Ebi and Umali squatted such that
their butt0ckz almost swept at the
floor as they greeted Baba. The
only reason they came over to
Baba’s ‘state of the arts’ living
room, furnished for him by his
daughter- aunty Udale, was
because their friend was no
longer around. Else they would
both have sneaked into Laibe’s
mother’s hut, as usual, which was
behind her grandfather’s. Ebi was
almost mad at Umali because the
later was the reason for their
lateness in arriving at Laibe’s
house as promptly as they had
planned. Umali didn’t do this
deliberately though, her father
puts her under curfew, off and on,
as he pleases; reasons best
known to him. Obviously, they
won’t be seeing their best friend
in a very long time and not
getting to say ‘proper goodbyes’
before she left the village this
morning is more hurtful. Baba
smiled boisterously as he asked
them to rise from their greeting
position. He had always known
his granddaughter to be one of
the most respectful young girls in
Ofabo, so wasn’t surprised at her
friends’ show of respect, in that
light, anytime he luckily ran into
them.
The chair Baba sat on is special,
specially made for elders in the
village. At a point, one would think
that it was a stretcher with the
way a very strong linen – which
was the main seat, danced from
one edge of the wood above to
the other end where it attaches to
a foot rest. The chair is foldable
and when left unfolded, it would
be standing just beside a table on
which Baba’s old radio stood. The
aged man love listening to news
so much so that a stranger in the
village sometimes ago thought he
was a retired journalist. No. He
hadn’t even smelt the four walls
of any level of academic
institution all his life. With his
intellectual capacity though,
villagers ask amongst themselves
what would have become of him –
how he would have been the best
– if he ever went to a school. He
can’t but faithfully listen to his
favourite station; Radio Kogi,
Ochaja and whenever he tuned to
that frequency, Laibe would have
to remind him over and over again
that his food was getting cold.
The only unfortunate part was
that, there is almost no one
around for him to share his
political views and ideologies with
anymore.
It is somewhat a thing of tradition
in this part of the world that only
the younger ones should visit the
elder; making the otherwise an
abomination. Therefore, since the
death of Pa. Ekele, who died late
last year at ninety six, Baba, at
eighty three, had assumed the
honourable position of eldest in
the village.
Every other elder and ultimately
all the villagers are obligated to
come see him from time to time,
instead of the other way round.
Going out on visitations has
become close to impossible for
him, that is accompanying the fact
that talking was his strength. He
could continue talking, analysing
and explaining just a concept in
his characteristic deep Igala
intonation for hours and only a
patient listener, unlike Laibe,
could put up with that. It is one of
the greatest times he misses his
daughter-in-law, Laibe’s mother,
Onechojon.
Ichojo, as he fondly referred to
her, remain the best wife any man
on earth could ever have. Judging
from the way she cheerfully
relates with every member of the
extended family, she found and
won her way into everyone’s heart
in no time, with so much ease.
Her cooking skills were not of this
world as well, one eats her food
and is tempted to eat up the
rubber plate it was served in,
alongside. Laibe inherited that
from her mum – mastery in the
art of kitchen affairs.
It was on that premise that Baba
brought up the idea of commercial
sales of cooked food in the
market square. Hearkening to
Baba’s business ideas, back then,
paid real well because every
member of Ofabo has, at one time
or the other, impulsively or
voluntarily, bought food from
Onechojon. All these were before
the last stroke broke the camel’s
back, and it did break it in pieces.
Baba stopped the sound coming
from his radio. He never receive
clear signals- partly because of
the unclear waves- he always hear
some ‘shhhh, shhhh’ intermittently
while the presenter talked but that
didn’t matter to the aged man. The
radio would be his most trusted
company henceforth and he was
quite aware of that fact. He, after
switching off the noisy radio, sat
up from the chair to pick up his
bowl of akamu, the remnant from
the one Laibe gave him to drink
this morning. He poured some
water to dilute it before drinking.
As he did this, he pictured the
stern look Laibe always wore
whenever he took diluted pap –
ofofolo, like this. The act seem
unimpressive to her. She would
always say ‘No’ bluntly when he
asked her to drink out of it and
that usually made Baba titter.
