BUT FOR HIS TESTICLES...

THEME: SILENCE IS GOLDEN🤫🤐😷

TITLE: BUT FOR HIS TESTICLES…

Duration: 5mins read

In a faraway Eastern village of Uzumba, lived a man by the name Echetadike. Echetadike was the chief of all the warriors in the land, sturdy as an Iroko tree and fierce as a Lion. Who dares rouse him? Who dares speak when Echetadike is speaking? You are either for him or with him, you don’t want to be against him.

Middle-aged Echetadike had been fighting since he was a youth and never lost a battle. Therefore, it wasn't by a stroke of luck that he became the head of Uzumba warrior

s. His reputation preceded him, even exceeded that of the Igwe. Many times, Echetadike championed the war that saved the people of Uzumba from invaders and attacks from neighboring villages. Many owed him their lives and hero-worshipped him for it.

He was presumed to be loved by all. Of course, some hated him, who sought his downfall but could only express their hatred in the dark corners of their hearts or the innermost chamber of their homes.

Echetadike was fond of bragging about his prowess, talking about his many escapades. At twilight, children and youths form a town hall gathering in front of his shed to hear him speak.

How they loved his endless war stories.

“Echeta, you talk too much,” his aged mother often says.

“Nne, how better can a formidable warrior like myself pass down his strength and the heritage of our land to these young ones than through tales,” this was his usual response.

Anger was one force that drove the great warrior to action. When he is angry, he could level everything in his path. His mother feared his talkativeness, coupled with his untamed anger would be his doom.

At a time, after trading on Eke market day, Echetadike's mother was returning home through a narrow path. On getting to an intersection, she met a strange woman who revealed that plots are being made to take Echetadike's life.

“Tell him to be cautious,” she  warned vehemently.

Echetadike's mother expressed gratitude and was on her way when it occurred to her to ask where the woman lived in case there was any need to reach her in the future.

“Excuse me,” she said as she turned, but didn’t see the woman. She looked around, the woman was nowhere to be found. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. With hastened steps, she went the rest of the journey. She had barely arrived home when she narrated her encounter to her son.

Echetadike laughed it off!

“I, who singlehandedly defeated the deadly twin masquerades of Alomaa village, who tore Lion into pieces with my bare hands. I am ever ready,  Let them come!”

His mother appealed to him to at least let them go and see the chief priest.

The Priest confirmed what the strange woman said. According to his revelation, an impending storm was looming, one that would rob him of his head. 

That got to Echetadike. He knew the eye-of-the gods does not lie, and his words always come to pass. 

“Please consult the oracle to know the sacrifice to be made to avert the danger, ” he said.

“My Son, if I ask you to go and bring goats or tubers of yam, it would be for my consumption. The only sacrifice required is for you to remain indoor for the next 7days.”

That was an easy one for Echetadike. He and his mother were about to leave the shrine when he remembered Uzumba warriors' meeting was in three days. The gathering held fortnightly, where recruits were presented,  census was taken, any new tactics in battle were discussed and new charm introduced. On informing the Chief priest about it, the man told him to choose between the meeting and his life.

“Old one, you know it’s a rule that the head of warriors must attend every gathering except he is dying or dead. Should my seat be empty, aside from risking the forfeiture of my position to another, that’s a free and open invitation for the enemies to attack the village. Is there not something that can be done?”

“In that case, I will consult the oracle. Before going for the meeting that day, look in at the shrine, and I will tell you whatever the gods say.”

Day 1 and 2, Echetadike adhered strictly to instruction. He didn't even leave the confines of his room not to talk of coming out in the open. His wife, Adammah took everything he needed to him there. He couldn’t help thinking of who was plotting his death and why.

On his way to the  Uzumba warriors' meeting on the third day, he stopped by at the shrine. Echetadike was troubled when the chief priest passed the message of the gods.

“Since you must attend the meeting, other than breath, you must not utter a word.”

The gods knew that was tantamount to slitting Echetadike’s tongue.

“Don’t worry, the gods will help you maintain silence for as long as you are out there, ” the priest said.

Echetadike brightened up. 

“Two sacred eggs would be hidden in the corners of your mouth.”

“Very well, Old one.”

“No other eggs can save your head than your amu.”

“What! My testicles?”.

“Yes.”

Echetadike’s hands spontaneously went for his groin. One moment he could feel his testicles, the next, they were gone.

As he opened his mouth to talk, he felt his cheeks shoot out. He could still manage to talk, but every effort at that, there was excruciating pain in his empty scrotal sac.

“I don’t think I need to warn you they must not crack, not to mention break. Come back when you are ready for them to be returned to position. Good luck.”

