At the age of six, Ekwulu had developed skills in the art of war. His talent in the use of spears was so outstanding. He started off spearing down plantain stems around, until Edoro warned him not to use her fruiting plantain trees to learn the art of war. Thus, Ekwulu resorted to using only the felled ones to experiment.
As the only little grown son of Ononiru, as it seemed, the more he showed great skills in the art of war, the more worried his father became. He was afraid because he was not in the know about the background and traits from which Ekwulu came from. Udobuaku was not there to do much of the explanation. He once suspected that he could have gotten those traits from Nkwerre or Amudani, who were so renowned in the art of war. These two villages had become so powerful, and dominated war engagements in their recent history.
The pussycat eyes of Ekwulu did not rob him of the passion he had to be outstanding. He tried not to look directly towards the sun, notwithstanding the fact that he could work all day under the same sun whenever he was under an unspoken vow to achieve a goal. Whatever he wanted to achieve came second to nothing. This was very indicative as far as Ononiru was concerned. So, he started early enough looking for good families from where he could get a wife for him.
Udenwa from Iheukwu village had a pregnant wife. He was a good friend of Ononiru. Both were basket makers. He had lived as a stranger in Isumeh for years. Ononiru had approached him, indicating an interest in marrying his unborn child to Ekwulu if the baby was born a girl child. It was a wish, but it became a fulfilled dream when his wife Ijelenwanyi gave birth to Nene.
Already, the news that Udobuaku had a son had spread out like wildfire throughout the whole of Isumeh, but it did not raise eyebrows among the people that thought they knew, because, after all, Ekwulu was still a boy. This quietness suddenly changed when white bears started becoming permanent around his face. The intensity got more serious since it became news that Nene was the chosen one for him.
A highly opinionated Nene was customarily married to Ekwulu when he was twenty-four. She gave birth to Uga and Igweka. She was so beautiful that people said that she was too facial that her beauty made her grow shorter than both her parents. In Isumeh dialect, they referred to such a beautiful girl as 'mma na ata ahu'. It means one beauty shrivels.
Which maiden among the people of Isumeh wouldn't wish that golden voice clothed in the daring physics of smooth temptation, preserved by the mysterious Udobuaku, fed by the goodies of the African wild, for keep, forever? Yes, he had a rare appearance among the fairest of his peers. His hair was so blinding but his deep pussycat kind of eyes beamed his presence. He was so mannish that the sound of his footsteps was heard meters away. In every imagination, something points to something. The serenity that was the Evil Forest had bathed Ekwulu with something unknown in the village. His skin was ravishingly dashing. It was simply irresistible. And his respect and humility had endeared him to mothers too, who teasingly always called him 'my in-law'.
Oruno, late husband to Udobuaku, had only one sister, who was married to the Uyom kindred. Her name was Emesia. Their father was a polygamist, like most well-to-do people of his era. Oruno's mother, Ucheoma, was the second wife, but she was the one who gave Amadi both his first son and his first daughter. She died so early, and her children grew up under the care of their grandmother in a quarter, in the same Idomma before they returned permanently when Oruno was aged enough to get married. That was when he married Udobuaku, who gave him a son, Amobi, before he died from complications related to leprosy. Oruno's father had died a year earlier.
In Igbo republics, any first son who died when his father was still alive loses his stool as his first son. He had lost even the house of his father in perpetuity. The second son automatically assumes the position of the first. Luckily, Oruno buried his father, Amadi, and fully took the position of his successor, which means, above other things that accompany this, that he was Obisiri Obi- an heir to his father's family stead.
Unfortunately, Oruno died a few years later. But he did not lose anything other than his life. Whatever he had inherited from his father was not lost because he had a living wife and a surviving little son, Amobi, still breathing. Even if his heir, Amobi, had died just as he died anyway, his surviving wife was still in the position to raise children in the name of her husband, and everything that was her husband's became theirs too. It is a popular saying in Igbo land that death does not close up ama- a family, only foolishness does.
Now, Udobuaku had lost her husband and their only child, and was not around to find a replacement by either trying to have a child for her late husband herself, or through Igbos' unique way of adopting children. In fact, the anger her marital in-laws expressed at the news of her leprosy was still evergreen in her heart, and as a helpless widow, it was to linger there till the very end. She cared less about what became of her late husband's name anymore.
In this cultural republic that Isumeh fell into, it is said that 'O nwe aku nwe nwa'. What does this saying mean? It means any child of a woman whose bride price was not returned to the family of her husband still belongs to the family of the man, whether the husband is alive or dead, and consequently, whatsoever she has, and whosoever she gives to, automatically belongs to her husband, no matter how long dead he was.
Now Emesia was in the know about the child her sister-in-law handed over to Edoro. They were good friends as well as cousins. Their mothers were siblings of the same parents. She had not shown any interest in making it a subject of discussion between her cousin Edoro and herself. She was too aware that her family had not received bride price repayment on the head of Udobuaku, her sister-in-law, so she could not think about anything else other than her supposed nephew, Ekwulu, would one day grow into the full knowledge of the need to return to Amadi's family of Idomma to take over the stool that was Oruno's, at least to prevent the permanent deletion of her late brother's own name.
