SHORT STORIES: AKOSUA 1

AKOSUA

• The first day

              She swayed and moved to the rhythm jingling her waist beads. She moved slowly then as the rhythm took hold of her body she started dancing with so much vigour. Her waist moved in rhythm to the beat of the drums.  She tossed to and fro and then moved like a leaf being held bound by the wind with adept flexibility.  Then her feet started tapping the ground with such ferocity that her chest heaved and moved in sync with her dance strides. All eyes were on her. The crowd stared at her in awe. Akosua weaved herself intricately around the other dancers as the horn turned into music. She had always loved the sound of the horn. It made her jittery inside. She got lost in the dance. The crowd was excited and started cheering her on. There was a roar from the crowd once she changed a move but she changed her moves to please Kofi. She could see him beaming like the sun in daylight and that gave her much joy .Some mumbled that she is a witch for only a witch could move to a tune with such dexterity.  Ma Essien looked at her daughter with pride in her eyes. She raised her shoulders and pointed to akosua. ‘That is my jewel over there. She had always loved dancing ever since she was but a little child’. Her friend Mimosa nodded to what she said before she replied. ‘What a beautiful bride she would be’.

              Ma essien looked at her daughter and wiped her tears. If only kwadwo had lived long enough to see his little tiger as he had often called her.It seemed like yesterday when her marriage to kwadwo had been arranged by her parents.  Her parents’ farm had been burnt by fire during the harmattan season, right in the middle of harvest. The whole family had been excited about the turn out of the crops until that fateful day when Elumelu, the god of prosperity failed them.  No one knew who had started the fire. The dew was still plainly visible on the blades of the grass. The sky was blue with the clouds flossing on and on. The breeze was as light as a feather and the air was dry. Ma essien’s father had woken the whole family before the second caw of the crow to appease Elumelu and thank him for the dawn of a new day.  The whole family went out to the Elumelu’s shrine and each person dipped their thumb in the palm oil placed in front of the miniature statute with green leaves on its brown wooden body. Its eyes were bulging more than the belly of a pig.  Its head was not in proportion to its body and its legs were like that of an antelope. Each person tasted the palm oil that was placed in front of the god of prosperity and smeared it on their forehead. This was the routine in Ma essien’s family.  The day had always started with the appraisal of Elumelu, the god of prosperity after which each person was assigned to their chores.  Ma essien and her family were preparing to go to the farm when they saw the village cripple approaching them.  The cripple stopped to catch some breath after reaching their compound before mumbling with fear and crocodile tears. ‘Your farm, your farm is on fire’. Ma essien could still recall the expression on her father’s face. His eyeballs became red and for the first time in a long time she saw it. Hopelessness. It was sketched on his face like a work of art.  Her father took his axe and cutlass and went to his farm as if the news of his burnt farm had not reached him yet.  The farm had been burnt beyond recognition and all efforts by the villagers to quench the fire were to no avail. Ma essien had never seen flames rise so high and was tempted to go near it to salvage what she could but her mother restrained her. The only proof that the barn and the mushroom hut had been built on the farm were the clay and pieces of  black dried straws from the thatched roof. The whole village bemoaned with Ma essien’s family but that did not bring back their crops or their means of livelihood.

