For generations unknown, Nnanna’s family had guarded the Circle of Life, her father, her father’s father, and others before him. Every planting season, on the eleventh moon, when the Circle made its journey, a member of her family, cleansed and innocent of heart carried the Circle in their palms to Onitsha and back. And for as long as she could remember, it was instilled in her that not only would she be privileged to gaze onto the Circle of Life as few did but that one day, she would guard it with her life until the day she breathed her last.
The Circle of Life—seven times rumoured to have the power of creation—was much more than a white gem that enthralled when the sun hit it and lured the strongest of hearts when the beams of the moon brushed it. It was a token gifted to the first guardian by Chukwu Okike to mark his promise to him, and mankind.
*
A long time ago, when Chukwu, the almighty and other gods still walked the world of mortals, Ekwensu wanting not just the power of destruction but also the power of creation tried to usurp Chukwu because the creation power attached itself only to the one who had proven to be the mightiest. A great war broke out. The gods grouped themselves into two factions and so did the mortals, while the war ran its course for seven market weeks. After it ended and Chukwu claimed victory, he sat on his throne in Onitsha and meted out rewards. To the faction who fought alongside Ekwensu, he banished from the human world and forbade them never to enter Paradise again. To the faction that fought beside him, he granted a place in Paradise.
And finally, to Nwachukwu, the most beloved of all his creations, who had led the mortal army, he asked of a wish. Nwachukwu wished for his wife—who had died birthing their daughter and Chukwu granted him his wish. But as every granted wish was, it came with a twist.
“Take this,” Chukwu said and a gem appeared on the palm of his right hand. “It shall represent a token of my promise to you. Your wife will be reincarnated in your great-grandchild and you’ll be alive to witness it. From today, all humans will live their lives in circles. They will die but they shall be reborn if they chose to, this is one of my greatest gifts to you and mankind.”
He then wished of Nwachukwu that the Circle be brought to his shrine in Onitsha to remind him of his promise once every planting season. Nwachukwu obeyed and made it a tradition that even centuries after his face could no longer be remembered, the wish was fulfilled by the generation after him.
*
Sixteen seasons from the day she was born and the task of protecting the Circle of Life was thrust onto her tiny shoulders, it was time again for the Circle to make its journey. Akaraka, the Fates, chose Nnanna from a score of her relatives to carry the Circle in her palms.
For seven market weeks, while preparations were made, she stayed isolated in the only shrine of Chukwu in Awka. Every morning and night she fed only on ji, palm oil sauce—of ukpaka, utazi and red pepper—and palm wine. The dibia shaved the dread she had carried since birth. Every day, he also shaved off any thread of hair that grew back on her head. Her hands and feet were kept clean and her nails trimmed very close to her flesh. She wore white clothing that ran from her neck to her ankles and white ankle-length footwear.
On the day they set out in squads, the weather was blithe—with its happy clouds and happier sun—as if it promised an uzo mmiri journey. The balmy breeze, the melodies of birds, and the scatter of cheerful children on speed boards accompanied them to the mouth of Awka and no further.
And when Nnanna could no longer feel the soft breeze on her face, the songs of the birds in her heart, and the chatter of the children in her stomach, she found the quietness stifling. She sat alone—her palms open on her lap—in the white cart settled on the shoulders of a quad of heavily built men who would be relieved by another quad when the shadows changed. The cart was the only vehicle in their party and though she felt a little self-conscious to be riding in one while her elders walked, she wondered how tedious the journey would be for her.
She thought about how they could have taken any number of air bubbles or gone through the portal in the Obi’s palace, arriving immediately through another in the shrine of Chukwu in Onitsha but such wasn’t tradition. Tradition demanded that they walked bare-footed for the two market weeks it would take to get there so that Ana would feel her children journeying and rid their path of peril.
Tradition also demanded that they took the route through Ngbaga, the only place with a rift between the two worlds. The road through it was long, brown, and uneven with sharp rocks that Nnanna’s brother claimed—from his first trip—felt like how he imagined clouds would feel under his feet. But it was plagued by the children of Ogbaghara, the god of confusion, who unlike most children of other gods had been able to transcend realms to roam the mortal worlds for just a few hours.
They slipped through the brownness and rusty thickets, and holograph boards—the only sign of civilization on the long road—showing the distances of neighbouring towns. Sometimes, they temporarily manipulated the numbers and letters on the boards leading unsuspecting travelers off their paths.
