Molokwu and his wife Nse lived happily in the city. They got married many years ago and had no child until after eighteen years together. Molokwu loved his wife so very much. He would do anything to make her happy. Every end of the year, they would travel to their village in December to celebrate the new year and return to the city in January.
When Nse became pregnant again, their first daughter Ene was old enough to take care of the house chores. She does it without complaint as she was fond of helping her mother. The principal things she does are to clean the home and do the dishes. Every Wednesday, Nse goes to the clinic for pre-natal checks. When the pregnancy was five months old, a scan result indicates she was carrying a set of twins. She was glad, both were male. The very thing she had prayed for.
When her husband Molokwu married that evening, she prepared his best meal and waited at the dining table to see him eat to break the good news of the set of twins to him. Molokai wasted no time, he devoured the meal like a hungry lion and pulled two cups of water when he had completed clearing the dish of its valuable contents. Then, he cleared his throat and said:
Nse, this one you are looking at me throughout when I ate, hope you don't intend asking me for money?
Nse, with a great smile and laugh replied:
My husband, ah-ah, I am not asking you for money. I have good news for you.
She produced a paper (medical report) and gave it to Molokwu.
That's what I got from the scan I did at the clinic today.
Molokai looked in bewilderment because he could decipher the jargons written in the document.
Madam, I don't understand all this medical stuff. Can you tell me what it is that's written in it?
She smiled again and said to her husband:
The report says.........its a set of twins, two boys.
With excitement, Molokwu leaped for joy. As he jumped, something like hiccups suffocate him and he dropped dead.
Nse cried for help and their neighbor came to help but it was too late. Molokwu was already dead before they came along.
Nse wept bitterly. She reminisced how Molokwu had been her pillar of strength. How he had stood his grounds not to marry another woman during their dark age of barrenness. She was so devastated about the death of her heartthrob.
According to customs, Molokwu's corpse must be buried in the village. Nse, as heavily pregnant as she was had to travel down to the village while late Molokwu's kinsmen brought the remains to the village for proper burial rites.
The problem started when some of Molokwu's relatives started to point accusing fingers at Nse to be responsible for the death of her husband.
How can I be pregnant for my husband and still take his life?
Nse said with tears flooding her cheek. Some women who stood by her consoled her and asked her to be careful with how she mourns her husband's demise considering her state. She would hold back her tears for a moment, to begin a few moments later.
The kinsmen decided to take the corpse to The Place Of The Talking Drum to consult and find out how their son died. She had no choice but to follow.
When they arrived at the shrine of the talking drum. The innocent woman had no proof of what transpired, she only committed her fate on God.
The local priest at the shrine began to say some funny lyrics or panegyrics in the process of consulting the gods of the talking drum expecting to hear classical information from the spirit world. As he raised his arm to beat the drum with a loud bang, the drum tore. It was the first of it kind.
There was a loud outcry from the shrine by the priest and other worshippers. They ordered that Molokwu be laid to rest and his wife to return home after the mourning period. He died a natural death. The kinsmen were charged with the responsibility to pay for the hide for which the drum. would be repaired.
When she was due for delivery, Nse returned to the city with her daughter Ene. She put to bed two male twins. Her tears rolled down again when she remembered the responsibility of taking care of the kids without the support of a husband.
The custom of the talking drum still exist in most societies around the African continent. One of the problems that emanates from the occultic practice is that some local priest could be perverted.
Thank you for reading this blog.
Just want to ask if you made this story base on your own? A kind of interesting literature, I remember the "The Story of an Hour", the twist of the story was quick as this.