Mysteries After the War

chapter 1

NNAJI SAID TO ME “…BUT NEVER ALSO LET THE STORY TO END WITH YOU, PASS IT ON TO THE COMING GENERATION EVEN TO THE WORLD AT LARGE SO THAT OUR PEOPLE MAY REALIZE THE EFFECTS OF THIS LEGEND ON US.

”THE travails of my life, life is unpredictable. Many a times, I have tried to define my life, but I found out that the more I try to, the deeper and harder it seems. My life has been full of mysteries. I am Obinna Ezeudu. I was christened Kieran, but I dropped the name until I entered into secondary school.

One thing revolves around my life and that is the civil war. I can vividly remember that before the war erupted, our class teacher, Mr. Achiku, used to tell us about the crisis in the far away north. Then, during the morning assembly, our headmaster who we usually call ‘Mr. Order’ made an announcement. He’s known for always shouting ‘Order’ in order to restore silence in any gathering, but one thing is for sure-you dare not say that to his face. If he ever catches you, then you are going to face his wrath, it is better that you visit hellfire than receive his masterful strokes of the cane. Even the teachers dread him.

On that early morning we had finished conducting the morning assembly. There comes the announcement from the headmaster that we would be going for an indefinite break till further notice. It was very short and clear. He did not stay to tell us the reason. The next thing was that he mounted his old motorcycle leaving us in confusion.

As usual we all were very happy until Mr. Achiku changed the mood of the arena by narrating to us the main theme of the situation. He told us that we were no longer Nigerians that we were now called Biafrans. So what? Is that why we should stop coming to school? That was the question that was running through my feeble mind, until he made it clearer to us

‘My children the situation we have entered into now is a very difficult one, you all know I have been telling you about the crisis in the north, now it has come out to a WAR’.

Immediately I heard that word, I felt the presence of my late grandfather all over me. He used to tell me about the war, ‘Agha Hitila’ [Hitler’s war] as he called it. He told me how they were captured by the colonial sergeants and they were conscripted into the army how they fought in faraway places like Burma, how he used his gun to clear off the whites called ‘ndi jamini’ [the Germans], and how the glory was won and they came back home without being duly paid. With such a story, I figured out war as something that happens in a given arena far away from the place where people live.

When I came back home I met my mother in a very desolate state. She was weeping and I knew but she tried not to show her emotions.

‘Nkem’ as I always call her

‘Are you okay?’ she didn’t respond

‘Is it about the war?’ I asked again

She looked straight into my eyes, quite perplexed about how I knew

‘Who told you about the war?’

I felt satisfied that at least I have made her to say something, all those while, I have been sensing some uncalled sinister. I have not seen my father or even heard his whistles or humming from his room

‘Where is daddy?’

‘Who told you about the war?’ she persisted

‘Mr. Achiku… my teacher’

She sighed, looking back as if she was talking to my father’s Volkswagen car

‘That man would always be talking like a woman; he can’t even keep anything secret from little children. That’s the reason why he can’t find a woman to marry.’

‘Obi go inside and carry your food, it’s inside the cupboard in the kitchen, I will be back soon let me go and check my palm tree at Agu Ozalla’

‘Yes ma’ I murmured, feeling awkward

‘Why can’t she tell me where daddy is?’

‘And don’t forget to wash the plates or you will not taste the evening meal. Please don’t leave this house until your father comes back; if you like go. Then your father will kill you’ she commanded

‘Yes ma’ I said almost to myself. ‘When daddy returns he will explain everything to me'

My father has never hid anything from me once I asked. I can remember the night my grandfather died. Early in the morning everybody was acting mime, even my father ignored my greetings, my aunties were to my surprise present on that early morning. I went to my father and asked

‘Daddy what is happening?’

‘Your Papa Nnukwu is dead’ he replied

Immediately he said that, my mother acted like something has stung her, she turned back and looked at my father rather disappointed in him.

‘You should not have told him now Papa Obi, he is still a small boy’ she uttered

‘Well if I could have told him now or next year it’s still the same message, his grandfather is dead. He deserves to know about it’ he persisted

‘He is a small boy now but tomorrow he would be a man, there is no need of hiding things from him.’

My father freely volunteered himself to the Biafran force. And that was the reason my mother was sad the day that I came back from school. That won him much accolade. He was placed to the rank of a Major even though he did not have any military experience. My father was the principal of the prestigious St. Patrick High School, Umuopi. He was held in a very high esteem by his students and teachers alike.

Chief Udobi Ezeudu, my father lived two distinct lives. Outside our home, to the villagers, his students and colleagues, he was staunch, mean and a non-conformist kind of a person. He doesn’t always have the time to laugh and joke with anybody. The whole students always look forward to the day that he will smile at anybody which often comes once in a blue moon. On such a day like that, the cause of the such scarce cheerfulness would be the topic of the day, as the students would be eager to know what brought about the change.

At home, my father was entirely a different personality. Reverse becomes the case. I think that my mother must have considered herself so lucky to have a person like my father as a husband. My father married my mother as an orphan; in fact my mother’s family was among the poorest family in Umuopi, my hometown. Her father was a palm wine tapper who fell down from the palm tree and died. Such is an abomination [nso ani] in my hometown and it requires series of rituals for the cleansing of the mother earth before such a person could be buried.

