Udobuaku had said goodbye to her family friend, Nwadi, with all the smiles she could emotionally put on air. But her life, her health, her sense of grasp and sanity are at stake. How could she labor to be alive only to be rejected by her people? If Izondu, her titled father, could be subjected to such isolation after surviving a near-death sickness, how would they see her? These and more were running races at the head of one woman who had made the Evil Forest a home for many years. Humiliation has a big stake in murder.
Later in the night of same day, in the wee hours, Udobuaku made a dicey journey into Iyom kindred, and made it to her father's house. The fear of dangerous animals that prey on the night had vanished from her eyes and understandably so. Within one year of their occupation of the Evil Forest, some dangerous animals that constantly came in contact with them had left the forest for her and her father, and a few that chose to stay became friendly with them. Her dogs started mating and crossbreeding with wolves. She only counted her losses on her chicks and chickens, which sometimes served the gourmand instinct of civets, albeit their display of friendship towards her household in the Jungle. Who cures instinct?
Sometimes, the civets that eat her chicks and chickens wade off other preying beasts that sometimes come around to feast too. Evidently, they knew how to best shield their prey from other preying beasts. It seems, murder looks yummier in the jaws of friends than in the jaws of strangers. Over time, they also learned not to hunt those chickens when they noticed that their owner was around, especially those cross-bred wolves. Even though it was what it was, they still honor her presence in the jungle. She became their Queen mother. Yet, the right question remains: who has a cure for instinct?
When Udobuaku stepped foot into the entrance to her father's house, she sighted him with the help of the moonlight, roving around the front of his house. With silent steps she was coming, trying to avoid neighbors noticing her presence. She was shocked when Izondu called out her name. ''Udobuaku, my daughter, the daughter of a lion, does not beg the earth for permission to tread on it. Yes, because the earth is hers to tread on.
''Walk up to me like a daughter of this land. If you want, roar; with it at the war front I defended this land. If you like, clap; with the clap of my hands I scared away the enemies of this land. If you like, blow a flute; with it, from near and far, I gathered the warriors of Isumeh into this compound, fed them, paid for charms that fortified them for wars. If it interests you, whistle; with lips whistling I returned from Nkwerre carrying on my palm an assurance of perpetual peace for our people. Only that I can't welcome you with the dancing that always accompanies them; for my people had rejected me with it even before I moved my second leg at Afor Market Square. But I am still alive to see how things vanish suddenly.
''So, my daughter, we have come a long way. Even the most dreaded beasts in the jungle know our names. I can't ask my ancestors why they allowed such evil to befall me, but today I have every opportunity to thank them for giving us a shot at life again. Come to me, my daughter. I am still ozo Izondu. The rain that drenched the eagle had ended up bathing it'' Izondu said, while welcoming his daughter into his warm embrace. After she emptied her helpless body into his arms, he caressed her hair, and led her as she profusely sobbed, into the house. When they sat down, Izondu apologized to her daughter for not honoring the promise he made to her, to visit her back before he left the jungle and suited her nerves with meaningful reasons.
''Udo, my daughter, do you know that Afor market closed because of Izondu? Not to honor me or to give thanks to our Gods and our ancestors for bringing me back to life, but because people were trying to make sure that they did not exchange greetings or pleasantries, or have anything in common with me, lest I infect them with leprosy. People were saying that I am being punished because of too much blood in my hands. Aside from blood from wars, who have I killed before? Whose father, whose mother, whose brother, and whose sister have I sent to great beyond? Whose friend or relative has Izondu killed before, besides moment of war?
''Just imagine, not even a single man or woman, not even children came close to welcoming me. The only man that summoned courage to come was shouted out of my entrance. That was Ononiru. They shouted at him and called him all the silly names they could remember. They said he was a deranged man and had lost every sense of reasoning since he fell down from a tree. There was nothing evil that they did not call him just because he deemed it right to remember good old days. Just that he remembered that I was a human being. Just that he remembered that I did not inflict myself with leprosy. Just that he remembered that I sucked my mother's breasts the same way others sucked theirs. Just for it, they called Ononiru, a stupid fellow- onye iberibe.
