“Amnesty”

Gaudia Aghanenu

Art of Creative Unity Award 2021 | Honorable Mention (21 and under)

Benin City, 1650

“My dear, if you’re eating the yams, you must try it with the wine. My father crushed every single grape in the vineyard for today.” Princess Adaeze’s smile was as large as the number of guests. Against the ocean-blue sky and the emerald-green ube tree leaves, she wore orange coral beads(akka) around her neck, wrists, and ankles. Her black, cotton hair was braided tightly, and her white teeth glistened like the pearls on her dress as she took a moment to look closely at the crowds. 

It had taken months to plan this wedding- the food and the decorations had to be quintessential. To her left was a congregation of the groom’s family, around a hundred of them. In a corner on the right, the chiefs and generals of the Benin Army stood in a diamond formation like statues. As usual, they were dressed in their full armour, gripping long, silver spears. The pleasant air was filled with the aroma of hot stews, sweet, ripe mangos, spicy rice, and grilled meats. Food for the elite. Although there was a dress code of yellow and green, the scene was full of elaborate hues. The handsome palace standing behind them was ivory-coloured, the ground was a deep brown, like cacao beans, and the singers wore green floral dresses, while the slit drummers wore black suits.

In the centre, wearing a crown that shone for miles, stood Princess Adeola’s father, the Oba of the Benin Empire, in full regalia. His face was dark, and hardened, but his eyes glistened with joy at this wedding. It had taken him years to choose the right man to marry his daughter, but this day marked the end of the struggle, and the beginning of hope and prosperity. He sat on a tall wooden stool, the only seat on the entire grounds. There were ten men standing next to him, nodding at his words, and the youngest man was the groom, Crown Prince Anwa. He was somewhat perturbed and stiff in his white agbada, but he listened intently, and nodded at all the right times.

As dusk waved from afar, and the air was getting icier, all the perfect smiles began to dissolve. Their faces were tired. Their minds were disengaged. And the ceremony ended with a loud chorus, “Long live the Oba!”.

~

Benin City woke at dawn, with a menacing frown upon its face. All the hired drummers and singers had been sent away, while the chiefs, noblemen, and elders held a dark meeting in a large assembly room. They were all on their knees before the king. The air was still, and the chamber was spacious. A loud red and white flag floated calmly on a wall at the back. 

“His tribe must be punished for their treachery and witchcraft. They’ve been spared for too long, and now their ordeals are becoming prevalent. Their men go behind our backs to trade their peppercorns and palm oil with the Portuguese during the day, while their women cast spells against us in the night.” The Oba’s spokesman, Oghoro Kora, was speaking on the man’s behalf. His stentorian roar boomed and echoed across the room as his head swayed from left to right, and his gaze interlinked with those he was debating against.

 The voice that replied was very tight and matter of fact. “With all due respect, sir, we cannot, and will not punish an entire tribe for the wrongdoings of a few. I propose that we negotiate peace with them, or place an embargo on their oil, but the ambush that Oghoro is suggesting would only incite a rebellion.”

It was the Oba’s turn to speak next; to deliver a verdict. As he rose -attracting all eyes to his equanimous stare- his ivory necklace beads clinked together, silencing the whistling wind. “I disagree that an ambuscade would be too harsh. I’ve given the chieftain innumerous opportunities, and each time he has blatantly refused to obey me. This is the beginning of a war.”

 ~

All meetings in the chamber were highly exclusive, and totally classified, but Princess Adaeze had recently formed a dangerous habit of placing an ear at the door. Her soft fingers trembled at her father’s words, while sweat poured out, like secrets in an uncensored letter. She knew some people from the clan her father was talking about. Their defiance and sorcery had become common knowledge, but there were still many people she considered to be good. Adaeze knew that if her father acted, the men would die, and the women would be sold as slaves to the Europeans.

Shakily, she tiptoed away, and headed out of the palace. 

 ~

The town square was stuffed with stalls and sellers. The side streets were full of artisans- guilds of carpenters, clothmakers, and sculptors. The people flowed through the streets in disorderly crowds, like an army without a leader. Unsurprisingly, they were rested, and joyous as they laughed and conversed with one another. The scents of plantains, coconuts, and mangos in the air mingled with one other till they created a sweet perfume that reanimated each walking man. Every now and again, lonely children would fumble through their empty sacks as pickpockets sauntered away.

