• Home
• Columnist
• Videos
• Artist
  • Musicians
  • Actors
  • Comedians
• Notable Nigerians
• Legend Dies
• Articles
  • Nigeria Articles
• Photos
• Submit Article

Author: Okah Ewah Edede
Posted to the web: 1/31/2009 4:43:27 AM

WORDS WRITTEN IN BLOOD
 
0800 HOURS DECEMBER 6TH, 2007
I have only about two hours to live, at ten 0’ clocks the wardens will come for me and lead me to my execution as a fulfillment of my conviction terms. I was convicted by a Port Harcourt high court presided by Justice Binta Georgewill to death by hanging on a nine count murder charge. I have actually spent two years in prison going through the trial process and within these two years I have come to terms with God and have made peace with myself. I do not fear my onrushing death; I only regret I have not killed my uncle yet. I sincerely do not regret my actions – actions that today are leading to my death in less than two hours from now! I know I will be dead very soon and so I am putting my blood on my cell walls cataloguing my experiences and my actions in a bid to paint a clearer picture of what happened. I believe someone will come into this cell after my demise that will survive the gallows and recount my tale for posterity to judge my actions. This is my story.
                               ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
My names are Ifeanyichukwu Ikenga. I am from Umuoma village in Mbano local government area of Imo State Nigeria. I was born on the 15th of March, 1982 to Mr. Clement Ikenga and Dr. Mrs. Katherine Ikenga nee Onyejeke. I am the first of two children; my sibling is a girl, my pretty little sister Rosemary Oluchi Ikenga. My father died in an auto crash on the eve of my sister’s birth in 1985. My mother – as a widow – was the one who brought us up by hand and trained us through school until her death to a mysterious illness on August 17, 2001. Then I was nineteen, an engineering student in the department of Mechanical Engineering University of Lagos (Unilag). My younger sister, Rosemary who I fondly call by the pet name Nne Nene was sixteen years old, a sophomore in the department of Legal Studies, Rivers State University of Science and Technology (RSUST). After the death and burial of my father, my mother’s younger brother, Uncle Uchenna Onyejeke invited my mother to relocate from Lagos to Port Harcourt and start her medical practice in the Garden City. Lagos held too many painful memories for mother and so, mother obliged and we relocated to the Garden City. This was in 1986. In 1999, I gained admission into Unilag and had to move back to Lagos for my academic sojourn in that cosmopolitan city’s Ivy League citadel. It was while in my fourth year in Unilag that my mother became saddled with a strange illness that defiled medical diagnosis and mystified science. I had to abandon my studies though it was just two weeks to exams and head for Port Harcourt to see my mom. When I got to the hospital, I could not believe my eyes; mother was ghostly and worn-out like a relic belonging to a vanishing age. Her frame was frail and her face wrinkled and older than that of an ancient. I looked at my mother and noticed that the hospital robe she was wearing were clinging Okah Ewah Edede on a body filled with brittle sickly bones, and that her fingers dug into my flesh – when she held my hand – like the croaked roots of an ancient tree digging into a mildewed soil pulsating with corruption. My once robust and beautiful mom was gone. Before mother finally gave up the ghost, she made me make her a flummoxing promise then, she said, “Ifeanyi my son, please promise me that after my death you will take your younger sister Oluchi and leave your Uncle’s compound. Also promise me that you will never ever return no matter what your Uncle promises you.” Though I could not fathom why mother wanted us to leave Uncle Uchenna’s compound, I pledged my promise and added that we will all move out of Uncle Uche’s place once she was hale and strong again. But mother had smiled sadly and said she wasn’t going to survive the illness, and then she told me that she suspected that my Uncle – her younger brother – had something to do with her illness and my father’s death. Mother said that on the day my father died in the auto crash that he had actually been in the same car with Uncle Uche. Back then Uncle Uche was still unemployed having just graduated from the university two years ago. “Your Uncle was in that car when your father lost control and plunged into the third mainland bridge, but the strange part is that nothing happened to your Uncle; he was unhurt, without a single scratch on him! Back then, I had attributed it all to God’s miraculous intervention but… today I wonder on the sudden cause of his stupendous wealth one month after your father’s death. Ifeanyichukwu, your Uncle had something to do with the death of my husband and if I hadn’t been blinded by love for my kid brother, I wouldn’t have come to stay in his compound. I believe I have endangered your lives by bringing you children here. I want you to leave and get an apartment in any area far from your Uncle’s sight. I can’t believe my brother could do this to us after all I and your father did for him – we were the ones who trained him through school!” My mother said with solemn emotions. After this speech mother passed on to glory like a slender shadow dissolving into mist before a séance’s crystal and her invocations. I wept bitterly and uncontrollably. After my mother was laid to rest, my Uncle swooned in like a scavenging Hyena, appropriating my mother’s clinic, her cars and what was left of her finances. Uncle Uche claimed that he took all these properties of my mom as repayment for the loan he gave to her to open her clinic in Port Harcourt. These wicked seizures of all mother owned including her finances lead to a confrontation between Uncle Uche and I.
