The Place Beyond Her Dreams

by Oby Aligwekwe

  “Encouraging? Yes. Calming? Not so much,” I said through pursed lips.

  He shrugged.

  “If only you knew who walked with you, you wouldn’t say that.”

  “But Okem is the only man I have ever loved. Is it too late? Will I ever see him again? Will I ever achieve my purpose? And what if someone doesn’t give an exchange at all?”

  “Of course, you’ll still achieve your purpose,” my grandfather said, shaking his head. “And if someone doesn’t give an exchange at all, life will offer one for them. You see, my child, there are multiple paths to one’s purpose, and exchanges are made at the point of choosing a path. If you fail to make the right exchange at any point in time, you may have difficulty getting on the right path, but you’ll eventually get there. You’re probably closer than you know. The detour does not have the power to keep you from your destination.”

  “I guess I missed my way then. I boarded a ship to Tarshish instead of Nineveh.”

  He chuckled. “You’re only human, and you’re still alive, so there is still a chance for you to turn things around.”

  “Haven’t I already missed out on love? I’m sure Albert is not the one and Okem—”

  “Shh,” he said, placing his index finger over his mouth. “Be careful what you say. You should have learned the power in your words by now. Just like your thoughts, your words have immense power to either transform or sustain your reality. That is the power of invocation.”

  “I understand, Papa.”

  As he spoke, I sighted the pointed tips of the shrine in the distance. Something about the halo effect of the clouds around them, reminded me of the people I’d seen walking around earlier with wreaths over their heads. I opened my mouth to ask my grandfather about them, but he spoke before I could utter a word.

  “You see,” my grandfather continued, “I want to explain this without confusing you. The right love will impact your purpose, which, in return, will impact your duty. When all these elements work together in harmony, you find fulfillment—the greatest source of happiness. Like I’ve told you repeatedly, chasing happiness in isolation will get you nowhere. You can see where it led you with Albert.”

  “Love sounds so simple, yet it’s the most complex thing I’ve ever encountered.”

  He nodded in agreement.

  “Two things must occur for love to be manifested. The first is to believe you’re worthy of love. The second is to love yourself—”

  “But...” I said, cutting in mid-sentence.

  He raised his index finger to stop me.

  “I want to be clear about something. Love must not only be romantic. Agape, storge, and philia provide as much satisfaction as romantic love. Love, also, must not only be directed at humans. There can be passion—love for something, a hobby, or a skill. Whatever it is, find that person or thing you’re in love with, or you’re passionate about, and get on the path to achieving your purpose.”

  “How will I know what it is?”

  “It will speak to you and appeal to who you are. It’s that person or thing that congregates your likes, strengths, and talents. That person or thing that puts your heart at peace and gives it rest—your source of energy, freedom, and joy. Many choose the thing they believe will make them rich and happy and ignore their God-given path. This happens when they try to imitate others. Such people will forever be unsatisfied—constantly searching for true fulfillment. Like Jonah, they will have to go back and forth, even if it means being delivered back to their starting point until they get on the right path.”

  “Am I limited to one person or one thing?” I asked perplexed.

  “No! Not at all,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You may have as many purposes as you have passions. Different phases of your life will demand different things from you. The key is to pay attention to the transitions as the exchanges are made on the edge.”

  “I’ve heard everything you’ve said, Papa,” I said, sighing in relief. “I’ll now have to figure out how to put it to good use.”

  “Believe in yourself. Acknowledge that all you’ve done to come to this point is enough. Some people are lucky and their purpose finds them. Others are not so lucky. You still have time to make up for your mistakes, but don’t expect an easy ride. Gear up for the time ahead and don’t forget: Nothing is ever as it seems.”

  * * *

  I woke up more confused than ever. I felt in my bones that the last thing my grandfather had been trying to tell me was of great importance, but there was nothing I could do about it. I played his final words, “Nothing is ever as it seems,” over and over in my mind, and got nowhere trying to figure out what he meant by that statement.

