Daughters of Nri

by Reni K Amayo

  SINAI APPROACHED THE OBIS’ court doors with her parchment still in her hand. Two large soldiers manned the door and looked down at her blankly as she approached.

  ‘I—I’ve been summoned,’ Sinai stammered; she had wanted so badly to appear calm and strong, but her fear had definitely got the best of her. She had an intense urge to turn around and make a run for it, but she was frozen in place. One of the guards grunted and gestured to the parchment, and in response she stretched out her hand towards him. He snatched the parchment, irritated by her slowness, and glanced at it. After a brief pause, he shoved the parchment back at Sinai before opening the large mahogany door. ‘Well, hurry up, girl!’ the other guard roared in frustration, causing Sinai to jump slightly, before attempting yet again to compose herself.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, before walking through the entrance. Sinai had never been in the Obis’ court before; unlike the general court, which attracted masses of people during high-profile cases, the Obis’ court was closed to the public. It was the court where the Eze passed judgement on the Obis themselves, judgement that could not be witnessed by the common folk, lest they think that the highest members of society were also nothing more than flawed humans, a thought that could spark questions about the current distribution of power.

  Sinai had no idea why her case would be brought into this court; neither she nor Chief Ojo were of the Obi class. Perhaps it was because she was a woman, a woman who had organised an attack on a man using the Eze’s lion as a weapon? Sinai could see how they would want to keep details of that case wrapped up, and then later twist it to place the emphasis, not on Sinai’s motivations, but on the repercussions of her actions. Sinai would serve as a lesson, and, with the details hidden, the chances of her becoming a martyr would be slim.

  Sinai took a step into the courtroom and let the door close behind her. The room stood out from the rest of the ones within the palace. Sinai was accustomed to wide-open spaces with large airy windows that allowed entangled beams of light and air to dance through the space. She was used to tall ceilings and mud-brick walls. The courtroom had none of these things. It was so dark that it took a minute for Sinai’s eyes to adjust. The tiny window in the wall facing her only let a small ray of sunshine through. The room was also smaller than she had imagined; the ceiling hung low and the walls seemed to huddle together. The assortment of wooden benches that lined them, and the large seat in the middle of the room, which Sinai assumed was for the accused, all worked to make the room seem even smaller.

  Sinai did not like this tight space; she felt like she couldn’t breathe. The four mechanical palm leaf fans at the corners of the room were the only source of ventilation. But it appeared as though only one of them worked; the others stood limp and lifeless. Sinai would have walked over to wind it back up and start its slow cooling waves, but both the obstructions within the room, and her fear of meddling with something that she wasn’t meant to touch, kept her away.

  Sinai wiped the small beads of sweat forming on her brow as she looked around. Dim light came from a selection of ọkụ flames, small and intricate shapes of floating fire. Their beauty was undeniable. Their geometry was complex, almost incomprehensible, yet they still maintained an elegant simplicity. The flame tamer that drew these up must have spent days, if not weeks, wielding them. Sinai stood in quiet awe as subtle scents of clove and myrrh wafted through the air.

  She blinked as her eyes grew even more accustomed to the darkness. Suddenly she began to notice the paintings on the walls. She gasped audibly; she had never seen such paintings before. Rather than the usual engravings depicting the marvellous victories and painful losses of the battles fought through the ages, these paintings were full of life—everyday life.

  Sinai took a step forward as she inspected a section of the wall where a small girl was carrying a large bucket of water over to a deep-blue river. Sinai moved closer and followed the river, careful not to hit the bench with her shins. Suddenly, she came across a small crevice in the wall; within it lay a beautiful coral bead necklace, thick and deep orange. She turned her head and noticed that this was not the only crevice; there were at least eight that she could see on this wall alone.

  ‘Ndewo, Sinai,’ a deep voice said behind her, plunging her back into reality.

  Sinai jumped around, clutching her chest in fright as she stood before Obi Ife. She had almost forgotten why she had been summoned here in the first place.

