Bronze

Bronze

The sun set beautifully over the village of Umuri, casting a vivid orange light over the countryside. Emeka Obi stood at the edge of the circle, stretching his arms.

Today, the 2nd market day of the month, was the most important day of his life. It was the day he would shed the rags of childhood and step into the glory of manhood. As he stretched, he glanced at the crowd of people forming around the circle. Chief Dika sat in his throne, deep in thought. Nna was sitting with his friends, a cup of palm wine in his hands and a deep frown across his face. He looked away quickly.

He looked across the circle at his opponent. Chibuzor Aralu met his gaze. He was a tall boy of twenty with light skin and a big head. His face was set in a look of grim determination. He is not weak, Emeka thought. Chibuzor was famous for his strength throughout the village. He could work tirelessly on a piece of land for hours on end. Emeka smiled. He did not want a weak opponent.

A band came into the circle, singing songs about the great wrestlers from Onitsha and Umahia. Emeka felt his heart sing with joy. He had always enjoyed songs of great wrestlers. Now he was going to join them. He wanted his name to be told throughout Igboland, to be as powerful as the great Okonkwo of Umahia. Someone struck a gong and it sent a reverberating bang throughout the village.

It was time.

Emeka walked into the center of the circle. Chibuzor did the same. The band left the circle.

Chief Dika raised his hand.

The match began.

Chibuzor attacked quickly. In one fluid movement, he pulled back and hurled his fist at Emeka’s face. Emeka easily parried the blow. But his opponent was shrewd. He lashed out with a series of quick punches, all aimed at Emeka’s belly. Each punch landed with a dull thud and Emeka felt his insides lurch. He looked up. A large foot was hurtling towards his face. He ducked and stumbled backwards, barely avoiding the kick. He stood up, panting. Chibuzor was strong and fast, Emeka thought. Chibuzor’s mouth spread into large grin.

“Bring me a real fighter!” Chibuzor proclaimed. The crowd burst into laughter.

Emeka roared with anger and ran at Chibuzor. He raised his arms, anticipating a blow. Fueled by rage, Emeka charged at Chibuzor, ramming his shoulder into Chibuzor’s belly, knocking him to the ground. In seconds, he was on top of him. Over and over again, he smashed his fist into Chibuzor’s face, feeling the blood spurt from his lips.

The crowd was silent.

Emeka got up and walked to the center of the circle. Chibuzor lay on the ground, his bottom lip bleeding and his face covered in bruises.

He wasn’t getting up.

The crowd erupted into a cheer as a group of children dragged Chibuzor out of the circle. Emeka stood proudly in front of the Chief, his dark skin glistening with sweat. He had done it.

He had become a man.

***

The Obi household was a busy one that night. Visitors poured into the compound with bowls of Nsala soup and large yams. The women were in the kitchen, pounding yam and making vegetable soup. Nwabueze Obi and his friends sat in the living room, drinking palm wine and laughing hysterically as he repeated the events of the day to the party.

“And then my boy got up and knocked the other one senseless!”Emeka’s father said proudly, as yet another bottle of palm wine was placed in front of him.

Kelechi Obi watched as his father drank more and more palm wine, his voice growing louder with each gulp. His brother had done what no other man in Umuri had done before. He had graduated into the 30s age grade when he was just 18.

When children are born in Igbo society, they automatically get assigned into age grades. Kids in the age grade are expected to be close friends and to develop together. When a child is seen to be mature, he is given the opportunity to graduate to the next level. For example, a 12 year old could graduate into the teenager age grade if he completed some monumental task.

Kelechi sat at the edge of the room, seething with resentment. Emeka had always been bigger than him. Now the whole world knew he was stronger too. It’s not fair! he thought, angrily. Emeka flexed his muscles, and a group of girls swooned all around him.

Kelechi left the room. He walked outside and stared into the night sky.

Why did men wrestle to graduate into higher age grades?, he thought, bitterly. Kelechi was never a strong boy. He was always tall and thin. Nevertheless, he had tried over and over again to rise in rank.

He had never won.

Why did men wrestle to graduate into higher ranks? The juju men said that the ancestors liked to see the fights. How did the juju men know what the ancestors wanted, he wondered. How did they talk to them? Kelechi knew that people who held his opinions were few and far between. The few that did were smart enough not to speak openly about their views. If they did, they were found dead a few days later. The villagers said that the gods were angry with the dissenters and had killed them.

Kelechi smiled wryly, fairly certain that the gods didn’t leave stab wounds in their victims.

He heard a noise and saw his brother’s large figure walking towards him. He stood behind him.

They both stood there, silent, trying to guess who was going to break the silence. Finally Emeka spoke.

“They have Nsala soup inside. Don’t you want to try some?”

Silence.

“Come on, Kelechi. I’m trying really hard.”

“Why do you think you’re better than me, Emeka?”, Kelechi said quietly, his voice brimming with hatred.

“I don’t understa-”

“I am the older brother! I am supposed to be the one Nna talks about! Why are you trying to steal my birthright?!” Kelechi screamed, his voice quivering with emotion.

“I’m not trying to do anything! It’s not my fault that you’re a weakling!”

“What did you say to me, Emeka? Did you just call me weak?” Kelechi said, turning around and facing his brother. He balled up his fists in fury.

“You heard what I said. Are you going to try to fight me? I beat your arse when we were children and I’ll do it again tonight.” Emeka said, mockingly.

That did it. Kelechi ran towards Emeka, throwing punch after punch after punch. Emeka parried them easily and with practiced aim, hurled his fist right into Kelechi’s gut. Kelechi felt his stomach lurch and he winced in pain. But he didn’t let up.

If anything, fighting with Emeka as a child had toughened him up. He was never going to be as strong as Emeka was but his body had become almost immune to pain.

The commotion brought a crowd outside. The crowd watched as the two brothers struggled for supremacy.