I am often compelled to think that Chukwu is a She, with inexplicable attributes of femininity – kind, patient, loving with all her heart even on days when we don’t deserve it. Jealous too, with a rage that burns with unimaginable fury when pushed to the wall. A consuming fire!
Sitting at the back pew, I listened to the preacher as he admonished the congregation on the Attributes of God – a Loving Father and a Consuming fire. My mind wandered off the day’s sermon into Madu’s relationship and Akuchi, and the latter’s godness to her lover.
Akuchi – a goddess of a woman, her mother’s Savage daughter, the one who will not lower her voice. Always ready to love without hesitation. Like God to mankind, she loved Madu unrestrictedly. Madu – a man, Akuchi’s man, unlike Akuchi, and, like mankind, exuded his humanness in all hues of humanity, always falling in and out of grace and goodness. Theirs was riddled with all sorts of emotions and a rollercoaster of events. Isn’t that what a relationship entails after all? Joy, sadness, happiness, some pains here, some gains there? The highs and the lows. Though Madu was the bringer of many things evil in their love life, Akuchi loved him and we never had to wonder.
Until Madu crossed the line.
For Akuchi philandering and violence were like dying a sinner – eternal damnation. For other misdeeds her love was free and forgiveness was unending. Adultery however, was as a sin of blasphemy and abuse, she deemed as idolatry. She had walked in on an office romp with her husband and a strange woman. She became a consuming fire. Madu thought being aggressive was manly and struck her to quiet her down. The brewing chaos came calmly. She walked out on him and never went back to the house.
It’s been ten years since the office romp, and watching her lead the choir in that solemn rendition, I could tell that Akuchi, like Chukwu, isstill Akuchi – in all her grace, the goddess with the golden sun smile, unchanged, unhinged, undisturbed and undeterred by man’s wanton excesses.
Madu’s voice jolted me out of my reverie.
“I know I messed up. I made a terrible mistake. You think she’ll accept me?” Madu’s head hung low like a flag flown at half-mast.
“Let’s hope mercy speaks”
AUTHOR BIO
Kester, currently residing and working in Lagos, Nigeria as an attorney, is also a freelance writer whose pen coins words that describes the daily and regular throes, woes and struggles faced by the average Nigerian youth. Besides writing, Kester enjoys being in the Courtroom advocating for the protection of human rights, law and order, and a sane society that makes it easy for citizens to thrive.
