Nigeria Writer: Ekadi Three

By Felix Brambaifa

She waited for them to come. Her anger was now like the beauty of the insane. Days had passed since her first attempt at bringing justice with her own hands. Ekadi was a good runner, it was easy admitting to that fact even though she hated the taste of it. There was a time she had felt her heart rejoice, she had pursued him towards an high fence designed not to be climbed over by anyone but then in surprising shock she saw Ekadi without any physical assistance do the unexpected with flawless ease. In retrospect she had come to agree that, day had been created to bless her efforts with frustration and disappointments. It was minutes after the unsuccessful pursuit, on her way back that she had fallen into the arms of a police van, her pockets had wraps of marijuana and for two weeks she had stayed in police custody while Ekadi rejoiced.

  But now she was back and Ekadi was still ignorant of it, the hunger to bleed his head was now like a righteous calling. Her return had been visited by the numerous rumors of how he had openly celebrated her shame. So now she waited, ready to show how a woman could actually make his life unpleasant.

  One of the boys had gone to his house, to make report of the unhealthy return. He had met the absence of his boss and immediately began his return trip with an insane speed.

    The happiness to run from a house too disturbing to endure because of Nfong had prompted the early morning flight and without planning for the unexpected he had gone ahead with his eyes closed.

  This time he was unlucky, this time he walked into her waiting arms and his legs stood transfixed for the reason of sudden fear. He was too close and any sudden move would put Ngozi on a swift offensive. Their eyes stayed on each other, waiting for the time when their legs would do their commands. Then she ran towards him with a devilish rage and from nowhere she brought out a short machete.

  The heartbeats in his chest congealed as fear came upon him like cold sent from the arctic. But then he moved his hand to the ground and in great desperation gave a great swipe.

  He had embraced the initiative the very instant his eyes fell on a discarded baton very close within reach. She came towards him already feeling triumphant, expecting not even the least attempt at defense but as they say surprise was never a thing to be expected. He flogged her hand; the machete fell as she slowly absorbed the pains, he took flight.

  She had seen his hand move but at that instant her speed became her mistake, the reason Ekadi had once again escaped her fury. She nursed her injured hand, her mind boiling by the seconds and it was then she knew the line had been drawn by her pains and the time for real barbarity had come.

  He had been wise situating his business far from his house. But he knew only foolishness was to be held responsible for falling into the trouble Ngozi would violently turn into a funeral dance. She was like the Mother of the area urchins combined; they respected her and went on errands like pigeons begging to fly into their freedom, Messages that sometimes sent people to hospital beds and others packing. All she had to do was say the words and the name on the list would start asking for God.

  He had attacked in self defense and this was trouble, no explanation or pleading would erase the punishment looming in the dark and this he was sure of. He was now a finished man and like one trying to live his new status he walked his various paths with a certain sluggishness as if to attract pity. The workshop was his everything but because of the need to pay for a certain disaster manifested from Nfong’s troubles which at that time had seemed more important he had gone ahead and not knowing what the future had in store had brought a more serious trouble on his head.

  He heard the familiar shout that was the everyday mood of the compound as he entered. Again he met the land lord who would not waste time on emphasizing his belief.

  “I swear on my old age, that woman will dig your grave even before you are ready to go”

  With his eyes he searched her out from among the crowd and his heart quaked in pains while his head grumbled in disapproval at his greatest mistake

Ekadi two

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Nigerian Writer: Ekadi Two

Felix Brambaifa

The compound had never seen peace nor would ever understand the benefits it could bring. Every day was with its own troubles; troubles always caused by women, women too hungry to bring them into being.

  Ever since Ekadi had seen the need to become tenant in this compound and actually taken the step, his wife Nfong had since then become the strong force in the fore front of the various chaos. She was the Goliath in the colony of Titans but since only a David could do the eventual damage she had continued to live despite the strong female bullies the compound had on parade.

  Trouble was again at the threshold of the compound and Nfong was to be held responsible for it, the reason for the recent madness was far from been a deliberate one but rather from a permissible mistake that should have been ignored. The poor girl like everyone else in the compound knew Nfong had a madness that only trouble could appease and was frightened when tiny drops of water had fell from the bucket on her head, finding their way to the door front of Nfong.

She heard the splash, like a trained maniac she rushed outside and without any words to call the girl to order had descended on the poor thing with bitterness. The beating was beyond the normal measures suitable for a little child. Her crying called out for her own mother and the two adult sharing the same pot of bitterness showed strength.

