and had not receded from his forehead, as was the case with many other men of his age or much younger than him. There was so much vitality in him that he could throw many young men down in a wrestling match. Though he was not close to the oldest in Okpara, yet he had seen a multitude of seasons. He had witnessed changes in Okpara which were unthinkable in distant days. On his cheeks he bore a first-born's marks that were no longer fashionable. Those three short vertical lines on each cheek identified him as the first male child of his parents.
Iniovo had stood out among Okpara elders as a knowledgeable man. He was known to tell the truth without hesitation, and those who sought his advice knew they would get an experienced contribution. He had quarrelled with his late uncle over the sale of Titi as a witch to an Izon man and had been very vocal against the practice. Many credited him with abolishing what he called a shameful practice.
He walked fast. If one could imagine a fast-moving chameleon, he was one. He made no noise. Dressed in his wrapper, his upper body always left bare, he was the ruling council's busiest representative. As the elder spokesman, Iniovo was the sharer of the money given the elders. He was different from his predecessor, who abused the office by keeping some money for himself before sharing. Iniovo shared everything and did not keep a penny for himself.
Iniovo did his work with dedication and a sense of joy. The council generally approved of what he proposed. He had gained much knowledge and acquired much wisdom from experience.
Tefe grew into the position of Okpara's and, by implication of its pre-eminence, Agbon's storyteller. Nobody got appointed until he had in all but name become one. As far back as he could remember, and that was since he started living with his grandmother, he listened to and told stories. He surely imbibed what made him a storyteller from the great mother, Grandma, the spinner and singer of wonderful tales. She was the unacknowledged one, he always responded when praised for his wonderful imagination.
They called him everybody's friend. Tefe's praise-name was “Water.” “Water has no enemy,” he answered when called.
He was brought from Kokori to Okpara when only three years old. Once there, he played many children's games and quickly integrated into his Okpara age-group. He excelled in koto game, spinning the cone-shaped shell on hard ground and bringing it to a halt face down. He wove tough ropes for drawing water from the well and strong baskets for carrying things and foodstuffs. He led a group of youths to the forest to shoot birds and they always brought down a good number. He set traps and caught small animals that they, as children, boasted about. Nobody ever thought of him as having only one hand in Okpara because of being related from only his mother's side. After all, in Agbon, they had the saying that what affected Okpara also affected Kokori. He had Agbon blood in his whole body because Kokori and Okpara were “children” of the same ancestral couple.
Ode lived by his hands, as people said. He wove different shapes of fine baskets, which many women craved to buy for different activities or storage. He made strong ropes for drawing water from deep wells. He also wove ropes used to climb palm trees, and no farmer had ever complained of his rope breaking and causing injury or death. He made cane armchairs from raffia palms that the old in particular liked to recline in. He was respected as a fine craftsman and was involved in communal affairs.
Serious issues were seldom discussed at the ohwarha, the men's-only joint. After all, those who frequented it only came there after the day's hard work. Every work Agbon people did was hard. Producing palm oil was an energy-sapping occupation. They went on foot to the bush to look for oil-palm trees, climbed the fruitful ones with ropes to cut down the ripened bunch of palm nuts, and then climbed down. It was a perilous task as many climbers had fallen down when their ropes had suddenly broken or had encountered snakes coiled at the top of trees poised to strike them with lethal poison. But that was only the first phase of the work to produce palm oil. They had to remove the seeds from the spiky bunch into a canoe-like press. Perhaps the most difficult part was squashing the oil from the nuts. It was a long and tedious process that wore out soles, hands, and the entire body. It was a torture for soles with corns. Farming, fishing, and rubber tapping were not easier either.
These men would not carry a burden all day, if they could give it up for some time to feel differently and relieved. They came to the joint to lighten up their lives. They knew they had to prepare for the next day's hard work by resting. They could not be busy all day long and still be strong enough to work hard the following day. One had to replenish lost energy to finish the work started, and they came often to the ohwarha to replenish themselves. But theirs was a compulsive calendar that called for work all year round. Even the festival days, when they were supposed to rest and be entertained, demanded hard work. Commonly seen as the gossip joint of the town, the ohwarha was removed from the streets. Its location was not arbitrary. Rather, the area was specially selected and set up to be outside earshot of normal street traffic. No town or village grew into the direction of the ohwarha, since it was not meant to be intruded into by any form of development. Once they arrived there, the men threw off their guard, became hilarious and noisy; they could talk loosely without being inhibited by concerns for children and women. Even those known in town as taciturn and quiet men became parrots in the ohwarha whose spirit loosened every tongue to speak its desire. The men were by themselves for what they described as men's talk. They so much relished this male aloneness that some frequenters of the ohwarha hurried over their day's work to be there on time. Others would leave some of the work they could complete that day just to be among the first to arrive at the joint. Many newly married men preferred the company of other men in the joint to that of their brides.
As if the joint was a conclave, the men had a mutual understanding not to expose their private discussions. They composed a song to describe their obligations at the joint:
What the eyes see in Okunever you tell it outside—Oku is your lover's nakedness.
What the ears pick in Okunever you broadcast it—Oku is your confidant's confession.
What the nose perceives in Okunever you disclose it—Oku is your talisman.
What the hands touch in Okunever you lift it away—Oku is your god's shrine.
Whatever you suffer from in Okunever you complain to anyone—Oku is your oracle.
Whatever ever happensnever never disrobe Okuof its brush—
Oku is the warriors' conclaveleave there dumbleave there dazed.
The ohwarha joint had bamboo seats set in rows. The seats were high; neither rain nor heat damaged them. Water did not remain on the surface of the bamboo wood; it dribbled off as soon as it fell on it. Also the sun's heat bounced off the smooth shine of the plant. Bamboo wood was light but resistant to weight as well. There was abundance of bamboo plants in Agbon forests to create as many of such joints as needed. And so there were many of these ohwarha joints in every Agbon town and village. Created in grove-like areas, the trees shaded folks from the sun. Frequenters loved to sit in the shade. If cotton and umbrella trees were not there, the original builders planted them for their shade. Occasionally they had palm trees around. Agbon people in general planted few trees, since they attributed planting trees in their forested land to the onset of madness. This they had known from experience. However, cotton and umbrella trees were two of the four trees they planted. There was oghriki, which was planted by founders of a settlement, to mark a town or village centre. Rubber trees were more recent and were tapped to make money.
“Who goes to the ohwarha hears the latest gossip,” the saying went.
That was partially true as its frequenters told what they had heard. They protected