My father told me that, the time he made his intention to marry my mother known. His kinsmen rebuked him, cautioning him not to try such, that my mother’s family are cursed, that their hands are not clean, their blood is instigated from the abominations of their ancestors. They urged him to go and look for another woman that will bring the blessings of fruitfulness to our family. My father persisted, ignoring all their superstitious belief. He told me

‘My son, I knew then that the world has changed. I am an educated person. I have learned from the few Whiteman that I worked with the many principles and ethics of life, moreover I am also a Christian, and it is against the law of God to stigmatize any human fellow like you’

‘But even with all these changes and values, I will be the last person to rebuke and reject our customs and tradition “tufiakwa”. Look at me. I am an Ozo title holder, I initiated you into the masquerade cult and very soon I will give you your own title “Ozonwa”’ he smiled at me, feeling so proud of himself.

‘Moreover I did not see any abomination or curse perceived in marrying your mother then. She is not an Osu, her father or mother did not kill anyone. She also was a virgin before I married her. So you see, that I was advised not to marry her was just because her father fell down from the palm tree which is nobody’s fault, neither her father nor his children, so I was confident enough because I did not foresee any problem in marrying her.’

When my father was about to marry my mother, stories began to spread round the village like a wind. Some said that he wanted to marry from a desolate family just because he wanted to get a cheaper bride price. Others said that he wanted a woman that he can put under his command. A woman he will easily molest and maltreat since nobody cares about her welfare. But my father proved all the criticisms wrong. My father saw to and also financed for the cleansing and the burial of his father-in-law. He also catered for my mother’s only brother, Nduka until he went to Togo to trade.

At home my father treated my mother like a Queen. I didn’t get to know that my mother’s real name is ‘Obioma’ for a very long time because my father always calls her ‘Nkem’ I followed suite in calling her ‘Nkem’ thinking that it is her name. No wonder she didn’t stop me from calling her the name, knowing that it is not proper for a child to call her mother by her name.

I didn’t get to know before the driving force that made my father to leave us and devout himself to the Biafran Army. That early morning that he left to board a bus that will convey him to Enugu, my mother was not her usual self. She didn’t cry, sob or even utter any single word. I resolved in my mind that maybe my father has convinced her as he usually does in occasions like that.

My father held my hand tight while we were accompanying him outside the compound. I looked up at his face and asked: ‘Daddy why would you leave us and join the Army’

‘My son, I am going there to fight to protect the sovereignty of our new nation. If I decide not to go and other men like me refuse as well, then nobody will be there to protect us and we would all be butchered like cattles.’

‘Who will now take care of me and Nkem when you leave?’

‘Obi it is you that I’m leaving to the care your mother to. You are a man now so you have to take care of her till I come back.’

During all these conversation, my mother has been moping at us like a novice. It was as if she was deaf and she couldn’t hear our conversation. I looked up at her face and she was nodding in affirmation to what my father said. She also gave me a smile. That was the first time she took part in our conversation. Cold fears ran down my spine, it was as if that she was enchanted or so. Is she losing her senses because of the whole situation?

‘So daddy when are you coming back home’

‘Immediately the war ends and Biafra is secured. I promise you that I will rush back home to meet you two.’

There were no more questions in my basket of enquiry that morning. I wished that my mother could have helped by taking over but she remained silent. As if my father was reading my mind he asked: ‘Since you have no other question to ask, it’s my turn now to ask you something crucial’

He turned to my mother and told her: ‘Nkem would you please excuse us for a minute I need to have a chat with my son.’

My mother diligently obeyed like a lamb and went back inside the house.

‘Now Obi tell me have you been observing some changes in your body?’

‘No’ I answered quickly

‘Your strength, your mind, your dreams’

‘No why are you asking me daddy’

‘Nothing, I need to know, what of strange dreams, are you having such?’

I need not answer this question because I have been having strange dreams. But I decided to lie to my father telling him that my dreams are always normal. He thought for a while, taking a deep breath he said

‘Now listen to me. Any strange thing that happens to you, anything at all, please you need not tell it to anybody, even your mother, or the priest. No one should know about it, I repeat nobody. Did you hear me?’

‘What’s that thing?’ I stubbornly asked.

He held my two hands and shook my body quite violently.

‘Do you hear me?’

‘Yes… yes sir’

It was unlike my father. That was the first time that I addressed him by his status quo.

‘That’s my man, Obinnia’ He tickled me, ‘don’t worry, with time you would get to understand. But you must remember, as you keep your masquerade initiation rites secret, so you must keep anything or changes that may occur to you anytime soon secret’

‘Soon like when’ I asked

‘I don’t know, now go inside and call your mother I want to feel her warm embrace before I leave. Now go! go! “isiokpukpu”’

My father later left us and joined the army. The war started, I need not to explain what we experienced during the war. The war ended “NO VICTOR, NO VAQUISHED”- many died, many got missing, yet many survived. Among the dead was my classmate and age long friend, Odidika. We heard that he and his family were wiped out by a bomb blast near Azurre plant depot at Ahiara. I missed him so much; he was my only friend who understands my feelings. I shared everything with him including my emotions. With him I felt the presence of a brother of which I didn’t get to have in my life. If he had survived, I would have disobeyed my father’s last instruction because I resolved that I will tell him anything that happens to me as I usually do.

Among the missing was my ever, loving and caring father. We were told that there is no clear indication of his death (his corpse has not been found actually). To them he is a Major and he couldn’t have died on such a low profile. So there is every tendency that he is still alive. But where is he?

Among the survivors were many that were left mentally deranged. Yes! Among them was my ever reliable and vibrant teacher- Mr. Achiku. He was involved in an accident that happened in the barracks at Emene. They said that a load that weighed 200kg hit him very hard on his head. He was lucky to have survived but he was mentally affected as he was left with partial insanity.

War does not determine who is right-only who is left- Betrand Russell