THE DILEMMA

Abumchi had been on tenterhooks for over two hours, pacing the floor of Jidofor Hospital, and silently praying to his 'chi' for a safe arrival of the expected new baby.
"Ka nke a dikwara m. Let this one stay for me. Chi m, e kwela k' uwa chia m ochi; my God, don't allow the world laugh at me," Abumchi prayed, his eyes red, his nose running profusely.
With Abumchi at the hospital was Ogadi, the younger sister to Adamma, Abumchi's wife. Ogadi, a local midwife, was born a month after their father's death. Their father, Nwashike, a popular palm wine tapper, accidentally fell from a palm tree and died instantly. His palm wine was the best in the whole community of Nkwele.
At Jidofor Hospital, Ogadi was sitting, bending downwards, praying and shedding tears, as if her eyes had turned to a tap.
"Chi umunwaanyi, bia muoro nwanne m nwaanyi nnwa; God of women, grant that my sister safely delivers of her baby. Even though it's only this one, let it be for her," Ogadi lamented, her cheeks drenched with tears.

Adamma, a vivacious, young woman, was very kindhearted; an even-tempered type. Although she had no surviving child, she was that kind of woman that never joked with little children. Every Sunday afternoon, children in the neighbourhood would always troop in her compound to have a taste of Adamma's rice. Sometimes, she would fry akara for them too.
But in spite of this incomparable love she had for little children, none of her children agreed to stay.
Adamma had given birth to five children, but her 'chi' allowed none of them to stay. Five of them all died immediately they were safely given birth to. Many fortunetellers had claimed that she was an 'Ogbanje', that she would never have a surviving child in her life. Adamma and her husband knew all these were not true.
"If only this one could stay, I shall overcome the blame my elder brother, Ukana, puts on me. I shall have a child, whether a boy or a girl, that will call me father. Ukana had, for long, advised me to marry another wife, but I refused.
If this baby survives, I shall prove those fortunetellers wrong. Adamma, I am very sure, is never an Ogbanje. I shall prove those gossips wrong; those gossips who have been saying all sorts of things about my wife and I. God, I am in your hand," Abumchi bemoaned, still shedding tears.
This time, he sat on a wooden chair at the waiting corner of the hospital, gazing dumbfoundedly.
"Ka uche Chineke mee; let God's will be done," he cheered himself up.

In a one hour interval, Dr. Jidofor came out, smiling conspicuously. Abumchi rushed him and held his shirt.
"What is wrong? Is my child dead? What about my wife? Is she alright?"
"Calm down, young man. Begin to thank your God, because your wife has just safely delivered of a bouncing baby girl," Dr. said.
Tears of joy began to flow down Abumchi's cheeks.
Simultaneously, Ogadi screamed the shout of joy, which traditionally signalled that a surviving, new baby had arrived: Uluu-lu-lui!
There was a great joy in the hospital; everyone there, especially the women, knew what a woman in a long labour went through. "Ugwu nnwa di ebube; Ogoli obi esighi ike agaghi alinwu ya. The mountain of child's delivery is marvelous; a young woman who is not strong and faithful can't climb it," the woman in the hospital recited, dancing rhythmically.

Although Abumchi, on this day, was the happiest person on earth, he had no money to pay for the charges of the Doctor. He was a well known farmer. He was never a lazy type, but the condition of her wife did not allow him meet up for that year's planting season. He had no kobo. Poverty had so much engulfed him that he hardly afforded three square meal daily.
Dr. Jidofor passed the bill of twenty thousand naira (#20, 000) to him, which must be paid before he could take his wife and the new born baby home. His brother, Ukana, who would have helped him, had been on his sick bed for two months. But before his sickness, he had been keeping malice for him; Abumchi had refused to do what he told him to do. He refused to marry another wife. Abumchi had no other source of help. He was stranded. " God, I give you a million thanks for the gift of this new baby, who has come to stay. But I have no money, and I have no one to borrow from. Biko, help me," Abumchi cried out, very stranded.

