POEM

                 




                                                       It was all a ruse.

They all gathered at the market square that sunny African morning to watch the home-coming of Egwugwu, the glorious ancestral spirit of the village of amaka'mma.

Amaka'mma [I am too beautiful] was one of the six villages that made up the land of the Dark and Adept.

In this land deep divisions prevailed.

Each village was entitled to one glorious ancestral spirit big spirit, and so the gods gave them one that did great wonders.

As spirits in the land of the dark and adept are wont to do, they danced, toasted, usurped, and wasted all the precious stones the collective community had gathered.

The people loved it. It was the life.

They only had one rule: waste the precious stones all you may like, but do not get caught.

They were spirits, all right, and so their rules were the people's antithesis of order.

The people, for instance, could see the substance of the things not hoped for; the evidence of the things seen.

Hahaha!

The people generally loved their spirits, but hated in equal measure, the spirits of the next village.

There were some who loved the spirits of other villages. These found sharp reprimand amongst their people,

"Efulefu" [lost one(s)] they called them.

"But they are progressives" some would argue.

"Nonentities" others would oppose.
"There must be something good about them, let's call them progressive-nonentities" the wise, old, die-hards would say, with a tint of sarcasm.

Haha!

And so spirits like Fani, from a distant village would say in treacherous candour, "I once bedded a spirit of amaka'mma," and all would gasp.

"Ah! Is it conceivable that spirits can do what humans do?"

"Alu!" [forbidden], they spat, "it must not be heard in public"

"And how did the people hear this?" they queried. "Since when did spirits speak to humans" the people hissed.

And the elders of the village of Fani, blamed the gods for giving them a spirit that was bereft of the virtue of discernment, but a few secretly loved it.

The people of the village of amaka'mma simply called Fani, 'Ulili' [hare/squirrel] or 'Ulili n'ofia' Fani was the proverbial hare in the farm that ravaged and scattered the people's farm in the pursuit of their own food.

The spirits communicated through their long, faceless cloaks, but only to the collective communal elders.

In spite of themselves, all in the land of the dark and adept collectively turned against any spirit that got caught.

The punishment was a public unmasking. At such times, the community was no longer at ease.

Today, the spirit of amaka'mma had to be punished.

It was alleged that she had scattered 2 precious stones and got caught.                                                                                      
And they talked about the two precious stones paraphrasing their wisest.

"Why did it take the stones in the day time when it knew that stones could only successfully be taken at night?", some asked all and sundry.

"If it knew the stones were problematic, why had it not let it go, albeit with a bit of bad grace?" others quipped.

"Was it not a saying in the land that a spirit should not, out of pride and etiquette, swallow its proverbial phlegm?" The wise ones counseled.

The spirit entered the center of the courtyard and the people gasped.

They marveled at amaka'mma's beauty.

"Did you see her colours?",

 the people whispered to one another. No egwugwu wore colours like Amaka'mma.

"Did you see Amaka'mma's height... and grace...?"

The people knew the village of Amaka'mma only sent female spirits to the center.

This one was something to behold, but today, it would be unmasked.

No sooner had the spirit entered the courtyard into the presence of the communal elders, something happened.

Actually, it was so quick it appeared nothing happened. It was like a Mike Tyson fight. Over in 10 seconds.

Haha!

"Wetin happen?" [what happened?], everyone asked the other.

And the people had only one thought, "I carried my bench on my head and walked 6 miles to see this; how do I go home without seeing anything?"

"Wetin happen?" they asked those who had sat in front; and who were now walking slowly through the centers, making their way home.

They shook their heads, slowly and sadly in response; not giving away anything.

"Wetin happen?" the people asked again.

Finally, as they shuffled through, they ventured, each in their own language but all saying the same thing:

"Aka a di'ria"

"e hand no dey"

"Her hand was not in it"

And the people understood.

It was all a ruse.