Thread by @Tales4rmdHearth

Two weeks before my father died, he called us for a meeting. All six of us, excluding our mother. He told us his time was near and would love to pass on something to all of us.

'' Since you were kids, have you wanted for anything?'' he asked us.
'' No sir,'' we chorused.

'' Good. But do you know why?''
Confused, I turned to my siblings and matched their bewildered shrugs.
Papa said nothing for a while. He stabbed the floor tile twice with his staff, before looking up.
'' I asked a question.''
''No idea sir,'' I answered on behalf of my siblings.

He placed the staff across his laps and sank back into his favorite cushion.
The silence was deafening as we waited for him to tell us the reason for his summon. Papa who rarely commented on the family whatsapp group had dropped 'My time is near and I need you all at the Otuobi

Estate on the 12th of August, 1pm. I have an important thing I need to share with you all. No excuses.''
Of course, the mention of death was enough to drag us down to Otuobi estate. He had given us a week's notice to plan and come down from our different locations.

We grew up knowing Papa as a hard and detached father. Yes, he provided for us. Sent us to the best schools and provided capital for 4 of us who were entrepreneurs. He was disappointed with Afam who chose to become a pastor but nevertheless, he was the biggest donor to...

his ministry. As for Obodozie, papa helped him secure a juicy job with an LNG company. Papa was pragmatic, never dramatic. So it was with fear and worry that we all landed in Otuobi Estate. He wasn't ill...at least that's what mama said. He was 87 but was strong for his age.

He lived a life of moderation. That he had money, never meant that he indulged in frivolities. He took care of himself. Played tennis every weekend for over 50 years and drank more water than alcohol. He kept a full bar but it was for

visitors. Worthy visitors who were hosted in his own private parlour. The rest were entertained in the general parlour with juice and roasted goat meat.

As he sank and adjusted himself on his cushion, I watched him closely. He looked tired... and I have never seen him tired.

His eyes drooped by the sides and his lips were curved down in a tired line. I watched him close his eyes as he patted the staff on his lap.His agbaraenyi as he fondly called it. I glanced at my siblings and noted their respectful postures. One we learnt to adopt in his presence

I cleared my throat to speak and it immediately hit me that the throat clearing sounded just like papa's. I stifled a chuckle and put on my CEO face.
'Papa, do you need water?'
'I should be asking you that question,' he retorted with his eyes still closed. 'Your throat sounds

like it needs to be cooled down.'
Obodozie began to laugh like a hyena. It was exceptionally funny to him but not to me. Reason? Papa only cracked a joke when he was very nervous. And he was not always nervous.
''So none of you have ever wondered the reason behind our success?'

Alarm bells went off in my head. A quick glance around the room showed that I wasn't alone. Jaws dropped. Faces lined with worry. Butts adjusting on chairs. Legs shuffling on the tiled floor.

Truth be told, especially in my teens, I had idly wondered if dad

belonged to any secret cult but that thought was killed each time I recalled our family history. We, the Otuobis have always been wealthy and successful. Anything we touched became gold. Our great-great grandfather had been a slave merchant and was the most successful in our..
.

village. Our great grandfather and grandfather made a killing in the oil palm business too. Our father made his own killing in the petroleum sector. We were up coming with our own killings in our own enterprises too. We all had money. We have never not had money.

''Every April in this family, we have a feast. Have you never wondered why?'' Papa asked.

Obodozie chuckled and said, 'I thought it was because we were exceptionally happy for the death and resurrection of Jesus.'
Papa had sniggered and called him a fool. We all chuckled

at that because we agreed with him. Obodozie was a clown. A foolish clown.
Papa had let out a heavy sigh and stroked his staff as if to comfort himself.
''What we always celebrate in this home, every April is called Ikpo Aku. Gathering of wealth. It's a celebration that our

ancestors began after they had a pact with the gods. In exchange for wealth and success every season, the gods demanded worship and sacrifice, '' he said.
It was at that point that I realised how much I wanted to remain in ignorance. I didn't want to know more and I'm sure

my siblings shared my sentiment. So I wasn't surprised when Afam spoke up. '' Do you mean to tell us that we have been practicing idolatry in this family? Is that what you are saying?''
Papa squinted his eyes as if to see Afam clearly.
'' Church man. English man. Yes. If that's

what you call tradition. Yes, idolatry has been funding your church. Idolatry bought you that 'private jet,''Papa sneered. '' So what are you going to do about it?''
When he got no response from Afam, he continued.
'' Look, I know you don't mind the eating and drinking

that comes with Ikpo aku. You are all squeamish because I mentioned sacrifice. Your father is no murderer neither was his father. Human sacrifice in this family stopped a long time ago with your great grandfather.'' He shook his head slowly and scratched his jaw.

