‘This is too strange to believe it is real. And it is happening to me’ …. Abiaimo yawned tilting the silky blinds away to enable him have a clear view of the illuminating and sparkling galaxies.
The stars danced in the flow of the running clouds, exposing the nakedness of the skies’ beauty and mysteries. The songs of the night insects set the tone for the approaching new dawn. The gentle breeze rolled away the cloud from the front of the moon, glowing with awesome peace that permeates every fiber of the psyche of Obio- the golden city at sleep, with some parts fully awake, bubbling with uncommon sweetness.
‘Can this be true …’ he asked no one in particular as he burst into a prolonged laughter, that echoed in the distant hills overseeing the sea side, a whistle away from his house in Amama Island.
The wind blew wildly. The leaves rustled, whispering through the trees in a gentle caress that angered the waves as it went up and tumbled down in an unfamiliar style, breaking the moon rays, doing a twist on the ridges of the amazing waves in a thrill. Abiaimo felt a deep lift in his whole being. He smiled and concentrated on the behaviour of the moon, as she quickly ran behind the clouds in hiding, forming all kinds of symbol, with something that looked like a cross at the centre, sat atop a heart blinking with light
Abiaimo, forty-six, a communication consultant, highly cerebral and rich, met Mope at a leadership business forum a few weeks ago and she stock to his soul. Mope forty-one, a virgin, oversees a chain of businesses in the fast moving consumables’ sector of the economy. Lived in New Heaven, Obio, she was spiritual without a bias for any creed. She was the first child of a Public Works Department (PWD), employee. They were thirteen, ten girls and three boys. Her mother was a street corner petty trader, in Oniagidi area of Obio. Her parents did not have another child until nine years later. When her siblings began to arrive, she was well equipped to share in the huge burden of raising a large family. She saw herself through school by using Iya Ogi as her role model. She was industrious, focused and determined, loving and caring. A generous spirit in all. She was to everyone she met a God sent.
Iya Ogi was married to a polygamist Baba Forecast, a pool agent who had women in all parts of Obio. She had eleven children two for Oni Tipper and nine for Baba Forecast. Iya Ogi was a very beautiful woman. When she was smiling, her dimple was amazing, inspiring and sensually tempting. She was dark in complexion. Her legs were straight without a curve. She stood seven feet tall. Her neck was decorated with the rings of beauty. Very peaceful and always smiling with even beauties and goodness rare to find from the depth of our soul. Men were intimidated by her physique. Humility and gentleness became her weaknesses. She was hospitality, joy and peace personified.
In the morning, all her children would hawk ogi, eko and moin-moin before they go to school – Central School, Kiakia, seven kilometers away from Oniagidi.
Iya Ogi was a highly respected women mobilizer with an unequal commitment to building a just and viable society where love, peace, trust and unity were the flavours for nationhood. To her, every child was hers. She single handedly saw all her children though the university. A few won scholarship from the colonialists.
Mr. Whiteman and his wife lived a few houses away from the Central School. On their way to and from school, Mope and others often ran into them strolling leisurely around the vicinity of their house. She wondered why they had no children, whereas it was a different story with her parents and their neighbours. Out of curiousity she asked her mother.
‘Why is it that Mr. Whiteman and his wife are always together. . . where are their children?’
‘. . . Sacrifice to the white gods. This helps their iron bird – aero plane to fly better and higher,’ her mother sighed demonstrating with her hands.
‘It gives the iron boxes that snaked along the rail track the energy to whistle and the whole land trembles in great fear. . .’ whispered another woman, gnashing her teeth furiously.
‘We are told. . .’ Mope stammered in fear trying to convince the older women.
‘Hold it there, young woman. Don’t be deceived. They are gods. .’ her mother interrupted.’ ‘Their iron tortoise smoked by the tail, coughs before it begins to walk, runs like an arrow. These people should be feared’, another advised and disappeared into her house whistling and calling her puppies.
‘No! Mama it is called a motor car. It is not…’ Mope laughed.
‘Mo to car my foot. Their whatever has a way of hypnotizing people. While it is moving the occupants are asleep’, interjected another, looking around in suspicion as if someone was about to arrest her.
Years later, Mope knew why Mr. Whiteman had no children. It was by choice, as her illiterate parents decided to have one full battalion of children. Different culture, different folks. Different strokes.
The wind swept through the street without a whistle. She struggled with her gown, as the wind strived to peel it off her beautiful body. She hurried to the car. No sooner had she hopped in and sat behind the wheels panting heavily than the rain poured out from heaven beat cats and dogs. Within minutes the entire place was flooded and she could not see her front until she put on the head lamps. The traffic became heavier as it snailed, sailing through the flood. The skies rumbled in concert with the rain. Lightning smiled at will, with frightening rumbles of thunder.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang and multiple thunder storms mixed with unprecedented blinding flashes of lightning. And the public power went off. Darkness enveloped the entire land. The traffic was now chaotic and hellish. People were stranded; motorists got stocked in the flood. Mope was very far away from New Heaven. Night has fully descended on Obio. From what she saw, it was easy for a man to give birth to a child than her getting home in the next six hours. The city grounded to a halt. A few meters away from her car a man screamed.
‘How blissful would it be for rapture to occur now. . . ?’
Her heart missed rhythm, pounding like a locomotive engine crawling up Milikin Hills. She shook her head and said,
‘Many would not, especially now that tension is high and people are screaming, cursing and rude, filled with....’
’No! This is the second coming of the God of Noah. . .’ laughed another motorist and was cut short by an explosion of thunder ball that forced all to take cover in fear. Mope closed her eyes shouting,
‘Lord, please have mercy. Save our souls…’
Abiaimo watched the moon slipped completely into the cloud. The skies changed into various colours and faded into dark blue skies saturated with vapour. The breeze evolved into a cold wind. Few minutes, saw the wind ramping through the whistling pines in fury. Slamming doors in anger. He had not seen a thing like this before.
‘In deed the mysteries and complexities of God’s divinity cannot be X-rayed by any mortal being. Everything just changed in a space of no time. . .’ he mumbled trying to close the blinds.
While he was basking in the bliss of nature’s beauties and splendour of a romantic moon lit evening, he was in deep thought. Mope was all that was on his mind. As the platters of the heaviest downpour of the year drummed rhythmically and flowed across the roof, a thought of Mope coming to him stole into his mind. Simultaneously, she remembered him. She thought about him briefly, smiled, shrugged her shoulders and said,
‘Oh! Boy let me be.... To me you look a good man but…’
‘How I wish to see. . . Hope she is ok. . .’ he breathed out taking a few steps backwards without looking. At this instant, he heard a knock on the front door. Immediately, he looked at the clock in front of him and it was 11.59pm. At this point the sweet looking moon gently dissolved into the dark clouds.
The skies galloped in rumble, cracked into a flash of lightening that ran across the length and breadth of the skies with trails of blinks. The door bell went angrily. He stopped and without caution as if he was propelled by an uncontrolled force. He was all smiles as he quickly got to the door. He unlocked it and threw it widely opened. At the door was Utom, his maternal cousin whose office was not far from his house. He stepped back, without looking beaming with smiles invited her in. Utom turned back and said,
‘Come right in. please . . . feel at home.’
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