Diary of Justice Hall, pg. 311
Evil never sleeps. The kingdom of darkness are continually taking council against the just; the destinies of souls can be thwarted by the interference of wicked men and women already in the employ of principalities and powers in high places, but in the long run, the righteous shall always prevail...
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1891: What Happened Before
Solomon Effiong Of Etoi
Solomon was born a good boy who loved his mother very much. At age three, he used to touch her cheeks and say, "I 'ov you mummmm-" and she'd laugh that tinkling sound that rang and rang throughout the pulsing halls of his little beating heart. His mother was the most beautiful woman on earth, with green eyes, long golden hair and butter milk skin. She was a mulatto, the daughter of a prince of Madagascar.
One day, when he was five years old, his father told him to sit at the head of his canoe. Even at that age, he knew it was a very special canoe, it routinely carried secret things out to sea and always came back empty.
Solomon's father served the ancient marine demon, Itu. As the first and most fervent of all devotees, Solomon's father was also called, Itu. Before Itu becomes a secret religion binding all devotee generations to one name, Itu is a self proclaimed general of all the Canaan seas, west of Alkebulan, who already lived on Earth as the fallen, in a wraith to near formless state, for... more than fifteen centuries. Itu's evil avatars were plenty, varying in size and baseness, his personal familiar, however, is only one, the Titanoboa, whose task it is to steal the glories of men and women through sinful sexual perversions, to give to Itu, to eat, and live on. Solomon's father was Itu's best high priest, being a man
who loved wickedness; he did not spare his own lineage in the perpetuation of it. To this end, he'd married seven women prior, though none were alive anymore. Each and every first son of his, who opened the womb and was presented to him, was tried in the perpetuation of his wickedness, then passed through the fire when found wanting, until, the coming of the chosen one.
Solomon's mother did not know that her baby boy was the chosen one. She would cover his eyes anytime he wanted to look at the secret things, but the day his father told him to enter the canoe, was different. His watchful mother was far from him, at the front of their large mud hut, suddenly occupied with plaiting the hairy heads of a few little girls who arrived at the same time his father did. It was his mother's work, to plait the hair of the women in the village. His father then found him playing in their backyard.
The backyard was Solomon's favourite place, because it seemed to be the doorway to the ocean. The mighty waves rose, rolled and roared all through the night, crashing against the cliffs to their left and right, foaming in ripples whenever it came closer to kiss his feet. His father yanked him away from his sea shells and told him... he would meet the general of the Atlantic that day. He could discern the importance of such a personality; in fact, he would've been excited about going out to sea with his father for the first time, had it not been for his mother's running figure, trying to catch the canoe as they drifted out beyond her reach, beyond her tears, and her agonized wails, "N-no!!! Not my son!!! Don't take my son!!!"
He knew something was wrong because his father only laughed. He saw her kneeling figure get even smaller, as her screams grew faint, and then his eyes landed on the pile of secret things, heaped in the middle of the canoe, separating him from his father, who had since ceased paddling. An awkwardly twisted, mangled body of a female child lay lifeless at the bottom of the pile. He turned his face to look away, and his father laughed again, telling him he would follow the path of seven brothers before him if he did not retrieve the sword. Solomon! His father called him sternly, look at me. He did, but now he was trembling in fear. It was cold and windy, and he couldn't see his mother anymore. He couldn't see their mud hut anymore. He couldn't see the cliffs and the hills anymore. All about them was water.
Solomon! I said, look at me!
Solomon looked at his father, and watched as his father did a strange air dance with his hands, you are my favourite, he said, you are the chosen one, he chanted repeatedly, now receive the eyes of the water spirits! Receive them, Solomon! His father's voice was packed with strength and power; it could instill obedience from the bone marrow, that's how deep and commanding it was! It is true, that many years later, Solomon Effiong of Etoi would occasionally be jerked awake by the sound of his father's voice telling him to "Receive them, Solomon!"
At the tender age of five, he resolved not to go the way of seven brothers before him, siblings he had never even known. He realized that he could not afford to fail. So when his father drew out a gleaming, heavy, long sword from his side, and let it drop, pointing downward, into the sea, he knew he had to get it back. His father barked at him to do so.
