A SHY WORLD WAR

GOODBYE AGUEDA

Everything about the whites began to irritate and disgust him more like a plague on the day young Miss Agueda cautioned him against his harshness towards the slave managers who Dios once called fools for not allowing nursing Emeabong to breastfeed her crying seven months old son that was kidn*pped along with her at Abakk.

“Do you think that taming these slaves is easy? Have you not noticed that they are very stubborn?” Miss Agueda said.

“Even the doves get mad when you separate them from their hatchlings”, Dios replied.

“I know, but there is nothing we can do about it. They are slaves. Such is life”, Miss Agueda said.

These words coming from Miss Agueda met a long humming sound silence in the mood of recently agitated Dios before he managed to say another thing.

“I thought you told me that your mother was an Eboe slave from Onicha before she was beaten to death by Sir Abel, your uncle?” Dios asked.

“Yes, she was Eboe. But my uncle, Abel, was forced by my father to refund him the money he used to purchase her”, Miss Agueda said.

“Hmmmm, shhhhh, terrible, sister. You don’t get it. You may get it later. Until then, we are the new bats of the earth. You may not get it. Has anybody visited your uncle’s house from Lisbon or Madeira since your both parents died?” Dios asked.

“No, but why did you ask?” Miss Agueda inquisitively asked.

“No, I just wanted to know if you have been shown Portuguese love before”, Dios scornfully said.

“I don’t understand. My Uncle rather often travels to Lisbon but my sister, the one my father’s Portuguese woman had for him, had not visited”, Miss Agueda said.

“Why have you not visited Lisbon?” Dios sneeringly asked.

“My uncle said it is a journey of the tough, that when I am toughened enough I shall follow him home”, Miss Agueda said excitedly.

“Alright, yes, Lisbon is very far and tough. But all its toughness is in the heart of the people that kept it far”, Dios said as he stood up to make some walks along the river bank.

“What do you mean, Dios? Are they God that made it so?’’ Miss Agueda asked as she stood up to follow Dios.

“No, just that their God made Lisbon far from us and made Biafra and her neighbours less far for all”, Dios said.

“Dios, honestly, I must say this, I don’t understand you today. Hope you are OK?” Miss Agueda asked.

“She doesn’t get it. She could be more dangerous than far Lisbon”, Dios murmured as Agueda was grandly coming behind him.

“I am really privileged to have an evening conversation with a beautiful white Portuguese lady, Agueda”, Dios said turning suddenly, stretching his hand while shaking hands with Agueda who was caught unaware and looked beautifully bewildered.

It was a handshake of two conflicting minds; one from fear of losing one and the other from fear of working a distance with one who was comfortable with an unbecoming state of affairs.

“Good bye, Agueda”, Dios said.

He then ran into the water and took the available canoe to Bonny Island, while Miss Agueda looked stunned as she managed to look at Dios once again and started shedding tears. At this time, the canoe started paddling home; it did not wait for more passengers. Dios, the son of Sir Diogo, was just about enough to pay for the other spaces as a lone passenger.

Dios only managed to look back one more time towards the river bank that was absorbing Agueda’s tears as they dropped. He nodded his head and told Etim, the paddler, to focus more ahead.

“Your tears make no meaning to me. My own tears had been dried up by buckets of tears I see every day in the eyes of Sir Diogo’s slaves in the Bight of Biafra. Harvest yours, young lady. Harvest yours”, Dios said to the hearing of Etim as the canoe cruised on.

“Sir, what did you say?” Etim asked innocuously.

“I wasn’t talking to you, young man. Though I think you need it more. You people only need to wake up. Just drive me home”, Dios said.

“OK, sir”, Etim said as he paddled down towards Bonny Island.

“After all, if you care about what I was saying, drowning me here should be a sign of relief”, Dios said.

He tried to murmur something out when the word became audibly loud to Etim’s ears.

“You mean I should drown you, sir?” Etim frozenly asked.

“Shut up, young man. I was talking to myself. I was not talking to you. Drown me for what? Take me to Bonny Island fast and now”, Dios said boldly while terrified inside his heart.

It was terrific minutes for Dios whose eyes were almost popping out in fear but was hidden at the back of Etim who suddenly held stronger his paddles. He suddenly remembered his gun and pulled it out from its sheath and made a corking sound with it before sheathing it back.

“There is no problem, sir. We are just only few minutes away from Bonny Island”, Etim said.

"That’s good”, Dios replied fiercely.