  * * *

  I desperately sought an escape from Albert from then on. My grandfather had said I needed to figure things out by myself, so I kept looking for ways to resolve the issue. I did not only have my family to contend with but also the entire town because of my position. The situation proved too difficult for me. I wished my grandfather had given me the answers directly in Luenah.

  With the little I learned, I pretended to continue preparations for the wedding while I discreetly made attempts to arrange a position in a law firm I once interned in Ajidi. I feared Albert would resume using me as his punching bag if he sensed my disinterest. My grandfather’s friend warned that breaking my engagement to the Crown Prince would be an act of treason. The crime bore serious consequences as I would be breaking an oath I made to the crown. He insisted that carrying on with my plan would threaten not only my existence but also that of my grandmother, my parents, Ifedi, and even Okem. It would be safer, according to him, for me and everyone in my household if I married Albert, as our lives could depend on it. His warnings, though terrifying, didn’t change my mind about leaving Albert. I just needed to exercise caution. My grandmother was still in the dark about my tragic experience, and I intended to keep it that way until I had a sound solution for getting everyone out of the mess I had created. Everything my grandfather had been trying to tell me up to this point became so clear to me. I now considered my life as being separated into two sections; life before Okem and life after Okem. Before Okem, was carefree, fun, and glorious. After Okem, was constrained, dreary, and violent.

  Chapter Thirteen

  MY TURMOIL MULTIPLED when I received news that Albert’s father was sick. I feared that if he passed, my fate would no doubt be sealed; I would be forced to marry Albert in a hush-hush ceremony, and my escape plan would be thwarted. It soon turned out my fears were unwarranted. The moment news of the King’s illness hit the airwaves, the priority shifted from the wedding to ensuring Albert was groomed and primed to take the reins of power. The turn of events gave a whole new meaning to the phrase every cloud has a silver lining. It bought me much needed time to put together a fool-proof plan.

  The process began with three full days of rituals. The first day, Albert, the kingmakers, and all the titled men in Ide strolled along a dirt road that ran across Ide and Ntebe. Accompanying them were men in Albert’s age group, several traditional dance troupes, and all the children who could sneak away from their homes to witness the historical event. The procession ended at the Iba shrine, a triptych mud structure, where ten cows were slaughtered at the entrance and presented as a sacrifice to the gods. Following this elaborate ritual, the massive crowd dispersed before sundown to prepare for the following day’s festivities.

  The next day, a procession gathered at the village square to witness Albert offer at least a hundred goats, fifty cows, and a thousand chickens as a sacrifice to the gods. Various age groups presented dances to the crowd and shouted adoration to the Crown Prince. As I watched the entire ceremony on the television from the comfort of our living room, I could sense the excitement in the air. But one person, I, was left out of it all. How could I be excited when my worst nightmare—getting married to Albert—was about to come true?

  “You don’t know how proud this makes me,” my grandmother, who was sit
ting right beside me on the sofa, said, beaming with pride.

  “I’m aware,” I responded, trying hard to mirror her joy when inside, agony tore through me.

  For weeks now, she had been preparing in earnest for me to take on my new role, completely oblivious of my state. I desperately wanted to tell her what I was going through but chickened out each time after convincing myself she would be too helpless to save me from the situation. No one could save me now, as I was in too deep.

  I believed Ifedi had suspected something was wrong. I could tell because of the way she looked at me after I lied about a bruise on my arm. I had told her it came from hitting my hand carelessly against a wall when in fact it had come from Albert grabbing me too hard. Like my grandmother, I didn’t see the point in telling her the truth, as she too would be incapable of rescuing me. I prayed for Okem to return. Being strong-willed, I was sure he would know how to get me out of the mess I was in. Amah’s uncle had stopped searching altogether. After I called him a few times, and he didn’t pick up my calls, I gave up. Albert had likely warned him against maintaining contact with me.

