Longings Of A Caged Love
Tags: African Culture, Lovestory, African Literature, Illumination, Fiction

The Clash Of Love And Tradition — — African Fiction Part 5

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Okorie was torn apart by Chuka’s remarks. The love lyrics Chuka released kept burning his head with feelings of loss and defeat. He walked back home dejected, his movement being even as slow as that of a snail. He really felt like a chicken pounded by huge rainfall, looking for shelter. He didn’t even utter a word of greeting in his mother’s presence. But Ige knew something had put her son in a sad mood. Okorie’s full resemblance to his mother wasn’t in doubt, for he took after her, feature to feature; the way she talked, and even the way she walked was not spared. Though age was fast telling on her, her beauty of the past was still discernable.

Okorie was pacing up and down in his hut, and spoke things only he understood, when his mother entered. There was nothing Ige detested like seeing worries overtake her only son. Her gaze ran through, pictured a dumb struck Okorie with perspiration broken all over him.

“What is it, my son?” she asked in a tone, which clearly spoke her concern. Okorie sauntered and sighed. “What is wrong with you? Do I no longer deserve to know your worries?”

“It’s Ada,” Okorie spoke and sat down on a mat spread out on the floor. “Chuka is taking her away from me, mother,” he continued as Ige listened attentively. “I think I’m loosing Ada to him.”

“Who? Poor rotten son of a poor man? How could you be thinking of that?” Ige shouted and raked her son with an astonishing gaze. “Don’t think that will ever be possible in this land. Little things should not bother you.”

“Little thing! You call it a little thing, mother? But I saw them! Didn’t you see them dance?”

“And so what!”

“Didn’t you see them embrace? He even lifted her up! Ada’s heart is slipping away from me. Going to that fool.”

Ige took a long look at her son, especially his worried face, and her lips turned into a slight smile. “It’s already done,’ she said. Ada is your wife to be. Don’t be bothered. It’s only a matter of time.” Okorie felt absolutely better when Ige left. He gradually lowered his head unto the mat.

“Oh…sweet mother,” he whispered. Ige’s words of consolation had taken a toll on him. They drowned away his fears.

That night was a cold one. Ige lay awake listening to cracklings of raindrops on the thatched roof. She began to think about Okorie’s observations about Ada and Chuka. Not that she had given up the optimism that her son would have no problem marrying Ada. After all, it was fully backed up by the tradition. But then, Ige never liked taking chances. As memories of the festival came rushing back to her mind, scenes she had called nothing came clear. Particularly when Chuka lifted Ada off the ground. Ada had never done that kind of thing before. Not even with Okorie.

Fear soon dawned on Ige. She concluded her son had cause to be worried, and ran off the next morning to Amanze’s compound to see Ogazi, with all she had to say firmly fixed in her mind.

Ada had already left to fetch some water and her mother was about leaving for the farm when Ige announced her arrival.

“Is anybody around?” she asked and panted almost like a dog that ran for miles in her exhaustion. Ogazi faced no difficulty in placing Ige’s voice. She came rushing forward. It was at the festival that both women last saw each other.

“You are welcome please. I hope this early visit will multiply our fortunes this day.” Ogazi said amidst smiles, embracing Ige and failing to notice the worried face she carried, even though a grin was forced out of it.

“I hope it really will,” Ige replied and took a wooden seat Ogazi handed her.

“What do I offer you this morning?”

“Don’t bother yourself,” Ige replied as her mission firmly revolved in her mind. “I have not come to celebrate when it seems our houses will soon catch fire,” she snapped and looked on. Ogazi lost her wide grin. And pregnant silence pervaded, which elapsed and heightened Ogazi’s curiosity.

“Ige,” she called, almost stuttering, her tone, a very low one. “Tell me what is happening. Why keeping mute. Tell me what is bothering you.”

“May the lizard never grow hair,” Ige began to speak. “Is nothing else but our children. I don’t see what your daughter has seen in Iweka’s son. Didn’t you see her? I know you saw what she did with that young man at the festival. Look, Ogazi. I foresee something about to happen. Not even our late husbands will forgive us.”

“I swear my daughter will never marry another man except Okorie!” Ogazi thundered. Her eyes looked fierce and her anger fulminated. “It’s never done in this land. And my daughter will not start it.”

“This is no talking matter. All we need is to act fast before it becomes late!”

“Yes! You are right! We have to act fast!” Ogazi thought of how to take care of the emerging threat as memories of the ceremony in which Ada and Okorie were engaged slowly slipped into her mind. It was on a sunny afternoon, with many guests in attendance.

There was plenty of palm wine, pounded yam and cassava to delight of the guests, coupled with different kinds of soup. Most of the guests went for the delicious combination of pounded yam and bitter leaf soup. The high point of the ceremony came when little

Ada that was only four years old, carried a gourd full of palm wine to the little Okorie, who was then six years old. Okorie took the gourd form Ada and sipped a little wine. Thunderous applause and laughter erupted from the guests in response, some of whom were already drunk. That marked Ada and Okorie’s engagement.

“Ada, my daughter is not for any other man except Okorie,” Ogazi screamed. She did not want to be the one who would be said to have acted contrary to what the Akoga marriage tradition demanded. “How will I carry the shame?” She asked to Ige.

“Your daughter wants to put us in danger,” Ige responded. “I do not see how posterity will ever forgive us if Ada does not marry Okorie eventually. Please call your daughter to order.”

“I will,” Ogazi uttered, expressing a strong determination to compel Ada to retrace her steps.

“As far as our tradition is concerned”, said Ige, “marriage is, the rich to the rich and the poor to the poor.”

“Yes, that is what it is!” Ogazi concurred instantly. “What it is, is what it is, no changes,” she affirmed.

Longings Of A Caged Love: Watch Out For Part 6