CHAPTER 4

A few years later, Dios had become a rebel of sort in the heart of Bonny. Aged Sir Diogo began to notice that his business would close down after his demise when Estevo would take over from him. The problem he foresaw was no other than Dios who had become a full-fledged man and was now living on his own, away from Sir Diogo’s canoe house and seldom visited the slave depot. His declining face that was once adorning Bonny Island became one of the rarest around the busy Island. However, within these periods of time, he had gotten for himself a loyal servant in the person of Ojamu. Ever since Ojamu lost his teeth, his loyalty became divided; one for old Sir Diogo and the other for younger Dios who they saw as awaiting successor of the conglomerate. He would come around, and give orders to Ojamu; greet his father, and stayed briefly around, wandering before walking away. Over time, the last spot on which his mother stood struggling, begging and lastly cursing Sir Diogo before she was forcefully chained and taken aboard Ship Jesus became his pilgrimage spot.

“Mama, you are not dead yet. I know. We will always meet here. Stay strong and alive till the throne returns back to you. This is your heritage. Not in my life time will I forget”. He would always say this before leaving, and would rain down the earth soil he was holding while speaking those words to his mother’s eerie memory.

One day, on a Sunday, Dios was enraptured in the memories of his enslaved mother while promising her the eternal remembrance of her name throughout his life. Sir Diogo, out of curiosity, peeped from the upstairs balcony of his canoe house. He saw Dios making some pronouncements on the same spot he had become used to as his own mecca each time he showed his face to Sir Diogo, and decided to eavesdrop. He came downstairs and walked smartly close by so he could understand what was going on with Dios.

“I will never forget your love and I will go all out to prove it” was what Sir Diogo heard before he coiled back into his house. There was no doubt that what Sir Diogo heard that morning would certainly not go down well with him without a quick fix.

Bonny Island had become anything unsettling for the Lisbon-born slave baron who first visited West Africa at a very young age, especially since the day he heard Dios making promises to his late mother, Ugegbe, who died of stroke in a plantain plantation in Madeira. He went on developing fear for Estevo who was yet to set his foot for the second time in West Africa. He started thinking and planning how to take Dios out of the way before Estevo took over the business empire the n*****s Backs Company had become.

Sir Diogo travelled to Calabar in the early morning of 4th January to pay a surprise visit to his brother, Reverend Luiz, during worship hour at the Saint Gregory Parish. He quickly put off his cigarette and entered the parish building to have communion administered to him by his beloved brother, Reverend Luiz, who was in charge of the service.

Immediately he took his communion and sat down in a wooden chair close to the altar, he turned around and saw a good harvest. It was a church of new and young converts who became attracted to the mode of worship the Portuguese missionaries were teaching them. They were a parish of able-bodied young chaps and he acted blind that day and all went well. After the church dismissal, Sir Diogo went into the parish lodge and had a long discussion with Reverend Luiz.

“You have strong, able-bodied young men and women around here and their farms look greenly healthy too. They will do well in Madeira if taken to plantations there. They are chesty and look energetic too”, Sir Diogo said while throwing his eyes around a wooden upstairs, as he watched parishioners and passers-by going to different quarters.

Reverend Luiz took a very long laugh.

“You must not close the church here because you find them good for business. We have also trained some preachers. Please, don’t cross to this place lest you kidnap our catechist and preachers. Please, don’t scare them. We need them here. They are even learning fast and leaving behind some of their cultural practices that do not represent any positive thing”, Reverend Luiz appealed.

“Well, that brings me to this issue bothering me”, Sir Diogo enthused.

“What is it, Diogo?” Reverend Luiz curiously asked.

“Dios has changed recently. I don’t understand that Eboe man anymore” he said with every facial indication of worries.

“You mean your son, Dios?” Reverend Luiz asked.

“Well, yes, Dios”, Sir Diogo scornfully said.

“What’s wrong with him?” Reverend Luiz enquiringly asked.

“He is no longer living in my house. He visits and goes away. And often times, he stays briefly in the harbour and promises his late mother what appears to me as revenge”, Sir Diogo worriedly said.

“It may not be what you are thinking. Eboes are of the best people out there”, Reverend Luiz said.

“Except they seldom forget things. Their memory is like that of an elephant. It is worrisome to be seen as their enemy. I have spent most of my life in Biafra, but I must admit this about Eboes. They love apportioning punishment to people they believe that offended them”, Sir Diogo said.

“Well, that’s human”, Reverend Luiz said.

“I know it is human. Eboes are so good in waiting for this”, Sir Diogo avidly said.

“Could it be that he understood that you sold his mother?” Reverend Luiz asked.

