The room is dimly lit. She can barely make out the burly figure of her father-in-law, the Obi of Nnobia, on a high bronze stool. Beside the Obi, a little to the background, the diminutive Okuocha, the Obi's chief priest, sits coiled up on a mat made of leopard's skin.

 

The chief priest is hated and respected far and near, a man reputed to see through to the remotest part of every heart; a diviner, a seer, who stands in the presence of gods for the sake of mankind.

 

She walks into the room. There is a low stool covered with cloth in a corner. Drawn by a force, a power other than herself, she floats across the room and sits.

 

No one enters the Obi's inner chambers except on invitation, and even at that, such a person must be in the highest state of purity, that of mind and body, else the plagues of the evil forest will befall the individual.

 

Once on the stool, an icy calm comes over her. She is in harmony with the gods. Peace is planted in her heart. And she knows nothing of her is hidden from the two men in whose presence she now sits.

 

She can feel the cold eyes of the chief priest on her, a physical touch, stripping her bare; skin, flesh, then bones, till her soul is exposed. When she opens her mouth to speak she does not recognize her own voice.

 

"Obi, my father, my king," she begins, intoning the ritual recital she's been brought up to accept. "May the gods keep you to live a thousand years so that we, your children and subjects, may forever drink from your spring of wisdom."

 

Her voice is subdued and filled with love and respect for the man who gave life to the man she married.

 

"I have come in answer to your summons," she goes on. "I would have come earlier but, I was not fit to present myself before the gods, in whose presence I now sit."

 

There is a minute of silence. She cannot clearly see the priest, as he is in the shadows, yet she can feel his eyes on her, like an unbroken electric current.

 

"Welcome, daughter." The Obi's voice sails across the room to touch her, soft, like a feather; a voice she has always loved.

 

"How is your husband?"

 

The question, casual as it sounds, is unexpected, and it feels like a hand tugging at her heart. She is frightened. The Obi could not have summoned her from Lagos to Nnobia just to ask about her husband's welfare. If the welfare of Onyemma, her husband, were the trouble, he would have sent for him instead.

 

"He is fine, Obi, my lord. I spoke with him yesterday."

 

The silence returns; this time, it is uncomfortable. She knows then that the answer she has given is not what the Obi desires.

 

"Obi, my father, my husband is in Abuja. Our firm is handling the Presidential election campaign of the First Lady at the International Conference of Wives of Heads of Governments coming up later in the year… he's due back in Lagos next week…"

 

"I know," the Obi cut in sharply. "I know he is in Abuja, and I know a lot more than you don't know that I know."

 

Silence again, it is brief this time, but thick. She feels like she can reach out and touch it.

 

"When I asked you about your husband," the Obi continues, eyes solemn, "I had hoped that you would understand that I meant to know if he is performing his duty as a husband, and save me the indignity of asking you bluntly. Now I must put aside all pretences and ask you straight. Is your husband a man?"

 

She is stunned, not so much by the question itself, but by the fact that the Obi knows. It is supposed to be a secret between her and Onyemma.

 

But the Obi knows. And the reason she was summoned is now staring her in the face. This is terrible. She looks from the Obi to the chief priest but cannot open her mouth to speak.

 

"Alright, daughter, I know about my son's innermost secret. There's little I don't know really. You see, daughter, it's dawn, time for the sun to rise but the sun refuses to rise. So, we ask why, the gods know why, so we know, because we are in harmony with the gods.

 

I have two sons, twins, one of them you married. The other one, Onyedika, went to the Whiteman's land and married a black American, an African-American they call them… a slave. An abomination, the Obi's son married to an outcast."

 

The Obi pauses long enough to banish the emotion from his voice. When he speaks again his voice is firm, without any trace of what he must be feeling.

 

"My ancestors have ruled this clan for over three hundred years, and I have kept their legacy alive; I must pass the mantle to my children. The fire must not die in my hands.

 

To you, my daughter, I now turn to for help, to keep the fire my ancestors kindled burning in this household. Every soul like the moon has a dark side, which is hidden.

---

 

Onyemma, your husband, the gods have revealed cannot father a child. He is like the moon, fair, lovely but with a dark side hidden from all, but the gods.

