Eze quietly joined them in the car, and they drove off. He had just one regret: he didn’t get to say goodbye to his father.
Eze pushed the door open, he was surprised at who he met, his mother.
She busily bent over her cooking pot in the kitchen. He let himself in, but she still didn’t move from where she stood; it actually didn’t look like his mother who could smell their mischief from a distance.
Age of Innocence
What got him worked up the most was that she went about turning up the heat of the stove from time to time while the aroma of burning jolllof rice slowly crept into the holes that sat under his nose –his mother’s love for pepper was certainly from another planet.
He couldn’t help himself, he drew closer, and in an attempt to relieve himself, he gave out a thunderous sneeze which sent his poor mother flying to another part of the kitchen. That was when she knew that her second son, Eze, was home. She turned and gave him a menacing look, but when she realised that her food burned while they stood and watched each other, she jumped back to her pot of half burnt rice, and through the corners of her eyes she asked:
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“Are you back? Nno. ”
Usually, she didn’t call him by his name.
“Yes, Mama.”
“Go and change and come and carry your food.”
He made to leave, but turned back to her and asked:
“Why are you home?”
His mother paused, mashed his question over a little thought before she answered :
“Obi comes home today.”
She answered with hidden sparks of light in her eyes. Eze knew his mother never dared rice on any day apart from Sunday. He left, and asked no further question. He knew jollof rice was his brother’s favourite, and it fanned flames of jealousy deep in his heart.
That night, Obi came home the same way he left. The same group of men in mask brought him along with other boys who were his age mates; one after the other, each person was deposited just like he was taken. Eze was fast asleep when the masquerade gave out a loud piercing cry at their doorstep, he jumped up, and ran to the sitting room. All lights were switched off except the kerosene lamp which was kept far off the window, because they expected the initiates back home.
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Their father already made his way to their front door to welcome his son who left a boy, but came home to him a man,one could see the look of pride written all over his face in the shadows. But his mother looked so worried, that non of them took note of Eze’s presence. When their father opened the door, Obi was handed over to him; the little man couldn’t look them in the face, he had his eyes fixed to his toes. Their mother ran to him, and with the lamp, she inspected every inch of his body as their father led him to their room, they left Eze and the plate of cold jollof rice on the table, Obi’s favourite.
Nwanna
Nwanna, a retired lecturer was every inch a conformist when it came to his culture and tradition but to the detest of his wife whom he married few years before retirement. His nonchalant attitude towards settling down at a point made his kinsmen suspicious of him. They went to the extent of consulting his late father whose lineage stood to cease being in existence if his only offspring decided to die without continuing the family name.
At a point, some of Nwanna’s uncle wished their brother kept a concubine, they wouldn’t have cared so much? At a point, they threatened Nwanna; it was clear that they would go to the extent of getting a wife for him. That was when he ran and married kaudodi, a student of his who he considered could manage him, even at old age.
In the Dead of the Night
Many years after Obi’s ordeal which he refused to share with his younger brother, he left for the University and Eze had their room to himself. Eze slept soundly on the bed when a cold hand tapped his shoulder. He nearly gave up the ghost when he woke, and when he tried to shout, a hand covered his mouth –his mother.
She made him get up and pack his things with nothing but a kerosene lamp, and then led him towards the door. She quietly led them outside and gave him the last hug before he was quietly led away.
The Confession
The bell for siesta called the students away from whatever they had their hands on. Everyone proceeded to rest on their bunks. Their movement looked like the procession of saints. Eze had his back on the bed with two hands that secured the back of his skull, he thought about home: his mother, father and Obi. The thought of the night he left home came to haunt him as always; he wondered what would have been his fate if his mother didn’t send him away with them before the masquerade came for him?
Eze thought about his father and the events that must have taken place when he found out that he was gone. He missed his father, much more, he hadn’t written to him, and with time, he drifted off to sleep, with nothing but the thought of home in mind.
After the morning mass, Eze ran to call Father Timothy, the new priest from England who took them on Spiritual Theology. Often times, he wondered why his space smelt of incense. When he got closer, he walked into the same smell, once again, but it felt stronger. He noticed that the Reverend father was not in his office, and as a result, he walked through the back to look for him in his garden.
Upon finding him, Eze’s face turned pale, Father Timothy busily smoked like Kene, their neighbour’s son whose father disowned because he didn’t want to work and earn a living for his child and pregnant wife. The reverend father noticed that he was being watched, he turned and met Eze, he badged his set of yellow dentition at Eze; mostly stained by black and brown patches, and in between too many puffs which almost blinded Eze’s sight, he said:
“Boy! Do you need me?”
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His words reminded Eze of nothing but home; where a young person was addressed as Nwadiana, child of the soil. Eze nodded his head, turned his back to Timothy, and left the same way he came.
Not quite long, Eze sat, waiting for his turn for confession. When he entered the small enclosure, the priest blessed him with the sign of the cross, and Eze said:
“Forgive me father for I have sinned.”
For a long while, he could not say anything, it was as though a big stick got stuck in his throat. Father Timothy’s smoke came back, and kept on covering his vision: he thought of nothing to confess but the night he left home without saying goodbye to his father. Eze got up, went to the dormitory, picked his bag and walked out through the seminary gates without looking back.
Written by Oluoma Udemezue.