Godwin Inyang's Blog

The urge to cough was so strong that it was hard for Abong to resist. It was quirky. In the situation he was in now, it was an unforgivable sin for him to make the slightest sound, say, with his feet walking or closed lips. His hands only brushed the leaves dangling on his path. Abong did everything possible to suppress his cough. With his palms, he covered his mouth to prevent any sound escaping from it. Then, the urge made him wriggle his feet about and he knelt down where he would not meet dead sticks or dry leaves to make them snap or rustle. With the back of his cupped hands on the ground, he coughed into them. Done coughing, he was somewhat relieved he had been able to muffle the sound as much as he could but he was perplexed at such an occurrence. It never happened to him before during any of his escapades. He sat down on the ground and stared at the bumper bunch of plantains with a few bitten by bush babies and pecked by the birds. One mind told him it was a bad omen while the ...

Times changed and the choirmaster saw some changes around the ekpo masquerade that made him cringe. He called one of the changes an idiotic display. Young people, mostly teenagers, were openly hooting at the masked men, jumping up to catch arrows the masked men shot at them and would race off as the ekpo chased them and shot arrows at their fleeing backs. Parents shouted themselves hoarse at their wards to stay away from the rowdy elements teeming through the streets. Now and then, one or two youngsters lost their eyes. As the aura around the masquerade was dimmed by the changing times, the choirmaster borrowed a beat or two from the masked folks into the songs he composed for his choir. That got the core traditionalists cross-carpeting. You would see them taking special seats on Sundays to nod their heads to the choirmaster's special anthems till the ekpo season returned. Then some got sucked up and left the shrine permanently for the altar. One even became an elder. Elder Uteh...

Can anyone put on a mask, rub the charcoal and pretend to be an ekpo? Definitely, not in Annang land. Where someone is suspected of doing that, an initiate would approach him and communicate. Not a mouth-to-mouth chat but by signs and symbols. He could scribble on the ground, jump to the side of the path and pluck a leaf or more and position them in special ways the other person would need to interpret. Failure to respond appropriately could lead to fatal consequences. The ekpo means of communication was known as 'Nsibidi' and it was the best kept secret of the cult. Not even the 'akwa ekpo' passed it down to his son, the choirmaster. Apart from the ekpo masquerade, the other plays in Annang land were: ekong, uta, abang, utu-ekpe and mbede Annang. The ekong players wore raffia masks, sang with a device hidden in their masks and which sounded like the call of a raven, ekong ebuk ayop, which they derived their name from. They preceded the ekpo masquerade as their season t...

Ukoko's father was the 'akwa ekpo', the bare-faced leader of the ekpo masquerade, who shook his 'ekpud', the hand-held wooden musical instrument with clappers, chanted and sang from the village square to favoured homes across the clan. When entering a house, the masked man walked backwards, removed his mask and sat on the floor. The ekpo remained ekpo from the start to the end of his activity and the owner of the house or whosoever was free to join them, and of course only initiates, and would never identify them by their real names. When done eating and drinking, the masked men warmed the house with their songs and the rendition would be charming. Apart from the 'ekpud' shook by their leader, the song and the accompaniment were made by the voice. When departing the house, the masked men walked backwards. During the stipulated days of the week for the adult ekpo masquerade, no feet other than those of the initiates walked the paths of the clan. All the basic...

The adult masked men wore masks, from charming to grotesque, carved from wood and some pieces of wood had special powers like the ones derived from the ' nkubia ' tree. Who wore the ' nkubia ' mask had a lasso tied on his waist and held by an able-bodied tender. There were moments the ' nkubia ' wearer acted as if possessed, would go on a rampage and it was up to the tender to restrain him. Sometimes, he would need to smash eggs on the forehead of the mask before the rage would cease. The adult masked men had their head coverings which stretched below the shoulders made from the grass called ' mkpatat '. It was the same grass used for making wreaths placed on graves. ' Ekpo ' for the mask-wearer is also the word used for a spook. The adult masked men painted their trunks and limbs pitch-black with charcoal. They strapped machetes to their waists, wore strips of cloths around their loins and held bows and arrows in their hands. Bells were tied t...

THE drums pulsated rhythmically all night and the choirmaster was gripped with fear. The seven high-pitched lead drums recited familiar themes like the thief who caught a thief, the skinny girl who overthrew the superman and the husband who fancied himself a teacher, measuring every piece of fish with a ruler. The drums had rolled that night in the village square to announce to the clan the start of the adult ekpo masquerade season. The choirmaster who had embraced the new path and was spreading the message of the foreign missionaries with their strange gods as an interpreter had lost favour with the custodians of their tradition and had to vacate his home three days in the traditional week (comprising of eight days) throughout the adult ekpo season. He put a few belongings in his raffia bag, strung it across his shoulder and sneaked along the dirt track to his maternal grandma's place in a neighbouring clan. He was safe there as it was a taboo across the clans for grandparents...

 WARNING: ADULT CONTENT! As the news spread about the returnee, his friends were trooping in, slapping his hand and clapping his shoulder and back. Seeing the mood the father was in, they ordered more bottles of beer and meat.The place was foggy with cigarette smoke. The language changed from Efik diluted with Ibibio and Annang dialects to pidgin English as the Ejagham and Bekwarra-speaking fellows joined their friends. The party was on till dusk. When night bimbled in, the young men and their girlfriends melted away for fear of the known unknown, the police who could swoop in or not. Everyone went away with the instruction by Utai to 'draw the ear' of their friend, Imo. Honestly,  the boys didn't stop smoking and the police boots like vultures' talons on the iron sheets of a slaughter-house didn't stop descending click-clack on the shanties. When the ill-timed marathon persisted, Amba and all his friends eventually vanished from their homes. They slept the nights o...