I will begin the story of my return with a certain morning in the month of June, the same year my father died. The sun began to shine upon the summit of the hills as I drove down the highway and by the time I had come as far as the airport, humans were bustling around the departure lounge.
Mr. Eddy, my father’s best friend was waiting for me by the departure gate, good man! He asked me if I had breakfasted and hearing that I needed nothing; he took my hand in both of his and clapped it kindly under his arm
Well Chima, I will go as far as the ticket booth to set you on your way and we began to walk forward in silence as we both rolled my luggage into the airport building

Are you sorry to leave America? He asked after a while
Why sir? I asked, if I knew where I was going or what was likely to become of me I would tell you candidly. America is a great place and I have
been very happy here, but then I have never been elsewhere, except that one trip to England when I was eight that I can hardly remember. My father and mother since they are both dead, I will be no nearer to in America than in the UK and to speak the truth if I thought I had a chance to better myself where I was going, I would go with a good will.

Yes said Mr Eddy, very well Chima boy, then it falls on me to tell your fortune or as far as I may, when your mother was gone and your father was diagnosed with cancer, he gave me a letter which he said was a very important part of your inheritance, He said as soon as I’m gone, give my boy, Chima this letter and set him off to Nigeria, and to Nnewi, that is the place I came from, and where it befits that he should return, he would come safe for where he goes he will be well liked.

On the afternoon of the second day of my being in Nigeria, I got off the bus as directed. I had travelled to Port Harcourt from Lagos as I was advised and began a bus trip to Nnewi. It was clear it was a village but there were lots of big houses, mansions that I couldn’t reconcile the terrain with. I could distinguish the city and this place and both brought my city heart into my mouth.

Not long after, I came by a house where a farmer by the looks of it , lived and got a rough direction for the neighbourhood of Odinaka and so from one to another I worked my way to the west of the village with most of them exclaiming in igbo o na asu bekee! Whatever that meant. A little farther on, and I was told I was in Odinaka province and began to substitute in my inquiry the name of the house of Chukwudi. It was a word that always seemed to surprise those of whom I sought my way. At first I thought it was the fact that I spoke only English especially in a foreign accent or my appearance, in clean blue jeans, black tee shirt, fresh looking and with a back pack over my broad shoulders. In America I would have cut the appearance of a football player but here, it seemed to startle them. But after two or maybe three had given me the same look and the same answer, I began to take it in my head there was something strange about the Chukwudi’s.

The better to set this fear at rest, I changed the form of my inquiries and spying a full bearded man who looked honest enough coming along the path on a rusty bicycle, I asked him if he had ever heard of a house they called the house of Chukwudi.
He stopped his bicycle and looked at me like the others
o choro ikoro m akuko ochi. He spoke under his breath
Surely I couldn’t understand.

Eh?! What for? He said m na ana nti,
It’s a great house? I asked my accent sounding so out of place.
Doubtless, he said, the house is very very big, mansion
OK! I exclaimed, What of the people in it?
Ajuju gi naa! People He cried, Are you daft? There is no a soul there -to call “people” onye agbataobi
What? I panicked, not Chief Obidike?
Oh I see, the man replied, there’s that one for sure, if its him you are wanting, what is your business??
Well I was led to think I could get a situation, I spoke, trying hard to suppress my accent.
What?? He cries again, well my guy its none of my business o, but you seem like a nice person and if you will take my word from me, don’t go near the Chukwudi’s.

The next person I came across was a well-dressed little man in white traditional attire, he seemed like a drunk and I couldn’t help but ask. I asked him plainly what sort of man was Chief Obidike of the Chukwudi’s.
Aah Americana he said, no kind of man, no kind of man at all o! onye aruruala! And then he began to ask me what my business with him was, I didn’t want to waste time and I shrugged him off and he went away no wiser than he came.

I cannot describe the blow this dealt to my illusions. The more indistinct the accusations were, the less I liked them. What kind of mansion was this that all the villagers should start and stare to be asked the way to it? Or what sort of Man that his ill-fame should be so current on the wayside? If just one hour was enough to get back to America, I would have gone back then and there, but I had gone so far a way already, I was bound by self-respect so I still kept asking and advancing.

