The Rainmaker by Stephen Toochi

THE RAINMAKER 

An humorous story by Stephen Toochi 

"Toochukwu!" she called. I tossed and turned. My hiss was long as that of a cobra as her voice woke me from sleep.

"So you're lazing around because you're not going to  school or farm today right?" Her voice was a budding thunder.

"Good morning nne." I said admist yawns while seated on my sheet less bed. I didn't move until she her voice came again.

"If I jam you there. You'll get your self up and get my goats food to eat." I stood, staggered and bent to fold my bed.

From a distance, sounds from gongs, trumpets, bands and drums filled the air. That was the reason no one in our clan was going to either school or farm that day. The siren blew our heads off as it approached what used to be chief Okorie's compound. Was, because he was the body embalmed in the hearse.

I dashed out of the house. Singlet and a tattered black shorts, my only companion. I Sped past my Nne on the way, she tied her wrapper above her chest. She called but my mind was made up never to give  a reply.

"You'll meet me at home," she cussed beneath her breath.

The gate of Chief Okorie's house was different. His house wore a different look. Aside from the new paint. It was obvious there was some renovation on the building. I stared at the convoy; the fleet of cars that accompanied the hearse. The foot soldiers singing and dancing and then the instrumentalists.

I  soaked in the moment even as the cold breeze brushed past the trees. Danced a few steps with the dancers when a wicked slap shifted my cheeks. I grimaced in pain, ran forward a little before cocking my head. I knew it can only be Nne. It was her with a raised brow that said many things yet revealed nothing. I disappeared out of the vicinity to get the goats some grass to eat.

About 11 am, I stormed into Maazi Okorie's compound. Everybody was in their best attires. The men were dressed in a turtle necked shirts with wrappers firmly tied around their waist. Some had caps on while others don't. The women were girded with beads, wrappers and huge head ties. I wore a plain blue shirt with a black pairs of trousers: a gift from the seminarian, I had to put to good use.

A glance at my left revealed Nne sitting with her fellow 'nwunye di' , she didn't see me neither was she going to do anything even if she did. I licked my chapped lips. I was going to break the record of eating seven plates of rice here. On my right. The family made a tent of bamboo called "owoko" and every person in there, wore a white polo with a clear picture of a bald maazi Okorie on it.

"Celebration of life" the poster had said but what life was maazi Okorie's children celebrating? Their father was a wolf who exploited everyone because of his riches. He had once told Nne that for him to lend her a sum of money,  she must be cleaning his house daily until she paid up.

"That's ridiculous!" Nne had blurted and never gave in, she had always been a strong willed human so she sourced the funds elsewhere.

The priest was still conducting mass when the weather changed. It was sudden that people scampered for safety. The wind roared as it uprooted leaves and branches along. The cloud rumbled. It wore a gloomy look like a kid ready to vomit all she had eaten.

I found myself in the kitchen. With eyes darting round as I clutched my lacasera pet bottle drink. I was taken shade from the impending rain that loomed. God was going to punish Okorie from his funeral to hell, I thought.

Then like a miracle. Mr Nduka surfaced. Nduka-aku is his full name. A name that means Life is bigger/ worth more than wealth. People rumored him to be bad, fetish and diabolical but all I saw in him was shades of goodness. Two stand out gestures were:  when he paid for my transport fare to school and his decision to allow my friends and I pluck his oranges with his permission.

Immediately I saw his back. I dashed out to say hello. He had been invited, that was for sure. As I approached, he was different from other days. He wore an animal skin that covered his chest downwards. His old thready bag hung on his shoulder. Then his eyes had chalks smeared at it's corners.

I stopped in my tracts and decided to watched him from a distance. I heard he does these things but I've never been a witness. He wasn't called "Ndu the rainmaker" for fun. The skies still barked with thunders and lightnings. He sat, his legs curled into each other. With his native chalk he drew four lines, signifying the four market days; Eke, Orie, Afor and Nkwo. He threw his cowries, organized four woods, made sure their edges kissed, then he pulled out dried grasses, scattered it on the woods and sprinkled the native chalk on it.

A kolanut was presented to him. He broke it into four different parts, bite out of all four and muttered some incantations. I watched as the woods caught fire and started emitting smokes. He hovered his hand around the smoldering fire. A quick look at the clouds showed it's dissipating form. One thing was missing.

Nduka beckoned on the eldest son of Maazi Okorie, the one we call him "brother Emii". He neared as Nduka whispered something to his ears.

He rushed in, out he came with a bottle of "Calypso", the best thing that had happened to drinks at the time. Nduka shook his head. His countenance unwavering.

"I said dry gin, the deities want gin not American drink," his voice echoed into my head. Brother Emii lowered his head and whispered back.

Nduka took the drink, uncorked it and took a little into his mouth. He spun the liquor. The next thing he should have done was spit it on the woods but instead he swallowed it. The taste was out of this world because I saw his eyes lit up.

He took a gulp four more times and the bottle was empty. He asked for another, then another.

"The deities wants more drinks" he reiterated the whole time.

He stood, tried to move but staggered backwards. He was held from behind. His eyes were like a flaccid ink in it's socket. The  Calypso had total control of him as he reached for his staff.

A song tore through his coarse voice.

"Ome mma na mma yi ala, Ome njo na njo yi ala. Ikwu amaro, Ibe ezi ya. Nke onye metara oburu."

He was yet to pull it from the ground when the flood gates of heaven opened. It rained cats, dogs, leopards, lions and tigers.

Till today. It's still a debate whether or not spitting the drink was the cause of the heavy downpour.

© Stephen Toochi