'' Every April, the head of the family has to renew our covenant with the gods. The ite ego needs to be rejuvenated with blood.''
Seeing our sceptic looks, he added, 'blood of a pregnant female cow. That's all'.
One could hear the sigh of relief from each of us.

I tried not to believe what papa said. Ikpo aku.Ite ego. But I've seen enough in the world to know that good and evil spirits co-exist with us. I desperately wanted to know what kind we were dealing with. A god that gave us security in exchange for the blood of a cow?

Where did that fall? Good? Bad?
'' Papa, I'm afraid I cannot be part of this. I believe in hardwork and I believe it is what kept the Otuobis where they are. As a Christian and servant of the lion of Judah, I... '
Papa bursted out into laughter. Afam looked like he ate lemons.

Papa laughed so hard that I had to go get water for the spasmic cough that accompanied the laughter.
'' Afam,'' he said when he caught his breath, '' noro odu. Sit this one out. Dozie here is the head after I'm gone,'' he pointed at me.
'' I only called all of you here

so that you are aware of the reason for our tradition. I don't want you carrying your righteousness on your heads to fight him.''
He turned to my sisters.
'' Ihuoma. Ihunaya. You are also covered by Ikpo aku. Any child with Otuobi blood is covered by ite ego.'' He lifted his

staff and pointed it at Ihuoma. '' Your husband has been a benefactor of Ikpo aku. Do you remember how he was when he came to ask for your hand in marriage?''
Ihuoma's lips thinned but papa took no notice of her irritation.
'' Did I give him one Naira? But look at him now.''

He turned to me. '' Dozie, as my first son, this mantle of... Chief priest falls on you. You are the mediator with our gods now. You are responsible for the welfare and happiness of this Otuobi dynasty. Any thing you choose to do with the mantle handed to you, is your business.

I have enjoyed my time here on earth and I want you to do the same for not just you, but your children and those that will follow. Dynasties build a nation and Otuobi won't be cut short. We work hard, yes. Others outside these walls do too. The grace the church preaches

is also existent here but in the form of the gods first given to us. They do us no harm and we do them no harm. All they ask is that we finish what we started. I deliberately left out Christian talk because it colours our prism sometimes. I can't force you to take this.

It has to be your own choice because the gods can smell an unwilling spirit. They do not like it. You can play lukewarm in Christianity but not with these ones.''
He glanced around the room.
'' Keep this tradition alive. It doesn't demand much.''

In the 38 years of my life,

I have never... we have never had a long talk with our father. The urgency with which he spoke told me that he believed what he was saying. I wasn't scared but I wasn't eager to take up the mantle too. So I asked one question that had been plaguing me since his revelation.

'' Papa,'' I began, '' what happens if I don't take this up...If no one continues the whole worship and sacrifice thing.''
From the corner of my eye, I saw my siblings sit up straight. Apparently, they cared to know if poverty was a one less cow blood away from them.

Papa had stared at me for a while, sat up straight and adjusted himself. When he had gotten comfortable, he tapped his staff on the tile and stared at his shoe. Then he looked up and said to none of us in particular 'no one knows exactly what the terms were. Poverty, death,

infertility. No one knows. All we know is, we are high above everyone else in this region and we want to keep it that way. We don't even want to test that water because if the covenant truly holds, then the disaster that would follow will be greater than what will never happen if

the covenant doesn't exist.''

After we had buried Papa, as we walked down to his library in silence, Afam quietly asked ''Will you do it?''
I was silent for some seconds before I answered ''I don't know.''
I saw them look at each other and I saw something on their face. Fear.

#FictionAt12am

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