It was drawing on to sunset when I met a stout dark sour-looking woman coming down a hill and she as I put forward my usual question, turned sharply about accompanying me back to the hill she just left and pointed to a great mass of building standing very bare by itself. The terrain about was the only pleasant thing to look upon. My heart sank That!! I cried

The woman’s face lit up with malignant anger, That is the house of Chukwudis!! Hei! Blood built it! Blood stopped the building of it and Blood shall bring it down see here! Chukwu na aza ekpere! she screamed, I spit upon the ground and crack my thumb. If you see that man onye uru! tell him that Ada Odimegwu has called down the curse on him!


to be continued

Gamine where is this story culled from?
am all ears,come and complete it.

It too long joo. U for do am small small. Anyway, i will come back and read it

The story is culled from my head

with the help of some literature

I will post the continuation soon

@Tgirl,

@ Gamine

ok.
waiting

Gamine:

The story is culled from my head

with the help of some literature

I will post the continuation soon

@Tgirl,

I love the story but please do not spoil my fun with some cheap lies!! culled from your ass

Cheap lies?

please, go and look for this story anywhere.

Gamine:

Cheap lies?

please, go and look for this story anywhere.

Why not use Uneme town or language? have you been to Nnewi to know the way the town is? save me all this please!! the Igbo phrases there are too correct without outside help. Accidental plagiarism?

I have few words for you.

Since you are the only one licensed to speak and understand Igbo.

I have written stories that contain other tribes. . . . dont come here n derail this thread

Frickin Tribalist

Gamine,continuation please and lol you better give this story this title" The return of Ikenga"

LOL.

Im working on it.

gamine how come u know so much!! u be mama water abi

Mama Water Ko!

Mamy Wata ni

Have you heard of Books and The Internet?

They are great investments!

Continued

I failed to mention, she also cursed his house and every living and non-living thing around him and went her way, now I was worried. Back in the states we had heard of African witches and the like of the things they could do, the powers they held by cursing for example; this woman who had left me with my hairs on one end, fell so much into that thought space. This encounter arrested me and took the strength out of my legs.

I sat down, right there on the hill on a patch of grass and stared at the House. The more I looked, the more beautiful the surroundings appeared, being all set with green bushes full of the hibiscus flower I believe. Tall strong trees, dogs, goats and chickens scattered around and a fine flight of birds in the azure sky. Every sign of pleasantness and yet the barracks in the midst of it, made my stomach sore.


Villagers went past me from the fields as I sat there on the hill, trying to regain my strength, but I lacked the spirit to give them any greeting. I caught one’s glance, an elderly woman; it wasn’t a good eye she gave me. Her look could send a pack of wolves running for their dear lives.
At last the sun went down, by this time, I had thought so much about what I was looking for here, my dead fathers wish was the only thing that had kept me up till this hour. Immediately I had gotten to Lagos I would have taken the next plane back to the States. Just then, I saw some movement about the house, but it was still dark. I was thinking, at least I would have someone to lay my head, charge my electronics, eat?. Though I had been advised to just go along with a cheap phone, I couldn’t resist taking my PSP along. I got up and walked through a faint track in the grass till I got to the house, the closest house to the one from where I was standing was not in sight.

A main entrance it was meant to be, but never finished, instead of gates of iron or any metal, it was a contraption of aluminum sheets and some rotting wood. The nearer I got the more upset and the more my stomach turned to mush. It seemed one wing of the house was unfinished. Many of the windows were just open holes, bats flew in and out like they built the place. There wasn’t any roof in some sections, this house would have been great, then I remembered the scary woman’s words Blood. I shivered, even thought the temperature that evening was nothing less than 30 degrees and I had started feeling the swords of the flying warriors.

Nighttime came fast, as I got close; I saw a flicker of light in one of the windows, which thankfully had shutters. Was this the mansion I had been anticipating? Was it within these decaying walls I was to seek new friends and begin a new life? I came forward cautiously and paying keen attention, heard someone rattling with dishes and a little dry eager cough that came in fits, there was no sound of speech and not even a dog barked.
The door as I could see it was a great piece of wood, studded with nails, I lifted my hand and with a faint heart, knocked. Then I stood and waited. The house had fallen into dead silence and a whole minute passed away, my nerves were shot and I just wanted to fall down and sleep. Nothing stirred but the bats flying above. I knocked again, with the last strength in my arms, nothing. I could hear my watch tick, so clearly I was amazed for a second until anger took over me. I began to rain kicks and buffets on the door, all on reserve energy. I had eaten the last Snickers with me as I got into Nnewi.

