FLAMING HEART

TWO - FORCEFULLY TAKEN

The old man's eyes lighted up when she did that and she could see satisfaction oozing out of his short frame.

"That is where you all should be." He towered above them with a nasty smirk on his wrinkled face.

Obioma bit her lips and shut her eyes. How much harm was her father going to do them even now that he was in his grave? Why should they suffer for a debt no one knew when it had been borrowed?

She could still recount every problem the useless man had caused them. He had even been the cause of his grave and she could still remember the events that led to his untimely death. 

It had been a very fine morning when he fell from a palm tree while tapping palm wine. That day, the town crier had announced that the Igwe would host a party and only men who could afford a keg of palm wine would be allowed to attend with their families. On hearing that, Mr Mmaduabuchi climbed up the tallest palm tree to get the sweetest of wine to gain eminence from the Igwe. But then, the opposite happened. He had fallen, broken his waist and died that instant.

Her father had always had a problem with belonging. He always wanted to do, wear or go where his mates were going. Instead of gaining eminence from the Igwe, the king had not known about his existence not to talk of attending his burial.

Ever since her father died, her family had moved into abject poverty. Her mother, Florence had tried everything possible to make ends meet. Her elder brother, Udoka had to move out of the house to work in the city as an apprentice to Chief Ifebuchi: a rich trader who traded both in the village and in the city. Chief Ifebuchi was called the importer and exporter; he imported and exported all kind of goods.

Obioma wished the money could fall from the sky or some good samaritan would take pity on them and pay their debt. But as she heard her mother and sister plead with the man once again, she knew they were all alone in this mess.

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"What are you thinking so hard about?" Nkechi's light voice brought Obioma out of her reverie and she sat up immediately. She couldn't believe she was still bothered by an incident that had taken place two years ago. Ugomma was now happily married with the fisherman according to her mother yet Obioma couldn't get over the fact that her elder sister was used as a payment for a debt to a man who chased incessantly after women.

Could it be the guilt from not doing much to help Ugomma that day that the painful memory stuck to her memory, refusing to go? Obioma could still remember how Ugomma had cried her eyes out that day. It had been painful to watch and ever since that day, Obioma had lived in fear not knowing when she would be forced too just like her sister. It had been on that the day, her burning desire to leave the village had surfaced.

Obioma adjusted as bit as she sat on a stool with her left palm propped under her chin as she stared ahead - not staring at anything in particular. Her little sister: Nkechi, was seen building a sandcastle beside her. She cast little glances at Obioma as she did this; wondering what important thing Obioma had on her mind to think this hard. The large charcoal pot filled with rice was blazing hot as the fire licked the anus of the pot. Foams spilt out of the open pot lid as the rice cooked.

Obioma sighed deeply; propping her right palm now under her chin. She was going to the big city the next day. The city which she had always dreamed about. It still looked like a dream to her; a hallucination. She had never left her village: Amopa, from the very first year she was born.

Amopa which was a small remote village was located deeply in Anambra state. It was known for its numerous rivers. The people of Amopa were mostly farmers, hunters and fishermen. The houses of the villagers were built with mud and thatch roof - it was an underdeveloped area, however, some rich people in the village who had gone to the city had returned to the village only to renovate their houses and build it in the same manner with houses in the city.

Those buildings had always marvelled Obioma and she was even more fascinated by the ones she heard existed in the city. According to her friend, there were far more beautiful houses in the city. Obioma couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to live in one of such houses rather than in a house built with mud; cracks of various sizes decorating the walls - cracks so deep Obioma feared they would collapse soon.

Obioma cupped her hand as she slapped the mosquito which was diligently sucking her blood. Will there be mosquitoes in the city? She wondered. She couldn't wait to be in the city. She was tired of living in the four corners of Amopa village: a village which held no opportunity for her.

She stared at Nkechi and watched her build her castle. The little one would soon be out of primary school and then would have to drop out like everyone else in the family since Amopa had just one primary school which was built in 1984 when the Igwe and some wealthy people still cared about the development of the village.

Ever since then, the villagers had been waiting for a secondary school. They had laid their complaints and made numerous pleas to the new igwe to no avail. All actions had been rendered futile. Now the children of Amopa had to travel as far as Onitsha to complete their schooling and this only appealed to children whose parents could afford the expenses for a boarding school. Obioma's family was definitely not among.

Before then, life had been a plaything to her but her sister's unannounced marriage had been a wake-up call to her. It was for this reason she had roamed the streets of the village, seeking who would take her along to the city to serve either as a maid or any other job.

Her effort had proven futile constantly until she met Uloma, the third daughter of the rich Chief Otumba who owned the tallest building in the village, and whose mansion always lit up with light no matter the time. It was in his house she had first seemed the big box which housed individuals. Children of various age range had made his home their centre of attraction until a boy had broken the big box all in a bid to rescue the people who had been swallowed by the box. Then had Chief Otumba banned all children from entering into his compound.

Chief Otumba was a very influential man in the village who held both ofo and ozo title respectively. He was a man of timber and calibre who owned countless houses in strategic places in the city. The rumour that he had built a house each for his seven children including the last who was the same age as Nkechi taught Obioma that the world was indeed an unfair place.

Obioma would forever remember how Uloma had looked at her when she had pleaded with her to take her along. Uloma who visited the village occasionally and who paraded round in expensive apparels and jewellery with her beautiful car had stared at Obioma with disgust; asking what importance Obioma would be to her.

Obioma had to swallow the little pride remaining in her and had asked to help out in house chores, this Uloma agreed to instantly.

Obioma stared at Nkechi once again; sighing as she shook her head. Nkechi was just so little and naive and Obioma wondered what the future had in stock. Would she be sold out too or would she find a way to leave? Who would be there to take care of the little one when she left? Ikenna, her younger brother had long engaged himself in farming. He worked as a labourer in Mazi Nkem's large farm.

It had always been his dream to be a successful farmer with large farms and many labourers. Obioma knew he would achieve this for one day; she had never seen such zeal in anyone not to talk of a fifteen-year-old boy.

Everyone was indeed going out of their way, looking for means to survive but Nkechi? She was still very little.

"The rice is burning, Oby," Nkechi called out bringing Obioma out of her reverie. Obioma quickly stood up and brought the hot pot down with a small piece of cloth. Indeed the overcooked rice was burning.

Obioma couldn't recall when last she ate a bowl of well-prepared rice. The rice they ate was always overcooked because overcooking increased the quantity of food. For this reason, the meal was always tasteless. But no one complained. Everyone knew the condition of the house.

Obioma carried the pot into the kitchen which was at the far end of the compound. As she served the rice in little calabash for herself and Nkechi, her mind wandered again. How would the city be? Would it hold many opportunities for her? Would she be connected with influential people? Would she meet her prince charming? She had always dreamt of a very extraordinarily rich and handsome young man who loved her despite her flaws. With him, it didn't matter if she was a dropout or a dirty village girl.

Was that a mere fantasy or would she withhold such a man? Either way, Obioma nurtured these dreams as they comforted and encouraged her; they gave her a reason to live. They were her companion. She had everything she wanted there. Her imaginations made her smile which was what she felt mattered be it realistic or not.

"I've been watching you since. You've been thinking so hard. What are you thinking about?" Nkechi asked as they sat down to eat. Her big eyes searching Obioma's face.

Obioma cuddled her head and smiled. 

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So Ugomma was finally taken  . That girl is just too quiet for her own good. What would you do if you were faced with similar problem? I'll probably run away from home.