Short Story: How They Came By Obinna Jones

They came with a sword of words and with it they put our gods to death.

***

It was until two full moons later that we saw the damage we had done by throwing the doors of our home open to strangers in strange skin and stranger way of speaking.

Oku, the Chief’s son was the final storm that broke down our walls.

“The gods are not happy” the Chief Priest had said after he had rinsed his mouth with strong spirits that these foreigners claimed came from their land but we could not confirm.

“But we have done nothing wrong to them” the Chief replied not meeting the Priest’s gaze.

“Except, wrap them in dark clothes while a strange god with no name and no shrine dances in the light of day” I say trying to conceal my anger and failing as the shocked look in the Chief’s eyes told me “and our children look on at …”.

“When have we ever barred strangers baring no arms from entering the land?” The Chief had cut in.

“Oh they bear arms, but we can’t see them” I replied.

The other elders kept mute, but I would not, not when the very foundations we stood on were under threat of being swept away by flood of foreign words and invisible weapons.

The Chief Priest, shook his cowries and poured it on the open white clothe spread before us.

He opened his mouth to speak but Oku barged into the room.

“Get your idols and false gods out of my father’s house” he had shouted at the Priest.

Time froze.

We looked to the Chief to bail out the situation, for it is said that a man doesn’t mount another man’s wife while he is alive, but the Chief looked away, not meeting our eyes, not meeting his son’s, when had the storm that raged in the clear sky become a timid bush rat, I ask myself, Ogu the dancing tail of the viper could not even stand up straight in rebellion or support?

The Chief priest packed his ‘idols’ and walked away dejectedly like a bride who after her marriage was discovered not to be a virgin.

When he got to the threshold, he turned with his staff and shook the little bells, the sound was a strange one that years of hearing its constant ringing had not made me accustomed to, he then touched the tip of his tongue with a finger and pointed it at Oku.

“Within seven days, I would come to perform your burial rites” he proclaimed, and walked out backwards holding us all in his gaze, I nearly shrunk into my own skin.

It took only five days for death to strike not seven.

The Chief Priest’s body was discovered dead in front of his shrine.

***

Our people say there are two kinds of slap, the one received from a stranger can be forgotten but that dished out by a brother lives with you forever.

Now, there are no more gods in the land and no one to pray to when the dry seasons come and refuse to leave.

They came with words, they took our swords.

Defenseless we now feel against evil looking in the face of strange men for signs.