There was a relatively low temperature this evening, but Njoku began to drip from his forehead. The best thing to do now was to call for the priest of Ogwu. He must purify everyone who has a hand in the killing of the mgbada before night. The ceremony can go on, but he must first cleanse the yard because the corpse has defiled it.
Once the priest entered the courtyard, first, he planted his staff at the center. Then ran around the court, waving his Ofor to every corner. Before he completed the third turn, Njoku and his party drew out from the crowd and lined up. The priest circled their head and stroke their palms after every circle. He did three times on each before proceeding to the corpse. He recited some incantation over the mgbada before stroking it with the Ofor. Every once, he announced the name of a member of the party and bid the evil spirit to take his sin. Njoku’s name was the last mentioned.
“Ajomuo, here is the sin of Njoku, take it and go with it.”
The diviner circled the mgbada for the third time, waved, and the corpse disappeared from the court. The priest danced a few steps to the stream of drumming from where nobody could tell. After which he exited the same way as he had entered. He walked with his face away from the entrance, as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
The corpse reappeared to the same spot when the priest has not gone farther than a mile. A group of young men intercepted, and inform him of the reappearance. When he returned, he performed the same process as before, but this time, the mgbada refused to go away.
Flute began to play as he recited an incantation, so he paused and listened. The sounds were the voices of the gods. No one could tell where it came from, but it filled the atmosphere and everyone could hear it very loud. After the flute stopped, the priest recited some more incantation and broke the news to Njoku. The animal was a peace offering from the ancestors to him. As the diviner said, he danced to the rhythm of the drum. No one knew these steps except the one who understood the language of the spirit. Only him can dance surged. The priest’s speech now metamorphosed into a lyrical notation.
“Njoku, do you hear what I say?”
“Speak, I can hear you loud and clear, the mouthpiece of our gods,” Njoku responded. He maintained absolute calmness to grasp the ancestor’s message.
“Our ancestors sent me to you,” the priest said, and stopped to dance a few steps. “You have kept the tradition, and so pleased their heart. They offered you this mgbada to mark the chastity of your daughter. Rejoice, there is jubilation across the land of the living.”
The priest danced some more surugede, and pointed out the head and four legs of the mgbada. He exited the courtyard same as ever, with his face away from the entrance. The people knew what he did last was of his own accord, and not part of the message from the gods. The practice has become like a tradition in the community. Every man who slew an animal returned those parts to the shrine. Every other time, a lot of questioning on its relevance to the institution of the custom aroused. Today, no one questioned as they were all overwhelmed with joy.
As if receiving new marks of strength, the boys hijacked the corpse. Four persons carried it by its legs. The others went to fetch butcher knives. They carried to the backyard, the mgbada along with the goat which Njoku’s in-laws had come with. Within a couple of winks, they sent the meat to the women in the kitchen.
There was more than enough. The women in the kitchen were very thankful. They busied their mouth with good chunks, instead of the usual chitchats to keep the body and soul alive. Aside, all were sure to have had a good taste before dishing to the people outside. The priest also received a good deal of surprise. He was expecting one head and four legs of mgbada, but he got his expectations doubled. He would be so thankful to the gods for blessing his day.
A dense crowd of people met at Njoku’s courtyard. His yard looked like the community’s muster ground. The people sat in clusters of groups. Some were chatting, and others sang eulogies of Nkoli as trays of food and kegs of palm wine went around. There was entertainment galore at every corner. Every here and now, one could hear people confessing the superfluous meals. Every single person ate until the stomach refused to take anymore. Even so, some people went to the backyard to purge their tummy for some more jollification. They introduced their fingers into their throats and the vomit gushed out.
Trouble erupted from a group when a man asked Ikedi to gulp the content of the gourd he served him. Ikedi did and wanted to refill before another person rebuked him. He has broken the rules of palm wine. He failed to observe the rudiment in the first, and he was about to repeat the same in refilling another.
Instead of the ones who knew the traditions to put him right, everyone began to chastise him. Ikedi was a boy of fair temper, and they soon provoked his anger. He faced the one who bore the loudest voice and poked his fingers straight to the man’s face. The man retaliated, pointing to the fact he had every right to caution Ikedi if he has erred in any manner. As the man said, he also flashed his niche-aka for all to see. Every man who had a wife under his roof wore this wristband. The wristband earned them some deal of respect in the community. But Ikedi refused to acknowledge the man’s status.
The mere barter of words metamorphosed. The man found it insulting for Ikedi to poke him in the eye. He thought he would spank him, but Ikedi would not allow that, instead, he responded with a blow. These degenerated into a commotion that engulfed the whole place. The women who did not know the source of the tension began to bustle, intensifying the situation.
Masquerades from Ani-Mmuo appeared before the elders could apprehend the commotion. The masquerades chased away everyone with long whips. They ran for their lives, and soon, the whole courtyard looked like a battlefield. The ceremony ended in this light.