  ‘I can explain,’ Sinai blurted out, as she took a step closer to Obi Ife, her mind racing furiously. She had yet to come up with an excuse.

  ‘Explain what, my dear?’ he asked, perplexed. His confused expression created deep shadows on his face. Her principal plan was to deny her involvement in Chief Ojo’s maiming, and plead her case with desperation and tears. However, in light of Obi Ife’s reaction, she was unsure about how she should proceed.

  ‘Well … I’m not entirely sure why I was brought here. I could only assume that …?’ She paused carefully, as she tried to feel out the situation. Obi Ife looked blankly back. ‘Well, honestly, I don’t know. I’m sorry, Obi Ife, but I received this parchment; does this not mean that I’m being accused of something?’

  ‘Ahh no, that is just silly protocol,’ he replied.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, you, my dear, are not in the Obi class—not yet, anyway—and so to enter this space you must do so in an official manner. Contrary to popular opinion, Obis are not above the law, but we do have ways to get around some of the inane rules.’

  ‘Okay … but why am I here?’

  ‘Well, in truth, it is connected to Chief Ojo,’ he began, as Sinai’s heart repeated its struggled beats. ‘Now clearly that was a traumatic experience, not one that a lady like yourself has stomach to witness. I want to make you feel better, Sinai.’ Obi Ife paused and brought one finger up to his pursed lips, reflectively. ‘Ordinarily I would have showered you with money and the finest clothes and jewellery, but, given how my other gifts have been received, I believe you require something different.’

  ‘Oh,’ Sinai said, as a growing discomfort filled her. Sinai was increasingly aware that she was here alone, with this man who had lured her here under false pretences. She cleared her throat as the walls began to close in on her. ‘That’s … thank you, but I’m okay. I’m fine, much better, in fact. I should go … I’ve got so many other—’ Sinai mumbled, as she edged back towards the doors.

  ‘No, no—you must stay. Trust me, you’ll enjoy this. You are interested in the Eze’s history, yes?’

  ‘Oh, well, I wouldn’t say interested,’ Sinai added quickly.

  ‘Ahh, you didn’t think I would notice, eh?’ Obi Ife replied excitedly. ‘I notice these things, and I happen to be in a position that allows me to help you feed those interests of yours.’

  ‘Again, interest is too strong a word. I may have asked—’

  ‘Look around!’ Obi Ife exclaimed. ‘Look at this room carefully. It contains artefacts from the Eze’s history: the ọbara abara that he used slay the god of war who tried to betray the cause. The map to the Ndụ crystal given to him by Mami Wata. So many wonderful artefacts from such a rich history.’

  ‘And he just leaves them out?’ Sinai asked curiously, as she looked at gleaming coral beads. Despite her best efforts, she was getting drawn into a conversation with Obi Ife.

  While spying on the Eze had been pushed to the back of her mind in recent weeks, she couldn’t help but be interested. She had heard stories of the Eze’s victories ever since she was a child, and here she was, supposedly, in a room full of objects that had played vital roles.

  ‘Well, why shouldn’t he? No one but the Obis enter this room. Even servants are not permitted. Someone of Obi calibre would not dream of taking such precious items and, even if one of us, in a moment of madness, decided to snatch one of them, we would disintegrate before we could leave the room.’

  ‘Disintegrate?’ Sinai gasped, as Obi Ife nodded.r />
  ‘Mmhm; residual old magic that the Eze was able to manipulate using the Ndụ crystal. Anyone who takes any of the items from this room will turn to dust before their feet have crossed through the door. The Eze routinely demonstrates it on Obis who repeatedly break the law,’ he said solemnly. ‘That’s what happened to my father,’ he added quietly.

  Sinai’s head jerked up at that comment, and her heart filled with pity.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured.

  ‘It was his fault,’ Obi Ife replied shortly. ‘He accused a man with greater favour than he of robbing him, and when the trial inevitably went in the other man’s favour, he then accused the Eze of not being fair.’ Obi Ife’s face turned inward, creating harsh dark shadows. ‘As though fairness was ever a given in this world. He should have kept his mouth shut and developed stronger connections with our leader. His short-sightedness killed him, but it taught me a valuable lesson.’