“I think he now knows what happened that fateful day. And as days come by, I see passion for revenge all over his face. And my fear now is, very soon I will leave for Lisbon. How will Estevo, my son, take over the business around Dios whose presence is everywhere around Biafra? Won’t he murder my only son to get revenge for his Eboe mother?” Sir Diogo fearfully said.

“Hahahaha. You are taking it way too far. Dios is a gentleman. I don’t see him as a dangerous man. Yes, he was born of an Eboe lady, but you are still his father. It’s even high time you started persuading him to get married and raise a family”, Reverend Luiz said.

“He doesn’t even consider it. The last time we had a discussion about it, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to get married. I thought by now he must have raised a family with Miss Agueda who comes around from Bight of Bini until he called off the romance”, Sir Diogo said.

“Do not worry. Nothing bad shall happen to Estevo. Even though Dios is Eboe, they are still brothers. He will protect his own”, Reverend Luiz said.

“I pray his own becomes my son. Because the way he talks to slaves these days baffles me. He has developed a soft spot for them”, Sir Diogo said.

“That’s not a problem. After all, they are still human beings”, Reverend Luiz said.

“I know they are human beings, but God Almighty had placed certain people above others. They are beneath us, and nothing is hanging there to change it”, Sir Diogo said.

“Well, I don’t know yet, but they are reading the Bible now. I even found out that they are fast in learning mathematics”, Reverend Luiz said.

“Yes, I must say, they are fast in learning. But that notwithstanding, they are Africans and somewhere beneath us. Reverend Luiz, this we must not forget”, Sir Diogo said.

His visit to Calabar had broadened his understanding of the Efiks and the closer nationalities around them, especially with their hospitality as the parishioners and villagers made sure that food items were sufficient in the Reverends’ Lodge. It was things they willingly gave in the support of the new religion that had found them. At least, in all the raids going on, none had been kidn*pped inside the Church, even though they were daily losing parishioners to slave raiders outside the Saint Gregory Parish, especially in the farms.

Saint Gregory parishioners always took time to pray against invasion of the parish by slave raiders. So far, it appeared to be working, because asides the uproars the slave raiding was causing among their families in their interior villages, the parishioners were safe whenever they were in the parish, even though some were captured on their way to the parish and some while leaving the parish. It was only the news that it was creating and the sorrowful faces it inflicted on them were seen in Saint Gregory parish, Calabar. In this instance, the church and the parishioners were safe when they congregated. There was no doubt that the respect the slave raiders had for anything white, especially white human beings, and more especially for Reverend Luiz around Calabar had hypnotised the raiders to see local people in the parish as special, at least until they left Saint Gregory ground. The church in the hand of Reverend Luiz was really marching on above all the odds they faced as a branded people.

CHAPTER 5

On 14th February, three years after the return of Sir Diogo from Saint Gregory Parish in Calabar, Ojamu ran to Otuoke, a stretch town beside Bonny to meet Dios who was fishing with the locals on fishing boats.

“Sir Dios”, he shouted out to Dios who was fishing on the other side of the river, along its bank.

Dios turned and saw Ojamu beckoning on him to sail closer to the bank where he was calling from. In less than five minutes, he had joined Ojamu.

“Your Father is critically sick and was shivering. I think your presence is needed now at home”, Ojamu appealed.

“Alright, I will join him in a few minutes. Let me gather my fishes first. You know today is a special day in Portugal. I have to celebrate with friends and avowed enemies. I pray Sir Diogo is none of these”, Dios scornfully said.

“I don’t understand you, sir”, Ojamu said expectantly.

Dios ignored further responses and continued gathering his fishes into his local basket.

In a few hours, Dios returned and kept his basket in his old room downstairs and made several attempts to go upstairs to see his father but things only him could understand kept dragging him down. But at last, he made it upstairs to where Sir Diogo was lying down and coughing repeatedly. He tried going closer to feel the body temperature of Sir Diogo but could not do so, because all the Portuguese slave barons doing business around Bonny could not give him that privilege.

“Young man, we don’t need you now. We will invite you over when we need you. Please excuse us”, Sir Angelo said.

“Sir, I don’t understand. I want to see how my father is doing”, Dios argued.

“Sir Diogo needs some rest. You can have enough of him when he gets better, and he is almost there too”, Sir Angelo said.

“Go downstairs, this stubborn Eboe man. We are trying to manage the situation as quickly as possible”, Sir Baltasar angrily said.

Dios stayed numbed for some minutes upstairs looking at the faces of Sir Diogo’s business associates. He raced down and picked up his fish basket and left for his new house. He descaled the tilapia among the fishes and put them under the smoking fire and continued making an unease round walk across his new house. Tears were freely dropping and questions were ringing a harsh bell in his head. It became a broken secret one more time that Dios was an orphan who lost his father when he could talk with him. He had lost both parents in Ugegbe, the ex-Eboe slave woman, who was forced out of her motherland; a heartbroken Eboe woman who never accepted Madeira in absence of her son.

