Chapter 1
The rage in him burned like the fire before him. It was hot, greedy, dangerous, devouring what was left of the bundles of firewood they had used to prepare their evening meal. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control his anger any longer.
Ezennaya stared intently at the fire, not making a sound. His knees were brought up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, his hands were balled into fists. Ezennaya watched the flames extinguish as his father poured cool water on it.
“Ezennaya,” his father said, taking a seat on a wooden stool beside his son. He clasped his hands together and turned his head towards Ezennaya who chose not to acknowledge him.
“Ezennaya,” he repeated calmly.
“Yes, Papa,” Ezennaya replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Eh hen,” Papa Ezennaya cleared his throat and waited a while before speaking up again. “When are you going to make yourself useful again?”
Ezennaya turned his eyes sharply to his father but remained silent. He then turned his head away slowly and refocused his gaze on the dying embers. Although the crackling of the fire had subsided, the scent of smoke lingered in the air, filling their nostrils.
Ezennaya opened his mouth to speak but shut it immediately.
“You have been...” Papa Ezennaya left his mouth slightly ajar, searching for an appropriate word to describe his son, “stagnant. Yes, you are too stagnant, too lazy, too idle.” His voice was higher than it had been before and the calmness of it had disappeared.
Ezennaya still remained silent, prompting his father to press on.
“Go to hunt, you will not! Come to the farm with me, you will not! Look after your siblings, you will not! Is there anything you are capable of?”
“There is a lot I can do-” Ezennaya began but his father cut him off with a sharp retort.
“Then prove it!” Papa Ezennaya yelled. “At your age I was married-”
“Where is the proof of that?” Ezennaya muttered. “Where is your wife? Even she left knowing how much of a failure you are.”
“In that case, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” came a soft voice from behind them.
Ezennaya turned to see his immediate younger sibling standing at the entrance of the hut she shared with her younger siblings, a silent witness to the familial discord unfolding before her.
"Isi gịnị? What did you say?”
“Ezennaya, is it a lie?”
Ezennaya. No longerNnamorNwannem. It was like she had lost all respect that she had for him.
“It has been five years since you lost the tournament,” she continued, “how long will it be before you finally move on with your life?”
Ezennaya lowered his voice to a whisper, “The throne was mine and you know it, Adanna.”
“You say this yet someone else sits on the throne and rules over Obodoala,” his father added.
It was five years ago when Ezennaya lost his chance to be King. Five years ago when his plans and future were tarnished by one woman: Kainenechukwu.
In the village of Obodoala, when a king died without leaving behind any descendants, the chiefs (royal advisors) would hold a tournament to select the next king. They believed that the ruler of Obodoala should be someone who could defend their kingdom in the case of a war.
The late king, King Obiora, had been his father’s only child and the sole heir to the throne. He never married and died prematurely in his sleep. As per the custom in Obodoala, a tournament was held, giving unmarried youths, both male and female, an opportunity to contest for power. Ezennaya was one of the youths eligible to contest, and so he did.
The contest was a ten-round wrestling battle that occurred over ten market days. In the final round, the two top wrestlers would battle against each other, and the winner would emerge victorious and take their position on the throne as the new king. Ezennaya made it to the final round and received so much attention and support from the members of Obodoala community. After all, no one expected his opponent to get to the final round in the first place.
His opponent, Kainenechukwu, was tall and fair, and the only child to a woman who plaited hair and sometimes sewed clothes for young girls in the village. They had met during the tournament but had never held a single conversation with each other. She was in good shape but not muscular enough for Ezennaya to particularly consider her a threat, that is why Ezennaya can never forget the moment she threw him over her shoulder.
They had been a few minutes into the battle on that fateful day but neither of them had quite managed to take advantage of the other. Each time he tried to lift her up, she found a way to either plant her feet firmly on the ground, holding her weight down, or wrap her legs around his.
With his frustration mounting, Ezennaya released her and detached himself from her.
Ezennaya took rapid, yet deep breaths. His chest rose and fell with each breath. He could feel his blood boiling as he clenched his fists. His anger was not directed at her but she would be the unlucky recipient.
Directing his gaze away from his opponent, Ezennaya allowed his eyes to sweep over the audience. He noticed his friends but didn’t concentrate on them but rather focused on where his family was — where his family wassupposedto be.
He spotted his younger brother, Ndubuisi, and his younger sister Obianuju. Ndubuisi held his sister’s hand in his left and had his other hand held over his chest, probably saying a silent prayer to the gods.
Ezennaya pressed his lips tightly together and looked away from his siblings, settling his eyes on where his opponent’s family was. Her father was absent — not that he expected the paralysed man to miraculously get off his mat just to attend the final match of the tournament — her mother, an older version of his opponent, had a proud smile playing on her lips and her eyes gleamed with what Ezennaya could only describe as pride.
Ezennaya tightened his jaw and clenched his fist but before he could decide his next move, a strong force pushed him and he stumbled backwards but regained his balance before he could fall. Losing his footing would be considered a victory to hiss opponent.
His gaze returned to his opponent, his mouth agape, marvelled at the strength with which the young woman pushed him.