 

Your brother-in-law, Onyedika, is married to an outcast, and as such cannot produce an heir for my throne. Should he decide to have a child outside, in which case illegitimately, the child cannot even stand before my Ikenga. An Obi must be the product of a marriage sanctioned by the gods." 

 

The Obi pauses again, then fixes his eyes on his daughter-in-law.

 

"You are my only hope. Our tradition allows the wife of an impotent man to be given to another man to bring forth children, primarily to hide the husband's inadequacies, and ultimately to propagate and preserve his name. This is done under the strictest secrecy and, of course with the consent of the husband, in whose interest the thing is undertaken.

 

I have called you here to propose that you pair up with Onyedika, your brother-in-law, to produce a son that will succeed Onyemma, who will rule after me."

 

They allow a moment to pass, in which he hopes the import of his words would sink into his daughter-in-law.

 

"Your education and modern way of life might make it difficult for you to understand the situation," the Obi continued. "However, I trust that your initial upbringing in Nnobia will make it easy for you to appreciate our predicament.

 

Of course, rituals will have to be performed, tonight, to formally make Onyedika your husband in the eyes of the gods, so that what you do with him will not be taken for adultery, for which you will be punished by the gods."

 

At last she finds her voice, and going on her knees, and in a voice tortured by the befuddlement that has wrapped her in a shroud, "I thank you Obi for the honour given… to carry a future Obi in my womb. But I ask only this: save me from the pain of having to tell Onyemma. Onye and I have been friends all our lives… longer than we have been husband and wife. I hate to be the one to tell him that… I'll sleep with…" She loses control of herself and begins to sob.

 

"Don't worry, daughter, I'll summon him, and his brother. By the way, where is Onyedika?"

 

"He's in the United States with his wife and their daughter. It's their fifth wedding anniversary."

 

 

 

The Boeing 747 touches down at five minutes to midnight. Emerging from the arrival wing of Murtala Mohamed International Airport, Ikeja, Onyedika and Stephanie cram their luggage into the boot and front passenger seat of a waiting taxi and are driven to their Osborne road apartment.

 

At the door to their apartment, Onyedika stops Stephanie with a wave of his hand. He opens the door, turns on the lights, and faces his wife. "Now, Mrs. Stephanie Onyedika Iweze, if you permit, I'll be honoured to carry you over the threshold," he says to her, bowing gallantly like a knight from the court of Queen Victoria.

 

His wife smiles brightly, amused at his boyish candor. Five years of marriage, and every day brings new excitement into their lives. All credit for their happiness must go to her husband, 'Dika, who is an interesting Best Seller, each page urging you to turn to the next.

 

"Please, please Mr. Iweze, you may," she says. He sweeps her off her feet and carries her over the threshold, straight into their bedroom, where they collapse onto the bed and are at once lost in each others' arms, glued solid in a passionate kiss. When they finally break away, she allows the worry that has been plaguing her mind to surface.

 

"You think perhaps we shouldn't have left Sybil with Mom?”

 

"Relax, she'll be alright. She has always been close to your Mom. Besides, if it becomes a problem, we can always have her flown back to us. Meanwhile, lets get busy."

 

 

 

It’s a candle-lit dinner, a sort of homecoming for Onyedika and Stephanie. And it’s at Onyemma's house, where his wife, Ona, has prepared a proper African meal for the couple, who she feels must have had their fill of European and American dishes during their stay in the States.

 

Onyedika and Stephanie arrive at eight. Dinner is already served so they proceed to the table. Stephanie is particularly delighted to find that Ona has taken great pains to prepare pounded yam and egusi soup laced with dried bush meat, smoked fish, and stockfish. She settles down to enjoy herself.

 

Since her marriage and return to Nigeria, she'd been sampling African dishes, and pounded yam, she has come to accept as tops. After dinner, in the tastefully furnished sitting room, the brothers and their wives relax, chatting as they sip wine.

 

"…Well, it's really challenging. At first, I was out of my depth working so close to the seat of power. With time, however, I became used to walking through the labyrinth of security into the presidential villa. And the First Lady, a slave driver, is a stickler for excellence but above all a pleasant woman to work with." Onyemma pauses. Time lapses. There is still some catching up to do.

