ESCAPE FROM SHANCI II (THE COMPLETION)

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After an unfortunate long wait, Escape From Shanci II has finally found its way out. You wouldn't want to fail to read what has been one of our best story series!

THE ESCAPE FROM SHANCI

BY EKWUEME UCHE

First of all, I would love to apologize to my faithful and ardent readers who I disappointed by not posting this story when it was meant to. I actually lost my PC in a fire accident and that handicapped me for a while. I hope to be more staunch and constant in posting from now on. Thank you for your valued understanding.

I had already stayed three whole days; unconscious!! Far away from reality and existence. Still lost in the extremity of pains and soreness. I lay like a log of wood; all day, all night, for three entire days. I was lost in the realm of the unknown. Lost in emptiness. Lost in void! Lost in the hollow of acute blindness. It was coloured like death. The impression was not to be associated with sleep; it wasn’t like a sleep, no it wasn’t! It sensed more like mortality and transience. Then, on the third day. The very third day of my utter unconsciousness, I awoke!!

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I lay miserably on the ground, rolling on the earth in killing pains. I didn’t know where exactly to touch to ease my agony; didn’t know the actual switch to put off. My whole body was reacting to the pain emanating from one leg. The grief was far too much for the whole body to bear talk more of just a leg. I was fading away. My mind was no longer on my chasers.

“What more are they after? Than to get a hold of me? To hell with them!!”

I could feel my tears; tear drops from my already worn out eyes. I was practically failing. I knew the end was near. It was very clear to me. Clear like crystal! I had given up, really totally. I heard foot stamps. I had no inkling to wonder who they were. I was no longer interested to figure out where I was or what was about happening to me. The pains! Oh my pains!! The foot stamps became louder as they drew nearer. I knew they had come for me. I knew it was time. I heard shouts from a distance, some few meters away from where I lay. I felt two arms trying to lift me up. They spoke in hush tones as they gently pulled me up. I couldn’t phantom who they were, but I noticed they weren’t as rough as the Shanci’s. Even in the darkness of my shut eyes, I knew they weren’t the Shanci’s. There was this caution and carefulness even in their hurried moves. I moaned in grief as I was hauled up and in one brisk movement, I was lifted to the back of one of them. I almost let out a yell in anguish but I felt a smelly palm quickly covering my mouth to muffle my shouts. I couldn’t still open my eyes. It felt like in a trance, dream or something. More tears rolled down. More blood and pus trickled. I suffered my forever greatest pain when they tried to bend my right knee to enable me rest perfectly on the sturdy back. It was as if my right limb was being dismembered from my body through my knee. That was exactly where I lost full consciousness. The pains practically dazed me. I felt dead. I could feel my heart beat; beating inconsistently like Iduale, the talking drum. I sank deep into oblivion. I let myself swim into obscurity!! I couldn’t even make a sound. And that was it!!

Dimka-Dzukha is a patent medicine man from the neighbouring town of Lashiku. He travels with his son Dimka-Washali, every fifth market day, to the rich woods in Shanci, to obtain roots, herbs and basils. Dimka-Dzuka and his son had come to the coppices to fetch some medicine roots when they found me wriggling in intense anguish on the ground. It was the “Samaritan Dimka’s” sent by the gods, that saved the dying me from the hands of the Shanci’s. At first, Dimka-Dzukha thought I was brought to the forest to die due to an incurable sickness or curse, but then, on a second thought, he relieved himself of that opinion and resolved to help me. His muscular son bore me as he ran as fast as he could so that I won’t just die on his back. My trackers were apparently confused by a fresh corpse carelessly lying around the forest. Men who died mysteriously (especially by thunder strikes) were always thrown into the forest to rot away. That was exactly what made them shout. They thought it was me Yehwun. They thought it was my dying self that lay lifeless, facing down to the earth. I still wonder how they were deceived too easily by that corpse. I am still amazed at the foolishness they displayed by totally giving in to that disguise, like a sparrow to a scarecrow. What level of folly! This remarkable verity alone, upsurged the belief I had that my freedom was being orchestrated by the perfect hands of the gods. Sometimes I consciously deliberate on what could have happened if Taschud, the god of authority and liberation, had let me to be captured and again, taken back to our camp. I could have been incised at various critical spots and allowed to bleed to death. Could have been gruesome. I still owe the gods my life!

