Uzomechina stretched, straightening his tall, sturdy frame. His spine made some cracking sounds as he turned on his waist. The sun was scorching today, and the fact that he had left home on an empty stomach didn't help matters. He was tired, but he had a large swathe of land on which he had to make mounds in preparation for the upcoming planting season. With a sigh, he went back to work.
His broad back glistening wth sweat as he bent down, he raised his hoe and brought it down in rhythmic manner, heaping large mounds of earth where his yams would be planted.
He would plant forty sets of twenty seed yams this season, twice what he planted last season. Half of the sum was from his own harvest from the last planting season, while the rest he had gotten from two elders noted for releasing seed yams to hardworking, young men in exchange for a small share of their harvest. Uzomechina had asked for ten sets of twenty seed yams from each of them, and they agreed, after securing his promise to pay them after the harvest was ready. He hoped the harvest would be better than last year's, so that he would not need to source for seed yams anymore.
Last year's harvest was fair, but a bit below expectations considering how favourable the climate has been. Uzomechina had however been happy with what he had been able to harvest. After delivering yams to those who he owed payments, giving gifts to friends, and making the necessary appreciative sacrifices to the various deities that presided over one aspect of farming - to Ala, the earth goddess who had blessed him with a reasonable bounty out of her womb, and to Ihejioku, the god of yams, who had strengthened his hand and hoe; to Amadioha, the God of the sky and lightning, and to Anyanwu, the goddess of the sun, for favouring him with good weather - he still had enough yams to fill his barn, with which he would feed his family while he waited for the next harvest. Truly, the gods rewarded hardwork, and Uzomechina had that in spades. His chi - the arusi, or spirit, assigned to every man or woman, and which personalized a person's fate, will and consciousness - was active, therefore he would not relent, not while his back was still strong and straight. After all, as the Igbo people say, the man who is on good terms with his chi, has the sweetest life.
He worked and worked, making yam mounds , till the only sound he focused on was the sound of the hoe scraping the earth, and the sound of his sweat hitting the soft soil, yet he did not stop. Legs firmly planted on the ground, he toiled, oblivious to his surroundings.
Suddenly, he felt a cool, scaly sensation on his foot. Out of the corner of his eye, he made out a long, slender, slithering shape moving over his foot. Reflexively, he raised his hoe and brought the sharp edge down on the snake. The hoe sliced the snake clean even before Uzomechina turned to look. When he did turn to look, he was met with a horrible sight. A royal python lay beside his foot, cut into two unequal halves, each squirming and thrashing. His heart thrummed against his chest, and his head swam. What had he just done? He had killed a royal python, sacred to Idemmili and Ala. He gasped in horror.
He muttered, cursing himself silently. The royal python was a sacred animal in the Igbo tradition. It was allowed to enter into people's homes, sleep on their beds and even cuddle around their children. It never harmed anyone, and a royal python in one's home was seen as a sign of good luck. Killing one accidentally had a lot of great consequences, and killing one intentionally was unheard of, so there was no punishment for that. He had just accidentally killed a royal python. Anyone who did so was at risk of incurring the wrath of Ala and Idemmili if the proper appeasements were not made. He had to offer nunerous livestock, money, bales of clothes, beads and various objects which were very expensive, to Ala, Idemmili and to the spirit of the python he had just killed. On top of that, he had to perform burial rites befitting of a rich king, or a famous warrior. He would make additional burial sacrifices, and host the whole clan for seven full days of feasting and merriment. All these, if at all he would be successful, would render him penniless, and his family wretched. He thought about Iruoma, his heavily pregnant wife. He couldn't bear the thought of them in abject poverty, on account of his mistake. A rebellious thought came into his head, one that made his heart beat even faster. No one was around. He was alone, the only man on the field. No one saw him commit the abomination. He would bury the snake in a far enough place. That would avert the wrath of Ala, he hoped. Heart hammering, he crouched down, picked up the python's corpse, and put it in his goatskin bag. He secured his trouser across his waist, took hold of his hoe, and set off.
Having walked a far enough distance, he came across a forest, where he decided to bury the snake. He cleared a small section of the land, and began digging. After he had dug a sizeable rectangular hole, he carefully placed the python inside - the two halves arranged lengthwise -, muttered a prayer to the earth, and filled the hole.