 

"…America? A delight as always. One has the illusion of being at the centre of the world. Notwithstanding, it's great to be back home. I miss the chaos, the scarcity of everything and the mass of black people, our people."

 

The brothers have not always been together like most twins. Except for their formative years, they have been mostly apart. Onyedika had been the one to stray furthest from home, while Onyemma, somehow, always remained near home, even when the pursuit of education meant that he should leave home.

 

After their secondary school, Onyemma had gone to university, where he obtained a degree in Mass Communication and then married his childhood love, Ona. Onyedika, on the other hand, had gone to the United States in pursuit of a degree in Law. It was in the States that he had met and married Stephanie Wells from South Carolina.

 

"…Ona was in the village last week. It would seem that something very important has come up, and the Obi wants to see the two of us. You know how he is; when he sends for you, he wants you to drop everything and come running. The only problem is that I have to be in Abuja by first flight tomorrow. As a matter of fact, it might be necessary for me to proceed to Geneva directly from Abuja."

 

"Don't worry, I'll go to Nnobia this weekend, if the Obi sees me he has seen you, after all, we are twins." They laugh wholeheartedly.

 

Now the wives move to the kitchen to clean up.

 

"…enjoyed the pounded yam. It was really something."

 

"I'm glad," Ona paused a little, then asked, "Did you have to leave Sybil behind in the States?"

 

"Well… it was something we did off the cuff, but…"

---

 

 

Ona was at her desk by 6 am. As the Executive Director of Silver Wings Advertising, she led by example. Even then, it had become her practice over the last few weeks to arrive at the office earlier than usual for her to deal with the truckload of paper work that now demanded her attention.

 

Onyemma had been gone for two weeks, and the things he normally dealt with now found their way to her in-tray. By six-fifteen, fortified with a cup of coffee, black, her nose is buried deep in work. When her phone buzzes, it jolts her. She picks up; It is her secretary.

 

"Your brother-in-law is on line one." Her heart stands still. She is aware that Onyedika had been to the village and must have been told about what she has agreed to do with him.

 

It would have been better if the situation were different, the roles reversed, putting Onyemma in Onyedika's place. It would have been a lot easier if she had to go through this ordeal with Onyemma, who has been with his people all his life, and understands the way the elders think, their reliance on the ancestors and the gods to guide their every step.

 

On the other hand, Onyedika has been abroad most of his adult life; his views on traditional matters have been considerably altered. Now she has been thrown in, to dance this macabre dance, that only the gods provide the music for, with someone who might be an unwilling partner.

 

"Can we meet for lunch at Buno's, you know the place, yes?" Onyedika says over the phone.

 

"I know the place. It's at Aguda, off Niru Oniwu Street,” Ona replies in a small voice that reminds her of someone else; a young girl she has seen in a movie, who is going on her first date.

 

"Okay, we meet there in an hour," Onyedika says, all business.

 

When she gets to Buno's he is already waiting. He greets her pleasantly and leeds her to a secluded table, with overhanging shaded lights.

 

"I was afraid you'll be caught in the usual Maryland traffic," he says, pulling out a chair for her. She sits down.

 

"Traffic was light for lunch hour. I had no problem at all."

 

They order and eat in silence. After the food, he orders a cup of coffee for himself and a glass of white wine for her. The order arrives; the silence persists until after the first exploratory sips.

 

"I was in the village," Onyedika says, a statement that hits her like a fist. She nods, riding it.

 

"The Obi told me about what we have been asked to do. It was painful to learn that my brother suffers this problem." His voice is soft, clear but laced with heavy unshed tears.

 

"Even more painful," he continues, "is the fact that the two of you have had to live with this for so long, carrying the burden of this knowledge on your shared shoulder."

 

Suddenly, she wants to be far from him. She can feel his eyes on hers, and she does not like it at all. They have always been close and she has always enjoyed his company. Today, however, he is a stranger who wants to steal her secrets.

 

"Listen, I want to believe that I am a civilized man, educated and intelligent but, I am still in touch with my roots. The gods have decreed a duty for me, whether I like it or not is immaterial, it must be performed. And we have to understand each other; we're in this together."

