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19 February 2016

Who Lied?

Photo Source: sapphire75123.deviantart.com

I got into a fight today. It was for my right. My mother got mad at me, but it was her fault. Maybe.

My mother told me about her giant strides in school. How she was always the first in class.

My mother told me about her excellent awards. How she got a Nobel prize for best student. 

My mother told me about her friends. How she was the best among them and they were jealous.

Ekaette, My Loss (Part 4)

Photo Source: www.flickr.com


Guest Post From Ak Kingsley

My small hut was my sanctuary; it was built right in middle our compound with three other smaller huts surrounding it. My father originally occupied it until his demise.

This morning, I failed to wake up early and it was unusual of me. A while ago, Mma (my mother) had knocked, but I was too weak to get up from my raffia bed, which glued my body to it as though we covenanted never to part.

6 February 2016

Ekaette, My Loss (Part 3)

Guest Post From Ak Kingsley 

Photo Source: tangblog.com

Getting close, the figure became clearer; it was a female. The beam of moon light shone through the branches and pointed directly on parts of her face, shoulder and breasts.

She smiled, moving her left palm up and down the Ukim, rubbing it as if romancing a man. A strange cold breeze enveloped me, and my temperature rose as my heart pounced faster.

Ekaette was about the most beautiful young girl in our village. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, though she was far younger than me. My grandmother referred to her as anwaan anyin (daughter in-law) right from birth, with future intention. Her grandmother too was a party to the 'future conspiracy' and would always send Ekaette on errands to our house. It was a plan to get us acquainted, and ready for the future.

Countless times, I'd helped rebuild her grandmother's hut, fetched firewood for her mother and helped them in the farm. I did all of these to impress Ekaette. We both lost our fathers to communal war between our village and Ubium, over the burial of an Obongawan (Queen) in our community who was married from Ubium. They insisted that the Obongawan be interred in ther land while our Edidem forbade such.

War ensued and ended with our community having to pay heavily to Ubium, before taking the corpse for burial. We were told our fathers were overpowered and beheaded, after the duo killed the then Ubium's only prince and Obong Ekpo (leader or chief of Ekpo cult).

Here at the foot of the great Ukim stood the previously young naive daughter of the late warrior and slayer of Ubium's prince. Now, she was a full-grown woman with smooth skin, slightly fair with cat eyes that spoke of humility, innocence and pure beauty. Her eyes could melt the heart and hand of a warrior and get him to beg for a touch.

Photo Source: en.wikipedia.org

Her lips naturally red and inviting, especially while smiling, plus she had dimples to cap her facial beauty. A little below her neck (upper chest) was a tattooed insignia of nsibidi Ekpe (the secret/coded writing of Ekpe cult), which reminded her and her family that she was born on the night her father was initiated; hers was an insignia of love.

Her breasts stood pointy as she was young and fertile, having a slightly reddish nipples which was rare among young girls. She had beads on her waist and a piece of animal skin wrapped to cover her big rounded buttocks and private part, exposing her large hips down to her legs.

If Atakpo (our deity) was watching us at the foot of this Ukim, he'd better close his eyes and give us privacy, I foolishly thought to myself. Ekaette's soft grip felt like a sharp stroke running through my spine to my feet. Her breasts pressed on my bare chest as she placed her head on my shoulder, rubbing one hand on my hairy chest. Even the gods could feel the gravity of 'highness' I was on that sacred ground.

...and not even the mosquitoes biting me there could have  stopped me at that moment. I was determined...

For product placement/advertisement or if you would like to feature on this blog, contact me - yakadams7@gmail.com



About The Author
Ak Kingsley
Ak Kingsley is a young Nigerian broadcaster and writer, passionate about social and political literature. He also has special interest in black history. With a mic and a pen, he is inexhaustible.

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4 February 2016

Ekaette, My Loss (Part 2)

Guest Post From Ak Kingsley

Photo Source: Can Stock Photo

Afe Idung (village square) was quite a large space, which could contain the entire inhabitants of the village. Public meetings, wrestling contests, local treaties and festivals took place there. At a far corner, was a large Ukim (Mahogany tree) whose foot served as a point of sacrifices to Ikaan (spirits of the ancestors).

My eyes took a quick scan of the square. Kids were running around, teens were playing and there was general excitement under the moon light. We joined the company of Mkpongonyong, Akube and Isemin who were engrossed in an argument whether or not Prince Mkpang, first son of our Edidem (King), had the right to freely handpick a girl as his wife without consent from the girl. 

"That is not our tradition. Edidem only copied it from Arochukwu and wants to impose on us," Isemin argued. 

"Akparawa, let Mkpang pick his wife anyhow. He is the prince and deserves even more. It doesn't matter where Edidem (king) brought the idea from," Mkpongonyong disputed, as he poured the palm wine we brought into a small Ukpok (local palm wine cup).

Although Isemin and Mkpongonyong were somehow right, I nodded in support of the former, but uttered no word. It was a sacrilege to challenge Edidem's decision and deemed a crime against Atakpo (our local deity). Therefore, the culprit would be beheaded by Ekpe (a cult) and buried in the evil forest. 