On the day of my escape, it never occurred to me that it would be my day of freedom. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever believe that that was going to be my day of freedom from the impious torments and tortures the Shanci’s had brought upon us. Had I known! Had I known, I could have tried escaping with at least one out of seven of my remaining kinsmen who I left back in Shanci. I was just singled out and saved.

“Why me? Why me this time? What good do I deserve?” These words occur repeatedly in my head as I recall how I managed to escape from that land. Things just fell in place as I ventured even further. It was just divine. I must confess, it was!!

We had stayed twenty-two days in inhumanity and viciousness within our nine-feet-high-fenced camp, awaiting our death. Awaiting the Dee day when our heads would be placed on the stake. We sang songs of captivity every now and then to ease and relieve us of our anguish. My friends Fridishe and Lhumba had out rightly become cripple. The sore on their knees were reeking very offensively. One thing I enjoyed the most about us, is the unity and love we shared even in our captivity. We encouraged ourselves daily under the scorching sun and even in the rain. When any one of us was about to be slaughtered, the rest said silent prayers of dumm (prayer for the dead) to the gods for his soul. Recalling all these sends me shivers. Back then, I had already given up on life. I was only happy that my two remaining sons were somewhere else and not there with me. Bebehnlo and Sansham were not there to die with me or still, watch their papa die outrageously, my wife Ghwane and Rizwahne my daughter too. But I’m always gladdened that I didn’t! I’m alive to tell the story.

On the twenty-third day of our capture, Shaka-Sha’ale; the chief priest of the Shanci tribe summoned four hostages including my battered self to the Shancikhulo’s shrine for some rituals before the four of us would be slaughtered to perform the second of the remaining six-day ritual. We were captured because, the Shanci tribe had been of ridden of childlessness for the past 18 months. In order to appease Shancikhulo, the god demanded nineteen men and a mature ram to be killed within twenty-nine days in order to open the wombs of their women. Nineteen men? Too outrageous!!

The four of us queued in a single file as we walked towards the shrine; foolish Dimshe, Khandim, Fawashatuw and my already weather-beaten self. Two of my remaining cripple brothers were left back in the camp with Shashat; Dimshe’s eldest son. They bided us good bye as we walked away. I could see tears drop from the eyes of Lhumba as we rose up to leave through the gates of the high thatch walls. Pity was visibly spread on the faces of two of the five armed men that were sent bring us to the shrine. I had made up my mind to die. I had agreed with the terms and conditions. What other option did I have? The earlier the better, I thought.

“fall in line and hasten up you idiots!!” voiced one of the armed men ruthlessly as his horse hide whip slashed my bare back with thunder force.

I had become used to whips. They no longer twinge me. It had become a part of me. My back had turned hard and callused as a result of torture from whips. I adjusted to fall in line without squirming or rubbing the spot where I was whipped. We walked really slowly due to our knees. We were tied together by the ankle, the four of us. The dwellers of the land stood in front of their houses to watch us as we walked towards the shrine. While some watched in pity, the others watched in excitement. We had become a spectacle. A form of circus. So hard to believe!

We arrived at the shrine to meet the ruler of the Shanci tribe and Shaka-Sha’ale, the chief priest. They were settled and were also surrounded by some of the elders of the Shanci tribe. They had all gathered for the few remaining rites to be performed before the actual slaughtering in few days. A glance at the shrine front exposed the evil being perpetrated by this Shanci’s. Human skulls were seen at various angles in the shrine, while some were been hung with a rope to the roof, the others were littered all over the place. Killing humans had never been a worry for the Shanci’s. Scary mortars and long pestles stained in human blood sat at the four corners of the shrine. Smaller ones too positioned at different points. The mortars they used to pound the hearts of my people! The mortars these atrocious men used to pound the good heart of my dear friend Ghenkhi. What a pity! I was filled with disgust and hate. These people are nothing but animals.

We were made to sit straight down on the earth in front of the shrine as the chief priest ran round us making some gibberish incantations. I only sat and watched as spittle flew from his mouth to rest on our uncovered skins every now and then as he spoke form his toothless mouth. I don’t know why chief priests always look wretched and unkept. He poured some chilling liquid on our heads. I fought myself not to taste the liquid as some rolled down to my lips. I wiped my mouth with the length of my right arm as I continued waiting for death. And then Shaka-Sha’ale shouted;

“Lie down flat!! Lick the dust!! Kiss the earth because your bodies won’t return to it even when you are dead. Your bodies will be burnt as a sacrifice to appease Shancikhulo after we’ve gorged out your hearts” Those chilling words hit my ears like a slap. The elders and Shanci king watched as we lay flat facing down to the soil. I couldn’t help but smell the earth. I couldn’t help but remember how my ancestors were buried peacefully in the earth but now, mine would be a lot different. What a taboo it is for a man from fashadizhi to be burnt or even cremated.

