Story for the gods
The Truth Doth Set Thee Free
IN 1976, CHIEF TENDE’S ascent to power as the patriach of one of the largest riverine communities was marred by controversy. To consolidate his power, he had to contest for the royal stool against a rival family from an old bloodline — the Oniyes — who believed that an illegitimate child of the erstwhile chief was ineligible to inherit the stool. Albeit, born out of wedlock, Tende had lived with and was educated under the auspices of his predecessor, who proclaimed him as heir on his deathbed. The Oniyes averred that the deathbed declaration were the rantings of a delusional old man. This led to a dispute at the native court, where the incorrigible panel accepted bribes from the Oniyes, and Tende lost but appealed to the district court. During the pending appeal, one of Tende’s advisors pushed him to apply similar underhand tactics to secure victory.
But the demand of the appellate court members was steep. They desired hectares of land held since time immemorial by the royal family, land wherein oil was recently discovered and would grant them royalties from “Big Oil” that had surveyed the area. Tende refused as he believed the royalties would be beneficial to the community. So, in lieu, Tende consulted the Oracle. The Oracle demanded that Tende should provide the remains of the deceased chief to purify his bloodline and undo the mistake of his forebears. Whilst such an act would be considered taboo, Tende believed that as the late chief was the cause of his predicament, it was serendipitous that his corpse should make amends. As he considered the request, his advisor intimated that the Oniyes had concurred to the royalties deal with the appellate court. Tende’s hands were tied.
A fortnight before the appellate court’s decision, he exhumed the royal grave and dragged his father’s remains into the shrine, where the Oracle burnt it to conclude the purification ritual. But as Tende left the shrine, he was accosted by the community crier, Iweala, who revealed that he had witnessed Tende’s actions and would report his findings to the entire community. Tende knew this was trouble. Iweala’s position was one that possessed authority of truth. So, he pleaded with the crier for leniency. Iweala bargained that to buy his silence, Tende must fulfil three of his demands whether or not he assumed the stool. Tende agreed.
A week before the district court’s judgment, strange occurences pervaded the native court’s members. One caught a stroke and died in transit to the district hospice. Another became gravely ill with cold sweats and sepsis. The third, scared for his life, confessed to receiving bribes to accept the convoluted evidence of the Oniye family. In light of the judicial scandal, the district executive council intervened, overhauled the matter, and Tende was accepted as the legitimate community leader. Tende’s first act was to deliver livestock and farm produce to the shrine as appreciation, which the Oracle accepted. The second act was a grand celebration for his crown day. He offered an invitation to his rivals, suing for peace and consolidation of power through marriage to one of their kin, so the next heir would hail from both royal bloodlines.
On the crown day, the Oniyes accepted Tende’s offer and presented him with his future bride, the comely Kaamla. But the chief’s joy was short-lived. Iweala appeared at the occasion and demanded a private audience with the chief. There, he made his requests known. The first was that at every ceremony, he would occupy a seat at the royal table and be treated as royalty. The second was a house by the riverside with a monthly allowance for his upkeep. The last was withheld for a later date. The chief, dismayed but guilt-ridden, accepted the requests and, on that crown day, allowed the crier to seat by his side to the chagrin of the royal family, especially the Oniyes who believed that Tende had breached custom.
In the days that followed, Iweala indulged in decadence and became a nuisance to the community, curating a reputation for taking foodstuffs without payment, harassing petty traders, shirking his duties and philandering — activities which were tolerated by the community because he had gained the chief’s favour. But with several complaints, even from the Elders’ council, Tende was in a conundrum. On the eve of his wedding, Iweala appeared at the palace to declare his final request. He wanted to marry and intended for his bride to be Kaamla. The chief thought he was being facetious and promised to find a bride for Iweala, anyone but his betrothe, but Iweala was adamant. Tende became livid. He spurned the request, stating emphatically that the only way Iweala would marry Kaamla was “over his dead body.” Iweala departed, vowing to disrupt the wedding ceremony with a horrid exposè. The chief had spent the entire day in sullen contemplation, and the palace was forbidden from intrusion.
On the wedding day, Tende was conspicuously jubilant, as though his troubles had been resolved. He danced gracefully with his new bride, confabulated with his tribespeople, lauded the dignitaries from other municipalities, and drank excessively. When he began to vacillate, Kaamla led him to his seat and offered water to calm his pulse. Assuden, Iweala arrived and ordered for quiescence because he wanted to address the guests. Dignitaries mumbled, Tende’s inlaws were enraged, the Elders’ council spat, but the chief gestured for order, gently stood up, smiled at his perplexed bride, and poised to address his nemesis.
“Our people say that only those who have properly washed their hands can eat with kings and elders. They also say only a fool bites more than he can chew. Iwela, I have supported you more than anyone in this community, but you repay my kindness with spite and inordinate behaviour. Enough is enough!” He turned to the palace guards. “Seize him and put him in chains!”
Iwela laughed. “You have no right! I came to speak the truth of your evil deeds — ”
“You scoundrel!” Tende interjected. “You have the temerity to disrupt my wedding ceremony before my wife and esteemed guests. Are you mad? Do you not know who I am or what I have done? I have killed stronger men with my bare hands. I have skinned virgins alive and bedded their mothers. I have exhumed my late father’s carcass and purified it with fire. Ask the Oracle. The gods shall tell you the stories I have left untold. Men fear me. My enemies perish when they dare me. I am your tribal chief, head of the royal table, and occupant of the ancestral stool. I am Chief Tendelena Opulanor, the first — and as long as my people prosper, I shall bear no remorse or compunction for any of my misdeeds!!!”
Iweala, the loudest voice in the village, could not utter a word. Despite the exaggerated confession, there was no fear in Tende’s eyes. All Iweala saw was a monster with a grim countenance. So, he sidestepped and slowly moved towards the palace gates.
“Are you running? No. Please come and speak. You have perturbed the community in my name. Now, in my name, you shall be silenced. Guards, lock him up!!”
Iweala scampered but was apprehended. His shrieking pleas inundated the palace as he was escorted outback, but Tende could perceive the ambivalence in the crowd. Some were relieved that the crier had met his waterloo, and others pondered whether the chief was inebriated or had done all those sordid acts.
Tende assuaged their concerns. “Pardon the ruckus. The palm wine was too good. Maybe I should retire and start making heirs.” The crowd responded with a mild cheer. “ Or maybe in the morning when I am sober. But my wife is very beautiful, so who knows?” There was another clatter, even his bemused bride blushed. “But before then, and now that we have gotten rid of the miscreant, please let us celebrate. Give us music and more wine!!!”
There was a louder cheer as the music resumed, and the ceremony progressed. As Tende sat down, he realized that Kaamla was ostensibly morose.
She took his hand. “My lord, did you actually do all those things you said?”
“What things? I barely remember the words I uttered. But one thing I can promise you is that no one, not even my ancestors, can prevent our wedding from proceeding the way you deserve.”
Kaamla smiled. “I have everything I need.”
The chief heaved a satiated sigh and drank more water, which unbeknownst to Kaamla and his guests was the only drink he had been consuming all day.
