Tuesday, August 16, 2016

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It is fascinating with an absorbing narrative on the intrigues of African Political leaders. Discover what happens when the gods, warriors, mighty and mere mortals engage in warfare. A hilarious fiction on African traditional politics...

Grab your copy now, call: 2349021231569, 2348033450901 or e-mail: thenigerianpost2001@yahoo.com 

The sky was gloomy with clouds hovering over the air. There was a grave silence as the night grew cold and colder beneath and darkness covered the face of the earth. Only sounds of hollow drums and harsh trumpets from spirits making a guffaw to the graveyard could be heard. It was like the ancestors were meeting in the village square as the entire kingdom went into absolute tranquility.  Ancestors seldom meet, but when they meet, no human being would be seen outside eavesdropping to their deliberations. People would be rescinded to their various houses. Only those with dual citizenship of the spirit and mortal could go out to perform their extra-mundane communication.

It was axiomatic that ancestors meetings bestow good climate as the moon usually peep through the sky to watch the mother earth hosting the ancestors. And that “Usumani” river usually overflows its banks to greet the ancestors. Those ancient diviners derive inspiration from the meeting of the ancestors.

The horrendous weather was observed with mixed grill as the grave stillness persisted for a while and the priest of “Kalu nde ebe” had started consulting the oracle to conjure the gods.  “Kookorokoo” the rooster cried to pronounce the crack of dawn. But the weather looked like the night was only half spent.

After the second cockcrow, the atmosphere changed from serenity to chaotic situation. The village began to crack in aggressive and stubborn wind with successive sound of roaring thunder tearing the sky. It came hurrying with heavy wind and rainfall. Great water drops were dribbling and droning with insistent devotion upon roofs. There were lightening and thunderstorm. And people were cornered by the fear gnawing at their heart. The rain bellowed and beat her chest angrily as the accomplished wind rummaged about the villages and provoked the big “Achi” tree at the village square to produce aggressive and stubborn flung.

It was an Nkwor day, when everybody in the village was expected to be in the market with their wares. Only children were usually seen in compounds on Nkwor days. They would be doing the house chores like scrubbing the floors and painting the walls with new leafs after fetching water from the stream. People were forbidden from going to the farm on Nkwo days  Everybody always look forward to see the Nkwor day as it goes with merry making.

But this Nkwor day was different, it was full of sorrow. The harsh weather came with early rainstorm that destroyed properties in the village and dismayed the people. While the people were still howling over the calamitous confrontation, the town crier went round the village to announce the meeting of kingmakers. He announced that any member of the palace that was found absent in meeting would be adequately penalized.

The town crier was seen as the medium between the village and the palace. The respect bestowed on him makes his announcements indubitable. There was an air of sacrosanct around the town crier as went round the village beating the gong and proclaiming his message.
It was already in the mid-morning, palm wine tapers had returned from their vineyards. And members of the king makers were gathering with great anxiety.  They were grieved by inkling of the matter for deliberation in the meeting. Some of them construed the weather condition as a bad omen as calamity and doom were written all over their faces.                                               

Grab your copy now, call: 2349021231569, 2348033450901 or e-mail: thenigerianpost2001@yahoo.com