Obidiyaa

Obidiyaa (A short story)

Written By

Ifeoma Okeke

“It’s going to rain heavily tonight.” Mmasinachi told Ekene, her very good friend. They had gone to the village stream to fetch water.

Ekene, a fair light skin boy who couldn’t be more than 18, looked up at the bright sunny sky and laughed.

“I don’t think so Mmasinachi, look at how bright the sky.”

“I know, but I just know it will rain tonight.”

“Only a witch or a dibia can tell if it will rain tonight or not and besides we are in the dry season.”

“Let’s wait and see then.” Mmasinachi said and they filled up their Udu (clay pot) and left for their home.

Ekene told his mother what Mmasinachi had said.

“Don’t believe that girl, no rain will fall unless she is a witch.” Ndidi, Ekene’s mother, told her son.

That night just as Mmasinachi had said, it rained heavily.

Before the cock crows, Ndidi has woken up and gone to Obidiya’s hut, ignoring the chilling breeze blowing.

“Your daughter is a witch.” Ndidi said once mmasinachi mother has come out of her hut.

“Your son who looks like a masquerade is the bigger wizard, anuofia.”

“If your daughter is not a witch, how did she know it would rain last night?”

“And how does it concern you Oye asiri (gossiper)? Is Mmasinachi your daughter?”

“That witch can never be my daughter. But I won’t tell you what I will do next time when I see that two crayfish bended legs near my son again, tell your witch of a daughter to stay away from my family Obidiya.” Ndidi warned, turned around and left angrily to her house.

Obidiya was livid with anger. How can Ndidi who she has helped countless of times with food come to her house to warn her? She s¢ræmed out the name of her daughter as if the name itself boiled in her mouth.

“Mmasinachi!! Mmasinachi!!”

A young dark skin girl of about 18 year’s old came out of the hut and knelt down to greet her mother.

“Mama good morning.”

“Morning Mmasinachi.” Obidiya responded to her greetings. “Did you hear what Ndidi had called you?”

“Yes Mama.” Mmasinachi replied sincerely. She had overheard their entire conversation, she was the one who had woken up her mother when Ndidi had come.

“Don’t take it to heart, you are not a witch okay?”

Mmasinachi nodded her head.

“I have told you not to tell anyone that you have the gift to control the weather.”

“I did not tell anyone Mama, I only told Ekene that it would rain and it rained.”

“I know but you can see the result, just don’t tell anyone again so you won’t be labeled as a witch.” Obidiya said. “Atuoro omara, omara, mana atuoro ofeke otinye isi n’ohia. (If you hint the wise, they make use of it, but the fools will use it foolishly.)

“Daalụ (thank you) mama.” Mmasinachi said and Obidiya went back into the hut.

Mmasinachi looked at the sky and smiled.

By the time she has swept the big compound of late Amadi, her father, and has swept the hut, the sky was getting brighter. She was washing their used plates when her mother came out of the hut.

Obidiya came out of the hut, and went to have her bath at the bathroom made with bamboo leaves and return some minutes later.

She entered the hut and came out, tying a blue wrapper, carrying a big basket on her head and a hoe in,side the basket. “Mmasinachi, I will be going to our farmland today to harvest our yams and corn so please, don’t go anywhere inugo.(you hear).” Obidiya told her.

“I won’t mama.”

“I will be back very quick to prepare your favorite pounded yam with egusi soup.”

“I will be the one who will pound the yams mama.” Mmasinachi said with a smile.

Obidiya smiled and left for her farm.

Obidiya was a very pretty fair woman in her early 30s. She had lost her husband, Amadi, one year ago when he had gone hunting. Mmasinachi was 17 years old when she lost her father. Even when her husband’s late brother, Okoro, tried to remarry her as his fifth wife, she bluntly refused and told the elders of Umumme, that she won’t marry her husband’s elder brother and only brother. Half of the elders were against it and half supported her decision. It was later decided that Obidiya won’t marry Okoro.

So she was surprised when she saw Mazi Okoro on the only farmland her late husband had left for her with some group of guys, about 10 of them, who were digging out her yams, cocoyams, maize etc.

“What is going on here?” Obidiya demanded angrily as she went to meet Okoro.

“Are you blind, I am harvesting my crops in my farmland.”

“You are doing what?”

“You heard what I said Obidiya.”

“Before I closed my eyes and opened it, tell those wayward boys of yours to leave my farmland or else……” Obidiya got interrupted by Okoro.

“Or else what Obidiya? This farmland was my farmland that I gifted to my younger brother before he even dreamed of marrying you.”

“Then why didn’t you say so after his death? Or before I planted my crops? Otu a ka isi mara na obu ala oru ubi gi (So is now that you will know it’s your farmland), eh Okoro?”

“Obidiya, carry your basket and leave here before I order my boys to beat you or even do worse.”

“Okoro, N’agbanyeghị otú ogologo ajị agba ga-eto, ọgaghi atọ mpupe anya. (No matter how tall the beard will grow, it can never be older than he eyelid, tell them to get out of my farmland or I will beat you and them or even do worst.” Obidiya threatened.

“You can never do anything Obidiy-” Okoro didn’t get to finish his words when a resounding slap met his left and right ears.

It was like hearing the sound of drums used in their Village festivals.

Obidiya wasn’t done, she gave him another slap to his face. Using her full palm to face his face and slap his face.

He didn’t know when he sat down on the ground.

Okoro held his two ears that were hurting him. His nose and mouth were hurting him, by the time his eyes stopped spinning.

He saw half of his boys on the ground.

“Take your stupid selves out of my farmland before I do worst.” Obidiya threatened the boys standing, who took to their heels. The ones on the ground, stood up and ran for their lives.

She went to meet Okoro and draw his left and right ears painfully with her two hands.

“Please o Obidiya, I won’t cross your part again.” Okoro said he felt the string of her nails in his ears.

“I can see your late brother did not tell you that I was the village champion wrestler in my village when he met me, the next time I see your two left legs anywhere around this farm or in my husband compound, M ga-eme ka akpụkpọ gị dị ndụ (I will skin you alive).” Obidiya warned him, hissing as she let go of his ears. “Ochu nwa-okuko nwe ada, nwa-oku nwere mwe-mwe oso (He who chases the chicken has the falling to do, while the chicken has the running to do.)

The End.