I did not mean to kill him. It
was not of my intention. But what was done is done. There is no way to cry over
spilt milk. He was a sixteen-year-old son of Ezeudu, dancing the traditional
farewell to his father when my gun inadvertently exploded and a piece of iron
pierced his heart. A cold shiver ran through my back when I recalled the day
when Ezeudu came to my hut and told me not to take part in Ikemefuna’s killing.
Even though I am grieving inside, but I could not cry
because I am a man. According to the mandates of tradition, the men from
Ezeudu’s quarter will burn my house and kill all my animals to cleanse the
village of my sin. Now, I lost everything. All of my life is ruled by the
passion to achieve the four titles in my clan and become one of the lords. I
had achieved all but now everything is broken. Why should I suffer so
grievously for an offense I had committed inadvertently?
I knew that killing a clansman is a crime against the
earth goddess, so I must atone by taking my family into exile for seven years.
I gathered all my most valuable belongings and took my family to my mother’s
natal village, Mbanta.
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Unexpected firing gun during Ezeudu's farewell |
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