Black coal

Black scar

Black scale

Black and lovely melanin

You are as tough as a coal

Like a scar, you have marked me a spot among the cloud

Your hardness has taught me hardship and endurance under the scorching fire of the yellow glow

Black and lovely melanin

You made me weak

You make me strong

You made me sad

You make me happy

You are a great gift from the world’s blacksmith

Of the colors in the world, you are greatness

Black and lovely melanin

From you, the blacksmith of the world refined and nurtured me into a lustrous gem

I will love and cherish you forever.

Black coal

Black scar

Black scale

Black and lovely melanin

—ANTHONY GODWIN—

Her heart skipped a beat.

The softness of his lips brushed on her hungry cheek and sent a chill down her spine. It clouds her whole body with an intense feeling that almost overpowered her. Nothing in the world mattered for she was lost in his arms, hoping above all that this fleeting moment would last forever. The desire boiling inside her threw her into this misery that she held him tightly, afraid that letting go would mean losing him forever.

The night was formless and empty, too quiet that it let the thumping sound of his chest to cover the silent peace. She could make out his muscular features, not with her eyes, but with the trace of her body on his.

“You said you will tell me about the Igwe’s Ofor today.” He whispered in her ear and pulled away from her.

They still held hands but the slide distance separating them, created an agony in her stomach and she found herself pulling him back into her.

“Why do you ask? I’m but a common servant, I know little about the King and his Ofor,”

She traced her hands on his body, trying to cup his chest with her palms and hoping he would drop the topic about the Igwe. She had promised to tell him about the Ofor today; a piece of sacred information to give away with an oily hand. Knowing its location would be useless to him though, for the Ofor was kept in a fortified area in the palace, the second most guarded place after the king’s and the only person that can wield its power, without bringing destruction to the land, was the bloodline of the King.

“Hmm, what a perfect liar you are. Your chi knows you are a far cry from any normal servant. You are like the Igwe’s daughter, the most trusted servant in the whole of Alaocha.”

She broke the contact this time and lifted her head, trying to make out those strong cheekbones of his. The night obstructed the pleasure she always derives when she sees his face. Those brown eyes that glint with the morning like a precious gem whose splendor in comparison with the flowers was alluring.

It was a good thing that the night obstructed her view, his beautiful face could freeze her to the bone and would have taken her breath with the words away.

“Why is the location of the Ofor so important to you?” She asked, a little pissed off by his demands. Was the location of the Ofor more valuable than her body?

She could feel his body blazing with the same intense longing for her, but it seemed his mind was elsewhere. It seemed as though he was distracted and she wondered if she should be worried.

“I can read minds you know, and I can tell what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours,” he said and kissed her forehead.

“How romantic, I will love to see you guess wrongly this time,” She smiled, glad that the night covered her cheeks which were turning red.

“You think I put other matters before you,” he said softly

She was not surprised he guessed correctly, he understands her more than anybody.

“And do you?” she asked

“Ada” he called softly, too soft that the girl almost melted into the pelt that rounded her chest and waist.

“I love and desire you more than anything. I just want you to trust me. Can you do that for me?”

The girl, Ada, nodded in agreement but blushed all the more when she noticed how silly it was. They were clothed with the hands of darkness; how did she expect him to see the gesture she was making with her head?

“I trust you my love, much more than I trust myself,” Ada said. She chuckled and hit him playfully on the chest.

“All this trust talks for something we can see but can’t touch, even if it were an arm stretched. Anyway, I won’t let you ruin this lovely night with your pet tête-à-têtes. I will disclose the location to you, but first, you must promise me that a third ear won’t hear.”

“I promise, my love,” she heard him say as she pulled him and whispered the location of the Ofor into his ears.

“Now,” Ada threw her hands round his neck and felt his hands going gently round the jigida on her waist. “Will you take me to bed?” She asked.

“Where is the fun in that? Forget the warrior spirit within, I am a gentleman, I don’t like rushing things,” He whispered playfully.