He dived into the Atlantic and followed the sword on its gleaming journey down past depths so dark only it's glint was his guide. And when he finally burst out the surface, he wasn't gasping for air. When he swam back into the canoe, pushing the sword toward his father, the man grabbed it, holding it up to the sunlight, examining it, then sheathing it, putting it by his side. The man never said a word, never showed any sign of pleasure or displeasure, he just stared into his little boys eyes, his hands gripping the sides of the canoe tightly. The silence was a clue that they waited for he knew not what; out there, in the ocean. And who would believe such account?
The swelling of the water around them happened suddenly; swiftly, almost one with the silence, for his father held his gaze until, from the corner of his eyes he could see a shadow falling across the canoe. But his father held his gaze, and he was more afraid of looking away than looking at what the water was doing. And who would believe such an account? That the water molded itself to reach into the canoe and whisk away the secret things back into the big blue? Who was he to confide in, a five year old boy, of his great sorrow at his mother's disappearance, and eventual death, after that fateful day? And no time for his childhood to grieve; as his father introduced yet another solemn duty: he was to receive the general's bounty, their monthly sustenance.
This task involved him entering the forbidden hut. The forbidden hut sat beside their living quarters, a very small sort of shanty nobody in the compound dared to enter, except for Solomon's father. Every month he was to take the sacrifice out to sea and retrieve his father's sword from the ocean depths, wait patiently for the water to claim the sacrifice, and then hurry home to the forbidden hut, to accept the general's token. When he entered the hut he would sit on a small footstool as his father instructed and wait for the general to slither out from a large hole in the ground.
Once it was out, it would curl itself into position and begin to teach him a lot of things; philosophy, advanced mathematics, the sciences, particularly manipulations of the genetic code sequence of homo sapiens. The lessons always ended with a lot of hissing sounds, then the magical appearance of a white bowl filled to the brim with gold coins. He would wait for the general to slither back into it's hole before carrying the money to his father. When as a young man he took a wife, he learned the hard way that his life was not for such things as soul mates. She was his soul mate, and very obedient. But she was no match for the general.
The horrific circumstances of her demise is what led to the forceful seizure of his only child, Ifiok, by his in-laws, and his banishment, from Mbiabong Etoi. Ifiok grew up and married, and birthed a son, Edem, who grew up and fathered a boy, Effiong, out of wedlock. Edem later married an efik woman, who birthed him a daughter, Amma. And his great grandson, Effiong, got a wife for himself from Benin, who gave him seven children, out of which only a girl survived an horrific act of revenge. And Amma, his famous great granddaughter, married an irish man, a tall white, and gave birth to a girl...
He saw these things, but he did not see himself in these things. He was barred, cut off, decreed an abomination, he had no part to play in his lineage anymore. He lived to serve the general, and the general did not reckon years upon years of devoted service. The general was only concerned with the present; the here and now is what Solomon must attend to, because the past, no matter how sweetly it called to him, was only a faded memory. So he sat in the darkness of his shrine, waiting for chief Eyam Attah to stop by. The secret things were fully prepared and ready for activation. He sat, and listened to hostile voices from different realms, every other hour his crazed laughter would pierce through the silence and echo an unholy refrain through the mountain.
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1891: Solomon and Eyam
Not too far away, deep inside the forest that is beyond the river basin, Chief Eyam Attah fingers his salt and pepper grizzly beard as he watches Unyime recite many verses of scripture. This is part of her supplication to the white man's God. Hmm. The white man's God was brought to them in the image of a white man, with long feminine hair, blue eyes, and with all sorts of interesting accoutrements; a rosary of assorted beads, misshapen wooden crosses, holy oils and even holier waters, even a dead mother with almost greater powers... Of course he believes in God... that is, the African God, The Owner, whom nobody can see, who is everywhere, in everything, the Most High. It's just that, he also believes in other gods too. Helpful, very powerful beings that were easier to access, and quick to respond.
There is a saying amongst his people: Ebemiso idim ekit enyim idim... the first person to reach the stream in the morning is the one who sees the beauty of the stream.
Chief Attah admires his wife, Unyime, as she bows down before the big blue sky, her head touching the Rocky mountain ground, her arms outstretched, her slender fingers clutching at the grass, her plump, round behind innocently presented to him. He married her because of it, and also because it was prophesied she will rekindle the ancient way of the fore fathers; the way of life. So when the white mother of Okoyong first arrived with her Bible, well, he never thought to question it, or the friendship that blossomed between the two women. Now, he wishes he had. When a man can no longer beat his wife into obedience for fear of losing his unborn child, when he can no longer access his evasive adult daughter to manipulate her for his cause, he is left with only one last option.
