The Choirmaster (1)

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 to harm their grandchildren and he could hide there with the women and non-initiates till the stipulated days for the ekpo masquerade were over and ordinary folks could freely walk everywhere again.

Across the clans, there were seven market days and the eighth day was treated as sacred when folks stayed home from all work, whether in the bush, stream or river. Men tied their loincloths, walked from compound to compound, drank palm wine and ate bitter kola, kola nuts and alligator pepper. The well-to-do treated the palates of their friends with 'ukang', a pepper soup given a special flavour with acidic substance added to oil. Everyone would delightfully wash their hands and let their fingers mash the dried fish or meat cooked till tender and direct the pieces to their mouths.

'Adet', as the eighth day was known, was full of songs, dance and food. Libations were poured to the gods.

When Ukoko, the choirmaster, got to his grandma's place, he remembered the freedom he enjoyed as a child.

What his mother's siblings wanted but couldn't have; when Ukoko arrived there, they used him as the channel to getting what their father forbade them from touching. When the old man returned and asked how came certain things left their positions, they would say Ukoko carried out the acts. Instead of rebuke the children would have received, the grandchild got praised of how strong he was, for example, in climbing the pear tree to pluck the fruits. It was said that a grandfather who once scolded his grandchild for plucking the pears without his permission had that pear tree withered and dead.

Every grandparent was in dread of scolding or beating his or her grandchild across the clans. As an adult, whenever in trouble, a grandparent's home was the safest place to go to till your troubles were over. Ukoko, even with his new ways, still wallowed in the tradition and his folks, of whatever belief, respected the sanctity of his sanctuary. No rash of evil touched his hide during the period of his self-incarceration.

The lull in the rains, when the ground was scraped to pluck the new yam tubers, was the beginning of the ekpo masquerade season. The adult ekpo masquerade session started then and would last till the harvest proper, when the rains finally ceased and the dry season sauntered in.

The youth masquerade season waltzed in with the dry season and lasted throughout the harmattan when the chilly wind powders the leaves, the hair and everything in sight and colours them brown. The tail end of the harmattan was the festive period when yam was harvested and the tubers stored in the barns and the bountifulness of nature was celebrated. The children (boys only) ekpo masquerade session started then and lasted till the new year when land was cleared for the new planting season.