It was on every last Saturday of the month that a philanthropist, a man of God, Rev. Father Ukpabi, visited hospitals. On this day, he prayed for patients, gave them food or money, or even paid the bills of those patients, whose bills had been passed to them. At Jidofor Hospital, he moved from ward to ward with his prayer warriors, praying, giving gifts and taking care of their bills. Adamma was fortunate enough to meet him; he gave her some food and paid for the hospital bill.
Adamma, as well as the new born baby, was taken home. This was like a miracle to Abumchi. God answered his prayers.
The women married to Abumchi's Kindred escorted the baby and the mother home, screaming joyfully, and singing and walking rhythmically. Some, especially one fair-complexioned woman, Gbataluibe, would scream, run unsteadily and scamper rhythmically, as though she was going gaga.

Abumchi's small compound was filled with people of Umundu village. Neighbours, relatives, and well wishers all trooped in Abumchi's compound to welcome the new born baby. Some came, carrying one or two gallons of palm wine, or with a bottle of Aromatic Schnapps (hot drink), or with other gifts.
The 'nzu', soaked in a small, round mud plate with water was placed on a wooden table that stood on the center of the compound, so that anybody who came would dip a finger in it and draw a straight line on his/her left hand. Some would rub the nzu round their necks or faces. The line drawn on the left hand signified that the new born baby was a girl. Two lines would have been drawn if there were two baby girls. If the line was drawn on the right hand, it signified a male baby. Also, the line would have been drawn two on the right hand, if two males babies were born.
But at Abunchi's compound, left hands were seen with one line drawn on them, because Adamma gave birth to a female child.

The women of Abumchi's kindred (Inyom di) and other women, who joined them, were singing, dancing and rubbing their powder.They were singing and screaming joyfully. This time, it was Gbataluibe who was singing.
"Nurse nye m bed ka m muo nwa, eeeh! Chi na-enye Ugo, onye ilo m gbaputa, o tee powder. Uluu-lu-lui!" They sang and danced and screamed.
Abumchi's umunna (kindred) and others who joined them settled under the 'ube' tree, drinking copiously.
Abumchi could not believe what he was seeing. He was joyfully unconscious, as though everything was happening in a dream, as though it was just a mirage. With a smile and tears of joy on his face, he moved from location to the other, not knowing what he was doing.
"Chi m, ekene m gi; my God I thank you. All the Umundu ancestors, I give you a million thanks," Abumchi happily showed his appreciation to his chi and his ancestors.

Ogadi had been with her sister, Adamma, for one month, taking care of the new born born baby. She had been doing the 'ile omugwo'. Their mother, Nwada, who would have done that, died four years ago when she was returning from her farm at Agbani. It was in the afternoon, when she was returning from her farm that a big, black snake bit her at Amasa-agu (a place where farmers put down their loads to rest). There was no one around to rescue her or rush her to Okorji, a specialist in the treatment of snake bite; she died at the spot. This was a sad news for Adamma and Ogadi. That turned them to orphans.
It was on that Sunday evening that relatives, neighbours, friends and well wishers all thronged at Abumchi's small compound. According to the tradition, a new born child was to be named after 'izu-asaa' (twenty eight days - one month) of the child's delivery. Before that fateful day, Abumchi and his brother, Ukana, who had recovered from his sickness, had already made some arrangement for palm wine - about four jars of palm wine. As soon as Ukana recovered from his sickness, he reconciled with his brother. He was happy for the new born baby too.

Different delicacies of yam were prepared on this very day. There was a particular one called 'ji mmiri oki' (a kind of porridge yam prepared with assorted water, and usually eaten while it was hot).
The ceremony started with Abumchi naming the baby Ogechi (God's time). The tradition demanded that the father of a baby or his representative, usually the eldest man from the kindred, would be the first to name the baby. Others, starting from the mother of the baby, representatives from the mother's maternal home (ndi ikwu nne), members of the kindred and friends or well wishers would proceed form there. Each person who named the baby, or those who supported a name already given would give a gift(s).

Abumchi chose to name his child Ogechi, because he believed it was God's time for him to have a child. He had already given birth to five, but none survived. Those ones did not come at the appointed time of God. Ogadi, too, loved the name. Just like her husband, she believed the child had come to stay, because it was given at the appointed time of God.
So many names were given to the child: Chinaza, Chioma, Ihuoma, Nwoma, and Ogechi.

           ...to be continued.