Legend of the Walking Dead:Igbo Mythologies

LEGEND OF THE WALKING DEAD: IGBO MYTHOLOGIES

Joy Nwosu Lo-Bamijoko

Copyright ©2013 Joy Nwosu Lo-Bamijoko. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the publisher.

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ISBN: 978-1-62857-017-5

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my parents, Pastor C.B. Nwosu and Mrs. Deborah Nwosu. I have always known my father by the initials of his name, C.B. That the C stood for Charles was common knowledge, but the B remained an enigma. Recently, I discovered that the B stood for Bikwelu (live and let live). Before this discovery, I had personally chosen what I believed was a befitting name for the B, Belonwu (Only by death do us part). Although I now know what the B stands for, I still prefer Belonwu for him to Bikwelu.

My father named me Nroli (The chosen one). Before he died, he made my mother promise him that I must be educated as far as I would like to go. My mother kept that promise. May their souls rest in perfect peace.

Acknowledgments

For years, I have been intrigued by the stories that my late grandmother used to tell me about her native village Agu-Ukwu, the land of the gods. My first thanks go to her, Mgbafor Udekwu. From her, I learned how the gods visit and interact with the mortals.

At the conclusion of my story, I decided to visit Agu-Ukwu, this land of the gods, to see and to verify my grandmother’s tales. As luck would have it, I came face-to-face with His Majesty Eze Obidiegwu Onyesoh Nri Enwelana II, the grand custodian of the Nri Dynasty and the custodian of the Cove. My conversation with him took me from the natural to the spiritual realm of the Nri world. His first question to me was, Are you writing a factual or a fictional story? And my quick answer was, A fictional story. At that, he assured me that I could go anywhere and as far as I chose with my story. That is what I have done.

I would like to thank my brother Onuora Nwosu, my grand-cousin, Mr. Tony Ikebudu, and my brother-in-law, Mr. Emma Nnedum, for making that connection for me.

My thanks go also to my daughter, Hana Imoisili, who is always the first to read and comment on my books.

To my very good friend, Professor Godwin Sadoh, who also read and commented on the book, I say thank you. Godwin Sadoh is a Nigerian organist, composer, African ethnomusicologist, church musician, pianist, choral conductor, and a prolific publishing scholar with over ninety publications.

I say a big thank you to my sister in Christ, Dr. Christie Chinedu Okoye, who was always forthcoming in reading and commenting on my books. I value your comments, sister, and I thank you.

Lastly, my gratitude goes to a team of three: Tahlia Newland, Kevin Berry, and Harmony Kent, who worked tirelessly to improve the quality of my book, and brought it to its present much improved state. Thank you. I am most grateful.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Part I

On the Banks of Ezu Lake

Fall

Part II

Somewhere Out There

A Place Called Akajiana

Part III

Osondu back in the Land of the Living

Mama Lulu, the Walking Dead

The Loner

The Cove Keeper

Ozuzu, the Land of the Gods

Part IV

Osondu Returns to Akajiana

Osondu in Akajiana

Gloria back in the Land of the Living

Gloria in Ozuzu

Gloria’s Travels Begin

Part V

The Ogbanje Drama

The Village Scene

The Birth of Eziugo

Outside Eziugo’s House

The Night Callers

The Shrine of the God of Life

Ugonnia’s Home

The Meeting of the Gods

The Village Square

The Party Scene

The Clearing in the Forest

INTRODUCTION

Among the Igbos, the name the parents give a child defines the child. This is why it is important that parents choose a name that will be a blessing for the child, not a curse. Parents will usually choose a name marking an extraordinary event surrounding the birth of the child. If a child is lucky, that extraordinary event will be of good memory and the child will have a beautiful name that will inspire through life. If the event is a bad one, the child may be given a name that leads nowhere or, depending on the state of mind of the parents, a name that can push the child forward in life or be a stumbling block to the child for life.

I am particularly happy with the names my parents gave me. In addition to naming me Nroli (the chosen one), they also named me Ifeoma (A good gift). How lucky can anyone be with such wonderful names? These names were the engines that drove my life. I could never stop pushing forward and I could never stay fallen. I always managed to stand up and push on. With names like mine, there was no room for failure in my life.