  Sinai cleared her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t believe that Obi Ife’s father’s death was just in any sense of the word, but Obi Ife’s venomous tone told her that arguing in a dead man’s favour would not end well.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry all the same. And I should be going.’

  ‘But you’ve barely seen anything.’

  ‘Oh, I have—I had a look before you came. They’re all fascinating, thank you.’

  ‘Ahh, you don’t like it? I thought that you would like it,’ Obi Ife replied in a disappointed tone.

  ‘I do, I just—’ Sinai began before—

  Touch

  Her heart fluttered as something called to her. A strong and undeniable feeling. It lay in the pit of her stomach. It was similar to the feeling that she felt when she stood at the edge of a tall cliff, with her toes poking out. It reminded her of the feeling that she got when she developed an irrational liking for Adebiyi, a boy she had known as a child, who had left to go study in Timbuktu, and came back looking like a studious sturdy man. She felt a mixture of excitement, fear, happiness, and the urge to run, all at the same time.

  Sinai turned away from Obi Ife and walked slowly towards the right corner of the room. Something over there was calling to her. Sinai wandered absentmindedly until she hit a bench; the sharp pain spreading across her shins quickly brought her back to reality.

  ‘I said, are you okay?’ Obi Ife said, worried, beside her; she had hardly noticed that he had followed her across the room.

  ‘Ehh yes, what—what is this?’ Sinai asked with her eyes fixated on an emerald crystal, which was both rugged and poised at the same time, beautiful and average looking. It gleamed not from the surface, but from within.

  ‘Ahh you have a good eye,’ Obi Ife replied knowingly. ‘That, my dear, is the Mother’s Heart – that is the Ndụ crystal.’

  ‘No,’ Sinai gasped. ‘I … it cannot be … no …’ Obi Ife looked at her with a wide, knowing smile as he nodded heavily.

  ‘It most certainly is.’

  ‘But surely—the Mother’s Heart—is too … too precious to just be lying here.’

  ‘Like I said, no one can take it.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘I think I know more than most,’ he said, amused. Then he warned, ‘And be careful, because to doubt that it cannot be taken, is to doubt the Eze’s judgement.’ Sinai glanced back at him before turning back to the Ndụ Crystal.

  Suddenly, the pull that she had felt towards the crystal intensified and a chill crept down her spine.

  Touch

  ‘I … I can’t take it … but can I touch it?’ Sinai asked, as she climbed over the bench and towards the wall, her fingers twitching towards the historic crystal.

  ‘Yes, you can—but really, do not try to leave this room with that thing—don’t even take it out of its spot, lest you forget and put it in your garment. That is a mistake that you will end up paying for with your life,’ Obi Ife said gravely, as Sinai reached to touch the crystal. Her fingertips merely grazed its cold surface, and suddenly the world changed before her eyes.

  SINAI WAS NO LONGER in the dark courtroom; she was no longer standing next to Obi Ife. Sinai was now looking up towards the most spectacular being she had ever witnessed in her entire life. The being snatched her breath away and its beauty brought tears to her eyes.

  ‘The Mother,’ she gasped, as she stood in the presence of magnificence. The Earth Mother stood tall, the size of four—no, five men—stood on top of one another. Her skin was a rich, moist dark soil, and as she moved, her soil skin flowed about her, as if it too were alive. Her hair was a thick bush of vegetation ranging through various shades of brown and green. Her eyes were pools of dark-blue water and her lips were full, smooth marble-like rocks. The Mother smiled down at Sinai; her expression was so warm and kind that Sinai felt as though she would melt then and there.

  The Earth Mother suddenly turned towards a group of people approaching her. The group consisted of three men and two women. Sinai noted that they all appeared slightly stronger, a little more handsome, than anyone she had seen before. As they drew closer she began to see that, like the Mother, they emitted a radiant mystical glow.