Collective gasps and mumbles from the crowd filled the air.
Ezennaya steadied himself and took a deep breath before charging her with all his might. Enthusiastic screams erupted from the crowd as they witnessed the climax of the battle and Ezennaya could already see himself being crowned King of Obodoala.
Just as Ezennaya approached his opponent’s form, still quick on his feet, she bent her waist, wrapped her arms around his legs and threw him over her shoulder without so much as a grunt. Ezennaya went flying in the air and landed on his back with a loud thud.
The screams that once filled the air died down and silence ensued before it was broken by a high-pitched squeal.
“We have a new queen!”
The crowd erupted into jubilation while Ezennaya remained on the ground, his body limp with shock.Had he really lost or was it just a bad dream?
As he lay still, processing his failure, the chiefs (royal advisors) made their way to the battle ground and one of them took Kainenechukwu’s right hand in his and raised it up to the sky, “Introducing the newQueenof Obodoala: Kainenechukwu, daughter of Ikenna!”
At the sound of the declaration, Ezennaya jumped to his feet.It’s not a dream.He looked at his siblings. Ndubuisi’s hands had dropped to his sides and Obianuju had tears welling in her eyes. Ndubuisi eyes caught his but he looked away almost immediately.
His breath hitched in his throat as he turned to face his opponent — hisQueen. One of the chiefs had theokpueze— headdress worn by the king as a symbol of royal authority — in his hands, ready to adorn Kainenechukwu with it. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage and he took rapid, shallow breaths.
“She can’t be the queen,” he muttered, loud enough for one of the chiefs to hear.
“Excuse me?” The chief asked.
Ezennaya stood straighter and amplified his voice, “I said: she can’t be the Queen! Do you know what it took me to get to this position? Do you know how hard I worked for this?”
“Young man, we do know. And you fought a good fight, that is why we have decided to make you a royal guard.”
“No.”
The crowd whispered in shock.
Ezennaya moved to grab theokpuezeout of the hands of the chief but the chief stepped back swiftly.
“Guards! Carry this man out of the palace!” Another of the chiefs yelled and in no time, two muscular guards appeared to carry him out of the palace, one held him below his armpits and the other held his legs.
Ezennaya at first struggled in their hold, trying to free himself from their hold whilst searching the crowd for anyone who would take his side and speak up against the injustice. He stopped struggling once he caught his brother’s gaze once again. That time, however, his brother did not avert his eyes and he could read them clearly: disappointment, embarrassment and shame. Shame to be related to him.
It was the same look Adanna gave him even after all the years that had passed since the incident. She had not attended the tournament, of course, but narration from all the villagers in the weeks that followed left little little to imagine.
Adanna, who had adored her older brother, idolised even, had lost all respect for him and was now ashamed to be recognised as his sister.
“I am going to make things right,” Ezennaya said, his face emotionless.
“Haven’t you done enough?” A fourth voice interrupted them. Ndubuisi walked casually towards them, as though it wasn’t the first time he was returning home in a week.
Ndubuisi, who had been only but a boy when the event occurred, had become rebellious and even more so as an adolescent. He had been reprimanded for theft, fights in the village and many others that one couldn’t point out exactly what would have been the worst thing he’d done so far. Papa Ezennaya could not deny that he had lost complete control of his younger son. He did not bother to ask where the boy had been spending his nights as he knew he would not receive a straight answer.
“Our reputation was already at stake and you just had to worsen it with your behaviour,” Ndubuisi continued.
“And I plan to make things right,” Ezennaya repeated, his voice slightly higher than it had been before.
“How?” Adanna asked.
“I am going to become a palace guard,” Ezennaya replied. “I have spent time building my muscles and I’ll go to the palace and showcase my ability, and hopefully I’ll be selected.”
"O nwere onye ngwuputa osisi dị mma, na-ebu akụ riri riri,” Ndubuisi laughed bitterly.No one climbs a good tree and brings down rotten fruits. “You tried to grab the okpu eze from the chief’s hands, and you think the same people will gladly appoint you to guard their queen and the kingdom? Biko, this tree you are trying to climb, the same tree you tried to climb the last time, will only result in shame.”
“Your brother is not wrong,” Papa Ezennaya agreed. “Why not forget about this and do something else? You could always help me at the farm.”
Ezennaya shook his head forcefully, “No, I will do as I have said.”
With a frustrated sigh, Papa Ezennaya slowly shook his head, “Okay then.Kachifo. Sleep well.” He then retired to his hut. Adanna returned to the hut she shared with her two younger sisters, and Ndubuisi, to the hut he shared with Ezennaya. Ezennaya had been sleeping alone in the hut for the past few weeks and he couldn’t help but think that the reason his younger brother had been avoiding returning back to the hut at night had to do with him. Maybe he couldn’t stand to sleep in the same place the embarrassment of the family slept.
Ezennaya did not go to the hut right away but rather looked up to the clear night sky, deep in thought.
He would be going to apply as a guard but not for long. He was going to reclaim his rightful position as King of Obodoala and his family’s reputation will be cleared. No one would remember him for his loss and most importantly, his family would be proud of him.It was only a matter of time.
