THE BURIAL

'You can't marry an osu'. My mother had drummed in my ears when I was about getting married to the only man I had ever loved. 'There is more to marriage than love, in short, the fact that you love him this much is enough reason for you to run for your dear life' She said, placing her hands on my shoulders. 'I have been married for years now so you should know that I have a great deal of experience in matters concerning marriage. Marriage is not what you think it is. It is tough. There are times when you contemplate committing suicide, so you can get away from all of it. There are also the good times though, plenty of it, but to add getting married to a man who is considered a sacrifice to the gods, a man who is ostracized from the community, who can't build a house in his village, that's terrible my dear'. She pauses and sips her coffee.
'Mummy, really, I don't know what to say to you. How can you judge a man because of a stupid law some ignorant illiterate dead people made. Okenna didn't do anything. He was just unfortunate to be born into a family that people think is cursed. Mummy you are professor, it's hard to believe that after all your days in Stanford you still can't understand that all this things are superstitions and total bullshit'. My emotions were getting the most of me.
'You know what is bullshit' she asked. 'Your childishness is total bullshit, you have refused to grow up. Don't you think about the children you would have? If you are okay with your husband being an Osu, that's okay. But do you think your children would love it that their father has no identity. Use your head my child, emotion leads one astray. There are issues were you have to jettison your emotion and use your head, this is one of them'.
I had stared at her with so much disgust, that not even the best artist in the world could get the deep mark of my frown.
I went ahead with the marriage.
After ten years of marriage, we had three beautiful children; Ngozi, Jidechukwu and Ndidiamaka. Before Okenna died, no woman could have been happier than I was; with three lovely children and the most caring husband in the world.
Sitted on a stool with one bad leg, mosquitoes buzzing in my ears, all those memories are totally gone. They had become dreams, my reality was right before me. Pinching me, calling me.
'We can't bury him and that is final' Nna anyi Dinta said, his booming voice, defiant.
Tears gathered in my eyes, I couldn't look at him, anger seared through my veins and visual clips of me dashing towards him and strangling him till I see the last of his tongue, raved through my mind.
'That's true' another of the Chiefs seconded ' Your husband was an Osu, you married him and you are now Osu, your children are now Osu. In as much as your husband helped the community, it doesn't make him a less of an Osu than he is. We simply can't offend the gods, an Osu can not be buried in our land.

As I drove down the tiled road, great pain filled me. Okenna built this road with his hard earned money for a village that has refused to bury him. He wanted them to accept him. He wanted to wipe off the taint that he was Osu. Oh! Those greedy things. They accepted his presents with open arms and smiling mouths. That he was Osu didn't matter to them then, that he shouldn't be shaked, hugged, didn't matter to them, since he brought them bags of rice, baskets of tomatoes, gallons of oil, tubers of yam. Okenna spent millions of naira building their roads, their bore holes. He so desperately wanted to belong. While he was alive he was a haunted man. Being rich, famous and intelligent didn't matter to him. He would always say 'A man without a place to call home is no man'. I would cry and plead with Okenna. I would often say 'Okenna look at me, look at this children, we are your home. You don't need a bunch of illiterate village people to call you brother.' He would reply ' Baby, it didn't matter if they accepted me or not until all of you came into my life. What if Ndidiamaka and Ngozi wants to get married? Would their Husbands people bring palm wine to our house in the city? What of Jidechukwu, what will I tell him? That he is not accepted in his village. That he can't buy land and build a house for his wife and children in the village. That is if at all anybody agrees to marry any of our children.'
'You are just like them. So freaking traditional. All those shit don't matter Okenna. Village, land, wine carrying, they don't matter. Love would find our children the way I found you, and Osu or no Osu, love conquereth all things.'

Burying him in this land was his last wish and they have refused, the same Chiefs that strolled in and out of our house asking for favors.
Okenna's body was arriving from the hospital to the village the next day. Since they have refused to bury him, the plausible thing to do is to bury him in Enugu, in the government cemetery like a man with no identity. I made a quick phone call. 'I want him to be brought in quietly, no sirens, no long cars.' I told the mortuary attendant that was escorting the body down from Enugu general hospital were Okenna had died.

'Kenechukwu open the gate' I shouted. The car drives in, a big black jeep that carries the corpse of my husband. I greet the men, and usher them inside. They eat rice and stew with chicken, I offer them beer also. I am so grateful to them, they carried out my instructions perfectly. No one knows my husband's body is in this village. No one except me and Kenechukwu, my younger brother. They leave an hour later, after carrying my husbands corpse into a room I had specially decorated for him; with flowers, beautiful satin materials. They lie his coffin on the bed and they leave. I am alone with Okenna's corpse. I am too scared to open it. I sit beside the coffin and cry. The thought that my bubbly Okenna was inside a coffin, motionless, dead as dead could be was frightening. How would I live without him. Yes, he made a lot of money for me and the kids, but I need what money can't buy, I need Okenna. I cry for a few minutes. I take comfort in knowing that I am going to give him something, after all the love he showered on me. Okenna deserves what I am about to give him.

When I told kenechukwu my plan, he called me a mad woman. I didn't refute, I didn't deny. I was a mad woman for Okenna. I could be anything for Okenna. It's midnight already. I and Kenechukwu drive to the spot. To the spot where he had dug up the day before. Okenna's body is at the back of the car. We drive slowly, carefully. We reach the spot and we gently carry Okenna's corpse out of the car. He is really heavy, but Kenechukwu is strong, I am strong too. We drop the corpse close to the six feet hole, Kenechukwu and some boys had dug. I don't know how he did it. I don't know what he told the boys he was doing with a hole as deep and as wide as this. We try to lower the Coffin into the hole but it is heavy. 'This is crazy' Kenechukwu says with a strong whisper. I ignore him. What does he know? The coffin rolls inside and lands inside the hole and I hear a big thud, I fidget. The coffin is inside the hole, but it has been turned upside down. I don't care, what matters most is that, it isn't open and it is six feet under the ground. I tell Kenechukwu to wait for me. He is scared, it's 1pm in the night and he is with a corpse. He doesn't refuse, though he is scared he would never admit it. I hurry home. Ngozi, Jidechukwu and Ndidiamaka are patiently waiting for me. I had told them of the plan earlier. They hurry into the car with their flowers, candle lights and the papers were they wrote a tribute to their father. In ten minutes we are back with Kenechukwu, he is safe. I officiate the ceremony. We pray in low voices. I pray for my husband's soul, I pray he finds peace where ever he is. I pray that he is praying for us too. Ndidiamaka begins first, she reads her tribute to her father, she ends saying 'Papa, if there is such a thing as a second life, in that second life, I still want to be your first daughter'. I don't know if she is crying, but I am. She loved Okenna. I know she died inside the day Okenna died. Jidechukwu goes next, but he doesn't finish, he begins to cry loudly, I try to pacify him. Then my last daughter reads her tribute, hers is short. 'Daddy I miss you so much, You are my hero, my gem. I think of you everyday. I hope you think of me too. Sleep like an angel daddy, because you are an angel.' Tears flow down my cheeks. It is my turn. I don't have a paper. 'Okenna, Sleep well, You might be dead, but you live on in my heart, in the heart of your children. Your last wish was to be buried in your own land. Osu or no Osu my love, I have given you your last wish.'
We all drop flowers on the coffin. Jidechukwu drops his favorite teddy bear and whispers, 'Daddy, I don't want you to be lonely'. I feel like crying again. We all pick a shovel and begin to throw sand on the coffin, till our hands begin to ache.