  * * *

  On Friday, after Albert had gotten over three days of hurdles, he marched to the palace with his entourage to complete the final task—to receive the staff of office—before the kingmakers crown him. A large procession waited outside the palace grounds. As Albert and the kingmakers were about to enter the hallway leading to the King’s private chamber, two of the guards pulled Albert to a corner. They informed him that as the procession was heading to the palace, the King’s attendants had found him lying motionless on his back when they entered his chamber to prepare him for the ceremony. They had tried to wake him up, and when all efforts failed, they had called the palace doctor, who confirmed he had been dead for hours. The palace insiders were immediately sworn to secrecy to avoid the mayhem that could occur from the news leaking prematurely.

  In Ide, when a king dies, rites to appease the soul of the dead king and the ancestors consisted of burying the king with human heads to serve him in the afterworld. Head hunters are immediately put to task to obtain the required amount of heads to accompany the king to his grave before the masses catch wind of such a situation. For the quest to be successful, the oath of secrecy must be maintained. Any leakage and the masses would disappear from the streets for weeks on end until the burial is concluded and the kingdom declared safe from hunters, making it hard for the head hunters to achieve their goal. From the stories I was told since I was a little girl, the number of heads needed was a function of the king's age, his clout, and the number of years he'd sat on the throne. More heads led to a more successful reign in the afterworld, and in return, led to better intercession with the gods for the citizens that remained on earth.

  While the procession waited outside, the palace began a propaganda onslaught, releasing lie after lie to cover for the real reason behind the cancellation of the crowning ceremony. The palace’s communication secretary placed an announcement on radio and television stations to reassure the citizens that the King was in great shape and that the occasion would resume the following week. He even went as far as claiming that the King halted the ceremonies to prepare for the unexpected arrival of the powerful King of Farabar, who had insisted on witnessing the crowning ceremony. Many chose to believe the lies, but the discerning understood that something was amiss. By sunset, speculations about the fate of the ailing King increased. Whispers filled the air. The farms and markets slowly became deserted as many retreated inside from fear of what was to come. The next day, after an inside source leaked the news, the entire town was in shock.

  * * *

  With the King dead, our marriage was further delayed by ongoing traditional rites and customs, including acquiring the heads to accompany the King in his grave. Following a formal announcement that the King had died, the palace initiated a mourning period of one week and banned every form of celebration. Anyone found partying or merry making was arrested and made to serve penance, involving washing in the sacred river, a necessary cleansing rite for defiling the holy period. Since the reigning King died before handing over the staff, the King-in-waiting would have to go through the kingmakers, a process that took three weeks or longer and could result in unending chaos if another laid claim to the throne. To avert disaster, the first required course of action was a cleansing ritual for both the future King and the deceased King, making the process more arduous than if the staff was handed over without incident.

  A wave of relief washed over me as the further away the wedding day moved, the more hopeful I became that my predicament might change. I’d been praying for a miracle, and it felt like my prayers had been answered. Albert’s behavior was firmly beyond one slap too many. With each passing day my mind despaired over him. His nearness, his words, and even his touch when he hugged me, revolted me. Fear had clouded my existence in the past few months. Amah was lucky. She was going off to London to get her Master’s. I now wished I had followed a different path.

  “Don’t worry,” Amah had said when I visited her at her home in Ntebe. “I believe the cleansing will take care of things. You know something, Ona? I wonder if time isn’t ripe to get rid of these archaic traditions—”

  “What traditions?”

  “Have you even been paying attention?” she asked, frowning. “Ona, where was your mind? I’m sure it was with your amazing fiancé.”

  I had only caught snippets of Amah’s remarks. My mind had flown in different directions as we stood on her balcony enjoying the early morning breeze, watching as the orange glow of the rising sun appeared behind the trees. I glanced at her pretty face, admiring the bronze hue created by the sun’s reflection on her left cheek, and shook my head.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No. No. You didn’t. I love that lipstick on you. It’s very pretty.”

  I hadn’t lied. Her lipstick was lovely, but more importantly, I needed so desperately to change the subject from Albert and me.

