Those days, our ancestors and chi drank gin. Locally brewed hot and ekpetesh. Our locally unadulterated gin quenched the thirst of amadioha and pacified he/her wrath. Father will always send two bottles and a goat through me to Eze dibia.
Then the white men came with their bottles of foreign schnapps, it was our legal tender in exchange of which we have them our brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, and even infants to go and work on their farm across the seas. They first brought it to Eze Akaruru our Igwe gburu gburu one, it was wrapped in paper with colors white the color of our native chalk and dark blue the color of the sky when it is about to gather cloud. In exchange, Igwe gave them twenty men. Including his son (make sure you don't tell anyone I told you this.) it became the drink of ndi ichie, nde nae chi omenala anyi. Igwe's men of the cabinet.
The day father drank it, he slaughtered two goats to commemorate his inauguration into the class of those who mattered in our village. Well, father gave his brother Uzodinma to the white man. It is a story I'll tell another day. The food that contained the omu that knocked uncle Uzo out, I sent it to him. I brought the rope too. You shouldn't blame me much, I just told you Father sent me to do it. I was Uncle Uzo's favorite nephew he wouldn't suspect a thing.
Then one day, we wanted to carry out some rituals, it was supposed to make father fit to become an Ichie. The process requires human sacrifice, that's not a hard thing to get. I brought Njideka. She had always been making advances at me, it was easy to convince her to come to my house and nobody knew it was me because I didn't make advances to her neither did I sit beside her anywhere.
We went with Njideka, and a bottle of local gin. Ezedibia said Amadioha no longer drinks local gin. "they have moved" he muttered, his face had the slight expression of disgust, like we should have known better than bringing something outdated to Amadioha's shrine. The ritual didn't pull through, Ezedibia will not proceed even though Njideka headless body laid gushing blood.
Then came some white men who didn't buy our people nor gave us powder, mirror nor whiskey, they came with two sticks laid together, the say it is a cross, a symbol of their religion. They preached of a Jesus from Israel whose death saved the world. Father and I had a good laugh the first night they told us this story. This is our village, Eastern prectorate, what has the death of a white man far away Israel to do with us?
"Look, we are children of Amadioha" father told the man with face the color of peeled yam with no water added to it, burning in the blazing heat of the noon sun.
"But Amadioha is not powerful than Jesus. It is dead and gone" He said, and we laughed him to scorn. The way he pronounces Amadioha was hilarious I wish Amadioha will be offended and pull his tongue out. These men spoilt business for us, they bought our people and released them. They even brought slates and chalk and talked about school. I didn't care. But when Papa was sold into slavery by his last wife, I began to care. I finally became a Christian one day when the man said Amadioha is a mirage and I invoked the spirit of Arusi Iyi and it didn't respond. I felt betrayed and abandoned it altogether. I even gave them our family shrine to hold their Jesus gathering. That was the last I knew before I followed them on ship to England to be trained. That was the last I saw about shrines and priest.
Until today, when I saw Agbala nwanyi, and umu nde arusi iyi on facebook. They too have gone mainstream. I thought our ancestors ways are for the reserved, didn't know the gods will like to feature on facebook.
#Chronicle
Chines Zoe!
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