When Nnanna thought of how mischievous the children of Ogbaghara were and how they could also whisper the wrong directions into the ears of susceptible people—thus the reason her father, the party leader had a fresh omu between his lips and a circle drawn with nzu around his eyes to wade them off—she remembered the story her grandmother told. The story was of how Ibediukwu, her father, had come to marry her mother.
It happened that Ibediukwu’s father had had his marriage to his best friend’s daughter in the nearby village set immediately after the daughter came out a girl. So Ibediukwu had always known—even without their parents calling each other ogoo—that he would marry her when she came of age even though he didn’t remotely feel friendly towards her.
After the ritual of choosing, and he was chosen from five older brothers and sisters, he had gone back to Enugu where he worked. On his way back, he had decided to be reckless before he confined himself to a life of extreme carefulness and took the road of Ngbaga alone.
The children of Ogbaghara led him off the path and into another town, Abagana, to its smallest village, then to the home of Ozo Anyaego—a most important contributor to the protection of the Circle—whose daughter was the most beautiful being Ibediukwu had ever seen. Of small built, skin the colour of baked soil, heart-shaped face, and fiery brown eyes with a temper to match, she had captured the heart of Ibediukwu and without his parents’ consent, he asked for her hand.
But Unoaku wasn’t to be married for a few more years and Ibediukwu accepted and waited. Then, he married her despite Akaraka saying that the odds of her having a child with him were against her. After so many years, she finally had a son, then, a daughter, both of whom were nurtured from the cradle in preparation for their duty to the Circle.
In a few more years, on the day the double moon would appear, Akaraka would pronounce which of Unoaku’s children would continue the line of the next Guardians. Nnanna wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life keeping the Circle safe. She wished deep in her heart that the guardianship rotated from province to province like the leadership did and spared her family the burden. Even as she finished thinking this, she winced. It was her family’s duty, had always been, and she understood duty well. Perhaps, she thought, she would.
A jolt made her pitch forward in her bench in the cart. She pushed her legs into the plush rug of the cart, stopping herself from falling headfirst into the bench opposite her. Her heartbeat was fast and loud as she looked at her lap. The Circle still sat in her palms and as if it hadn’t been disturbed by the sudden jolt.
She felt the cart being lowered and then settled. Angry voices could be heard over the silence and though she couldn’t make out what they were saying, she recognized one of the voices to be her father’s. Nudging the white curtain of the window aside with her head, she looked outside but couldn’t see anything but two men of the quad, so she settled back.
A while later, the voices rose higher. Nnanna was getting fidgety on the bench as she yearned to know what was happening but she didn’t stand from the bench to leave the cart. And partly because it was against the rules that had been poured into her throughout cleansing. Every morning, when one of the maidens who served in Chukwu’s shrine came to bring Nnanna from her room, she always read the rules to her, saying first, “On no account should you leave the cart. Every necessity would be provided in it.”
On the final day of the cleansing, she had sworn in the shrine of Ana to abide by the rules or pay with her life. But the oath wasn’t what kept her on her bench. The importance of the mission to her father did even as her curiosity poked uncomfortably at her. Before she could ponder more on what the noise was all about, the door was dragged open and Yagazie’s face appeared before the rest of him.
He reached inside, placed both his hands on her sides and lifted her out. She looked down at him and met his eyes. They were soulful brown, and secretive, like the man himself. At seventeen, he was tall for his age, light-skinned and beautiful.
She had first noticed him at the wrestling match that had preceded the last New Yam Festival. He had been curled like a tiger second away from pouncing while he circled with his opponent. She looked at him then and never stopped, though she had never really known whether he looked at her too.
Yagazie looked at her as if he had always seen her—but only for a moment. The shutters closed on his eyes, and once again, they became mysterious. He set her down, in the centre of a crooked circle formed by the quads that carried her cart. “What is going on? She wanted to ask but she felt the need not to make herself be noticed. She kept her mouth shut and stood still behind Yagazie who stood with her in the circle.
Her father had removed the omu from between his lips and when he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. “This is not you, Kabeonye. You can’t allow Ekwensu to take over your body. Fight him! Snap out of it!”
Kabeonye, she thought. She peeked through a small gap between two men and saw that it was indeed Kabeonye, her aunty Kabeonye. Kabeonye was her father’s ada, Ibediukwu’s eldest sister and the sibling he was most fond of. But there was something wrong with her today. She stood taller and detached. Her eyes were a pool of darkness, and Nnanna felt a shudder pass through her when those eyes met hers. Kabeonye smirked, a slow curl of her lips that didn’t reveal her teeth and then looked away. She stood facing Ibediukwu, an army dressed in the same uniform stood behind her, armed and ready.