 

"Onye and I have always been happy. Nothing could touch us." She pauses, allowing her eyes to roam around the restaurant, focusing on nothing.

 

"I knew about his… inadequacies before we were married, yet I married him. There had always been this air about him… his presence, carriage, his aura of saintly disposition. He has a way of reaching where no physical touch could ever reach." She is weeping now. The tears flow freely like rain on a windowpane.

 

"There are nights that I would get cold, and this unknown hunger would fill me, I would normally hold him tight and he would kiss me lightly and I would drift off to sleep. In the morning I'll wake fresh and alive. It is something spiritual… it can't be explained." She stops talking.

 

He reaches across the table and takes her hand, she recoils involuntarily, then relaxes.

 

"This is as difficult for me as it must be for you," he says. "I find it hard to embark on… this assignment and this is not a reflection on your person. In fact, if you must know, I find you a most attractive and beautiful woman but you're my brother's wife. And this makes what we are about to do every bit distasteful to me. But, what choice do we have?"

 

"The Obi has impressed it upon me that we start in earnest, my brother will be summoned home as soon as he returns from Geneva and be told. So, let's not look at the difficulties involved, let's be guided by the greater good that will come as result of what we have been called to."

 

When they leave Buno's, the burden in their hearts is not less but they resolve to carry out the decree of the gods though it is at variance with what they consider civilized conduct. They choose Sheraton Hotel and Towers, Ikeja, as their starting point…

 

Three weeks later Onyedika returns home from his Igbosere Law Office to a shattered life. As soon as he walks through the door, Stephanie confronts him.

 

 "Who's that woman you have stashed away at Sheraton?"

 

He is struck physically by her words, and the anger that burns in her eyes burns his heart.

 

"Stephanie, calm down; Stephanie, …" He tries to talk to her but she will not listen.

 

"Don't Stephanie me! Just answer the bloody question!" She throws at him.

 

"It is not what you think, Stephanie."

 

"Not what I think! Okay… all right, tell me this: how come my friend from the embassy saw you at Sheraton, when you were supposed to be in Abuja attending a law conference? And don't tell me the venue was changed because you were gone the whole weekend."

 

He stares at her but can not answer. The game is up.

 

"Who's the woman, buster?" Her words gore his heart. He looks at her, torn between duty to his family and love for his wife.

---

 

"She's Ona, my brother's wife," he admits, lamely.

 

Her mouth drops open; shocked, she can not believe what she has just heard.

 

"Come on, Dika, you can do better than that. Are you telling me you've been having an affair with your brother's wife?"

 

Silence falls over them. Then nothing is hidden. She knows the answer to her question without him opening his mouth.

 

"This is too much."

 

"Stephanie, it is not as simple as that. There's a lot about our customs and beliefs that you don't understand. I am only performing a duty I owe my brother…"

 

"Duty? Did you say duty? You call a stab in the back duty? All right. Let's say I buy that, which I don't. What about your duty to me as my husband; my loving, faithful husband or to Sybil as a father? Tell me about that." The hysteria that has crept into her voice is something new; something he has never seen before, and it is building up.

 

"The duty I owe my family, my clan, my people and my heritage is primary and greater than any other duty I may be called upon to perform."

 

She runs into the guestroom and locks herself in. The next day, she leaves him, for America and promises that he will hear from her attorney.

 

 

They have been driving around the glittering city of Lagos for hours. The night air is cool and sweet but they are far from being cool and sweet.

 

Somewhere along Bank Anthony Way, she suddenly asks him to stop the car. He pulls up, off the road and kills the engine. They leave the car and stand side by side looking far into the night. Ahead, the city stretches forth like a bejeweled blanket. Behind them cars buzz past.

 

"When we started," her voice cuts the night like a hot knife through butter, "it was something we had to do. Now everything has changed. You have lost your wife, probably your daughter too." She pauses, while the silence of the night and the creaks of nocturnal insects swarm around them.

 

When she continues, her voice is soft, like the purring of a kitten.

 

"Onyedika, I'm pregnant," she pronounces; it jolts him and she is suddenly in his arms, he holding her close while she sobs.

