Awara-Awara was believed to be the oldest man in the village of Eziama-Aruke. Some elderly men in the village put his age around a hundred and twenty years. Some claimed that he could be more than that. The fact remained that no one could certainly say how old he was.
Awara-Awara happened to be a priest of Ajana deity, the guardian of destinies. He was also, one of the few men who had taken the full rites of the traditional Ozo title in the community. He was revered as both the eldest and the father of the community. All held him in high regard for his position as the servant of a deity, his abundant age and for his experiences garnered along the corridors of time.
To the children and the young adults, he was more of a ghost than a man. In fact, he was seen far closer to the gods and to the ancestors of the land than to the human dwellers of the community. His presence evoked an ethereal aura that beckoned a mixed feeling of wonder and fear. Whenever and wherever he passed, all stood in awe.
On this very sunny day, Awara-Awara 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 and nodded his head in agreement with the views of his unseen entourage. With his right hand, he clutched his anient staff – with this, he supported his ancient body. And with the 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.
Obidiya and Chioma were returning from the market. At a distance, they saw Awara-Awara struggling with his weak steps towards their direction.
‘Chioma, are you seeing what I am seeing? Is that not Awara-Awara?’ Obidiya asked.
‘It is him,’ Chioma replied. ‘What is he doing with a lighted ederi torch at this time of the day?’
As Awara-Awara drew closer, the women slowed their steps as a sign of respect for his holy and ancient presence. At a point, they almost stood still to allow him and his holy company to approach and pass unhindered. As he drew closer, Chioma opened her mouth to greet him, but Obidiya quickly placed her hand over the open mouth to prevent her from uttering a sound. She held her hand there until Awara-Awara had conveniently passed without seeing them. He was either so engrossed in his surreal discussion or that his eyes had grown very dim to identify figures, even at the middle of a sunny day.
Seeing that they were now at a safe distance, Obidiya asked her friend: ‘What did you want to do? Do you want to die? This is the priest of Ajana deity. Do you know if he is performing an ancient ritual in honor of the gods? Did you not see him talking to some unseen companions? That means that he is not walking alone. He may, most probably, be in the company of the deity he serves’.
‘Yes, he may be performing a ritual’, Chioma added.
‘Please, Nwany-ibem (my fellow woman), let us quietly go home, I beg. May what we do not know, not request our innocent heads’.
‘My sister,’ Chioma replied, ‘this is a fearful sight – an old servant of a deity, walking along the road in a bright afternoon with a lighted ederi torch – discussing with unseen guests, and apparently, anxiously in search of something.’
‘Nne’, Obidiya continued, ‘I don’t know what to make of this. He is the custodian of the land, whatever he is looking for, I believe, is for the good of the land.’
‘My sister, I heard that he sometimes speaks to such unseen persons even when he is sitting inside his hut or inside his shrine. Last week, Ojiugo, his daughter-in-law told me that her little boy, Achinike, often found his grandfather speaking to unseen guests in his hut.’
Obidiya was surprised to hear this. ‘Are you sure of what you are telling me?’ she asked.
It was commonplace to see very old men speaking to themselves or even, at times, claiming to have been visited by their friends who were long dead and gone. At such times, it was assumed that such men were fast approaching the twilight of their days.
It was on such a day that Ojiugo’s son, Achinike, visited his grandfather’s hut to have the usual grandfather and grandson chit-chat. When he came in, he heard his grandfather talking alone. He thought he was making some incantations to Ajana deity as he normally did in the mornings. But when he looked closely, he could neither see any hot drink nor the usual kola nut that he used for his morning incantations. The boy was confused. When he saw his grandfather laughing and explaining a certain issue to his imaginary guests, he knew, then, that it was not an incantation. He became more afraid and scurried backwards to peep his grandfather from afar.
After some time, when he was sure his grandfather had ended his conversation with his unseen friends, he came along to ask him about the episode he just witnessed.
‘Good morning grandpa’, the boy greeted him.
‘Morn, my son’, the old man replied. ‘I hope you passed the night in peace?
‘Yes, grandpa, I passed the night in peace’, the boy replied. ‘Grandpa, I came around earlier, but I saw you were talking alone. I thought you were making incantations and communing with Ajana deity or the ancestors, but I did not see the hot drink nor the Kola nut in your hand. Who were you talking to?’
The old man started laughing at the child’s innocent observation. ‘No, my son, I was just chatting with Obibi, Emenike and Ukadike. They just left here now. Did you not see them as you were coming in?’. This explanation and the concomitant question further frightened the little boy.
‘Nooo, I did not see them,’ the small boy replied in confusion. ‘But you told me that your friends Obibi, Emenike and Ukadike died many years ago?’.
‘Eeh, yes’, the old man replied, ‘they just came to visit and to discuss something with me concerning Ugbana and the upcoming festival of the Great Sacrifice’.