  “Thank you!” Amah said excitedly. “I had no idea it was still there,” she said, rubbing her lips. “I thought I washed it all off last night. You’re very pretty too, my darling Ona. I know I marvel about Albert all the time, but believe me, he’s the lucky one. Ehen, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “Go on. I’m all ears.”

  “Well, I’ve been talking to one of my friends from elementary school. Her brother just started a modeling agency in the UK, a big one for that matter, and they offered me to sign up with them. Do you think I should do it?”

  “If you can find time during your studies, I don’t see the harm in that. You have the looks, so why not?” She was crinkling her nose as I spoke. “What’s the issue?”

  “What will people think, though?”

  “I’m not sure I understand, Amah. Which people are you talking about?”

  “I have so many other things I’d like to pursue, but I always worry that people will make fun of me or judge me if I don’t meet their expectations.”

  I laughed, in part, to relieve the tension in my head.

  “That should be the least of your worries. People’s opinions should never come between you and your dreams. That’s as long as you’re not trampling on anyone on your journey.”

  “You think so?”

  “Listen, don’t you know the fear of judgment comes from the need to be perfect?”

  “Who wouldn’t want to be perfect? Eh?”

  “The way I see it, perfection should come from mastery, as mastery should come from doing. If I were you, I’d shift my focus to how I can uniquely improve myself every step of the way rather than worrying about what others think.”

  “That’s right, Ona. How do you come up with this kind of stuff?”

  “I don’t know. It just comes to me,” I said, grinning.

  After several years going in and out of Luenah, I had acquired a lot of wisdom of my own. Unfortunately, none of the knowledge I was able to sh
are now and then had enabled me to achieve what I needed the most. It certainly hadn’t helped me with the perfect plan for a much-needed escape. Fear of repercussion had also deterred me from seeking help from the people that loved me. I had just returned from my bi-monthly visit to my parents, and despite the strong urge to tell my mother about my predicament, I resisted, knowing there wasn’t much she could do in the present circumstance. Her constant affirmation that I had made something of myself didn’t help either. I didn’t think I would have her sympathy considering how independent I had become in everyone’s eyes. I believed my position had somehow robbed me of my right to compassion. From the airport, I had gone straight to Amah’s house, where I spent the night. The tension at home had become too great for me to bear. It was almost as great as the secret I carried in my heart. Somehow, it felt worse to keep it from my mother, grandmother, and Ifedi than from Amah. Amah thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. Being betrothed to the Crown Prince was every girl’s wish—in her mind, at least. If only wishes were horses, I would gladly have traded places with her. But my condition was such that I wouldn’t have wished it on anyone, not even my greatest enemy.

  * * *

  Following the cleansing ritual, the kingmakers invited Albert to enter the palace sanctuary to seize the staff while they remained in the adjoining room. The crowd outside danced and rejoiced to the sound of loud music as they anxiously waited for the gunshots that would signal the successful lifting of the staff by their new King. This was the most anticipated portion of the ceremony. As soon as the staff was successfully lifted, a new era would begin in the history of the Ntebe people. Many hoped this era would usher in peace and ease the austerity measures imposed by the federal government to cushion the dwindling economy. But something strange happened when Albert tried to perform his rites, something that hadn’t been witnessed by any person in the history of Ide. The staff refused to budge from its resting place, a stone altar in the sanctuary. Albert left the narrow space to inform the kingmakers. He persuaded them to perform further cleansing, hoping that would appease the angry gods. After several attempts, the staff still refused to move from its position. For two weeks, Albert returned daily to the sanctuary to repeat the action, but the staff remained fused to the altar. By the third week, rumors began to swirl as to the cause of the immovable staff. Some said the King’s spirit still roamed, unwilling to let go, due to some unfinished business. Others claimed the King had placed a curse on the throne to punish the citizens for their iniquities. Additional rites were performed to clear the obstacles from the way, yet nothing seemed to work. Albert was still unable to pick up the staff after thirty days. The kingmakers argued that after a befitting burial for the late King, he would feel assuaged and be more willing to let go.