     “Your mother owed me huge sum of money before her demise” Uncle Uchenna bellowed when I demanded an explanation to his acts.
     “But, Uncle, mother never told me about any loan.” I retorted.
     “Where do you think your mother got the money to establish her practice in Port Harcourt?'
     “But Uncle, my father left some funds in his bank for us, and besides, mother had a successful practice in Lagos before coming over to Port Harcourt at your invitation.” I responded in answer to his question, but my Uncle merely laughed and said, “your father was a fool who thought everyone should worship at his feet because he had a little money. Well, after he died I didn’t see any money; I was the one who advanced your mother a loan.”
     “Uncle, are you trying to insinuate that my mother did not repay you this loan all these years, if ever there was a loan in the first place?” I said defensively
     “Don’t insult me,” Uncle Uchenna bellowed, “don’t insult me or you will end up like your idiotic parents.” He threatened me with bloodshot eyes like those of an angry Lion.
     “What do you mean by that Uncle?” I queried him. “What do you mean by what you just said?” But my Uncle refused to say another word, and so I pressed him to explain his outburst. I so harassed him that finally he exploded. “listen here you young Goat,” he emoted in irritation, “if you continue to pester me or keep on the quest of knowing what killed your parents, what devoured your parents will swallow you.” He threatened
     “Uncle, I don’t care a foot about your sanguinary adages, but you must tell me what consumed my parents since you seem to have knowledge of this.” I shouted at him with rising fury
     “Okay, since you persist on knowing what eat up your parents,” my Uncle began in a menacingly low tone, “I used your father for money ritual and used your mother for life prolonging rituals. Now if you don’t leave me in peace, I’ll use you and your little sister for diabolic ends. Do I make myself clear, Ifeanyi? Uncle Uchenna asked me.
     I was dumbfounded, speechless and seething with silent fury. I had wanted to act rashly by attacking him there and then in his office but common sense told me it will be futile; Uncle Uche was a very wealth and influential man, and he had armed escorts. I had no chance of harming him when his zombies were just outside his office door clutching AK47 riffles. I swallowed my hurt and left his office. That weekend I headed for the village to report my Uncle to the Igwe and his elders in council over the death of my parents. After tabling the matter before our Igwe and the elders, the community leaders decided to invite my Uncle to come before them and defend himself of the allegations I had laid against him.
     Uncle Uche stormed the village with an intimidating array of cars, Kalashnikov totting policemen, and enough cash to feed the entire village for two months. Even before the trial started before the Igwe and his council, I knew I had little chance of fair hearing and justice; the entire elders and the Igwe were busy counting the money my Uncle gave them to bother about a trifle like justice. At the end of the charade, the Igwe and his elders absolved my Uncle of all crimes and guilt. Instead they fined me five kegs of palm wine, twelve tubers of yam, and a Goat for bringing false allegations against a sterling son of the soil. To raise money to buy the item required to pay the fine imposed on me by the elders, I had to sell-off some household gadgets and got the rest from my paternal aunt – my dad’s step-sister. My dad’s step-sister aunty Roselyn was the only one who believed my charges against my Uncle.
     After buying the said items, Nne Nenem, aunty Roselyn and I all traveled down to the village together to present the items before the Igwe and his elders in council. Aunty Roselyn lived in Owerri with her three children – she was a widow, having lost her husband to night marauders.
     We were the triumvirate mourners.
     “Elders of our land,” I addressed the Igwe and his council of chiefs, “in accordance to your verdict and, in solemn respect to the values and traditions of our land, I bring before you the items you requested of me as a fine for the spurious allegations – according to your sapience – that I brought against my Uncle, who, according to your wisdom, is a paragon of puritan values worthy of emulation.”