Pensively, Princess Adaeze passed a small mud house, where young men and women were making sculptures. She entered the warm, light room, and was hit by the shouts of metal, and the scattered giggling that accompanied it. Her hazelnut eyes travelled to the sculptor who was working wordlessly on his own. His work lay all around him- well-polished brass and bronze sculptures of soldiers, princes, leopards, eagles, and horses. They were all as exquisite as the last. He was extremely proficient, his fingers moulded the brass as though it was clay, while his mind confidently presented the intricate design. Cautiously, the princess approached him. His eyes were hushed as he looked up, sensing the still movement. Removing her crown, she spoke to him softly. “Koyo (hello). My name is Adaeze.” Still, the boy’s face lacked emotion.

Her journey through the town square had allowed her to think of a way to save the rival tribe. A lifeline for the good members. “I need you to make something for me, please. I need to send an important message to some people, about twenty kilometres southwest of here.” “But, madam, I have never been taught how to write. I can only make sculptures,” he replied, in a meek whisper. “If I wanted a written message, I would have asked a scribe. I think it would be better to send this warning in a different way.” “Through a bronze sculpture?”

 ◇

20km southwest of Benin City, 5 days later

Ozua, the son of the chieftain, was riding horses through the wet rainforests with a team of his friends, when the tribe’s main messenger presented him with the heavy bronze sculpture. It was a smooth rectangular wall, with him, his father, and his mother kneeling on one side, while the Oba stood on the other, with snakes, eagles, and guns at his feet. Ominously, two spears curled around the wall, from the Oba to Ozua and his father. He let out a shaky breath. At first, he thought it was a threat, but then he realised it was a warning. 

Leaving his friends, he rode at lightning-speed toward his father. “I don’t wish to disturb you, Father, but you must see this.” Tentatively, Ozua handed over the sculpture. “This is the mark of our final warning- they will seize our land if we don’t obey them. Customarily, the chieftain was dismissive. He waved his rough hand, and laughed, “Let them try.” 

Knowing he couldn’t make progress with his obdurate father, he rode quickly to his mother, Chieftainess Efe. She was sitting with the other mothers, grilling food over roaring orange flames. Ozua called her aside and repeated what he had said to his father. Efe replied almost instantly. “My son, I’ve tried to tell your father that he must stop, but he is too addicted to the wealth. You will need to take control, soon- otherwise there’ll be no tribe for any of us.” His breath shook, and his heart knocked more furiously against his ribs. “I’m not ready to take over yet, Mother.”

Efe’s eyes looked empty and melancholy as she dropped them to the ground. She was still speaking to the earth as she breathed, “Look around you, Ozua. The sun shines every day, and our air is crisp and clear. We only see the red of fire when we want to make food, or if the scarlet-coloured rock firefinches sing loudly in the black night sky. Come morning, the dew drops sparkle, and delicate bubbles form in the stream we collect our water in. But do you think the calla lilies at your feet would be shining so brightly if we hadn’t cut away the dying plants around it? “

Ozua was still stroking his chin, and staring into space, so Efe acted for him. “My son, find a sculptor, and send our message in reply.”

◇

Benin City, 10 days later

Efe’s sculpture found its way to Princess Adaeze’s apartment in the court. It was much smaller than the one she had sent, but the message was just as lucid. It showed three witches being thrown into a fire, and Ozua holding up the Oba’s crown above his head, with his head bowed, and his knees on the hard ground. 

Instantly, she jumped up from her bed and ran down to the chamber, where she knew they were holding another meeting about the tribe. The final meeting. 

When she got there, she was hit by the metallic stench of sweat and iron. The army was already in formation, marching through the streets, showing the city that they were ready for battle. Exasperated, she continued to rush forward. Princess Adaeze burst into the chambers, leaving behind the reverberating sound of the doors smashing against the wall as she ran up to her father. Everyone was stupefied- gasping with raised brows. Ignoring them, she bowed down, and with her head facing the stone floor, she held Ozua’s sculpture above her head, in direct sight of the Oba. While the room was still, her ears were still focused on the warriors’ boots parading farther and farther away.

Please be just, Father. She silently pleaded.

The next words she heard rippled like sweet thunder through the room, “Call the troops back! We’ve received an amnesty.”