UNFORESEEN
CONFESSION
“The Lord is Good!” Mr Amakiri eulogized, looking at the sky while in
his promising farmyard.
“All the time.” His son Kosarachi added excitedly.
Mr Amakiri was an industrious and well respected farmer in the whole of Umuokanne
– the ancient community where he hailed from. Apparently, between 1982 and 1989
or thereabouts – the period when his name rang bell most, it was only a day old
child that was yet to be conversant with the name ‘Amakiri’ whenever‘ farming’
was mentioned; needless to state that the name was synonymous with farming or
agriculture. His prospect became astonishing that his Traditional Ruler Igwe
P.O. Duru bestowed on him ‘Eze–Ji I of Umuokanne’, which literally implied the
‘greatest yam producer in the land’, owing to the outstanding yam cultivation
invariably witnessed in his various farmyards that consistently led to harvest
of thousands of yam tubers annually.
Clad in his not unusual farming attire in the company of his son
Kosarachi who putted on a hat made of a wick material, that fateful day,
Mr Amakiri had gone to his farm as usual to inspect the growth of his crops; and
luckily for him, they were doing very well. The aforementioned eulogy ‘The Lord
is good’, which came as soon as they arrived at the farmyard, was as a result of
the euphoria attached to the fascinating scene he just witnessed. They spent
over thirty minutes admiring the flourishing plants while taking time to went
across the four corners of the enviable farmyard.
“Kosarachi, my son.”Amakari called tenderly
while still taking a walk round the said farm alongside his son who happened to
be his only child.
“Yes Papa.” Kosarachi answered.
‘Papa’ is the native way of addressing a
father in Igboland, which was their place of origin.
MrAmakiri stopped, looked at his son, “Do you know why I always bring
you here?” He said while stationary.
“You mean the farm?” asked Kosarachi who was also stationary.
“Yes,” Amakiri said. “And the other farms.”
“No Papa.”
“Sit down my son.” Amakiri urged while lowering his waist to sit on the
farmland.
“kosarachi complied. Both of them quickly sat on the available farmland
within their reach having used bunch of plant leaves to cover the nudeness of
the land.
“I inherited this farm business from my late father,” Amakiri proceeded.
“Omemgbeoji.” He added referring to his late father’s name.
They were facing each other, and also closely seated.
“Being his only son,” He rode on. “He wanted the best for me.”
Kosarachi nodded twice in comprehension.
“He always told me that he could not wait to see me being in charge of
his farms.”
“He really loved you, Papa.” Kosarachi insinuated.
“Yes he did.” Amakiri asserted. “That’s why I did everything humanly
possible to please him.”
His son nodded. “Amazing.” He dished out. Smiled.
“Kosarachi my son.” He reiterated.
“Yes Papa.”
“I want you to know that,” the great farmer whom was in his late fifties
continued. “I always bring you here because I want you to understand everything
about this farming business.”
Kosarachi, a young man in his mid-twenties, became very attentive.
“There’s more you need to know about this business.” Amakiri disclosed.
“Therefore, you must dedicate all your time to it.”
His son nodded severally. Remained calm.
“Farming is a very lucrative occupation.” Amakiri notified. “But it
requires enormous time.”
There was a few seconds silence.
“Kosara nwa m.” He proceeded.
‘Nwa m’ implied ‘my son’.
“Yes Papa.”
“One day,” said Amakiri. “You would be in charge of all my farms.”
“I know Papa.” Kosarachi chipped in.
“That’s my son.” His father appreciated. “I know you will make me
proud.” He added, smiling. Paused. “Even in my grave.” He hinted.
They looked at each other passionately.
“I want you to promise me one thing.” Amakiri said.
“What Papa?”
“That you will remain serious-minded.”
“Ah – Ah, Papa…” Kosarachi exclaimed. “Of course, I will always be a
serious boy.”
“You promise?” His father verified anxiously, looking into his eyes.
“Yes Papa.” He reassured confidently.
“That’s my boy!” The zealous farmer excitedly exclaimed. “Is time to go
home.” He suggested.
His son concurred. They immediately stood up and left for their abode.
Two weeks later, being April 13, 1989, unfortunately Mr Amakiri gave up
the ghost owing to a snakebite that transpired right in one of his farmyards.
Thereafter the burial, life became so unbearable to Kosarachi and his mother,
that, they hardly knew where and how to start as regards the farm business. But
with their little knowledge and experience, they vowed to make the deceased
person proud in his grave, which was all he ever prayed and worked for all
through his lifetime; on the contrary, little did they know that hard times
lied ahead.