''Ononiru, shame shall never come close to you. With the same hands you waved at me, you shall carry your child. Twin births shall leave your house. You are not an animal. Chukwu shall gift your wife with a child that will wipe away your tears and silence your fears. You are not daft. If you can remember, you are not one. If you can remember our old relationship and aim to honor it, you are not daft. Only on your shoulder do I see head in the whole of Isumeh'' Izondu said, emotionally.
Udobuaku was so moved that she cried like a baby in the lab of seated Izondu who was calming her down. ''You must sleep here till tomorrow. First thing in the morning, you must enter the Evil Forest and bring home all our belongings'', Izondu barked. ''Papa, I will go back tonight, and I am not coming back. You can stay behind, but make sure the message gets to Chime. He shouldn't be allowed to come back and face these people that have humiliated you. If they could do this to you, they would do much more to Chime. Let him stay away till we are dead. If they notice that we even shake hands with him, it will not mean so well for him in this land'' Udobuaku responded, suggestively.
Izondu had lived a fulfilled life, and had a few years ago counted himself unworthy because of the strange illness Isumeh people saw as a punitive measure from the Gods upon his life. None remembered his honor except a few who still remembered all his good works. However, none had access to sympathize or relate with him since that evil befell him. It baffled him that his people had not deemed it wise to consult afa- divination to know the true position of the Gods and their ancestors concerning his second chance to life. Rather, all he saw on the faces of his people were fear and tears of pity whenever they saw him. No one was coming close, and those who met him on the road suddenly lost all signs of arthritis and took to their heels.
There were no more wobbling legs in Isumeh because of a man whose ancestors walked back to life. The young who had received adequate warnings from the elders could fly for a mere sighting of ozo Izondu. His Ube fruits, which people used to book in advance before they ripened, had suddenly become bitter, but only in the heads of Isumeh people because they once knew he had leprosy.
If his people had found him guilty of committing a taboo, they would have, in all sense of responsibility, banished him. And if they had banished him for wrong, his maternal home or those of his parents would have been a better place to live while waiting for his death, or a possible reconciliation. But here is a man whose wrong was hidden from mortal men. Yet, some mortals have judged him in the absence of the laws that bind them. He wasn't caught at a crime scene, yet he wasn't listened to. He never made any confessional statement that implicated him, but the body language coming from his people had in no small measure shown that they had judged and found him guilty, yet with no fact to show for it. Attitude and body language can tell a tall story, even in silence.
How could an ozo-titled man be so isolated and be waiting till his death? Does it end there? If he dies under the hewing silence, his people would still come back, pick up his corpse and depose it at the Evil Forest. This has been a big source of concern and mental trauma for Izondu since his return.
To Isumeh people, nobody survives leprosy. It was a punitive package from the Gods of their land, no otherwise preaching made sense, and worst still, nobody was in the mood to pay attention to it to make sense. The fear had grown so heavy after it killed Ajeh, one of the most powerful dibias- diviners ever lived in Isumeh. They had concluded that the Gods could murder Ajeh in such a manner, were not just angry, but also on a mission to purge the land of bad people. How bad was Ajeh?
There's no doubt that it was during the time of visiting Ajeh when he was battling for his life that Izondu became infected. It didn't take Isumeh people much mental stress to conclude that the sickness was for evil people. After all, one prepared charms for the warriors, and the other was the leader of the Isumeh warriors. Virtues and strengths were subjected to questioning, and that was how expensive lack of information was during this period. And fear became massaging bliss in each of the hearts of Isumeh people.
What stops them thinking the way they did, after all, most of the charms the warriors of Isumeh used for warfare were prepared by Ajeh, and Izondu, his good friend, always played host to them all before they marched to battle. Izondu continued doing this even years after he retired from active war engagement.
What could be his crime? Well, Isumeh people knew that not all the evils of a man are served on a public plate. They still counted themselves lucky that the Gods of their ancestors could see beyond what they, the mortals, could see. So, in one way or the other, Izondu had gotten his rightly served from the Gods of the land. Nothing is hidden under the sun.
Well, like naivety, even the silliness we carry in our skulls is daily pushed deeper, with the help of the sun over our head.