 

"Tomorrow, my husband returns from Geneva. I don't know if I can face him, knowing I have fallen in love with another man… his brother."

 

He pulls away from her and looks into her eyes. In spite of the night he can see her eyes clearly and what he sees there tells him that she means what she has just said.

 

When they met at Sheraton that first time, he had discovered that she had never been with any man, all her life… full-grown and a virgin. He had marveled at her, her chastity, and her devotion and faithfulness to his impotent brother. And he had loved her then, more than anybody he had ever known.

 

He pulls her close again and holds her tight. "I love you too, Ona, more than you can ever imagine," he whispers into her hair.

 

 

At Murtala Mohamed International Airport, Onyemma gets into a taxi, and tells the driver to take him home. He is a happy man. It is good to be back home, to Ona. Being the first time they have been away from each other for so long, he is really looking forward to a delightful reunion.

 

His trip to Geneva had been a tremendous success; the First Lady got elected as the Chairperson of the International Conference of Wives of Heads of Governments. For their brilliant effort, she had parted with a generous bonus. It was a giant stride for the firm; and they deserved to be congratulated. He closes his eyes and relaxes.

 

Later the taxi driver would not be able to explain what happened next. Harder to explain is what happened to the passenger he had picked up at the airport. It was a mystery.

 

Driving slowly and with a lot of concentration, he had been surprised when the car swerved off the road, rolled over twice then settled on its wheels in a ditch.

 

When the driver recovered sufficiently from the shock of the accident, he could not help feeling that a hand, an unseen force, had yanked the steering wheel from his hands, and had forced the car to leave the road and roll over.

 

There was the unexplained image of a small man with fireballs for eyes; an image that was forever branded on his mind. The taxi driver, who miraculously was still in his seat, shook his head and turned to discover that his passenger was also still in his seat, seemingly undisturbed by the accident.

 

"Oga, oga, are you alright?" The taxi driver calls out. There is no response. The man is dead. It totally confused the driver; the man had sustained no injury that he could see. Yet he died.         

 

Onyemma Iweze is buried in the evening a week later in Nnobia, beside his father's palace, among his ancestors. The shocked villagers turn out in large numbers to pay their last respects to a man they had looked upon as the future Obi of Nnobia.

 

Some colleagues, friends and delegates from the Office of the First Lady made the long journey to Nnobia to witness the laying to rest of a man they knew had lots of potential.

 

Akunede, mother of the deceased, inconsolable, is confined to her quarters.

 

The Obi stands before the open grave, a burly giant, attired in the full regalia of his office. Beside him, and to his right, stands his only surviving son and brother to the deceased. To the left of the Obi, stands Ona, wife of the deceased, looking forlorn but determined to be strong.

 

In the background, removed from the hob of things, Okuocha, the chief priest hovers like a vulture.

---

 

With the final rites concluded, the coffin is lowered into the grave. The gravediggers move in, poised to commence covering the grave with earth. Onyedika, in his black suit complete with tie, waves them aside, takes a shovel from one of them and begins to heave the rich brown earth into the grave.

 

The first thud of earth on the coffin is like thunder in his heart. He is burying a part of himself. When the tears come, the sweat streaming down his face hides them. He is allowed to cry with some dignity.

 

Later, clad in his earth-stained white shirt, he comes out from the palace carrying a chair and a bottle of brandy. The sun is setting, soon it will be dark.

 

Presently Ona comes out with a chair and sits down beside him. He nods, acknowledging and accepting her presence without a word. He looks at her and thinks of his brother.

 

Onyemma had been full of life, even as a child, he had always seen the world as a huge playground that must be put to full use. One time, when they were kids growing up, they had stood by the edge of the river to pee. In the way of kids, it had turned into a competition of some sort, with each brother trying to outdo the other as they tried to see who could pee furthest into the river. Onyemma had turned the competition around by directing his stream of urine into the air and catching a few drops with his mouth as the stream fell back to earth.

 

With that picture in his mind Onyedika smiles. His catches Ona, she is also smiling. And he knows it is going to be all right between them. Behind them the sun sinks behind the trees. The moon will soon take to the dark sky.

 

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