen hurrying home with giant strides to meet up with the emergency. Some market women who had waited for last minute sales could be seen hurrying home before dusk and darkness. It was uncertain whether the rain would make good its threats because of the burial of a prominent chief in the village. The late chief's children had vowed that the spirit of their father would not be disgraced by rainfall on that day. But it was a general opinion that the weather change would usher in early darkness. So everyone moved very fast to get home on time before darkness would envelope the entire village. So, as the women moved fast to their different homes one of them called Chiamaka sighted her friend called Adaku far ahead of her. She moved faster to catch up with her, since they were heading in the same direction. "Adaku," Chiamaka called. "Please slow down, let me keep pace with you," she pleaded. "Ah my sister, I just can't help it. I've got to hurry home, refresh myself and rush off to the village square," Adaku replied. "Do you think anyone would dare step out in this unfriendly looking weather?" Chiamaka asked as she drew close to her. "Weather? Which weather? The story-teller has the extraordinary power of dispelling any force set against her and her vocation," Adaku claimed. "So what I heard about her is true?" Chiamaka asked naively. "My sister, you speak as if you're a stranger in this village. Didn't you hear what was said about her few months ago at the palace of our village head when Prof. Eze presented her with a gift, describing her as: 'She who charts the path of destiny for the young.' She has told us to gather today and I must be there to listen to gender equality," Adaku added, pausing as her companion interrupted her. "Gender equality?" Chiamaka asked, mystified. "Yes, gender equality. She said she would tell us the rightful place of a woman in modern society-- about male chauvinism and the lies that belie it-- about change, which is always changing-- about s*x and its natural purpose-- about speech, the proverbial silver; and silence, the proverbial gold-- the time to speak, the time to keep silence-, the time to draw the sword, the time to sheath it in its scabbard-- about the clock that urges everyone to move on," Adaku revealed. "I too must be there--," Chiamaka vowed. "She promised to tell us where the world began and where it ended--, that there are opportunities beyond the seeming limits of the sky-- that there are treasures buried deep below by the hands of nature-- that Akamu is not the end of the world -- "Adaku further revealed. Chiamaka was overwhelmed by those hints which Adaku had given her. She nearly strode past the T-junction that branched off to her street but was quick to realize her direction. She halted for a split second, heaved a sigh and announced her parting. "We shall part ways now. I wonder who will be the first to get to the square, you or I," Chiamaka said and turned towards the direction of her house. "Yes, we part to meet again for parting and meeting are the order of nature," Adaku philosophized, laughing heartily as she strode ahead. If there was anything the Akamu village valued most, it was virtues. Every person, born and bred in Akamu was made early in life to cultivate the cardinal virtues of purity, honesty, courage and diligence. Their girls were known for their good conduct and marital submission. There is no girl of Akamu, irrespective of facial or physical comeliness, that remained a spinster after her 25* birthday. They were always on anxious demand by suitors from far and near. They were like hot cakes that please the appetite. In their marital homes, their husbands were in the habit of addressing them as "ogoli mali obi dia", that is, "the good wife that understands what pleases her husband". . It was little wonder that the gathering had to wait for the storyteller to arrive until they could wait no longer. Mama Nwankwo, as she was popularly called, was the cynosure of attraction when it came to storytelling. Her skills in tale had remained unequalled since Akamu migrated from the East to her present place in the dim past. Many had exhibited prowess in talecraft including the likes of males like Okaibe, Nwaolie and Ikedi; and well-known females like Nwamma and Nwanonye, as far as memory could recall; but Mama Nwankwo had been declared the best of them all. What many did not know was that Mama Nwankwo was educated up to the secondary school level in spite of her trade in agro-processed food stuffs like garri. She was once the village belle for whom many men got entangled in clashes and squabbles to win her love and affection. She was dark and beautiful with such mysterious intimidating hugeness difficult to explain. That she was charismatic was an understatement for her power of attraction could only be compared to that of a bar magnate. She had love, and she shared it; compassion, and expressed it; skill, and exhibited it; knowledge, and imparted it to the young to enable them grow up to be properly adjusted in a world that was fast losing essence. That was why the gathering waited till very late in the night to listen to her tales. Many could come up with the same tale, but the impact of the rendering would never be the same. All were in consensus that where the best of the skilled storytellers stopped was where Mama Nwankwo started. Her stories were exceptionally