She chuckled but said nothing. She only watched the darkness which formed his vague face.

“My whole being wants you, but first, I want to kiss you,” He said and loosened Ada’s grip that locked his neck. They held hands.

“In a gentle man’s way” he finished.

Her heart skipped a beat and leaped into her stomach.

She closed her eyes and waited for his smooth perfect lips to imbue hers and drive her into that void of ecstasy.

But to her dismay, it never came.

He had released his hands from hers and when she opened her eyes and tried to hold him, her fingers met no obstruction and fell back to her.

The coldness of the night suddenly engrossed her as the realization struck her like a knot in the stomach.

He was gone.

He had disappeared like a thin smoke, and no trace of evidence could suggest that he had once been in her chambers.

“What have I done?” Ada tried to say be the words could not form.

The men watched as the Diviner circled another series of dance steps. The beads, and cowries that clothed her, oscillated, and swerved in rhythm to the wooden gong that vibrated the serenity of the cold night, whose handler was a ghost in the scene. Sulugede, the dance was so-called. It was, it is and will always be the dance of the spirit.

Drunk and possessed by the spirit of the ancestors, the diviner paused and started making gestures with her two hands. The numerous beads lining her wrist jingled with the cowries and both followed their wearer without complaint.

The musical beat of the wooden gong has ceased and the diviner had also paused, listening to the air, trying to pay heed to their advice.

Nobody spoke, nobody dared to speak, for this was one of those moments when the diviner and the spirit of the dead interact.

“Let the child that wrestle with the father be put to shame” she began the incantation, with a voice which cracked alongside the ember glows of the naked yellow fire.

“Let the man that humiliates his household be put to misery. He that doesn’t want the good of others, let no good come his way. Egbe belu, Ugo belu. Nke sina ibeya ama mbe, nku kwa ya (For the hawk and the eagle must perch, if any of them object the perching the other, let it break its wings and die). Our ancestor say, never will light or darkness prevail, for one must balance the other”

The diviner danced again with the flow of an imaginary tone, but this time, she was carried to and fro as if intoxicated by a strong wine.

Uncertainty was prevalent on the faces of her audience, which constitute every chief in Alaocha. The King was there too, standing in the front of his company. His eyes hung weakly on his tanned skin, with the patch of sleepless night, smearing the crease on his chin.

“A na-m anu (I can hear)”

The diviner held her ear lobe, paying attention to the instructions of the spirits. This act by the diviner was familiar to the people. Some said it was at this moment that the diviner receives commands from the gods. While others say it was a time when the diviner gives orders to the gods. Nobody knows; the diviner was believed to be a god that became flesh. People feared and respected her religions power more than the King.

“Igwe” the diviner called, with respect lurking its head in her voice. With all her powers she still respects the monarch.

“Awo adighi agba oso ehihie n’nkiti (It is not vain for a toad to run in the afternoon). Either it’s after its prey or its predator is after it. I know why you have come. The land is bare and unclean. The people have deflected from the ways of our ancestors,”

“Wise one,” the King spoke, clearing his dry throat. “An adage says that, if you wake up and finds a fowl running towards you, that it’s better to start running for dear life, for you never can tell if the fowl has suddenly grown teeth overnight. The impossible has happened. Please, what shall we do? Why has this calamity befallen I and my kinsmen? Why has such taboo surfaced in this peaceful generation?”

“The gods are angry with your household,” the Diviner spoke sadly.

“What have we done wrong, great one? Haven’t we sacrificed the fattest lamb? Haven’t we paid homage to Ala, the god of the soil? We gave Idemili—the river goddess—the ten damsels she asked, where then is our loophole?”

“You and your people ended up making a sacrifice of fools. Listen, this is my message to you from the gods. They said I should tell you, oji ihe nwata welie aka elu. You have something that belongs to a child; give it back to the child, or else—”

“…Or else what?” a rich deep voice behind the king shouted.