  That was how the fight had started and minutes later Nfong had once again inflicted a terrible injury on her neighbor. This was the routine; this was why Ekadi was never free from debts and the purging habit of spending money meant for the furniture’s of his customers. He worked to make money; while her efforts were to invent troubles, so unavailable resources could be spent on them.

  He heard the sporadic shouts; they were all gathered at the backyard of the compound. The women were real noise makers as usual, each eager to oppress the other with their combusting voices. But on top of all the voices stayed the one voice his life had come to fear and like all great mistakes, regret. He heard his wife boast that she was strong and ready to prove herself, ready to break the heads of those who would not respect her. He felt oppressed; he felt the burden of a man who had come to realize that peace would forever stay far from his house because of the woman he had made his wife.

   He was still there in his thoughts when he heard the noise from behind, he turned around and there was his landlord. Their eyes met and the landlord started an eruption of mocking laughter’s, his face blessed with a resemblance that favored that of a bald monkey.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet” He said “She is your downfall”

  He sighed in his displeasure as he moved to the outside entrance of the compound, he had never liked Nfong and it was to his great annoyance to see Ekadi suffer in the hands of a woman who was never in want of peace, a pain felt by Ekadi as he entered his one room apartment.

  He was furious, the list of recent debts was on the table and its content had almost made his head explode but somehow he had managed to maintain his sanity, controlling his anger. But it was not to last for long, for as soon as his eyes fell on the pot of soup which was his hope for dinner on the floor his body became the growl of a furious beast as he shouted “Nfong” repeatedly.

  Her face bore the usual disdain felt for her husband as she entered. He was poor and her respect and full loyalty had always feared his quarters. She moved like a pregnant woman, slow and deliberate was her motion and worse the silent insult as she asked. “What can I do for you?”

  “What happened to the pot of soup?” He snarled, in obvious irritation and anger.

  He had seen the content of the pot, that was before Nfong had come asking for money to make her hair, he had refused her request and the workshop calling out quickened his footsteps before she could create trouble he was in no way ready for. But now like a wicked miracle a pot that would have served for two more days was now among the dirty dishes begging to be washed.

  “You would not give me money for my hair so I sold the soup. But still the money is not enough. I think I would have to sell the remaining fresh rice so I can look beautiful for my husband” She said with her lips twisted in that manner meant to insult in a silent buy wicked way.

  His hands were fast, his breathe heavy and his full anger fell heavily on her. His fist did damage for every disrespect she had poured on him, the debts he must now pay for and the danger that might soon befall him if Ngozi should ever succeed with her nefarious plans and most importantly for playing with his appetite.

Ekadi Part One

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Nigerian Writer: Silent miracle

By Felix Brambaifa

Your acceptance meant more

Than life ever gave

More than the darkness of before

But like the light I do now crave

You became life’s greatest anticipation

Like dry lands after Noah’s flood

And to my hopes, you became manifestations

As if you had become my own god

Little is what words can express

For much must remain unrevealed

Though your grace had tempered the tempest

And rejuvenated, when my soul did bleed

My counted blessings now like grains

Shall remain relic of your great worth

You made bountiful like drop of rains

That grace, without which I always, fell short

Your place is beyond the measure of worth

For its roots is in Gods own heart

Surely from above you decided to come forth

And with my soul forged an eternal pact

You are my grace in human form

Your broke the darkest rule

And separated me from the storm

That now you have become my silent miracle

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Nigerian Writer: If Then

Felix Brambaifa

If circumstance were permanent

Then suicide would become choice

If God to prayers remain silent

Then on his grace I rest my curse

If fates were written on stone

Then the purpose of life is scorn

If what we reap is what we have sown

Then why do children fall before a gun

If tears must fall each time we mourn

Then the world a bed of sea would have become

If man cannot truly live without the sun

Then why does it hide when we face the storm?

If traditions were indeed without errors

Then the hinterlands would know no tragedy

If pastors to Africans are not traitors

Then pagans would be choirs of heavens melody

If the will of Angels is truly to obey

Then who pushed Lucifer and told a false tale?

If heaven is most suitable to stay

Then marijuana would surely be on sale

If homosexuals were created by divine will

Then God must be the oldest bisexual

If it is wrong to have the intent to kill

Then why has God not denied devil the chance to prowl?

If hell is the opposite of heaven

Then why is earth not covered in fire?

If what we have is all that is given

Then why is man judged for his desire?

If all said to you make no sense

Then you do not understand the agony of life

If you have ever smelt humanities stench

Then you know, God is male and you, his wife

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