* * * * * *
“Kosarachi…” Maduka called the moment he was offered a seat at
Kosarachi’s home.
Maduka was one of Kosarachi’s closest uncles, and he was also a farmer
by profession but he was a small-scale farmer compared to his late brother
Amakiri. Maduka was undoubtedly a very greedy and dangerous man whom was in his
early fifties, that, every second in his life his mindset was preoccupied with
an intended evil act; every indigene of Umuokanne was very much aware of his
dangerous lifestyle.
Kosarachi was also warned by his late father while alive to be very
careful with him (Maduka) and he heeded the candid advice seriously because he
sincerely believed in every word that came from the deceased’s mouth.
Maduka whose house was sited very close to that of Kosarachi’s late father,
had walked to their sitting room where he (Kosarachi) was relaxing with his
beloved mother Obiageri in the early morning at about some minutes past six of
that very day being April 28, 1989 barely two weeks after his late
step-brother’s exit; and just three days after the burial.
“Yes uncle.” Kosarachi responded.
His mother was seated adjacent and
closely to him while Maduka sat opposite him but a bit farther.
“This one you came by this time,” Kosarachi added. “Hope all is well?”
Obviously, Maduka’s countenance wasn’t
friendly that even a visually impaired person could notice it.
“Eh-eh m,” Maduka hastily cleared his throat. “I’ve come to warn you to
stay clear from my land at Umuobodo.” He disclosed frantically.
Umuobodo was one of the clans situated in Umuokanne Ancient Community. The
aforesaid land was where both Maduka and his late step-brother Amakiri
separately owned farmyards; the land, which was duly shared among them, was
inherited from their late father Omemgbeoji. Ab initio when Amakiri was alive,
the greedy Maduka had made several failed efforts to deprive him (Amakiri) of
his portion; he kept on finding fault at the boundary between the two lands.
And, Kosarachi was informed of the dispute by his late father.
It was actually on that land that Amakiri got the snakebite that led to
his untimely death.
Unarguably, Kosarachi and his mother were shocked over the uncanny
warning; though they were very much aware of what Maduka was capable of doing
but the early morning warning, which came exactly fourteen days after Amakiri’s
departure, was the least they expected from him.
“Uncle,” Kosarachi called. Frowned. “I’m surprise at you.”
His mother, Obiageri who was still shocked, remained calm.
“Is this what you came to tell
me at this time of the day?” Kosarachi continued. “Barely three days after your
brother’s burial?”
“I’ve warned you Kosarachi.” Maduka repeated fiercely. “That land
belongs to me.”
“Besides,” Kosarachi interrupted. “My father never told me that the land
in question is in dispute.” He lied.
“Okay,” Maduka said. “Maybe he would tell you when you meet him in the
grave.” He hinted harshly.
“What?” Kosarachi exclaimed in a high tone.
His mother shook her head in shock. Remained silent.
Obiageri was indeed an easy going woman
that tried every means to avoid troubles.
“Obiageri,” Maduka called. “You better warn your son.” He concluded.
Stood up and left for his home crazily like one whose house was on fire.
“Okay,” Kosarachi ranted. “We shall see.”
“Kosarachi my son,” Obiageri called tenderly as soon as the August
visitor left. “You have to be very, very careful.”
“How Mama?”
“That man is evil.” She informed. “I’m sure your late father told you
about this.” She hurriedly added referring to Maduka’s evil nature.
“Mama, that man cannot do more than a dead rat.” He replied naively. “You people are just fearing him for
nothing.” He concluded.
Two months later, Kosarachi fell critically ill. Every medical diagnosis
in respect to the illness detected nothing, which prompted the intervention of
their church Reverend. At the long run, it was ascertained that the unending
disease, which had already claimed much of the family’s wealth, was attributed
to a spiritual mechanism. Thus, the family was placed on a two-week fasting and
prayers after which a deliverance was conducted at the family’s compound at the
night of July 7, 1989.
Something very remarkable and amazing transpired at that very night
while the family deliverance was taking place. Surprisingly, Maduka hastily ran
out of his house half-naked to Kosarachi’s compound where the deliverance was
ongoing. He instantly fell on the ground and sought for their forgiveness
having confessed to them that he was solely responsible for Kosarachi’s illness
as well as his father’s death. The confession, which kept everyone dumbfounded,
was never seen coming by the poor family.
Fred Doc
Nwaozor
