she waited for why he had asked to talk to her in private.
“Here I am!” she exclaimed, as soon as he arrived at the point of the market they had designated as their meeting place.
“Yes, I have asked you to see me for us to talk,” Amraibure said.
“Tell me what you have been waiting to tell me in private,” she asked him.
“It is about two of us,” he said, and paused to take a deep breath.
He knew he must be the man to boldly propose to the woman his desire for them to be husband and wife. He also realized that he must show courage before the person he wanted to marry by not being shy. How could a shy hunter take home any big game? He asked himself. He summoned the spirit of courage to speak his mind to her. He knew this was a decisive moment in his life and he had to be bold and not stutter to tell his true feelings to Kena. At the same time, he wanted to be calm and measured. He did not want to be seen as nervous by his potential companion for life.
“Kena, I have known you for a long time. You are not only beautiful but also so well behaved. Nobody doubts your good qualities. I have been thinking of you for as long as I have been thinking that I should get married. I love you and will like to marry you. I want to let you know my deep feelings for you before our parents know about my desire to have you as my dear wife,” he told her, as he stood beside her in between stalls of traders, amidst the coming-and-goings and haggling that made the market a noisy place.
As soon as he had finished talking, she burst out laughing. She laughed so hilariously that tears came down her cheeks. A few passers-by in the milling crowd turned to her, but she was not concerned. She knew the people did not know her and so was not bothered by their gaze at her beside a young man.
The tearful laughter struck Amraibure as ominous. He who expected her to accept or reject his proposal was abandoned in a confused plane. Confusion always made him look weak and vulnerable, he had come to realize. But on another level, the laughter could be Kena's own shield against his direct shot, he believed. Girls could be shy, he was learning from experience, but this laughter was no such act. The laughter rang with mockery and with the clarity of a bell.
“Won't you give me time to think about it?” she asked.
“Of course, yes. Think deeply about it,” he answered.
“Is that all you want to say?” Kena asked.
“I will do my best for you and the family we will raise,” he told her.
“I don't know what to say, but I will give you my reply next market day,” she said.
It was on that note that they parted. It was late in the afternoon and the market was gradually losing its crowd of traders and buyers who were on their way out with wares they had bought or left unsold.
Amraibure got neither yes nor no. Kena's instantaneous laughter continued to ring in his head as he went home and for days to come lived with the ringing headache of the young woman's obsequious laughter.
Kena knew that Amraibure was a strong young man, a promising one for that matter, who might live to be great in Okpara and in all Agbon, and it would not be a bad idea being his wife. He danced well, he followed old people to do things, and was respected for the way he carried himself at least before them. The child who respected elders would himself grow to earn respect, she thought. It was with the eyes one could tell the ram that would stand out of a pack, she also believed.
But while it would not be a bad idea to be Amraibure's wife, Kena was not sure she would like to be that woman. Her feelings towards him were not warm enough for somebody she would like to marry and live with for the rest of her life. She could not imagine her conceiving and having a baby or children for him. She could not even imagine their sleeping together as husband and wife and making love. She could not imagine them living in one home. However, she was unsure and would tell her mother at a suitable time.
After two days of delaying and acts of coyness that betrayed her as holding back something important that she wanted to say, she felt she had to break the news of Amraibure's marriage proposal to her mother. It was at night, before she would leave her mother for her bed. She sat beside her mother on the bed.
“Mama, I have something to tell you,” Kena told her mother.
“What did you hear that you want to tell me about?” her mother asked.
“It is not what I heard, but what somebody told me,” she answered.
“What is so special in what somebody told you that you have to tell it to me?” her mother asked.
“You won't believe this but it happened,” Kena said.
“Has somebody asked you to marry him? Who is the lucky man who wants to marry my beautiful daughter?” she asked in a tender manner, stretching her hand to hold her daughter's right hand.
Kena was confused for a moment and could not answer immediately.
“Go ahead and tell me what happened,” her mother ordered in a rather jovial manner.
“Amraibure says he likes me and will like to marry me,” she said.
“No!” her mother said emphatically.
“Why, Mama?”
“Amraibure cannot become your husband,” her mother replied.
This was one of those things for which she said “No!” before reasons of her refusal came to her mind, Kena's mother reflected.
“Amraibure, the shrine boy?” she asked.
“That was when he was small,” Kena said, and felt surprised that she was defending Amraibure.
“But the spirits of past victims do not leave the living alone,” her mother told her.
Kena was quiet. She did not know what to say but would listen to her mother.
“Amraibure has been the priest's help, and those who perform sacrifices are haunted by what they sacrifice. One may think that the chickens, goats, cows, and bulls are dead and have no power, but that is not true. They have spirits, as human beings, and they trouble who slaughter them,” Kena's mother explained to her.
Everybody associated Amraibure with sacrifices and eating the offal of sacrificed animals. Not being a priest, he might not have the immunity against what he had sacrificed over the years. Even those sacrificed to could trouble the carriers of sacrifice when not satisfied with the offerings. Ancestors and gods became more demanding, the more they were served, Kena's mother wondered quietly. However, she felt she must speak out her mind to her daughter.
“Someday the gods would ask for the carrier of sacrifice, if they were not pleased with what they were offered. A dancer can always change steps, as things can turn on their heads,” she now reflected aloud to Kena's hearing.
“The pursuer can become the pursued! The one sacrificing can become the sacrifice! It is like what happens in our waters. The crocodile is often not interested in the worm bait; it is interested in the fisherman himself!” she again told her daughter.
These were reasons Kena could not clearly understand.
Only