‘Who is Ugbana and what is the festival of the Great Sacrifice?’
‘Ugbana is a spirit man’.
‘Spirit man? I don’t understand’
‘You cannot understand now. When you grow up and begin to commune with spirits like me or Okorie your father, you will, then, understand’.
This terrified the little boy even further. He quietly and fearfully looked around to see if any more ghosts were lurking around the hut. Having seen nothing, he scurried out to tell his mother what he had just witnessed.
On hearing this story from Chioma, Obidiya was even more confused. ‘My sister, are you sure of what you just told me?’ she asked. ‘If that is the case, it is even more serious than I thought. He has started communing with ghosts’.
‘That is exactly what I heard about him from Ojiugo, my friend’, Chioma replied. ‘I will not be surprised, now, if he is talking with his friends who have died long ago. Please, my fellow woman, let us hurry home’.
As the women hurried home, Osuji and Unakalamba appeared far behind them. They were returning from Orie Eziama market where they had gone to sell their tubers of yam. When they looked ahead, they observed the same revered centenarian walking towards them, still speaking with his unseen companions, and still clutching the ederi torch in his left hand.
On seeing the sight, Osuji exclaimed: ‘Chei! the heavens over our heads are, now, saturated with dews. Unaka, as he fondly called his friend, ‘are you seeing what I am seeing?’
‘Yes, Osuji,’ Unakalamba answered. ‘I can see Awara-Awara, the old servant of Ajana, approaching with an ederi torch in his hand. This is not a good omen, my brother – a lighted ederi torch at this time of the day?’
‘Or can it be that he is performing a ritual or running an errand for Ajana deity?’
‘I don’t think so. This is a bad omen. The hero is preparing to go home…Chai!’ Unakalamba cried.
As they were speaking, the old man trudged gradually towards them with his shaky frame. Osuji continued to speak, ‘Something tells me that he is performing a ritual or something for the gods’.
‘And It appears he is equally searching for something of importance,’ Unakalamba observed. ‘And he is talking with some unseen companions too – may be, men who were long dead and gone’.
‘But I heard that Okorie his son has taken over from him in the service of Ajana deity’.
‘Yes, that is why I want to believe that this is a bad omen…he is preparing to depart to the village beyond’.
Meanwhile, Awara-Awara approached. As he got closer, Unakalamba and Osuji raised their voices: ‘We greet you, ancient one!’. But he seemed not to hear them at the first time.
Unakalamba, alone, re-echoed the greeting, this time, louder than the first time, saying: ‘Nna anyi we greet you o o !’.
This time, his voice was loud enough to be heard by the old man. He stopped. ‘Is that the voice of Unakalamba that I hear?’
‘You have heard well, the great eye of Ajana’, Unakalamba replied. ‘But ancient one, what do you seek with a lighted ederi torch at this time of the day when the sun is at its full blast?’
‘My son’, the old man replied, ‘I seek the Door of Hope’.
At this reply, both men become confused. ‘Door of Hope?’ Unakalamba queried. ‘What actually, ancient one, do you mean by the Door of Hope?’
‘I am about to finally depart to the village to join our kinsmen. Before then, the gods have tasked me to seek out the Door of Hope for Eziama community. Today, the same gods have directed my steps and have placed you, Unakalamba, along my path. Your house has been chosen by the wise gods as the Door of Hope in Eziama-Aruke…and Ajana shall lead you to that destiny with the help of other gods. It may not be in your time, but trust the gods who have spoken. From your groin shall spring forth the light bearer who is destined to dispel the darkness that has engulfed this community for ages’.
These words sounded heavy and incomprehensible to Unakalamba who, further, asked: ‘I do not understand these cryptic words, ancient one. How can my house be the door of hope?’
‘I do not expect you to understand my sayings now, my son. You are a man, but still a youth in the matters of the spirit. At the fullness of time, it shall be clearer to you. Now take this ederi from me. It is but a symbol of the light of this community. The gods have commanded me to hand you this prophecy – that from your groin shall arise the light of our eyes, the pillar of our hope and the foundation of our communal destiny. Guard this prophecy with prayers and incantations to the gods that they may keep you and your household until the day of its fulfillment. I promise to guard it too, with my eyes, even as I repose in the great beyond. But continue to pray that your household stays in line so that this communal blessing does not elude Eziama-Aruke. keep this ederi in your household. Light it day and night, until it is gone. This message is from the spirits of our community and may they continue to keep your household until the light bearer appears’.
As he finished speaking, he handed the ederi torch to Unakalamba; turned back and began trudging on towards the direction of his home.
Unakalamba held the torch with apprehension and wonder as he watched the ancient one retreat into the distance. Osuji stood and also watched the retreating old man in utter surprise. What he just saw and witnessed was very strange.
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An Excerpts from “The Seven Strokes of the gods“