He had averted the curse, he thought. He repeated the thought to himself again and again as he left the forest, staggering disorientedly. He was so distracted that he wasn't looking where he was going, and he pricked his big toe on a large thorn. He winced, and rubbed the area to stop the bleeding, then continued on. The toe throbbed with a slight pain, which he ignored, continuing the journey home.
By the time he got home, he was limping and could not put any weight on that toe. As he stepped into the compound, he saw his wife sitting outside on a stool. She looked worried, as expected; it was late evening. Immediately she saw him coming towards her, she beamed and stood up abruptly.
“Be careful, oriaku m", he cautioned. “You shouldn't be jumping like that in your present state!" Oriaku was a pet name he called his wife. It meant ‘she who enjoys her husband's wealth'.
“My husband, welcome. Where have you been?" She went and hugged him, not minding the sweat and dirt on his body.
“I've been busy, ugo m. On the farm." Ugo m was another pet name. It meant ‘my jewel'.
“I've been so worried. Oh, thank Amadioha and Ala that you're safe." At the mention of Ala, Uzomechina was startled, and chuckled nervously.
“Uzom, you don't look so good", she said, calling him by his nickname as they walked towards his hut together. “And look- you're limping!"
“It's nothing, Iruoma." Iruoma sighed, but kept quiet. The change in his tone was evident.
“Let's go in, my husband. I prepared ji na mmanu otazi for you."
He nodded. The thought of soft, roasted yams with a savory, slightly bitter sauce was indeed appetizing.
The next few days were like hell for Uzomechina. His injured toe had swollen to thrice its normal size, and at night he was plagued by terrible, wicked dreams, where vengeful spirits would chase him, and where he would wander in an endless forest, lost and alone. One night, he could have even sworn he heard the priestess of Ala crying out his name in her shrill, piercing voice.
He couldn't go to the farm any longer. The planting season has started fully, and his seed yams would soon rot. Another couple of days, the wound had festered and spread to the rest of his foot. His wife had called three healers, and all their efforts had been futile. One even suggested that the wound was probably not natural; either he had an enemy who was afflicting him with sickness, or he had committed nso ala - sacrilege to the earth. Uzomechina had denied both suggestions vehemently.
Five days later, Iruoma went into labour. He was awash with fear for her life and the life of the child. Ala, as the goddess of fertility, presided over childbirth, and he dared not pray to her. When the midwives brought Iruoma to him, with a squealing baby girl, he couldn't hide his relief and joy. The joy, however, was short-lived. Mother and child died two days later. His sorrow knew no bounds, and no amount of consoling could reduce the pain he felt. He pleaded with Ala and Idemmili to take his life, but he woke up each day, more hopeless than the previous. He considered confessing to the village elders, but dismissed the thought. He would be spat upon for sacrilege, and exiled. No, he would not. He would die with his dignity.
As the days passed, his condition got even worse. His foot was rotten, and both limbs were swollen. Anyone who saw him now would have no doubt about his abomination; only those who had desecrated the earth were afflicted with the swelling. But no one came. Was it his hopelessness that chased them away, or the smell emanating from his decaying foot? He did not know which it was. He cursed the spirit of the python, and the gods, and the earth. His family would be wiped out from the face of the earth, as was the punishment for his grievous sin. He cursed himself, cursed the day he had killed that python, and cursed his chi. His chi was unlucky. The igbos said that when a man said yes, his chi said yes also. But Uzomechina had said yes, loudly, and his chi had disagreed. Now he would be forgotten, his compound deserted. His body would be thrown into the evil forest for the vultures to feast on; those who were guilty of desecrating Ala had been rejected by her, and so could not be committed into her womb. Feeling worse than he had ever felt, he closed his eyes, and for the first time since he became a man, shed a tear.
All images generated by Meta AI
Hey there, fellow hiveans 👋 😊
I decided to write this piece as my entry for the inkwell fiction prompt, drawing inspiration from the Igbo culture and mythology. Igbo gods were said to be capricious and, at times, unforgiving. I hope I was able to capture that with this story. Let me know what y'all think 😉✌️