Perhaps when she gets to his
age, she would appreciate the
need for ofofolo in one’s life.
Ebi turned to look at Umali while
Baba drank. They too, like their
friend, disliked ofofolo: the elderly
people’s juice. The bowl was so
big it covered his entire face as
he drank from it. This is the only
bowl remaining in the house with
its original lid still intact and
that’s grossly because it was
specially used to serve only Baba.
No one was permitted to take it
away from the side stool it’s
always placed on, let alone away
from this living room.
“Onùkwù mè le t’Ankpa mèwñ”
Baba told the two girls that ‘their
friend was already off to Ankpa’,
immediately he was done gulping
the entire content of the stainless
bowl.
Umali and Ebi nodded their head
simultaneously as though they
planned it. They made to move
close, perhaps to collect the big
bowl or ‘cup’ as the case may be
and help the elderly man replace
it on the table, but he was swifter
than them. It’s so uncomfortable
talking with an elder especially a
revered one as this. History has it
that Laibe’s grandfather was the
first grandson of the original
founder of Ofabo land. It is said
that their ancestor’s migrated to
come settle in this land and has
been breeding children since then,
up until the once hamlet transited
into a really expanded village.
That sounded true because
inasmuch as Baba here wasn’t the
crowned king of the land, has
never been even, permission must
be gotten from him as to who or
not to coronate.
Baba is so tall and lanky; people
marvel from his still intimidating
height at this age, how he was as
a young man. He always had to
bend so as to come out through
his door regardless of his already
bent waist. That is how tall he is.
Baba proudly tells children in the
village during moonlight stories:
concerning growing up, hunting in
jungles and thick forest, and how
he was the bravest of them all.
He cleared his throat as though
ready to begin a narration but
smiled when he saw, however
dimly, the look on the faces of the
little girls before him; they looked
nervous, they looked impatient
and he didn’t want to bore them
with any of his talks. More so the
day was still very young and they
would need to help their parents
out in the house or at the farm,
either ways! In his good heart, he
excused them to go home. Well,
he had to, there is no way they
would have the guts to leave his
presence without his permission.
That’s another bulky part of the
tradition – they would be
attracting a curse on themselves
if they dared. The girls knew this
and prayed silently in their hearts
that Baba releases them to go this
morning.
The brown curtain hanging on the
wooden door opened just as they
stood up to leave and the last
person they both expected to see
in the house this early morning
walked in. He wore a native buba
shirt and a trouser that stood
somewhere in-between knickers
and full length trouser. Everything
about Omachoko, the young man
that just walked in, irritated
Laibe’s friends, especially Ebi, to
their bones. Is it the three faint
Igala marks that his parents drew
on his face? Drawn in such a way
that it’s like running a black
marker on a clean white linen.
Yes. Almost everyone in the
village has the Igala mark; some
running from the edges of their
lips to some points on the cheeks,
while others from the edges of
their eyelids downwards.
Omachoko’s whose fairness was
fading due to rigorous lifestyle,
wasn’t an exception.
Maybe they disliked him so much
for putting undue pressure on
their friend, ever since he
inherited that old bicycle from his
father.
Once, he asked Laibe to remain at
home so he could fetch water for
her from the stream instead. The
poor girl said NO to no avail and
by the time he was done filling up
the two large drums at the back of
the house with water, she still
said NO. Another time he carried
her firewood all the way from the
neighbouring village, where they
usually go to fetch firewood,
down to her house. He said he
loves Laibe – he can and would
do anything for her. That would
have been a melodious song in
the ears of some other girls in the
village who believe there isn’t so
much to a woman’s life and have
acquired a stereotyped dream of
getting married to someone who
can fend for their needs and
those of the children unborn. Not
Laibe, not any of her friends. The
three girls have always believed in
themselves, believed in the fact
that if they worked just a little
harder, they would get a man that
deserved them much better than
the ‘local champions’ around. The
mothers of Ebi and Umali have
however warned their girls to
desist from such mentality as
Laibe. Reasons being that the
respective families needed the
income that would be generated
from the dowries of the girls.
