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The Rogue Deity
As the girl danced forward, the Agaba followed behind…then the other opposing masquerades intensified the firing of their charms at them. The ‘little’ girl continued to dance forward, followed by Agaba. A wonder was happening here now. The ‘little’ girl’s appearance brought rain. But it was not raining everywhere. It was a mystery rain. Where the Agaba and the ‘little girl’ were, the rain was not falling. Where their group were singing and dancing and praising the deity, it was not raining, either. Even where the spectators were standing, it was also not raining. But it was heavily raining on other competing masquerades. This marveled everyone. But Peri knew what happened. He was familiar with powers of the sea. He was a strong initiate. So, he raised his hands and a cloud formed like an umbrella over his men so that the rain did not touch them while it fell on all other masquerades.
Meanwhile the ‘little girl’ and the Agaba continued to dance towards the ram. They had now crossed the center and were very close to the ram. Then Peri made an invocation and clapped his hands again and there was a lightning but the lightening could not pin the ‘little’ girl at a spot. Rather she turned and looked towards the direction of Peri and smiled – she was ‘lightning’ herself. She then turned again towards the ram, still dancing while Agaba followed… she pointed at the ram and immediately, the lightning flashed three times. At the third flash of the lightning, a sound of thunder was heard and, by itself, the ram leaped and cut the thread and, like something possessed, began to dance towards the little girl…the crowd went into frenzy. They had not seen it like this in the history of ito-ebule in Achi. And for the first time a new masquerade who was not reckoned as powerful had untied the sacred ram. The noise of the crowd was deafening…a new winner has emerged. The ram must reach Ndegwu.
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The Seven Strokes of the gods
On this very sunny day, Awara-Awara, the priest of Ajana deity and the oldest man in the village of Eziama-Aruke, was seen trudging laboriously along the pebbled path leading to the Orie market square. His hands and legs were unsteady and shaking as reeds in the wind. This rickety bearing of his frame loudly announced the passage of decades. As he moved, he continued to discuss with some unseen companions.
Now and again, he gesticulated, laughed or nodded in agreement with the views of his unseen entourage. With his right hand, he clutched his ancient staff – with this, he supported his ancient body. And with his left hand, he clutched a lighted ederi torch, while he advanced his ‘near ancestral’ steps as unsurely as one seeking his way on a pitch dark night.
Unakalamba, seeing this very unusual sight, asked: ‘ancient one, what do you seek with a burning ederi torch at the middle of the day when the sun is at its brightest?’ ‘I seek the Door of Hope’, the ancient one replied.
Several years later, Uduma, the Door of Hope was born with the destiny of the stars. Then, all the forces of good and evil came down to play…in contention for his destiny and for the soul of the community.
About The Author
Lancelot Ukaigwe is a budding academic, novelist and script writer who loves to carry over his African identity to his literary works. He is a philosopher whose writings are presented as non-polarized mimesis of the ancient African life, culture and mindset. He loves reading and teaching in areas of philosophy.