A SHORT STORY by OKEY ANUEYIAGU
THE STORY CONTINUES…
Sensing that I may have provoked the villagers enough, I switched to my planned strategic defence. I was going to invoke Christian teachings from the Bible to strengthen my points. My plan was to instill and instigate Christian sentiments into the matter, win the sympathy of the Christians, and use their support to divide the villagers.
When I was very young, my father instilled in me the habit of reading, and I became proficient in this. My mother cashed in and gifted me with a huge Bible that had a lot of interesting illustrations. I read this Bible like a novel and enjoyed the stories from the holy book. By the time I was six years old, I had read most of the Bible. Before appearing at the village square hearing, I locked myself in my room, and began to read this Bible again, searching for portions that dealt with sins, mercy and forgiveness. I found many.
I raised my voice above the rancor of the still angry gathering. I began: “My elders please hear me. Have we forgotten what Jesus told us in Luke 6:36 – To be merciful just as our Father is merciful – to embody the mercy that characterizes God.” I instantly had arrested the attention of the Christians. I continued, and this time referring to Exodus 34:6-7: “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin.” I went to Lamentation 3:32: “Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.”
I continued to quote verses in the Bible that demanded that we showed mercy and forgiveness in the same way that God is always willing to forgive sinners. Matthew 5:7: “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” I began to emphasize that it is only God that reserves the right to punish us and has the prerogatives of mercy and of forgiveness, and that we must all have compassion and tread our sins underfoot and discard our iniquities away. I invoked the indescribable, unmerited mercy and forgiveness that we all receive from God, and how we must strive to, in turn, forgive our brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers, friends and enemies, in line with the spiritual truth of God.
The gathering was stunned. The Christians were cheering, and the heathens were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. I had divided the villagers and was now going for the jugular. I looked in the direction where two twin brothers Peter and Paul sat, and began to talk about the old custom of the killing of twins. I reminded them that Peter and Paul would not have been here if the whiteman did not forcefully abolish this horrible culture of the killing of twins. I moved my glare in the direction of Nkoli and asked: “why are we still treading in our old archaic ways by parading our daughters naked to the world… why are we still stuck in our abominable ways, disgracing our children, and ignoring the admonitions of God to forgive and show mercy and love?” I asked again: “Are we not all children of God?” A resounding “yes” followed. “Must we continue to act like people without the fear of God; unforgiving, wicked with sinful minds?”. “Mba” rented the air from mostly the Christians.
“Please listen to what I’m telling you!” I exclaimed. “We must never treat our own like we treat animals.” I began to raise my voice. “Can’t we see that we have descended lower than the animals we breed? We must bring back honour and respect to our lives. We must confront those traditions that set us back centuries, that terrify our civility and make us worst than barbarians. We must know and always do what is right.”
As I concluded my defence, I felt my shoulders drooping and my body sagging with some riddles of nervous spasms taking over my entire being. I also felt infinitesimal muscular twitches and contractions inside my entire body beginning from my head to my toes. I felt myself caught in the steely sights of the villagers. Then came a thunderous applause that followed me as I walked back to my seat. I caught a glance of my grandmother beaming with a wide smile that spread across her beautiful chubby face. Behind my grandmother, was a picture of relief on the face of Nkoli, who for the first time since her persecution was smiling. My grandmother rose from her seat, walked cautiously towards me, met me halfway, and held me tightly in her bossom. She had sent a strong signal to her supporters, who were many, that she stood with her grandson.
As I proudly took my seat, I began to think of what my parents would have thought of me and my performance before the villagers. Now in the weariness of all the problems that I had brought upon myself, I was so sure that they will feel proud of their son, and will be reassured that they have raised a determined and strong child. I carried this feeling for several years until I watched both of my parents die and dissolve into unbelievable silence whose emptiness lingers and has refused to leave me.
Once I was done, a few of the villagers were allowed to speak. Opinions were evenly divided with most of the speakers, while admitting that there were some values to my defence, agreed that I had no authority to disobey and threaten the traditions and culture of the land. Throughout this marathon of speeches, I maintained a blithesome disposition without betraying fear of the punishment that many prescribed and recommended to the elders to dish out to me.
The Otochalu and the elders rose from their seats, and retreated to the adjoining village obu for deliberation on all the matters. They returned after what seemed to me like eternity to deliver their verdict. They began with Chief Chukwurah. The village head gingerly rose to this feet and asked Chukwurah to take the stand again. He began: “Onwu egbuo ka alulu aka… mbosi mmadi kwalu mmadi, ka okwalu onwe ya…” – Death has killed like it was appointed… the day one celebrates the death of another, is the day that person celebrates his or her own death…” He continued: “Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself – freedom is just not the ability to do the right thing, but also to make a deliberate choice to choose circumstances and to take responsibilities for your mistakes. When one missteps, it is not the doing of God, but our own instinct or some moral code or scheme of calculations” He looked directly at the Chief and said: “The way you made your bed, so shall you lay on it… we the people of our great village find you guilty of murder, and you must depart this village, and indeed, this town this night with your entire household, and must never return or set foot here in 7 years”. With that pronouncement, there was pandemonium everywhere. Many were wailing and rolling in the dirt.
Chief Chukwurah bowed his head with tears flowing, and left the gathering. He departed the village instantly and never returned. His home was empty and desolate, and became overgrown by bushes. He was heartbroken and never returned home again. He died in exile.
This episode was so crude and shocking that I remained seated on my seat, shaken with disbelief that such a powerful and beloved member of our village could received such punishment. I became nothing but a weak little boy awaiting his sentencing. I thought at that point, that I was done.
It was my turn and the Otochalu without uttering a word, took one look at me, and I knew to quickly take a stand in front of him and the elders. With my two hands clasped behind my back and my head bowed, I closed my eyes and attentively listened to the Otochalu, the man I had enjoyed many stories with at our home in Kano, and with whom I had just very recently shared kola nuts and some gin.
He looked up at me and with a stern face began to address me and the other villagers. “If I am asked “what is good”, my answer is that good is good, and that is the end of the matter” Otochalu, the philosopher had spoken deeply and I was confused. “Doing the right thing is not always the same as doing what is right, and doing good might lead to pain and suffering to others… moral goodness is not always right…” I became more confused and unsure of where he was going. He turned around, and began to speak to the gathering. “Humanity represents the ocean, and if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean is not ruined. We must not lose faith in humanity… we must trust humanity to change our world for the better. We must lead by example and be the change we desire to see”.
With that the Otochalu turned to me and began to give their judgement. “Okechukwu our son, you have erred in your actions, but you’re still a child and learning the ropes of our culture and traditions. This village looks up to you with hope and expectations for a productive period in your life. We know that you will one day make us proud and bring fame and fortune home”. He now raised his voice so that all could hear him. “We therefore find you not guilty and discharge and acquit you of all the charges brought against you here today”.
The arena erupted. I walked to him, shook his hand firmly, and dashed to the warm embrace of my crying grandmother.
Nkoli received a punishment to sweep the village square every day for six months.
OKEY ANUEYIAGU
A Professor of Political Economy Is the Author of:
Biafra, The Horrors of War, The Story of A Child Soldier
October, 2025.