Scalding hot tears spilt out of Ifueko’s swollen eyes mingling with the salty dribble from her nostrils into her mouth.
She wailed in reckless abandon, her swaying form gathered into itself as she interjected her pitiful cries with grief-lade idioms ‘Chi mu o, ewu ata mu igu n’isi – My God, the goat has eaten palm fronds off the top of my head’.
‘Why? Chukwu Okike. Why has such calamity befallen me, she asked her God of creation.
The repeated echos of ‘ndo, sorry’ and other words of commiseration from the growing gathering of neighbours and friends fell on deaf ears.
Her five young ones surrounded her on the bare ground of their uncompleted home, their young minds unable to comprehend the gravity of their situation as the men of the compound struggled to bring out their father’s body from the well.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Chi mu o – My God
Chukwu Okike – God of Creation