N W Ù G B A L À (Baby egret)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Review Chain

Submitted: October 23, 2018

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Submitted: October 23, 2018

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N W Ù G B A L À

(Baby egret)

It has been said that; "The fowl frowns at the cooking pot, ignoring the knife that killed it"

Ezinne's heart flutter as she thought of her sacred journey to ède. A journey of blood and virtue.

She sits in the hut of her mother's, Clothed in the attire of curse and culture, Bearing in her the plaque of her offering, An obedient gift to the gods.

The white chalk of purity runs from her face to her bosom, Marking her for the earth, Preparing her for a feast with the spirits.

The chatter of the flute outside her hut beckones on her to show her face; Her journey with the masquerades must begin from here. She arose to grace the gathering of her fathers with her presence, And to greet the messangers of her ancestors with praises.

The hollow drum filled the air with it's sacred melodies, Moving Ezinne to dance side-to-side to the madness of it's tune, Humming the songs of her grandmother, Calling the names of her ancestors.

He who walks before his godly guardian does the race of his life, Ezinne followed the lead of her fathers down the path to ède, Stopping to spit blessings at every crossroads, Raising her palms to the sun, Shaking her feet to the dust of the red Earth.

It is said that, The ocean never swallows a person with whose leg it does not come in contact, Ezinne stepped on the eyestone of ède, Laying down her Calabash of prayers filled with; Seven white kolanuts from the great hills of Ifite Ogwari, Seven pieces of cowries from the mother river of Ebenato, Seven long alligator pepper from Ozubulu, Seven black na eri from Ndiukwuenu, Seven pieces of Òrak chalk from the top mountains of Nnewi, A white Cockerel from Onitsha, And a bottle of palm oil from Nni-Oraeri.

The tortious never attends a meeting with what swallows an elephant unless he wishes to visit the spirit land. ède is a sacred place for vultures, It's surroundings smells of ritual, For it here our ancestors come to dine.

Sometimes fate is a thing of doom. Ezinne must become a sacrifice for ède, It is her soul the gods have come to feast these time, It is her blood the clan has offered for cleansing.

Kola nut is bitter, but it is eaten to wash the stomach. In sacrifice and inline with culture, Ezinne offered her head on the eyestone of ède.

On the night the moon crossed the sky.

===================== (Based on the great story of Awka-Oka, Anambara State, Nigeria.)

© John Praise Ochoche.


© Copyright 2018 john praise. All rights reserved.

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