The anger of identity forswearing he witnessed in the hands of the slave barons who used to be his friends had exposed him to danger. And this danger was more felt within him than in any other person. He had made a name around Biafra as the son of notorious Sir Diogo and earned for himself a reputation that was also capable of earning him death.

Dios was a younger version of Sir Diogo in outlook, except he was slightly taller.

His name meant the same thing as Diogo’s to the locals in the hinterlands. To them, they were notorious Portuguese slave merchants.

In November, a new catch, a young slave woman, arrived on Bonny Island. She was ambushed and captured after taking her bath in their village stream while on her way back home from the farm with her mother. Her name was Nkechi. She was brought in the early morning of Saturday, 23rd November, by Abu’s successor, Abula, his first son. She spoke an Igbo dialect to her captors and it got the special attention of Dios. Her Dialect sounded like that of Ugegbe, which hurt Dios more than any other day.

Later on in the day, Dios called Abula aside and discussed with him. He gave Abula some pieces of cowries and a token of Lisbon blend whiskey, and Nkechi was handed over to him. She was then unchained and taken to Dios’ new house where she became everything to him; a sister, a friend, a mother and a cook. Her presence chased the shadows of loneliness around Dios. There was now one person she could talk to and have a deeper conversation with on Bonny Island.

“Nwanyi Eboe, ị bu onye ébé [Igbo woman, where are you from]?” Dios asked Nkechi on 23rd December by 11.am.

“E si m Agbor [I hails from Agbor]”, Nkechi fearfully answered.

“Ọ di mma. Anyi ga akpa nkata maka Agbor oge a echi [alright, we shall talk about Agbor this time tomorrow]”, Dios said.

“Ọ di mma, sir. Dalu [alright, sir. Thanks]” Nkechi said.

The next morning, 24 December, Dios was seated in his upper chamber drinking some Liverpool Gin export. He called Nkechi to join him in his upper chamber’s veranda. In a few seconds, Nkechi made it upstairs and met Dios who was sipping from his gold-painted cup, staring aimlessly over the water bodies that were making magnificent races on themselves.

“Good morning, sir”, Nkechi greeted.

“Good morning, Onye Eboe. How are you doing?” Dios said.

“I am fine, sir”, Nkechi said.

“Since you are from Agbor, I was thinking maybe you know at least a little about Igboakiri, my mother’s village”, Dios said inquisitively.

“Sir, Igboakiri are like us. They are not whites. Yes, we fetch from the same stream”, Nkechi said.

“I know they are Blacks. My mother was a black slave woman from Igboakiri. I know what I am talking about”, Dios said.

“But you are a white and a sir”, Nkechi said.

Dios looked perturbed at Nkechi smilingly. When he couldn’t hold it, he gave out loud laughter to bewildered Nkechi. The more he put up more laughter the more jittery Nkech felt.

“Sit down, Nkechi. I will have to tell you my story”, Dios said as Nkechi reluctantly sat down.

For Dios, it was time to have a homemade discussion with a closer relative. He cracked some jokes to make Nkechi comfortable. Both were fluent in the Igbo dialect spoken around Agbor and its environs. Dios began to tell Nkechi about a story of a certain slave woman from Igboakiri who was captured by a popular slave raider popularly known as Abu.

“According to my mother, it happened on Orie market day. Everybody had gone to market at ‘Ama’. Ugegbe and her younger brother, Emeke, went to fetch water at the stream. When they were about to lift their water pots on their heads, six giant men with guns laid hold of them and they were taken to two different places. Ugegbe was brought in here to Bonny Island and was sold to Sir Diogo who had large holdings around Bonny. He had a thing for Eboe slaves. Sir Diogo took a special interest in Ugegbe and took her into his house and made her his cook. Within a few months, Ugegbe became pregnant and carried it to term when she gave birth. She gave birth to a boy. The boy’s father was a white Portuguese slave merchant who later sold off Ugegbe to plantain farm owners in Madeira, and I found out that she died there. Ugegbe was my beautiful mother who was impregnated by Sir Diogo. I was the same boy they brought into this world”, Dios said sorrowfully.

It came as a big shock to Nkechi to learn that a white father could bring into the world a white child through a black mother. It echoed in her ears like a fairy tale. She was awestricken to her feet. The story told by Dios had numbed her lips that opening them became a struggle.

“Sir”, she managed to call Dios as she was fear-struck.