Because, he has to be the first to reach the stream. The long night of his life is over, the morning has come, but if he does not act fast, the joy, the beauty of completion will belong to someone unworthy. The giant goddess had made his situation very clear; Idara is the chosen one to be gifted the Burning Claws, she will crush Hogan, and he, Eyam, will be the next Tripod King of Canaan. When the gift of a deity is rejected, to reclaim it will involve a mediator, a lot of begging and appeasement, most likely, a trade. After she foolishly ran away from the presence of the goddess, the chief begged for forgiveness on his daughters behalf, and was told to consult the most dangerous man in Canaan...
He silently moves away from his praying wife, meandering along trecherous paths of the mountains steep incline, to arrive at the infamous cave decorated with human skulls hanging on yellow strings. The pungent smell of Palm wine assaults his nostrils even as Solomon Effiong of Etoi welcomes him inside with a crazed laugh, "No patience for the Son of The Owner?"
The Chief is careful with his reply, not fooled into ease by the bushy, laid back visage of the drunken wizard. Who did not know of Solomon Effiong of Etoi? He drank the blood of virgins when it was still warm. He twisted the necks of goats with one look from his smokey gray eyes. He sat at table with fallen angels, bartering, mediating, and eating his fill of spiritual politics. He is unpredictable. There are those who suspect him of killing high priestess Unwannah; to give himself monopoly over the people's dependence on the word of the gods...
"Why can't my patience be industrious? My enemy does not sleep, you know."
"So you want to help The Owner," more crazed laughter, "Eyam, who is your enemy?"
The chief does not hesitate,
"Nsidung Edet Hogan Bassey."
The juju high priest stands up from his cane chair and towers over the rotund chief, his angular face in a hideous grimace, "I know what you seek, Eyam Attah! I know why you have come here." The Chief lifts his chin at him,
"And am I wrong, to pursue my interests? To vanquish my opponent? He killed my only son! I know, it was him that did it! And now, he is challenging my right to wield the tripod! Even worse, he has sought to distract my political ambition, declaring in the market square, my own daughter, as yet another of his selected brides! Hear me! His teeming audacity is the cockroach I aim to crush underfoot!"
Solomon's face stretches tight, "Lower your voice Chief; the dead may be blind but they are not deaf, don't you know, there are many spirits here?"
"I'm sorry, Solomon, I mean no disrespect---"
"No, you mean conquest," he jabbed a crooked finger at the Chief's chest, "-and yet, that is not why you're here," head tilting to the right, the shaman sniffs suspiciously at the ringed neck of his visitor, smelling his desires for the throne, and for revenge, "-everyone has two kinds of fate: the fate of the fall-" he held a finger up, "-unless rejected, everyday," he paused, backing away from him only slightly, his eyes gleaming with a strange fiery light, "The second fate," he continued, watching the Chief squirm, "-is a destiny uncharted by any human experience, hidden, as it were, in the collective success of the Son of The Owner; it is predestined, yet it's virgin navigation has only seen the masterful lead of His Pre-eminence. It is a sure destiny, but it must be followed, everyday," he flicks his wrist, "Men like me, we ply our trade on what it is you have decided. Choose to worship my master, and you will get your heart's desire. Return with the blood of your daughter, for she is, your boon, and we will go to the Talking Tree."
The tall, lanky man swaggers back to his cane chair in the darkness of his mysterious lair. The temptation to tarry is there, if only to see that those rumours are true, did the juju high priest really burst into flames while communing with the gods? But Chief Attah did not tarry. Solomon Effiong of Etoi is a man between two worlds, and the chief is not planning to join him there. Unyime is still praying with her eyes closed as he stealthily climbs back up to the summit of prayer mountain.
Like a huge black cat, he curls himself behind her bowed figure on the ground, settling into his comfortable position and, enjoying the marvelous view. He will buy her a new wrapper soon. It was thirty days to the Night of First Rain after all. Here in Canaan, a Chief's wife has a duty to shine like the jewels of the night sky during all festivities.
Chief Attah is in high spirits. Solomon will help him, Idara will change her mind, he will find a way to convince her. Sometimes, in his dreams at night, he sees The Burning Claws; it is a fearful weapon. She will easily replace Hogan as king's champion. She will be the most important, the most powerful woman in all the seven kingdoms. What name will he give to his new son? He would call the boy...
Victorious.