“Olodúdú Baba” Omachoko
prostrated to say ‘Good morning’
to Baba who didn’t see anyone
walk in at first. Baba’s vision was
gradually growing dim and his
sense of hearing saved him more
often than not. Baba smiled on
recognising the voice and Ebi
pinched Umali’s hand almost
immediately. They both gave
themselves a knowing look and
hissed lightly, so light Baba must
not hear. It is another gross,
unpardonable form of disrespect
to hiss in front of an elder no
matter how irritated one becomes.
So much for tradition.
Omachoko to them look, sounds
and thinks too pompous for their
liking. Perhaps because his father
was the wealthiest farmer in the
land and he had inherited
everything since the elderly man
passed on, one and half years
ago. They both told Laibe, just
when he was on her neck, that
she should look out for a young
man who can make money on his
own and not depend on his
parents’ inheritance to survive, in
her best interest. Though Laibe
has been quite indifferent about
the whole matter. What would a
girl rather do with a never-give-up
young man anyway? She still
knew marriage was close to the
last thing on her mind at that
moment.
“Mà donè kà jì Ankpa”
Ebi and Umali stopped
involuntarily atg the door when
Omachoko said those words,
telling Baba that ‘someone had
been kidnapped in Ankpa’. Many
thoughts ran through their minds
individually as each one tried not
to believe what her brain was
suggesting. Baba sat up with his
mouth agape, more like jerking
up. He asked for details from
Omachoko and the only thing the
young man could say was that
one of his relations came home
late hours of this morning, telling
everyone that the most recent
events in Ankpa right now were
kidnapping and human trafficking.
The relation proceeded to The relation proceeded to say that
the kidnappers use several tricks
to get younger children, especially
girls, for what no one knew about
and that; some two girls were
kidnapped within the space of this
morning to noon.
Tears started dropping from Ebi’s
eyes and Umali held her hand
firmly. Ebi has always been like
this, being the loudest and
craziest of the three, yet too
emotional for strength.
Everything made her cry and
Umali knew more than anything
else that her friend is already
regretting their actions. They were
part of the strong forces that
encouraged Laibe to travel even
when she had double thoughts,
even when her grandfather was
not approving of it.
“Ì dàbù kùmà àbà!” Baba
exclaimed as he sank back into
the seat behind him. He said he
had never been more
apprehensive about anything else
in his life and inasmuch as he
tried to dissuade Laibe from
travelling, her mind was made. He
knew his granddaughter very well;
how nice and humble she can be
and also how extremely
unbearable she gets every time
she chooses to be stubborn and
follow her own will.
Baba could feel his heart beating
fast and his body was already
beginning to get hot. He can’t
afford slumping over from high
blood pressure at this point, not
now that he had no idea,
whatsoever, about the
whereabouts of his beloved
granddaughter. If Laibe was in
danger as his minds feels right
now, if she ever needed any help,
he should be the one available to
render one. The more he thinks
about it, the more he realises that
none of them, both him and Laibe,
were careful enough to ask for
vital details from the young man
that claimed to be sent from aunty
Udale. The only thing Baba know
is his name – Ocholi, and that
was because the young man even
had the courtesy to introduce
himself by that name, not because
he was asked. Who knows if that
was a fake name just to deceive
and get his young granddaughter
to follow him. The eagerness. The
hurry. Everything was so much
this morning indeed.
“Éwñ àche àbàjo í?” He turned to
ask Omachoko, ‘what is the next
possible thing to do now?’. He
looked confused, he looked hurt
and helpless. Omachoko looked
more confused than even the two
girls still clinging on to the door
knob. Though his reasons for
dissuading Laibe from traveling to
Ankpa were selfish ones. He felt,
proximity should enable him drive
his point home soon enough.
Home, was and is still Laibe’s
heart and the more he imagines
whatever situation his heartthrob
was in, the more his heart broke
into pieces.
Baba lay face up as though he
could see heaven from where he
sat with a little more intense
stare. He had heard of child
trafficking, he had heard of
kidnapping but never imagined
giving out his own granddaughter
willingly to kidnappers. He never
envisaged it coming this close to
him. There was something he
could literally taste.