The Streams in my Villages

Nneme is her name. Yes she is female; the stream in my mother’s village. She has a mother’s heart and always begs her children to give her days to bath. After she begs, the chief priest sends warning that no one dares go to the stream during those days of her bath.

The day Nkechi stubbornly when to the stream, she saw her. According to Nkechi, Nneme was a woman whose breast were so full and long, they dragged behind her as she walked; breasts from which the water of the stream flowed.

Nkechi saw her and ran home, forgetting her bucket. She told the tale of what her eyes saw and then she fell really sick. The sickness took her close to death, but it didn’t lead her into death. The chief priest asked for two white cocks and Nkechi had to beg Nneme by dancing at the stream each morning and night for seven consecutive days.

Nkechi’s father, whose huge Bible had a tale of its own, quoted that we had to give to Caesar what belonged to him. For those seven days and nights, Nkechi and the white cocks belonged to Nneme and not to God as her name depicted.

After Nkechi’s experience, none of us dared think of going to the stream when Nneme was bathing, even though all of us also wanted to see the breasts which were the source of the water we drank, bathed, and played in. The rains lost their worth before our eyes, and Nneme was our mother, giving us the water we wanted.

Source

All was fine until one day, someone annoyed Nneme and she left.
Yes, Nneme left and her place was dry, as dry as the ground we walked on. The whole village was in turmoil, and we wondered who annoyed her, and more importantly, how to bring her back.

The chief priest made inquiries and discovered where she ran to. On the day he went to beg her to return, the town crier announced that everyone was welcome to join him, as our mother’s heart will be touched when she sees her children begging her.

Nneme ran to stay with Nkara.

Nkara is the stream in my father’s village.

That day, I told my grandmother that I was going back home, and she knew I was going to beg Nneme with the chief priest and others. She gave me some gifts for my mother and I ran back home, making a stop at Nkara first.

I saw my beloved Nneme by Nkara’s side. You won’t believe that she moved, but I will tell you what I saw, so you decide for yourself.

Nkara is usually muddy and when fetched, we allow it settle before we use it. He is also always troubled, and never silent. Nkara is a man and he pulls victims to their deaths. Sometimes.

The priest says he pulls people only when he is angry, but since he is always troubled and never calm, no one knows when Nkara will take someone away. No one has ever seen him, but I am sure he is as ugly as he is wicked.

So on this day, I see Nkara in his usual troubled, muddy state, and by his side, I see my beloved Nneme; as clear as glass and as silent as light.

The difference was mesmerizing, since they both flowed sided by side. As we begged, singing and dancing, Nkara got more and more troubled, and no one dared get close to him. It was obvious he had been enjoying Nneme’s company and didn’t want her to leave.

Suddenly an unseen force pulled the chief priest towards Nkara, and we all knew what was happening.
As our cries got louder in fear, Nkara got angrier and his waves got higher, until suddenly, the chief priest was pulled into the side of Nneme. It was like a dream as I saw the chief priest suddenly drenched by Nneme.

The scene was like a mother-son reunion. By the side, Nkara fumed on.

The next day, Nneme went back home, and I also went back to my maternal home.

Nneme never told us who annoyed her. Maybe she simply missed him who his name must not be mentioned.

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This is a story of the streams in my villages.