                  Her parents had nothing to feed on. With six mouths to feed, they gladly married off Ma essien to kwadwo who granted them a loan in exchange to start the fishing business that was thriving at that time.  Kwadwo had two wives before he married Ma essien. He loved her because she was young, beautiful and calm.  Five years into their marriage, Ma essien had already lost two children to kwilikwili.  She was called a witch and a barren woman. The other wives kept their children away from her and watched her like hawks afraid she might use her witchery in killing their husband. Kwadwo loved her despite what the villagers told him. The villagers advised him to send her back to her parents but he refused. Ten years after she lost her children she gave birth to akosua. Kwadwo loved akosua and he never let her out of his sight.  Akosua had always danced for her father since she was a child. It made kwadwo happy. Kwadwo had died of Gweiyo. It was a terrible death but of all his wives, only Ma essien stayed and took care of him. Gweiyo was a taboo and it was believed that the ancestors were furious with any person that was caught in Gweiyo’s trap.  What else could have caused the ancestors to bestow upon a person such a misfortune wrapped in pain and anguish.It was an abomination and not even the greatest physicians could cure him of the disease. Kwadwo’s body was dotted with red boils that never seemed to stop expanding and increasing in size. Kwadwo was buried on the outskirt of the village and was not given a befitting burial as was the custom for anyone that died of Gweiyo. Ma essien took care of the most beautiful gift Kwadwo had given her before his death. Akosua.Ma essien had always wanted her daughter to participate in the maiden’s dance because the choice had been taken away from her when she was a maiden. Akosua had initially refused to attend the dance but Ma essien had compelled her to. Ma essien looked around and noticed that the prince couldn’t take his eyes off her daughter. Ma essien felt a tinge of happiness and guilt. She looked at akosua doing the chest dance. Her dance and beauty enveloped in her felinity surpassed that of the other maidens.

                      

              The other ladies shot dagger glances at Akosua, burning with jealousy. Abenaa tried to imitate her moves but it was a flaw. Twice she found herself on the ground writhing like a worm in pain. She closed her eyes with pain and shame written all over and stood up. She moved towards akosua while still dancing in order to catch the crowd’s attention but it had no effect on the crowd because the whole village was fixated on Akosua. She stole a glance at the prince who couldn’t take his eyes off her.  She felt relief when she saw the drawn lines furrowing into a frown on kofi’s face. She knew kofiwould not allow the prince to take akosua.   Abenaa attended the maiden ceremony for the sole purpose of marrying the prince. She couldn’t afford to lose her only opportunity of becoming a queen and if Akosua could cost her the crown she was prepared to give it all it took to ensure she became the queen. She swirled like leaves falling off the branches of a tree and winked at the prince but the prince averted his gaze and never looked her way again during the maiden’s dance.

The cymbals, the metal gong and the xylophone made beautiful music accompanied by the night birds. The night was beautiful and the whole village felt alive except for the dark blue sky shaping and reshaping the ancestors in animal form. The moon was entering the sky and panting it like a sculptor with a starry night. The clouds faded into oblivion with each step the moon took slowly with the skills of a predator waiting for its prey, silent and yet precise. The profound effect of the night increased the excitement and watered the flowers of joy amidst the crowd. Some old women stared at the dance groups with a keen eye on akosua while mumbling to anyone withinreach how good they danced during their maiden dance.  The young men stared with excitement and pointed at their fancy while laughing and the children tried imitating the young maidens with the secret longing to participate in the maiden’s dance in the nearest future.

              Kofi beat the drum with both of his hands while watching how akosua moved around with her feet with such precision like a hunter about to shoot a deer in the forest. He beat the drum with vigour while his eyes glowed with joy. He looked up to the open sky and wished he could join her as she moved her beautiful waist like the high priest in a trance. He felt the urge to move closer to her and hold her waist and dance with her.  Kofi looked at kwesi and admired his skills with the xylophones.  Kwesi was known within and outside Ekaete as the spinner because of how he could spin a tune from his xylophone. He knew every tune and could compose a new tune from an old one within seconds.  He spearheaded the dance groups’ rehearsals and helped akosua with her dancing rehearsals. The whole village had thought he would marry Akosua when he became a man until his father died in the battle between Ekaete and Munrewi. He looked at Akosua and longed for what could have been.  He looked closer at Kofi who was beating the drum like a man furiously killing ants in his household and considered how lucky he was to be akosua’s love.  The next dance group was ushered in and he raised his swollen hand to his wife who smiled. Efua was beautiful, diligent and caring. She was all a man could dream of. Kwesi resumed playing the xylophone. He had always wondered while the young married women were allowed to dance in a maiden dance. He remembered that his father during one of the warrior’s feast had told him that the maiden’s dance was meant for both the youths and the elderly. He still hasn’t figure out what his father meant and he never got a chance to ask. He played the xylophone with a smile stretched on his face while constantly watching his wife, Efua. Efua brought him joy but the sparks and the excitement he derived from being akosua’s lover waned from his life.