Surprised eyes turned to the direction of the one who dares interrupt the greatest dibia (herbalist) of Alaocha.

Three men walked their way to the front, not paying mind to the choirs of surprised eyes that studied them. They were bare chest and the pelt that rounded their waist was that of a leopard. They appeared to be warriors at first—from the sword resting in the scabbard of their waist and the shield they carry—but the white tattoo circling their left eye gave them away. They too were diviners.

“What will you do?” the voice that had spoken earlier asked. The owner appeared to be the leader of the three. Muscular frame; with long dreadlock and unshaved mustache and beard that had two white cowries on it.

“What sacrilege, Mbakwe. How dare you and your disciples walk into my shrine unannounced?” The female diviner asked. Those bright eyes of hers glaring dangerously as the light of the touch danced in them.

“The crown is powerless without the Ofor,” the Man called Mbakwe said, “our land is bare. The protection of the gods has been stolen. The throne has come to you seeking for redemption, and all you could do is to threaten it? What diviner are you? Whose doom’s day do you preach?”

“You did not break the first rule of the sacred shrine to ask me that question, do you?” The female diviner asked. She was still trying to contain her anger despite Mbakwe’s arrogance.

“No, I came here for the King. I haven’t come to watch your lunatic drama.”

Mbakwe turned his attention to the King.

“The spirits of our ancestor has shown me the Ofor. My disciples and I shall embark to retrieve it at your command. But we have come to seek your blessing. We have come so your sanctification will enable us to wield its power and return it to you.”

The King furrow his brow and turned those golden eyes of his to the diviner. His stomach tightened when her laughter suddenly echoed. It was as though the woman has been tickled by an unseen force. He didn’t know if he should believe Mbakwe and his tale. He knew the man very well, but even though Mbakwe had been a trustworthy servant in the past. The reluctance to give him such power was still there. But what other choice does he have? He desperately needs his Ofor back. His kingship was but a wind on a cold rock without it.

Rumors are birds, it’s just a matter of time before the neighboring village learn about the missing Ofor and then, an impending attack would be inevitable.

“I think it’s our only option,” someone said from behind. The King needn’t turn to know who the voice belongs to. It was the voice of Ikenna, his prime minister.

“You have my blessing,” The King returned his attention to Mbakwe, “go and may the light of Amadioha touch your path.”

The King lifted his crown and circled it twice on Mbakwe’s head. This was an act, delegating the power to wield the Ofor to Mbakwe. Now, Mbakwe too could lift the Ofor and wield its power if he finds it.

“Go and return in peace,” The King finished.

“Thank you, your highness, we won’t let you down.”

Mbakwe turned to his disciples and murmured something. The other two hummed in unison and like a flash, they took off with a sprint, into the night which enveloped their shadows.

“You did the right thing,” Someone said from the behind the King. The voice was familiar, but the King could not place the face. He was deeply drowned by the ocean of uncertainty.

“Do you know your problem?” the voice of the diviner seemed to piece the King’s soul as he suddenly remembered her presence and why they had come here at first.

“You surround yourself with evil men,” the diviner was saying “Mark my words. If you do not give that child what is rightfully hers,’ you and your household would be a living ghost,”

“What child are you talking about?” the King asked. The lines on his forehead deepened. He came here to find answers, not to sit on the fence with the four cardinal point meeting on his head.

“Now you are playing ignorant as well,” The diviner said. She bit her lower lips and the cowries on her hair clattered when she shook her head. “The death that will kill a dog does not allow it to perceive the stench of danger. I warned you, beware.”

She finished and walked back into her hut, closing its door with the flap of the curtain made from a woven palm tree.

“It is a blessing in disguise. If Mbakwe hadn’t shown up here; this old woman would have wasted our time in a gibberish puzzle.” Ikenna, prime minister to the king said.

“Let’s hope they find the Ofor, if not, then our reign is over,” The king hissed and rested his crown back on his head.