“Hushh, I know what you would have loved to say. Don’t worry about it. You cannot be resold. I have purchased you already, but you will do me a favour. You will take me to Igboakiri. I want to trace my mother’s family. There is where I belong. Have no fear. Relax, take your time and become familiar with the house. We shall embark on this journey in a month's time”, Dios said.

“OK, sir. Thanks, sir”, Nkechi said.

On the 22nd of January the next year that followed, Evesto set his foot on Bonny Island once again. But this time, not as a little boy that was climbing up and down on much younger Sir Diogo when he visited Bonny some years ago. He came well-prepared to man the very post that made his father famous around Lisbon, stretching to Madeira and Biafra. It was a happy day for Sir Diogo who was seen taking Evesto around, introducing him to fellow business associates, different slave depots and their managers. It was a day Sir Diogo guaranteed the future of his business empire that would outlive his day-to-day presence in Bonny and indeed the whole of Biafra. The introduction of Evesto to slave dealers around was a thrilling experience for both Sir Diogo who was noticed doing most of the talking and Evesto nodding along as Sir Diogo started giving him a handover teaching. Slaves were spotted arriving in chains as they were being handed over to various slave managers of slave depots.

By the evening of the same day, the news of the presence of Sir Diogo’s successor had spread all over Bonny Island and beyond. Dios heard about it three days later. He had fallen sick of malaria six days earlier and Nkechi had been cooking many combinations of active leaves and herbs, both for drinking and bathing. It paid off on the seventh day and for the first time, he walked around his house. It was while he was walking around that he spotted Sir Diogo coming towards his new house, and he went to meet him halfway.

“Good morning, sir”, Dios greeted him curiously.

“Good morning Dios. How are you feeling now? I heard you were sick”, Sir Diogo said as they walked towards Dios’ house.

“Yes, I have been very sick, but today I felt much better”, Dios replied.

“You could have come and taken some quinine drugs Evesto came in with. They’re of the best of French Josephs. I know it is malaria”, Sir Diogo said.

“I heard about his coming about four days ago but I was really down. I was thinking he would come to see me when he finally settles down. I learnt Lisbon is a very far place”, Dios said as they sat down on the veranda of his house.

“Hope acute malaria had not killed your sense of reasoning. Are you not expected to come and say welcome to your new boss and show him around?” Sir Diogo said patiently.

“No, sir. That won’t be a problem, sir. The problem is I was very sick and was really dying”, Dios heavy-heartedly replied.

“What are you telling me? A black man of your status dying of malaria? Unless you choose to die”, Diogo scornfully said.

It was a long moment of silence for Dios as he looked into the eyes of Sir Diogo with every deadening and numbing anger he could bottle in. He suddenly and smartly adjusted his face downwards, looking into the many eyes of mother earth. He whispered into her ears, “allow me to be yours, even for a day”. As imperceptible as his word seemed, Sir Diogo’s overactive, restless audible range was able to create a life out of it.

“You mean I should allow you to be my son for a day?” he furiously asked.

Silence, silence and more of silence was the only thing felt among the two as Sir Diogo inquisitively tried to look into Dios’ eyes; at least to be sure he actually uttered that very word. Dios was surprised that it seemed the mother earth he talked to was not ready to hear him and who he was not talking to was all over him to demean him with it. He stood up and walked closer to Sir Diogo.

“Sir Diogo, I was not talking to you. I was talking to mother earth. Don’t misunderstand me, sir”, Dios assured.

Sir Diogo became more confused and stood up.

“Sorry man, you have treated malaria with herbs but you still need Josephs’. It has eaten so deep in you that it has caused you a lack of concentration. You now talk to the land you march on as though it has ears. Come over to my house. He came with enough. You need concentration. I need you to concentrate on your work. I will soon leave for Lisbon and he will be in charge of my business and you, like always, will be assisting in managing these local managers I have here. With your experience, I will have no fear that it will be easier for him to adapt”, Diogo said.

“Alright sir, I have heard you. I need to take some rest now. I will come much later to welcome Evesto and show him around too. Please, do extend my warm greeting to him”, Dios said as Sir Diogo took his leave.

Sir Diogo headed towards his house, however, he had left Dios sicklier than he had met him today. It was so devastating for him that he was judged wrongfully for pouring out his soul to mother earth. It appeared to him that he was not allowed to feel like people from Lisbon. This afternoon, he had been recommissioned to look after not just his younger brother, Evesto, but also primarily protect his business empire as the chosen heir of n*****s Backs Company; a company about to be gambolled into the hand of the fourth generation of Burdon’s management.