     “Yes,” intoned elder Okoro, the prime minister of the council of chiefs, “the allegations you leveled against your Uncle, our highly esteemed son, Ichie Uchenna, onwa na tiri oha 1 of Umuoma community are grievous and horrible but, well… emmm” He paused for effect, “since you are also our son, and this honourable council is forgiving and merciful, we decided to levy you with this fine as a sign of punishment for your unguided utterances.” He summarized in grandeur delusions of self pontification.
     ”CHEI. CHEI. CHEI, CHEI. UMUOMA KWENU!” A voice rang out from the throng.
     “HOI!” The council acknowledged
     “UMUOMA KWENU!!” The voice equivocated
     “KWEZONUO!!” The elders bellowed in unison
     After this traditional salutation, another slimy elder, chief Umezurike stood up to address the council, and to impart wisdom into insignificant me.
     “Ifeanyichukwu, listen to me carefully.” He started, “you should be nappy and thanking your Chi that you have an Uncle in a man as generous as your Uncle, Iche Uchenna. A man who gave your mother money to establish her profession after the death of your father; gave you people shelter in his compound, and took up the entire cost of your mother’s burial rites yet, he took only worthless peanuts as payment for all his investment. Hmmm… Ifeanyichukwe, I demand you tender an apology to your Uncle.”
     “YES HE SHOULD.” The entire council concurred.
     Well, after the histrionic at the village council of wise old men theatre, Oluchi, my aunt and I left the infantile ancients and went home to like our wounds. I was boiling with murderous rage; I took umbrage at the drama the so called elders enacted: how could someone confess to using my parents for rituals, yet I was found guilty and reprimanded for instituting actions against him! Where was the retributive justice the traditional system is said to uphold? Imagine going to the village elders for justice and all one got were self-serving aphorisms and shyster liturgies from corrupt elders who look like effigies of Fabian clowns! The humiliating reprimands I got from the Igwe and his senile elders were the efflorescence of bloody revenge in my soul. But before I carrying out my revenge, I decided to allow my Uncle enjoy his dissipation while I used the time to see to my education and that of my sister.
     We had no one to help us save for aunty Roselyn who did the best she could for us. No other relative cared to come to our aid. I graduated from the university – after untold hardship – in 2002 with a second class lower division degree in Mechanical engineering. By the first quarter of 004, I had completed my one year national youth service programme. After my graduation, I got a job in a shipping firm in the Apapa Wharf area of Lagos. At this point my younger sister, Rosemary was in her final year in the Law department of RSUST. To see myself and my sister through school, I had done odd jobs while in the citadel. I had ferried stone on my head in building sites and had done other menial jobs just to be able to earn enough money to keep us in school. I knew I wasn’t going to be graduating with impressive grades because of the little time I devoted to my studies, but I vowed I was going to provide for Oluchi so she could concentrate on her studies and graduate top of her class. Oluchi has always been a brain to reckon with and she graduated top of her class with a first-class degree in Law.
     Then I remembered my Uncle.
     I had saved enough money from my averagely paying job at the shipping firm to take Oluchi through NYSC and Law School without my being present to assist her. Though she didn’t know of my plan to destroy my Uncle, I guess she suspected I was up to something hideous when I transferred all the funds I had into her Bank account. When Nne Nenem learnt of the transfer, she had looked at me with penetrating eyes and said, “big brother, you carry a grudge for eternity like a Sicilian, but please be careful in whatever you do.” I denied intending to do anything violent, but Oluchi merely shrugged and said, “I pray I’ll be in the position to save you when it counts.”
     After putting my affairs in order, I headed out for my Uncle’s place, arriving at his residence at #377 King Perekule Street, G.R.A phase 2, Port Harcourt. When I got to where my Uncle domiciles, I found the pedestrian gate of his estate open and unguarded. I let myself in. Luck was on my side, it so happened that the guard on duty had gone to the next compound to attend to some amoral and randy endeavours of his and, in his haste to satiate his He-goatish conjugal cravings, he had left the side gate open and unattended. I scanned the entire compound and found to my chagrin that my Uncle’s utility vehicle was not in sight. This meant he had gone out before my arrival; I had arrived at 0909 hours. I made for the entrance into the imposing white edifice. I walked straight up the steps and pushed up the massive mahogany twin doors without encountering any resistance. The sitting room was tastefully furnished with elegant white leather sofas, marble tiled floor, and thick Elizabethan draperies with green flowering designs on a sea of whites that made up its background. Without seeing anyone in sight I made for the grand spiral staircase on the far left of the sitting room. I could hear voices on the first floor and so I proceeded with caution, pulling out the Semi Automatic 9mm Beretta pistol I came with; I had gotten the gun from a friend of mine who ruled the underworld of Port Harcourt. He had offered to help me extract my pound of flesh from my Uncle but I had declined; it was a family affair and I wanted to derive maximum pleasure and satisfaction from the fact that I had avenged my parents on my own.