  They must be gods, Sinai thought in wonder. What is this place? The colours were brighter, the air lighter, and everything seemed right somehow.

  ‘Just like my dream,’ Sinai muttered quietly.

  ‘Mother! Please! The situation is growing dire by the minute. More so than you could even imagine,’ one of the goddesses cried; her carob-coloured skin was so deep that Sinai felt as though she could swim in it. Her hair was wild and scattered around her face, laced with crystal-white streaks. As she spoke, Sinai noticed small sparks erupting around her body.

  ‘Really, Agbala, and I always thought I had a spectacular imagination,’ the Mother murmured softly with a low chuckle. Her voice reminded Sinai of what she imagined thick clouds to be: soft; bright; and full of unbelievable comfort.

  However, the group was not in the mood to be comforted. Sinai could see worry etched on all their faces.

  ‘And you do. I, for one, have enjoyed many a fruit of your imagination over the years—but now I think it’s time to leverage some of your more vengeful skills,’ one of the men added, his thick black Afro hair bouncing slightly.

  ‘Yes, you must do something. You must kill them—kill them all—every last one of them who even thinks of rebelling, you must—’ Agbala blurted, as her sparks grew wilder and less controlled. Her blood boiled with hot anger, but she was not the only angry one. Whilst the others said nothing, they nodded earnestly.

  ‘Agbala, please, be calm. These are your brothers and sisters that you are talking about.’

  ‘No, they are not! They are traitors—as we speak now, Amadioha is rallying a group of corrupt humans to look for your heart crystal, the Ndụ crystal. They mean to … this is … Ma! This is not the time to be calm!’ Agbala screamed, as she stepped forward.

  The Mother looked at her for a moment before bending down and cupping her within her large palm.

  ‘You are all so worried,’ the Mother replied with a smile. ‘It can be entertaining at times, but also draining … you, like your brothers and sisters who seek my power, well, all you want is control. You want to know how it ends, and control it so that it is in your favour. But child, you must not forget that there is a balance, a beautiful balance. What will be, will be. Chukwu has created a self-correcting realm; your purpose, my dear, as is mine, as is all of ours, is to follow our path as truthfully as we can.’

  ‘Mother, they could kill you,’ one of the men said softly, as a tear ran down his cheek.

  ‘Yes. And if that must be, then that will be. All of this has happened for a reason, and it must follow its course. If I click my fingers and end those who speak against me, then what? I’ve killed the people, but not the idea, so more will rise up, then I kill them, and more will rise up, and before you know it, all my anxious children are dead. No, a lesson has to be learned here. If my death is required
to teach that lesson, then so be it.’

  THE MOTHER’S voice echoed in Sinai’s ears. She was back in the dark courtroom. She gasped and stepped away from the Ndụ crystal in the wall.

  ‘What is it, my dear?’ Obi Ife asked.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Sinai breathed, as she blinked back tears.

  ‘I— well, yes, it’s very impressive … the crystal? Is that what you mean?’ Obi Ife asked, as a look of confusion spread over his face. He took a step forward just as Sinai took a step back.

  ‘Yes, the crystal,’ Sinai murmured, as she placed her palm to her face in an attempt to wipe away some of the heaviness. ‘Yes, yes, the crystal … please forgive me, Obi, this was a beautiful gift, but I’m finding myself quite overwhelmed with all this.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes—it’s silly. You know us… women,’ Sinai muttered nervously.

  ‘Mmm, well, let me escort you back to your room, at least.’

  ‘No, no. Please, you’ve done more than enough. I’ll see you soon!’ Sinai replied, as she bolted out of the room, leaving a perplexed Obi Ife staring after her.

  THE COWARD

  Udi

  ‘MADI,’ Naala hissed, as she kept her eyes peeled on her surroundings, smiling every now and again at the occasional passer-by. She was standing outside of one of the Ofala guests’ tents, which was held up by anchored pre-cut pieces of wood and coated with a large thick piece of akwete cloth. Inside the tent she could hear Madi making a commotion.