God

My journey to becoming a Christian started with Anwuli. She was renowned in our village for her perfectly well-seasoned dried meat. Her art was the finest in our land and even beyond. She alone knows the wonders that go into her cooking pot, the goodness that she adds to the simmering meat and the buds-watering awe that follows when she puts them on Ahiara to dry out. Anwuli had hunters working for her. Fortnightly, they would go neck-deep into the Akika forest and emerge with all sorts of animals that they had managed to kill. She had a way of displaying the meat in her front yard — which was just a stone’s throw to the stream — for all to see. It would take the blind not to see the array of flesh on sets. She was flaunting her wealth and craft and taunting every villager who goes to get water from the stream. I did see. I was taunted, too, and also tempted, especially during the cooking and drying process. The scented aroma of her meat was enough to send one on a quest unasked for. I wanted a taste. Just one bite. But of course, Anwuli would never give anything that wasn’t paid for. By the time those pieces of meat get to our house, I am left with a small portion not bigger than half of my little finger. It would also have been doused with the heavy aroma of my mother’s ogiri and I cannot tell the taste of the meat or the fermented oil seeds apart. I wanted the fresh, perfectly cooked, and dried meat before it entered any cooking pot filled with soup. Well, that was my greatest undoing. I stole a piece of meat from where Anwuli staked it in her yard. Just as I was about to run toward the stream with the piece of neat hidden perfectly between my breasts, she caught me. “You demented thief!” she shrieked. She tore at the lappa covering my breasts and retrieved the piece of meat I had stolen. She held me and then dragged me home shouting all the way. It attracted other villagers who followed and called me a thief. “Your daughter has desecrated this land, she came to my house to steal!” Anwuli told my mother. I could see my mother’s eyes turn into a ball of surprise and shame. She had raised me well and took pride in the fact that though I was an only child, I was ten in one. This would dampen her pride and voice whenever she talks in the clan women’s meeting, especially when the topic is centred on their children. I needed to protect that pride and my reputation as well. So I lied. I called Anwuli a liar and said I would never do such a thing. I was content with the food I ate in my mother’s house and would never steal to quench an unknown hunger. What is meat that I can’t eat in my father’s house? That annoyed Anwuli further. She has no children of her own and took to her trade with the utmost dedication and commitment that one could muster, such lavish obligation that she couldn’t give to a child. Now I call her a liar. She was insulted by a child of another woman in her clan. Right there, she told my mother, “Get ready then; we will go to Ani tomorrow, and this thief of yours will swear that she did not steal from me. Then we would know who the true liar is from the person’s death that would follow.” She pushed me slightly as she turned and walked out of our yard. The other villagers followed her out. I could see in her walk the triumph of victory and also that of wickedness. That was rather too harsh. To go to Ani just because of a piece of meat. I turned to my mother quickly, “I can explain this.” “Shut up!” Mother said. She had tears in her eyes as she sank to the ground slowly. “I’ve always known that you would ruin me but I never thought you would want to render me childless.” She started weeping, wiping her tears with the edge of her lappa. I knew then that the matter was settled. Other villagers had witnessed the affair, and Anwuli is not one to back down on anything, particularly when it has to do with her precious trade. I went into my hut and then the heaviness of my sin began to make sense. I would die for I indeed stole from Anwuli. In my justification, at least I didn’t eat the meat. Ani would spare me because I was only a teenager and did not even taste what I stole. I would be free, I consoled myself. Then again, my mind reproved me further; I was simply being foolish with my consolation; Ani would kill me. Father came home later in the evening. He was humming the tune of a song I’ve never heard before. He was calm, the very picture of peace and happiness at the same time. I waited for Mother to tell him of my crime and also to get him to quickly go to Anwuli or even to Ani to plead my case, to see if it could be dismissed. I didn’t hear Mother’s teary voice. I didn’t hear Father’s raised angry voice either. No one beckoned on me to hear the truth or even the lie. I waited for minutes, and when Mother came to call me, I gave in to sorrow and followed her to my Father’s obi in torment. I was going to die even before I eventually died. “I have accepted the white man’s Chukwu,” Papa said smiling. “I did not go to the farm as you both must have thought, I was in their meeting place at Umokpu. I listened to their spokesperson and I believed what he said about … Read more