She calls Ekwulu nwanne m- my brother. In the Igbo language, 'nwanne m' means so many things; like my brother, my sister, my cousin, my niece, my nephew and any bloodily related person to one and much more. So, calling Ekwulu 'nwanne m' did not bring in any emotional negativity in the mind of a free-minded Edoro. Yes, after all, he is her brother too, by virtue of this cultural take.
It was also open knowledge that Emesia used to call Nene 'my sister-in-law'. This also raised no head because, after all, in Ighos' take of relatives, she truly was one to Emesia. After all, Edoro was her sister too. Nobody knew all the angles Emesia's choice of words were coming from until things started playing out. It played out in such a manner that no one who knew how close they were to each other could imagine the mental torture this had come to cause these blood cousins. Edoro was raised by Emesia's mother when her mother, Chiege, died.
Now, the closeness of Emesia to Nene had started echoing something into her head. Ekwulu had returned from the farm on one of those days and was welcomed by his family. He took his bath and had his lunch. Nene came in, sat close to him, and told him that there was something they would discuss after he had his rest. ''Yes, there is something I want to discuss with you after your rest'' she said. ''It is okay, I am very tired now'' Ekwulu replied as he dragged his body to his room.
That discussion was not to be held in the same afternoon because they had visitors almost immediately after Ekwulu was done with his afternoon rest. It was early in the morning of the next day that Nene made a knock at the door of her husband. It became a night that would redefine the world view of Ekwulu in time to come.
Nene sat at the periphery of his bed, and asked him to clean up his face before they began the deep talk journey that she had made up her mind to embark on with her beloved. Ekwulu did not argue as he went outside, and took a cup of water, rinsed his mouth, washed his face, and went in to join her. She had supported her heavy-laden head as it seemed with her left palm, under her jaw. ''You can now proceed'' Ekwulu said, as he wiped off his face with his hand towel while reaching out to his bedside seat.
''Something has been eating deep into my heart for some while now. It deepens each day as I wait in vain to hear the truth of this whole thing from my husband. I want to ask; who is Ekwulu in the Uyom kindred of Isumeh? I am your wife and the mother of your children now. I can now hold your testicle in my palm because you have made me mother with it. Who are you, my husband?'' Nene asked, with words that looked painstakingly chopped out from their buds.
It turned up a surprise discussion for Ekwulu that waking morning. He had earlier thought that it could be a question bothering on their sexual relationship lately, because Ekwulu had not deemed it convenient to touch her since after the birth of their last child. But, alas, it was entirely another thing altogether. He laughed pretentiously but somewhat worried. ''That's the problem with you. Serious issues mean nothing to you, but you give all your might to less important ones. I demand an answer. Talk to me, Ekwulu'' Nene responded, insistently.
''I really don't know why you came up with this question. Well, why not ask my father Ononiru who his father was, because as you can see, I know my father. Thank God; he is still around with me. Another brings another child into the world. That is how it is done. I have brought mine with you. I have a father. My father told me he had a father, and they are from this land, this kindred and this village. Is there anything you want me to hear? Speak up'' Ekwulu said.
''Don't play around this time. Anyway, who is Oruno to you?'' Nene asked, with her eyes fixated on Ekwulu. ''I don't know anyone with such a name'', Ekwulu answered, focusing on Nene. The answer came to her as a word of deceitful pretense. ''Hide no more Ekwulu, my husband. I was made to understand that Oruno was married to Udobuaku, who was your mother. He died, leaving behind Udobuaku, his wife, and a son, Amobi, who later died from complications of leprosy that infected him. But the truth is, she left her marital home without her repaying them their bride price. This means, as we all know, children born by a married woman without repayment of the bride price belong to the family she was married to, whether the husband is dead or alive. O nwe aku nwe nwa- he who paid the bride price possesses the child that comes after it'' Nene said.
Ekwulu was dumbfounded to hear this from Nene, his wife. ''Who was telling you this that my parents did not tell me?'' Ekwulu asked, curiously. ''Emesia is your aunt; she is senior to Oruno, who married Udobuaku. She is a cousin too to your foster mother, Edoro. She told me to inform you that your father, Oruno, had waited enough to see you return to Idomma kindred, your father's house'' Nene replied.
Ekwulu stayed confusedly calm. ''I have heard you. Nene. I will find time to discuss this, and more, with my father and later, with Emesia. I am enough to know enough I should know'' Ekwulu said. Nene coiled out and went back into her hut.
Days had gone multiple times into weeks, and Ekwulu was yet to find time, or rather, an atmosphere, good enough to make issues which Nene brought to his face a subject of discussion, though he kept pondering with amusing concern. But that was not to linger anymore, as he one afternoon told his father to create a moment for them to discuss some issues very dear to him. Ononiru did not waste time as he told him that tomorrow afternoon would be better since the day would be a work-free day in Isumeh, being Nkwo market day.