A Tale of Amara II

A TALE OF AMARA II

A chilly January wind swept across the hills and valleys of Udi, Enugu

state that Saturday morning as Chief Tobias Utaba was laid to rest.

Local fireworks exploded in the air, deafening and destructive. The

townsfolk of Umu-Okwe (this place is supposed to be fictional) were

saddened by the loss of one of the few wealthy sons of their

hometown who had the interest of his people at heart. Family and

friends cried or laughed depending on how they were affected by his

death, while they processed bearing gifts to present to the family of

the deceased. Their grim faces where a reflection of the loss in their

hearts and if that didn’t work, their bald heads and black garbs did.

Sitting in a quiet corner of the tarp tent erected for the funeral

service, Amara looked as disinterested in the entire affair as cat

presented with a bowl of salad.

The pomp and pageantry entailed in

the funeral of an Igbo chieftain was unduly long, and in Amara’s

opinion, pointless. Five cows and fifteen goats were slain just to

entertain their guests most of whom brought their own refreshment

along. What a wasteful culture. As the youngest child and the closest

to her father, Amara was required to cater to her father’s friends and

ensure their needs were well met. A chore Amara hastily passed on to

her younger cousins whose lives were touched greatly and positively

by the departed chieftain. Now she was bored and content sit quietly

and do next to nothing while her siblings ran from post to wall to

meet the demands of the guests. Her mother was seated somewhere,

she didn’t really bother herself with the details of her whereabouts or

her well-being. She had been a terrible mother and so Amara tried as

much as she could to be as good a daughter to her.

Amara perused her phone catching up on her emails and messages,

her job as a computer analyst for the multi-nationals

ROOM‘8’CONCEPTS was not going to go on a break just because her

father was dead. They did not pay her as much as they did to keep

their clients waiting. She could feel her sisters glaring at her, putting

her phone aside, she sees her Kene’s wife, Sandra, giving her the evil

eye as well. She learned to give way too little concern to her sisters

and the machinations of their little minds.

She looked across the massive compound that held the guests to her

mother who sat timidly amidst her family members. She looked small

and defeated. Amara found herself wishing like she had continually

for the past five years that her mother had died shortly after her birth;

or that she had remarried and left the country with her sisters. She

wished her sisters would just leave her in peace and that her brother

had still married the incredibly cool Kosi. Most of all, she wished she

had remained in the dark, that her sisters and mother had not opened

her eyes to the evil of men. “Ignorance is bliss”, they said, and this is

how Amara came to believe those words.

Five years ago.

A 21 year old Amara is staring at her sister in disbelief. Her eyes heat

up as molten tears burn through her ducts and percolate on her lids.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me!”, her sister Kamsi replied in a deceptively even voice

that belied the venom in her words.

“How could you do such a thing? I’m your sister for God’s sake!!!”,

she screamed her frustration at her sister who looked smug for all her

sister’s heartache.

And you are in support of this?”, she said to a their elder sister Ndidi

who looked as smug as Kamsi. “You knew what she was up to and

you are ok with it?” she wasn’t so much as granted a reply.

“My own sisters...”, Kamsi had, somehow, convinced her fiancé to

break up their engagement, claiming that Amara was a slut of some

renown in their neighbourhood. Chuks, with whom she had been in a

relationship since she had gained admission into university at 17 was

one of the two guys she had ever been with and he knew that. She

thought he did. It hurt her that her ended their relationship on

hearsay, it hurt even more that her sisters were the perpetrators of her

heartache.

“Oh please spare us the drama”, said an uncaring Ndidi. She didn’t

even seem the least bit remorseful. If anything, they looked somewhat

happy to see her sad and distraught.

“Why?” she asked as her tears poured down her face. “What did i ever

do to deserve this from you guys?”

“See this foolish girl forming not knowing sha!”, Kamsi was in rare

form, foaming at the mouth as she stared at Amara like she had

tennis-sized tumour over her eye.

Amara was confounded.

“What do you mean?”

“So you want to claim that you did not seduce Koko into buying you

that wristwatch?”, said Kamsi, pointing at the Swatch Ndidi’s

boyfriend had gotten her two months ago.

“What?!”

“Or do you want to tell me that necklace you are wearing is not a

result of your indecent flirting with Ojo?” said a scowling Ndidi who

was looking at the gold chain around Amara’s neck. A birthday gift

from Kamsi’s boyfriend that had challenged Koko to get something for

her even though it was belated.

“What are you talking about?” Amara’s face was marred with

confusion.

“Are you still talking this rubbish?” asked Kamsi, clapping/dusting her

hands in the classic Yoruba woman move. “Abegi shift!”

“At least now she knows how Kosi felt when she destroyed her

relationship”, Ndidi said to Kamsi, her look of disgust still aimed at

Amara. Amara’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!!!”

... To be continued