     I plunged head on into the room on the extreme right of the hallway where the voices were emanating from and crashed the boisterous chatter of my Uncle’s wife and eight others. Amongst the eight were four of my Uncle’s kids aged 8, 5, 3, and their infant baby of six months old. The other four were female relatives of my Uncle’s wife who were undergraduate students in various tertiary institutions – they were here on holiday. Shock was registered on their faces, and then my aunty recovered and ordered me to put the weapon away.
     “Ifeanyichukwu, how did you get into the house? And besides, where is Abu?” She demanded. Abu was the name of the randy dandy he-goat of a guard.
     “Aunty, sorry for doing this but I have to tie you all up. Abu is not around, and I didn’t come here for a courtesy call.”
     My aunty was flummoxed as to my intentions. I believed she thought I just wanted to steal some money and items from the house and then abscond with my loot. Had she known my true intention, I doubt if they would have just given in to me without a fight. Well, they did and it was their doom. I had a grudge against my Uncle’s wife and her siblings because they had used the patronage of my fascist Uncle to perpetuate domestic reactionary despotism on me and my sister after mom dead. They were all guilty because they had allowed themselves to be smudged by the hypocritical and Byzantine paternalism of an obscurantist tyrant in the person of my Mephistophelean Uncle. I despised them all. It was payback time. After having them fettered, I locked them up and made for the kitchen. I had a scheme in mind; they were going to roast via inferno. I open all the gas valves and the gases spilled forth through the faucet. I left the kitchen door open and made for the sitting room where I light a candle; closing the main entrance door of the setting room, I left them to their fate.
                                ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
 
0945 HOURS DECEMBER 6TH, 2007
I can hear the distant clang of the wardens opening the gate to C-block. Soon I will be marched down the narrow hall to the house of no return. None have ever walked down this road who returned to tell the tale of the beyond. I now have little time left to complete my story, but I just have to tell the world my story.
     I must… I must… I must…
                               ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
     After I left my Uncle’s compound, the entire house exploded in flame and lights the horizon with a splendid display of raging colours. It was a magnificent sight. Later that day I called on Oluchi and told her what I had done. She was aghast. She asked me to run away but I refused. I then informed her I was going to get my Uncle in his office, and that she should be courageous and stoic because I believed I won’t survive the attack on my Uncle. Though Oluchi begged and cried that I shouldn’t go, I left her and headed to my Uncle’s office to complete my revenge. I actually got to my Uncle’s office as he was hurrying out agitatedly – presumably due to distressing news about his family – and opened fire on him. I saw him go down amidst a hail of bullets before I lost consciousness.
     It happened that as I was gunning at my Uncle, I was also gunned at by his police escort. I regained consciousness in a government hospital, and from here began my sojourn into prison via the portals of the court. The legal battle was formidable and long, but at the end I was convicted for murder. It was during the trial period that I learnt that my Uncle was still alive. When I saw him in court, he was a broken and defeated man. After our dirty linens had been washed in public before the court, my Uncle lost as much as I lost. Though I lost the legal battle, he was humiliated and exposed for who he truly was. Though I regret my failure in killing my Uncle, I am comforted by the fact that the lost his mind after the trial.
     Today he is a lunatic spending time in an asylum.
     The wardens are here at last.
     Adieu
                                ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
 
Okah Ewah Edede WORD COUNT: 3,595
AUTHOR’S NAME: OKAH EWAH EDEDE
ADDRESS: #32/34 ELDER CHIORLU’S COMPOUND, NTA ROAD, MGBUOBA, PORT HARCOURT, NIGERIA
TELEPHONE: +2348063172003
EMAIL: mr.okahewahedede@yahoo.com