Names must have meaning for the life of the child. All the names in the story have meaning.

Part 1

On the Banks of Ezu Lake

Osondu wandered off by himself, his friends said. They’d gone to the banks of Ezu to play and fish, and one minute he was there and the next minute he was gone. They called him and searched the bushes to no avail.

Ezu has taken him, one of them said, and they ran home to inform his mother.

Gloria, Osondu’s mother, an art teacher in the local elementary schoo,l had just returned from school and was preparing dinner when she got the message about her son.

I’m finished, cried Gloria when she heard the news, then she sent for the women of The Gathering. These women received many calls from people who needed prayers or help for one thing or another. This time, the call was from one of their own.

While she waited, Gloria paced, wrung her hands and fought back tears, her dinner preparations forgotten. I will see him again. We will get him back, she muttered repeatedly until some semblance of calm returned.

That evening, the twelve members of The Gathering walked along the narrow paved road, built by early missionaries, to the clearing in the park near Ezu’s bank where Osondu’s friends had last seen him. Gloria, slightly built, fair complexioned and of medium height, came with them, still in her loose lounging home dress. Tree logs, placed like bridges over the deep gullies, bordered the lake side of the road, and high stone walls and German mango trees lined the other side. The children who came to pick mangoes had all gone home with their mango-filled baskets by the time the women walked by. A few travelers passed going in the other direction: a family on foot, a man on a bicycle, and one lone car they had to make way for.

Keen to get started, Gloria led the party into the park. She walked across the lush green grass and stared at the lake nestled in a huge crater and surrounded by thick forest. The women trooped in behind her and formed a circle around her. She made her request, for Ezu to release her son. She asked the women to join her in pleading with Ezu to release her son. At this, all the women raised their voices, as one, in shouting out Gloria’s request. Some clapped their hands, some hit the ball of one hand onto the other, some stamped their feet on the ground, and each wailed out their cries as the spirit led them.

Though deep blue and calm on the surface, dark, murky water filled the depths below. Ezu was notorious for swallowing things—even humans. People had dived into Ezu and never returned. No one knew how many people had tried to retrieve something from Ezu and, in the process, disappeared. No one swam in Ezu.

The seemingly placid lake had no outlets so did not flow, but at night the water rumbled and spat waves high onto the banks. Anyone near ran the risk of being taken by the waves and pulled into the depths of the lake. Gloria took a step back. Some thought the lake a gateway to another dimension.

She turned her back on the monster and joined the women to pray and make supplications for the return of Osondu. She stepped into the last space in the circle of women and, with great passion, added her voice to the others. The women of The Gathering had answered Gloria’s call in a hurry and had come in whatever they wore. Some wore long skirts and blouses. Some had short wavy wigs or long plaited ones, and some wore traditional long skirts and tops. They all came running, and gathered in a circle, around Gloria, holding hands as they prayed, oblivious to their surroundings. Each woman shouted their prayer of authority over and against the evil forces in Ezu.

Their voices rang through the park and grew louder, but Osondu did not reappear. Gloria stood facing the lake and, though she willed it to release her son, the water did not even move. Her frustration rose with the sound until she could bear it no more. She left the circle, walked right through the bushes on the edge of the lake, and stepped into the water. The lake could not refuse her here.

She cast her voice across the lake, aiming to bind the dark forces and command the water to release her son. With each chant, her voice became stronger, and she stepped deeper into the water.

Nne Osondu, step back, one of the women yelled, fearing for Gloria’s life. No one knew exactly where the bottom fell into the depths.

But Gloria continued to advance, until suddenly it seemed that she just dropped out of sight. The women screamed and fired more power-filled prayers. Some dashed forward but were afraid to go close to the water. Someone ran off to get help and returned soon after with men who threw long ropes into the water.

But Gloria did not take the rope.