Nnanna recognized the uniform. It was once worn by the guards who protected the shrine of Chukwu in Onitsha. It was a uniform Kabeonye had once been proud of wearing and even more proud of when she was made commander.
Nnanna watched the army’s eyes, to see if they were pools of blackness, like Kabeonye’s. She didn’t have to wonder long if they were possessed too or just following orders from Kabeonye; they were both. Their eyes were crazed and eager. And the worst of it, their stance and look had a certain kind of saucy childishness.
When Kabeonye spoke, “Give me the Circle and I won’t hurt anybody,” her voice echoed. When Ibediukwu didn’t bulge, she smirked again, a twist of the lips that suggested she was truly enjoying herself. She shifted her glance towards Nnanna, turned slightly and began running at a speed unnatural, towards her direction.
Ibediukwu blocked her way and she swatted him away with the back of his hand like one would a bothersome fly. Ibediukwu flew off his feet and then landed on the ground writhing in pain. Before Nnanna could have time to be shocked, Kabeonye had breached the circle, reached her and made to grab the Circle in her palms. Bright lights emerged from it and her hand passed through it. Kabeonye stood shell-shocked.
Ibediukwu began laughing. “Here’s something you didn’t know, the Circle of Life is averse to any form of ill will. It’s untouchable by darkness.”
Nnanna snapped out of her shocked state and realized she needed to protect it, with everything she had, her life. She ran, in the direction they had come. She needed to get away from the neck of Ngbaga. The farther she was from Ngbaga, the safer she was because the farther the army who chased after her got from Ngbaga, the closer the grip the children of Ogbaghara had on them.
She ran faster and just as she saw the holograph sign saying, “Goodbye from Ngbaga,” and elation set in, Kabeonye appeared in front of her. She halted so fast she almost lost her balance. Kabeonye took her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. Nnanna gaze wandered frantically as she sought help. She thought Kabeonye must have cast a spell around them because she could see her father and others beating their hands at the air as they struggled to get to her.
Kabeonye laughed, “They can’t get to you.” Then she turned serious, “If I can’t have it, then you mere humans can’t.” She stretched out her right hand, the one she wasn’t using to strangle her, and placed it over her palm. “From this day forth, the Circle of Life shall be of no use to your kind. I curse it to die for all eternity. As I have spoken, so shall it be.”
With her final words, lights exposed between them and the shine of the Circle faded. Nnanna’s heart in her mouth, she looked down at her palm, the Circle laid round and white and plain, as if it hadn’t been awake moments before.
A rumble sounded, Nnanna looked up just in time to see the slim crooked line pass across the clear blue sky. Amadioha, the god of thunder—and one of the most faithful of the gods—she thought, was angry.
Ibediukwu gave a loud startling cry as he alone pushed through the barrier. When Nnanna looked at his eyes, she saw they shone silver, like lightning. He spoke in a voice not his, “The Circle of Life shall not shine again unless a descendant of Nwachukwu, pure of heart took it to the place where it was first created on the anniversary of that day in the next half-century. Until then, the Circle of Life would be safe from ill-will. Today, I, Amadioha curse Nnanna, a descendant of Nwachukwu with youth until with the help of a person not of her family, the curse on the Circle is broken.” He turned those eyes on Kabeonye, “I place a curse on you today. Just as you have cursed Chukwu’s gift to mankind, I curse you that you’ll never be able to invade the mortal world again. Now depart from her body! As I have spoken, so shall it be.” As Kabeonye bent over in agony screaming, Ibediukwu collapsed. Another bout of thunder and lightning drowned the shouts of people.
When Nnanna looked down to her palms, the Circle had vanished.
About the author
Marycynthia Chinwe Okafor is a Nigerian writer of Igbo descent who lives in Enugu. She loves reading and enjoys disappearing into the worlds of her creation. Her works have appeared or are forthcoming in Writers Space Africa, Brittle Paper, Rubble House (an anthology), Kalahari Review, Omenana and elsewhere. Her short story Chronicle of Anaoma was longlisted for the 2020 K and L Short Story Prize and 2021 Nommo Awards.
Cover photo by Junior Cazangi via Prexels
Recent Comments