“Shancikhulo, we’ve brought you these ones in order to perform part of the few remaining rituals to clear the land of what had befallen us” he continued

“We hope these ones would be accepted by you oh merciful.”

And with that, the elders responded in some uncoordinated shouts while exposing rotten and thick-brown-coloured teeth. The king then ordered the armed men to take us and tie us up on the stake where we would be burnt later in few days. It was a metallic pole erected from the ground, where they burn people for offerings to their gods. In few moments, we were already tied individually to four different stakes, forming a circle. As I looked at how helpless we were, my anger against foolish Dimshe escalated extensively. Had it been he didn’t shout. Had it been he didn’t mistake that branch for a mamba. Had it been he wasn’t thoughtless, we wouldn’t have been tied to these poles. We could have escaped from Shanci long ago. That picture of occurrence has refused to leave my memories. Oh foolish Dimshe!

At intervals, they brought us water and food to resuscitate us. They would untangle us and allow us to feed like goats eating their last right before slaughter. That was exactly how it felt to me. At the night, before the chief priest retired for the day, he repeated his incantations and emptied some cups of the same liquid he poured on us when we were earlier brought to the shrine. He also smeared our foreheads with some oxblood liquid that they believed would keep us immune from snake bites and scorpion stings for the night. Guards were kept to watch us all through the night as we stood tied to the stake. I stood with my hands tied to my back and the rope, pressing hard into my skin as it divided my body in eight parts. I noticed the roughness of the metal stake which I was tied to due to rust and consistent burning. I felt the roughness as I glided my rope on the pole. The cord made from rafter slid roughly, up and down the metal pole. I tried to cut the thick cord using the length of the pole within my reach but the tautness of rope was too tensed for me to handle. As I was in the process of sliding up and down, I slept off.

I woke up with a start like I was tapped very late into the night to notice that the entanglement used in binding my wrist behind my back was no more!! My wrists were free. I moved my hands to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. No!! I wasn’t dreaming. This was real!! I looked around and found the three men kept on guard, sprawling on the ground in deep sleep. I quickly untied my body from the stake. I was confused. I was yet to understand what was happening or where I was, actually.

“How could this be happening? Am I actually free?? Is this a joke or something? What or who exactly is responsible for this? How on earth did this happen.” I was filled in awe as I kept on pondering on those words.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how exactly to start my escape from Shanci. I watched my brothers as they stood fastened to the stake. Trying to free them too would virtually keep me retarded. At least, foolish Dimshe would, even if others don’t. He may even end up waking the guards up just the way he did the other time. I leaped over some of the guard men trying as much as possible not to make a sound. I took great caution so I won’t step on any of them. This was how I escaped from the hands of the wicked land of Shanci. I am still marveled even up till this moment. The guards woke up in the early hours of the day and began their search for me but by then, I had already gone far into the woods. Due to my injured knee, I was very slow in movement. They almost caught up with me if the gods didn’t send Dimka-Dzukha and his son. It’s very obvious that my freedom was pre-planned by Taschud. All thanks to his perfect plans.

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It took three days before I could be revived in the house of Dimka-Dzukha. Lots of medicine plants were used on me to keep me alive. When I finally woke up from my long unconscious travel, my ankle weighed more than a log of timber. I couldn’t raise my right leg. Dimka-Dzukha had gathered enough herbs and roots, squashed them to extract their various sap, and then, strapped them to my ankle with goat skin, some of which were really smelly and repugnant. My knee too was not left out, a heap of crushed herb was also aligned to my cut. I was recovering. I was no longer in killing anguish. I looked forward to finally making my way away from Lashiku. I looked forward to seeing my wife Ghwane and also my three remaining children. I looked forward to seeing the remains of my place of birth; Fashadizhi. I looked forward to avenging for the death of eighteen men of valour that were slayed in the land of our bondage. But at least, I am happy I am alive to recall my encounter. I am alive to cajole the remaining men of Fashadizhi for a bloody fight against the unscrupulous Shanci’s. I swear, that those lives won’t go unavenged. I swear on the grave of my ancestors that those eighteen gentle souls would never go unavenged for. Sparing my life means taking revenge and revenge shall I take!!

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