As this flashed in my mind, I stylishly withdrew myself and left the ensemble without their notice to avoid being counted among them, just in case the argument got to Edidem's ears. Foolish of me though, I was already waist deep into the taboo, having spent a while and even drank palm wine with the threesome.

I quickly waved the fear aside and fed my mind on what brought me to Afe Idung. As I wandered about curiously, strolling around the area of the square where the girls were playing, my eyes carefully checked everyone present. 

Adiaha, Ikpong-Mma, Affiong, Nko, Arit, Mmafiong, Mkpoikanna, Utipime, Enomfon, Uyai, Eno, Ekanem-Anwan... I practically took a 'voiceless role call' and someone was missing. Mixed feelings struck me and I became restless. 

Where could she be? Did she deceive me? Was she in danger? Many questions stormed my mind. A strange fear gripped me. I couldn't get angry, but scared and worried about her whereabouts. 

In no time, I noticed that apart from the children who were playing, the older peers were in pairs. Even the spot where Isemin and co. sat was transformed to a meeting of two. The girls paired up with male folks at different spots, getting engrossed in intimacy.

As I was about to head home in disappointment, I heard a faint voice calling me from the direction of the Ukim. I looked closely and saw no one, then I began to retreat.

Rumours claimed that Ikaan would strike dead anyone who defiled the sanctity of the great Ukim. Another had it that evil spirits roamed about at night; sometimes in the form of a young man or girl, then harmed people especially at the square.

These stories came alive in my mind as I went numb. The voice was hers, but I wasn't sure if she was the one. Why would she choose this sacred Ukim of all the spots in the square? 

Could it be an evil spirit? But, Ikaan should protect an innocent person like me. I summoned courage and decided to oblige the call; after all, I had sworn not to let anything stop my fun.

For product placement/advertisement or if you would like to feature on this blog, contact me - yakadams7@gmail.com



About The Author
AK Kingsley
Ak Kingsley is a young Nigerian broadcaster and writer, passionate about social and political literature. He also has special interest in black history. With a mic and a pen, he is inexhaustible.



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2 February 2016

Ekaette, My Loss (Part 1)

Guest Post From Ak Kingsley

Photo Source: pinterest.com

Moonlight play was always a beautiful experience in the village square. It brought youths and children of the community together to engage in different kinds of folk plays. The kids (mostly below ten) often walked about naked and enjoyed their mkpok eto (traditional game) coupled with ekong nke (folk stories). 

Older girls would only have pieces of clothes wrapped around their waists to cover the buttocks and private parts, leaving the upper parts of their bodies bare. They exposed their navels and breasts, except for girls of royal lineage, who were able to afford nice clothes and beads to cover their bodies.

Udo Ntafiong, my friend, took it as his point of duty to come by my hut late in the evening, when the moon began to surface, just to make sure we stroll to Anwa Idung (Village Square) together. Tonight was very special to me, and I promised myself that nothing would hinder my fun.

I was still eating the roasted yam with fresh palm oil, garnished with dry ibat (bonga fish), served by my mother for dinner, when I heard foot steps approaching me from the dark.

"Sai, Akparawa, dah! I've caught you today. Ma'basi!", the voice exclaimed. I chuckled as I took a bite from the already palm oil soaked yam in my hand. 

I managed to hurriedly swallow the bitten yam, as I teased, "Ikpa Udo, afo ifod ami! You should have allowed me finish my meal before coming with your strong desire for food. Anyway, there's a piece left here. Amedi."

Before I could utter another word, Udo sat on the raffia stool beside me, descending on the last piece of roasted yam. "Se fien iso, you wanted to finish this delicious meal alone, amenie esid," he commented. I wasn't interested in arguing with him, as my mind was at the village square.

"Mma o" I called my mother, "I'm done eating. I'm going to Anwa Idung". I said it without caring if she heard or not. "Ikpa let's go mbok," I told Udo, then we both set out for the village square.

The village square was strategically located at a place where four bush tracks and a broader track formed a junction. Each of these tracks lead to neighbouring villages; one of them led to the ekpe forest, an abode of ekpe cult, where the famous itiat ekpe was kept.

Women and non-initiates were forbidden to ply the afang ekpe (ekpe route). Udo and I passed through the usung afe route to the village square. He hung the keg of palm wine on his shoulder, which he had taken along, so we'd drink away our worries.

Usung afe was  little bit dark. Udara (star apple), mango and gmelina trees grew at both sides of the track, with their branches joining atop to form a canopy. This provided a shade along the track, and beams of light illuminated from the rays of the moonlight. Screeches from crickets and owls greeted us as we walked through the usung afe.

Approaching the village square, I could hear voices, songs, claps and laughter of children and youths. My heart began to beat faster in excitement. However, I managed to hide the feeling from Udo, who was talking endlessly, even when I barely responded.


About The Author
Ak Kingsley

Akanimo Kingsley is a young Nigerian broadcaster and writer, passionate about social and political literature. He also has special interest in black history. With a mic and a pen, he is inexhaustible.
Connect with Ak on Facebook.


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