Fall

Gloria fell upright into an abyss. She closed her eyes tight, but didn’t have to gasp for breath. She didn’t feel as if she were drowning at all. Instead of water, she sensed a void all around her—a big nothing that she floated through as calmly as a leaf falling from a tree, as if someone gently but firmly pulled her down. The momentum was too strong to fight, so she abandoned herself to the pull and waited for the end. After what seemed to be a very long fall, she landed gently on dry land.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a place that looked just like home as she remembered it from her youth. She looked around her. Mango trees lined the cobbled and narrow street, just like the road along Ezu bank. But she couldn’t be home. She remembered falling. Was she in Akajiana, a world parallel to our world but upside down or sideways up, depending where one stood and from what angle one looked? Only one person was known to have been there and returned to tell about it. His return was attributed in part to the prayer power of The Gathering. She hoped the prayers of the women would be enough to get her home again. She also hoped to find her son first and then find a way.

Gloria examined herself and found no injuries, but her clothes, though strangely dry, stuck to her so tightly that they felt like her skin. Other people went about their business, selling various items by the roadside, and some hawking and pushing their wares at people around her. The women wore long, narrow gowns that seemed painted onto their skin. The men wore similar garments—also stuck to their skin—but the women’s had buttons from the waist down on the sides. Apart from the different shapes and colors of their skin-like clothes, they looked just like Gloria.

The spot where she’d landed looked very familiar, as if she had been there before, or as if the Earth had rolled over and put her back where she started. Was that even possible?

Something buzzed near her leg. She looked down. A big cricket looked up at her.

Please be careful not to step on me, the cricket pleaded. And please always look where you step. There are many of us little creatures down here.

Gloria pulled her leg back quickly, surprised to hear the cricket speak. She looked around, standing for a moment on one spot with her right leg up, afraid to move or turn her body. No one looked at her, and no other animals spoke. She carefully put her foot down and, watching where she stepped, walked slowly along what seemed to be a familiar road. She saw many people but not her son, and none looked her way. None seemed to take any notice of her, as if she wasnt there. She wanted to find out where she was, but all seemed too busy to be bothered with questions.

Eventually, she came to the front of what looked like her childhood house—a one-story mud building roofed with red corrugated iron sheets. At the back stood her mother’s leaky old kitchen. The roof of palm fronds proved she wasn’t home. An uprising had destroyed her old family home and it had since been rebuilt with cement blocks and Alumaco roofing. She stopped, looked around to be sure that no one was watching, and then walked in.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Inside, her family and herself at a younger age were serving themselves dinner from black clay pots. They took yam from the top of one and stew from another, then mixed them together. The house looked exactly as it had been before its destruction, but her family spoke a strange language. She figured that in this dimension the uprising had not yet taken place. She watched herself and her family settle down to eat, but, just as in the street, no one took any notice of her.

She wandered through her house and discovered that she could walk through walls and even through people. Her hands went right through everything she touched. It dawned on her too that these people could not see her or feel her presence. She returned to the parlor and waved and blew air into her mother’s face, hoping her mother would feel her presence, but her mother did not flinch. She tried to drop things to attract the attention of the others in the room, but her hand could not grip anything. Confused and exhausted, she walked into her bedroom, lay down with her hands behind her head, and gazed at the ceiling, wondering what to do.

Part II

Somewhere Out There

Someone shouted. Gloria jumped out of the bed and dove beneath it, thinking that the people in the house had seen her. But the noise came from outside. She crept from her hiding place and looked through the window. A strange mix of surprise, joy and fear filled her being.

Her son, Osondu, walked backwards in the street, surrounded by a large crowd of boys and girls his age. Osondu was just fifteen years old, a second year student at the Okongwu grammar school. She last saw him in his knickers, with a bare torso, bare feet and a fishing line when he left to fish with his friends. In this new place, he looked just the same, only now his knickers stuck to his skin. An old man carrying a long, carved, ebony walking-stick topped with an ivory bird’s head walked in front of him, forcing him to walk backward. Every time Osondu tried to turn his back to the old man, the kids surrounding him shouted and groped for him.

Gloria watched in shocked silence, then decided to gamble her