fresh, arresting, informative and transformative. At a time when many cried that time was money and chased after money like brutes after their prey, she showed zeal for her craft and devoted her time to a voluntary vocation knowing full well that good name was better than money, than prized gems, than countless pursuits that many held dear. The culturally enlightened members of Akamu community had begun to conjecture that after all, Mama Nwankwo was only harkening to a divine call to pursue a divine mission at a time when society was beginning to be threatened by social and cultural malaise. Whatever be the case, her selfless contributions towards social reforms had started to germinate in the hearts of many, flowered in some, and bore fruits in countless others. Therefore, all story lovers hurried back home and defied the threatening clouds to register presence at the village square. Despite the signs of harsh weather, the village square had become a bee-hive of story lovers waiting with bated breath for the storyteller to arrive. The gathering had waited for a long time without any sign of her appearance, but they were consoled by the feeling that the occasion was worth the wait because of the normative value of it. Wriggling her way through the thick crowd, Adaku picked her way to where she and her friends usually sat during storytelling sessions. Amidst the babel of noises, she could still pick out the metallic laughter of Ebere and her other friends, who had already gathered under the tall Iroko tree in the middle of the village square anxiously waiting alongside others for Mama Nwankwo to show up. "Ebere," she called excitedly. "Adaku," she called back with equal enthusiasm. Why is Mama so late to come," Adaku enquired. "You can ask that again," Ebere retorted, adding, "Can't you see? Everyone is as lost as you are for the reason of her lateness," she explained. Just as Adaku was about to speak, she saw the silhouette of a figure pointing towards her. It was Ifeoma, a second-hand clothes seller, who was trying to show Chiamaka where Adaku was. By then, the clouds had dispersed casting away its veil off the hidden full moon. As Chiamaka and Ifeoma approached where Adaku and their other friends were, Adaku recognized them and thrust herself forward to embrace them. "Bend down select," Adaku teased, referring to lfeoma's trade on second-hand clothes which those who patronized her called her. Sales on second hand clothes was fast becoming a lucrative business in Akamu and its environs, and lfeoma was a popular dealer in that business. She had learnt the trade trom a popular woman in a nearby village, and had come to Akamu to establish her own. There was nobody, man or woman who did not know her in all Akamu and beyond. "Fresh," Ifeoma teased back, referring to Adaku's Ice-fish sales business. Both of them embraced again, laughing heartily. "What is delaying the story session, why the stalemate?" Chiamaka asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "Are we going to stay here the whole night? Is it another wake-keep?" She wondered. At that, the people within hearing distance burst into laughter. Just as they chatted and murmured, a young woman of about 29 years old cleared her throat and shouted to attract the attention of the crowd. The woman's loud voice pierced through the babel of voices, stealing it. It was Chizoba, one of the storyteller's assistants, who helps out in music and songs during storytelling sessions. "People of Akamu, I greet you all. Right now in your minds, no doubt, you're wondering about the whereabouts and welfare of our dear friend, Mama Nwankwo, the custodian of rare tales, of fables and of anecdotes... her voice rang, rattling the stil night air. "Mama has asked me to tell you how sorry she is for keeping you waiting after all the wide advertisement given to this meeting. It was billed to be a special night, a night to remember. But man will always propose, leaving the deposition to God, who always knows best...." she pleaded. Then concluding, she said with a tone of finality: "I ask you to go home now for it is obvious that tonight's session will not hold. Tomorrow is another day; but our people also say that tomorrow is pregnant; we know not what it will bear. So, go home. At a more auspicious time, we shall summon you to gather again to listen to our illustrious woman of tales..." she advised. Soon after, the clouds began to gather very thickly again. The full moon had gone into hiding and the people began to walk slowly home in the darkness of the night. Mama was not only a storyteller, but also a moralist with philosophical bent. She was a teacher to the core, a master of socio-cultural norms, seasoning every tale with serious anecdote and humour, and tailoring the salient moral lessons towards the expected standards of behaviour in the society. Akamu community had, in recent times, been infiltrated by foreigners who came along with their foreign ways. It was obvious that there had started a gradual departure from the norm for which the natives were known. It had, therefore posed a serious challenge to Mama and other well-meaning patriots of Akamu to reverse the growing trend and sustain the usual sociocultural status quo. Mama had, therefore, summoned the entire community to warn them of the evil days looming ahead. But that was not to be, so Chizoba took the initiative to dismiss the crowd.