WHEN night fell, it was dark all around except for the pale light the kerosene lamps Ufuoma lit gave. The three lamps were nowhere near electricity or generator lights. Grandpa also instructed Ufuoma to set up a big fire in the middle of the compound. He gathered logs of wood for the purpose. After putting smaller wood pieces at the centre where the big logs met, Ufuoma lit the fire. It took a little while and gave off a lot of smoke before it burst into flames. Before then, mosquitoes had begun to buzz about and Igho and Onome were afraid that the mosquitoes would spoil the evening fun.Igho and Onome sat between Grandma and Grandpa; they were a little afraid of the darkness on the fringe of the compound. When it was daylight, they could make out all the trees around. But now, the trees had become shadows and the two youngsters were not sure the shadows were the same objects they had seen in daytime. The trees took on fearful aspects, as though they were in league with the darkness.
From the familiar plantain trees around the houses, the big ube tree behind the neighbour"s house and the coconut trees, everything suddenly became strange. In the city, light from neighbours" homes cast some light in the entire neighbourhood. This was different; this was pitch dark and ugly. Onome and Igho were uncomfortable.
Besides, there was a chorus of frogs croaking from the river. They were inviting the flood to come so they could feast and breed in the water. That was what Ufuoma told them earlier on. The frogs need plenty of water; so, they croaked hard to invite the floodwater. It was late July and the flood had begun to rise. Other night insects, too, like the cicadas and night birds also made noises that were scary to the two township children.
However, sitting between the old people, Igho and Onome felt safe and kept their eyes peeled.
Esomogho plucked fresh scent leaves called ebe-orha and placed them over the fire. The heady aroma from the leaves made Igho and Onome giddy; they coughed a bit. They had never smelt anything so sweetly pungent before. When they got used to the scent, they began to like it. Esomowho took some to the point where the breeze came and hung them on a stick. That way the scent from the leaves drove the mosquitoes away from the gathering around the fire.
"Grandma, zoho osia k"omai, ivie ole!" Onome"s voice piped the night air; she spoke her request in Isoko.
The fire from the wood began to crackle and burn bright.
"Yes, Grandma," Igho was in agreement with Onome"s request. "Tell us a story, Grandma!"
"All right, my children," Grandma laughed. "What story do you want to hear?"
"Any good story, Grandma!"
"Yes, any good story," Igho echoed. "Mummy said you used to tell them many stories when they were small like us."
"So, did she retell you any of those stories in Lagos?" Grandpa asked.
"No," Igho said. "She would say she was too busy. Then she would ask us to read our books."
"All right," Grandma cleared her throat. "I will tell you the story of contest of will between two birds named Omoka and Uririe. Well, Uririe is scarce these days, but Ufuoma will show you Omoka tomorrow. They fly about all the time…"
"Esomowho killed two Emoka yesterday with his catapult!" Ufuoma informed them.
"So, what did you do with them?" Igho turned to Esomowho and asked.
"I roasted and ate them!" he said with the pride of a good hunter.
"Do they eat Omoka?" Onome turned to Grandma and asked.
"Yes, they do, my dear," she replied.
"Is it sweet?" Igho asked.
"Of course, just like any bird."
"Do you want to hear the story or do you want to eat Omoka and Uririe?" Grandpa laughed as he puffed on his pipe.
"We want to hear the story!" both Igho and Onome chorused and everybody laughed.
"Ita yeee!" Grandma chanted.
"Iyeee!" Esomowho and Ufuoma said in chorus.
"What is ita yeee?" Onome asked.
"That is how to say the opening for a folk story," Ufuoma said.
"Ita yeee!" Grandma said again so Onome and Igho could also chorus the response.
"Iyeee!" they said and giggled. The words felt strange in their mouth, but they liked the sound of it.
"A certain day came and two birds, who were friends, Omoka and Uririe, decided to test their will," Grandma began. "They wanted to find out who could stay longer without food. In fact, they proposed a fast and whoever was still alive after seven days would be p.r.o.nounced the winner and fittest. As you well know, birds eat from break of day till nightfall, non-stop.
"That was what the two friends agreed to do. But Omoka, the smallest and smartest of the two birds, said he would fly from his own nest and come near Uririe"s nest so they could both sing a song to show who was still alive as the days of the fast got on. Uririe agreed. But Omoka had plans that were unknown to Uririe, who took the fast enterprise seriously, unlike his friend.
"On the first morning, Omoka flew from his nest close to where Uririe"s nest was and burst into song:
Teee tetete omo adhe
teee tetete omo adhe
teee tetete omo adhe
tetete omo adhe
tetete omo adhe!
Then Uririe also sang his own version of the song:
Ruuu rururu omo adhe
ruuu rururu omo adhe
ruuu ruru omo adhe
ruuu rururu omo adhe
rururu omo adhe!
"Thereafter, Omoka flew away, but Uririe remained indoors. Unknown to Uririe, Omoka was not keeping to their agreement not to eat for seven days. Instead, Omoka would first eat before coming to sing his survival song while Uririe kept away from food…
"But that is cheating, Grandma!" Igho interrupted the tale.
"Yes, that is the point of the story," Grandpa said.
"Oh, poor Uririe!" Onome said.
"After four days," Grandma continued, "the fast bet began to have an effect on Uririe. Whereas Omoka"s voice remained strong and sweet each time he sang, Uririe"s voice began to go weak and faint. By the sixth day, Uririe"s voice could barely be heard, but Omoka"s voice was as vibrant as ever.
Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.
"In all this, Uririe did not suspect anything. He felt an agreement was an agreement that must be kept and respected. But Omoka thought and acted differently. On the seventh day, Omoka, as usual, came to sing to his friend that he had survived the fast bet:
Teee tetete omo adhe
teee tetete omo adhe
tee tetete omo adhe
tetete omo adhe
tetete omo adhe!
"Omoka waited for his friend to sing his own song, but none came. He thought that maybe his friend was still asleep. So, he sang again:
Teee tetete omo adhe
teee tetete omo adhe
teee tetete omo adhe
tetete omo adhe
tetete omo adhe!
"Still, there was no response. He sang a third time. But Uririe did not sing back as he did in the days before. That was when Omoka went closer to Uririe"s nest to see for himself what the matter was. When he got close, he saw that his friend was dead.
"Oh!" Onome and Igho exclaimed, saddened at Omoka"s wickedness.
"Omoka did not cry that his friend had died; he was not sorry at all," Grandma said and regarded her two grandchildren. "Would you like to have a friend like Omoka?"
"No way!" Igho cried. "Omoka is wicked."
"So, Esomowho, you ate a wicked bird yesterday!" Onome said accusingly.
Everyone laughed.
"But that is why I ate it," Esomowho replied. "So Omoka would feel Uririe"s pain at being betrayed."
"Still, I don"t like wicked Omoka," Onome said. "I won"t eat it if you were to catch another one."
"Do you like the story?" Grandma asked.
"Yes, but it is a sad story," Igho said. "A friend should not behave like that to another. Omoka was wicked; he was not a good friend."
"But why did Uririe trust his friend so much?" Onome asked.
"You tell me," Grandma challenged her.
"But shouldn"t friends trust each other, Grandma?" Igho asked.
"Yes, they should," she said. "But they should be careful what agreement they enter into and they must choose their friends very carefully. Not all friends are true and trusted friends!"
"I don"t want to have a friend like Omoka!" Igho declared.
Just then Grandpa, who had fallen asleep and had been snoring gently, woke up. He instructed Ufuoma to prepare the room Onome and Igho would sleep in. He also asked him to arrange the mosquito net properly so they wouldn"t be bitten by the pests while they slept.