Wretchedly Rich

Story 2 years ago

Wretchedly Rich

Prologue!

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*WRETCHEDLY RICH*AN AFRICAN STORY ∆ JESSICA DURU

A young boy’s existence holds a great threat to the village of Ishekpe and has to be brought to an end lest the twelve tribes perish. What will happen if they are unable to and he lives longer than expected?

WRETCHEDLY RICH

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The twelve elders of Ishekpe kingdom were all assembled in Ukpaka shrine. The kingdom of Ishekpe was falling apart and if something wasn’t done, it would crumble to dust.

“Elders of our land,” the chief priest spoke. “We are gathered here to honour our ancestors and make peace offering to the great Ahugwanle!”

The elders nodded their head in affirmation.

“Our people suffer, but no more.” the chief priest growled. “For today marks the end,” he said, …and a start, he smiled. …of a new beginning—he paused—which has come at last!” his words pleased the elders as they beamed with joy.

The chief priest turned with arms raised, backing them, as he looked at the sky and turned again to face them. “Hmm,” his lips moved. “gods of our land,” he called. “Your people seek you.”

The leaves rustled at the wind’s call, acknowledging the presence of a supreme being.

“He who is to bring together the sun and the moon—hovered the voice—has been born.”

The elders marvelled. “He who is to bring together the sun and the moon?”

The chief priest growled. “It can’t be!”

The elders murmured as one yelled, “Wise one!” he stood. “What shall we do?”

All eyes were turned as another rose and said, “Yes, wise one. What shall we do?”

THE ARRIVAL

The cry of a baby is heard as the sound of an owl hovered at a distance. The midwife is seen nursing the child while his mother lay fast asleep.

Ozoemena, her husband, walked in, happy to see that his wife has been delivered of a baby boy.

While staring at the sleeping child in the midwife’s arms, he said, “At last—making his presence known as he beamed with delight.

“It’s a boy.”

His heart grew larger than his chest could hold. “A son!” he smiled even more, taking the child from her.

Ozoemena and his wife had been mocked so many times—more times than he could count. He stared at his son for a while before lifting him up to thank the gods. “gods of our land,” he said, “You have given me a son and made me complete. A child to call my own and to raise to the best of my abilities.” he brought the sleeping child down and looked at his face again. “Obiajulum—”