The Legend of Arochukwu

CHAPTER ONE-2

In the forest a boy dashed between trees with the speed of a gazelle as he went in hot pursuit of an animal. Taking deep breaths and clutching his spear tightly, he jumped down a low cliff and continued running. He turned swiftly to the right, then slid through a space between two trees, and landed in front of the leopard he was chasing.

The leopard halted abruptly and roared so loudly that the birds in the trees took flight. The young hunter dropped his spear. His manner was calm and gentle but his eyes were dark and wild. The leopard roared again, and when this did not scare the boy, the animal leapt to attack. The boy, with no weapon in his hand, sprang forward to meet the beast.

By the time the hunter’s companion appeared through the thick forest, the youngster had stopped fighting and was panting over his kill. When the companion saw his friend covered in blood and a leopard lying dead on the ground in front of him, the approaching boy did not appear surprised at all.

“Congratulations for adding another feather to your cap, Ebube,” he said.

“I’m not a chief yet, Nnaemeka,” Ebube replied.

“Do you need to be made one before you know you’re one?” Nnaemeka asked.

“Nnaemeka, I don’t have time for flattery.”

“It’s the truth! How many warriors or hunters can kill one leopard a day with their bare hands?” Nnaemeka wiped the sweat from his forehead. “But for you, this is your second kill today!”

“Tomorrow then, I’ll kill three.” In a swift move Ebube swept up the large dead beast and placed it around his shoulders. Grabbing his spear from the ground, he started back with Nnaemeka for the village.

As they walked in silence Nnaemeka eyed Ebube with great pride. Who wouldn’t be proud, he thought, to have such an awesome friend?

Nnaemeka had been Ebube’s best friend right from childhood. They used to sit in the moonlight with other children to listen to tales of the tortoise’s wisdom and cunningness that an elderly woman named Uzodinma narrated.

Nnaemeka was the seventh of ten children. Their father was a farmer and the firstborn had been a cripple from birth. Rumours had it that the child became crippled because Nnaemeka’s father had committed a sacrilege. What this sacrilege was and how it was committed, no one knew.

Although they were not rich, they were nevertheless able to manage their poverty. Nnaemeka had been attracted to Ebube and the two became inseparable. If they hadn’t come from different mothers, people might have thought they were twins, though they were also not identical.

As the two young men entered the village, with a dead leopard around the shoulders of one of them, people stood and stared in amazement, and then began to chat about the strange happenings Arochukwu was seeing these days. Afamefuna, a well-known ironsmith who was working at his bellows gaped at the two in astonishment.

Dibiamaka, an old man who was bent almost in two over his walking stick and who seemed to have materialised behind the ironsmith from nowhere announced as if Afamefuna didn’t know, “This is his second leopard today.” He yanked out the chewing stick in his mouth and spat, “Yesterday it was two giant wild pigs.”

“It’s abnormal for a boy his age,” Afamefuna said. “He should be hunting birds, not leopards.”

“Birds? Tell that to the spirits,” Dibiamaka spat again. “That boy is stronger than an elephant.”

Afamefuna muttered, “Well, is he not a son of the gods?”

“What I find most abnormal,” said the old man, “is the size of the wild pigs of yesterday.”

Afamefuna nodded. “I heard of their size.”

“If you ask me,” said Dibiamaka, “I’d say someone should caution the boy or else there would be no more animals left in the forest.” He shoved his chewing stick back in his mouth and chewed with toothless gums like a ruminant.

Not a few villagers rubbed their eyes to make sure they were seeing correctly. It was as if Ebube was just walking into the forest and plucking leopards from their lairs.

It had been twelve planting seasons since the death of Obioma the priestess, and strange things were happening by the hand of the boy. Young and old admired him, and they praised and thanked the gods for giving Arochukwu a legendary hunter who would doubtless become a renowned warrior, which the war-torn times needed.