The meeting was about to start when Echetadike arrived at its venue. 

As he limped over to his seat at the front, he was greeted left and right. All he could do was gesture or nod in response. Everyone wondered why the great warrior’s cheeks were swollen. Echetadike remained silent all through the usual lined up agenda for the meeting. At different points when his opinion was sought, he waved it off.

Towards the end, the floor was thrown open to anyone who had new war tactics or charm to introduce. Echetadike always had something new up his sleeves which he gladly shared with members. People waited in anticipation.

Not today.

He remained mum. After some sang his praise with the hope of getting him in the mood and still no comment, everyone concluded he is sick.

This is the best time to strike.

Ogbeide thought to himself. 

Ogbeide was a much younger warrior, also very powerful, but never a match for the great Echetadike. He had always nursed envy and hatred for Echetadike, looked for an opportunity to topple his leadership.

“Echetadike! The end has come to your reign.”

Everywhere took on a graveyard silence as Ogbeide’s voice thundered amidst the crowd. He stepped forward, bent over, and drew a line on the sand. Everyone was shocked, including Echetadike. Many wondered if Ogbeide had gone nut.

Such duel was one that only one person came out alive.

When Ogbeide stood his ground, it became known that he meant business. 

Echetadike had two options; it was either he fought to defend his position, or not fight and lose it to the opposition. He held his peace, all kinds of thoughts fluttered through his mind where he sat still watching.

“Get up, show me what you’ve got,” Ogbeide taunted from afar. 

When Echetadike didn't budge, he walked up to him, removed his cap and struck his head with it.

“Coward!”

Everywhere went ‘Aaaah!’ 

At that point, Echetadike could bear the insolence no longer. Thin ropes of muscles stood out in his arms and neck, his hand folded into a fist, a club that was certain to burst Ogbeide’s jaw at a strike.

“You!” he was going to say as he made the move to rouse himself to his feet when he felt a sharp, subduing pain in his scrotal sac, one like never before. He was paralyzed with fear he may have ruptured his testicle. Everyone was disappointed when the Lion-heart Warrior remained in his seat restrained like a toothless dog that couldn’t do as little likes bark.

“Warriors of Uzumba, behold your leader who couldn’t defend his title before a fellow son of the soil,” Ogbeide’s voice rang through the silent gathering. “What if it were before an invader, aren't we all doomed?” he paused a while for his words to sink in.

“Boys, strip him of the sacred tusk.”

With such a level of defilement and audacity, everyone knew it would come to that. But as though they chose to live in denial, it felt like a trance as three young warriors emerged from behind Ogbeide.

Echetadike was shocked as these supposed loyalists who always dragged amongst themselves to do his bidding walked up to him. While one lifted the sacred tusk off his neck, the other two took a fighting stance should he resist. As soon as the tusk was handed over to Ogbeide and he wore it, some men heaved him over their shoulders and a shout of triumphant the air.

The Sacred tusk was a finger-like pendant carved from the tusk of the last elephant killed by the first dweller of Uzumba, and passed down from one warlord to another till it got to Echetadike. For as long as the tusk remained in Uzumba, worn around the neck of her warlord, the village remained undefeated.

Echetadike couldn’t stand the humiliation. He rose to leave the gathering. 

“See Echetadike the spineless,  balls-less son of Okonta as he limps away with his tail between his legs, ” mocked Ogbeide, eliciting laughter from different corners.

In life or death, Echetadike never imagined anyone could ridicule him in such manner. He almost missed his steps that were now more of escaping rather than mere walking. He wished the ground could open and swallow him.

Ogbeide ordered one of his orderlies to run over to the Village Shrine and inform the Chief Priest that Echetadike had ceded his position to him so the necessary rite for him to take over fully can be done at once for it was risky for the village to be without a sitting warlord.

A whole me, Echetadike, 1 of Uzumba village subjected to public ridicule.

Echetadike thought to himself as he made his way to the village shrine. He was a blend of anger and shame. He couldn’t wait to at least get the invisible testicles in the corners of his mouth back to their proper position.

As he took a bend towards the shrine, he sighted one of the boys whom Ogbeide ordered to strip him of the sacred tusk leaving the shrine. Then he remembered the Chief priest was of the same clan as Ogbeide. The words of Ogbeide came resounding in his ears,

See Echetadike the spineless,  balls-less son of Okonta as he limps away with his tail between his legs.

Ha ha

With fury, he covered the few distances left to the shrine's entrance.

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Concluding part to be posted by 7pm, Tomorrow, Sunday. I will appreciate your comments/reviews 🙏. Thanks.