I was in full career, when I heard the cough again. I looked up abruptly and saw a man with a red and white cap akin to the winter caps one worn back in the States, a dirt-white singlet over a scrawny frame and some cloth about this lower half. He was holding a rifle. It’s loaded, His grating voice said.

I was more surprised that this specimen of a man could speak English than of the “loaded” gun.

I came here with a letter; I said, To Chief Sam Obidike, is he here?

Ajuju gi na
From who? Onye ole, onye gini He asked, caressing the gun.

That is not the issue, I retorted, for I was growing very angry.

Well, came his reply, you can leave it on the ground here, tapping the ground. Onyeugha a

With panic in my voice I shouted “I cannot!, I will deliver it to the Chief, as its meant to be, it’s a letter of introduction”

“A what??” he cried sharply.

I repeated what I said, forcing myself to be calm and to resist the temptation to punch the figment of a human being all the way to hell.
Who you be sef?, was the next question after a considerable pause.

I am Chima Damien Chukwudi.

At that, I'm sure the man started, because I heard the rifle hit the door. After a long pause and a change of voice, he asked

Is Your father dead?
I was so surprised at this, that I couldn’t find a voice to answer, but stood staring

Yes, the man resumed, he will be dead, no doubt and that’s what brings you running to my door, come inside, he finished and disappeared into the house.

I stood standing; I couldn’t believe what I had gotten into. The life I had traded for this moment and every other thing to come, but for my father’s sake. My eyes felt wet and my mouth dry. With a sigh I followed, into the house.



End of Chap One

Nice write up Gamine, you really are talented

NO praise her yet jor
Gamine its so cool.no comment YET till it gets to the concluding part

Hehehehe, wo enu e

Gamine wont be happy If we derail her thread,"onu nkapi" like you

Umunta ndi!



Thanks people,

I'm just bored at home.

The skeletal structure aint mine, bydaway.

i will continue all da same!

You betta continue jare, otherwise

you are definately something else

@poster,finish ur tori make we hear word, abi the script don finsh be that?

how come u dint tell me 'bout this we go settle later
i love d post sha need chap 2

u know u talented go girl m dere with ya all the way,

Haba!!!

Don't tell me i have to wait another . . . to read Chapter 2. After getting off my lazy butts to read it. shior

gamine, get over here and finish dis torey now

1 . . . 2 . . .

@Jas,

You call me? nawa for Friendchips o!!

@Tgirl

Gamine:

Umunta ndi !

)

lol
Gamine what was that?
It ought to be umunna di ! you need to brush up on your command of the language for us to really appreciate your work.
your next assignment,find out what "umunna di" means

@ekpemi
i won't be coming on and off to read this your story as if say na weekly soap opera. once you've finished writing, send me a copy. so i can read straight.

keep it coming, sugar!

Gamine:

I have few words for you.

Since you are the only one licensed to speak and understand Igbo.

I have written stories that contain other tribes. . . . don't come here n derail this thread

Frickin Tribalist

Onye burunshi

I want to read your story about Uneme!

@Ify

na how you learn Igbo o

The real thing These Children is Umunta ndi

it may be pronounced umunna , but Umunta is the spelling

anyways, im brushing my skills up

@Sambi,
i will do just that

@Romeo
Your tribalist ass dosnt deserve my Uneme story, you'd have to go buy it at your nearest bookshop

onyeaghirigha

Gamine:

@Ify

na how you learn Igbo o

The real thing These Children is Umunta ndi

it may be pronounced umunna , but Umunta is the spelling

anyways, I'm brushing my skills up

my bad !
If you were referring to me and Ibk then you are so correct
i was thinking it had something to do with the story
Yeah,its Umunta ndia. . . . . .these kids
Ur skills are amazing.

Ify,

This assignment wey u give me na

Umunna is a vague concept

it has different meanings, abi no be so?