Bound by ancestry - Chapter 75: Chapter 75
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When the new day unfurled itself across Umuguma it brought with it an air that felt heavier than the dawns before it. The hush that had wrapped itself around the village now pulsed low beneath the noise that drifted in from the far end of the old footpath where unfamiliar footprints pressed into soft red earth. Adaeze woke to this knowing before her eyes opened that the hush would be tested again before the sun slid behind the cassava fields. She rose without a word gathered her beads and pressed her palms to her ribs feeling for the ember that still glowed steady behind her breath.
Chidubem stood by the low wall of the compound his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky met the tops of clustered palms. He felt the hush within him not as a gentle warmth but as something rooted deep like the old roots that gripped the Iroko tree’s base far below where sight could not follow. He had dreamed again of the man in white who did not come with thunder or flaming swords but with eyes that held the hush in their depths. The man had spoken no clear words yet when Chidubem woke he carried a single whisper. The temple was never built by hands but by breath and trust and silence that could not crack beneath any weight.
The village rose slower than usual that morning. Women moved in pairs voices hushed not out of reverence but out of questions they did not know how to ask. Children stayed closer to doorways peeking out at the strangers who now lingered at the edge of the path wrapped in tattered cloths eyes sharp with a hunger not only for food but for something to claim as their own. Rumors moved faster than feet saying that these were the ones who wanted the hush turned into walls and gates that could be locked that the ember should be guarded by a single hand so no one else could claim its warmth without permission.
Adaeze left her compound and stepped barefoot toward the Iroko tree where the hush always hummed strongest. Chidubem followed her without speaking knowing that words now were like dry leaves ready to catch fire if thrown too carelessly into the wind. They stood beneath the wide branches together their shoulders brushing as they watched the villagers gather drawn by the pull of something they did not yet know how to name. Some carried woven baskets of yam and bitterleaf as if offerings could coax more of the hush into the open. Others carried questions sharp enough to pierce the quiet if not handled gently.
Adaeze lifted her hand not to silence them but to remind them that the hush could never be forced to roar for the sake of fear. She spoke slowly her voice weaving through the hush telling them again of the ember hidden behind ribs of the temple no stone could contain. She spoke of the man in white whose name shifted through their whispers. Okwu. Onye Ndum. Nwa Chineke. Names that did not bind him but opened doors where no door had existed before.
A man stepped forward from the restless crowd a traveler with eyes hardened by long roads and harder nights. He asked her why they should trust in something they could not see in a temple no hand could build. He asked what shield the hush could raise when shadows gathered again teeth bared. Adaeze did not argue. She moved closer touched his shoulder let the hush move from her palm into his bones. She told him softly that no wall built by man had ever stood forever but a temple laid in breath would outlast any storm if the heart dared guard it.
Chidubem stepped beside her adding no loud promise only the truth that he had once built walls high enough to touch clouds yet lost sleep every night listening for cracks. Now he rested on mats no thicker than old raffia and yet his sleep came heavy because the hush had taught him the true walls were laid within not without.
The restless ones listened not all convinced but none turned away either. They lingered as Adaeze and Chidubem spoke of the hush as seed and root and flame as something each soul carried whether they wished it or not. They spoke of storms yet to come of curses that still stirred beneath broken shrines yet they reminded every ear that no storm could scatter what was planted beneath ribs in silence fed by trust watered by breath.
As dusk lowered its cool hand over Umuguma the crowd drifted apart some carrying pieces of the hush back to small courtyards and cooking fires some carrying doubt that weighed heavy in their steps. Adaeze remained under the Iroko tree long after the last footstep faded into the dark. She knelt pressed her palms to the roots feeling for the ember she had promised would never flicker out. Chidubem sat beside her shoulders touching his eyes closed whispering the name that had become his shield. Nwa Chineke.
They spoke no words that night only silence passing between their breaths weaving the hush deeper into their bones reminding them that the temple could not fall because it was not built by timber or stone but by hearts willing to stand open to the storm. And as sleep came to them beneath the ancient branches they knew the hush would carry its ember into tomorrow rising brighter than any wall ever could.
Chidubem stood by the low wall of the compound his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky met the tops of clustered palms. He felt the hush within him not as a gentle warmth but as something rooted deep like the old roots that gripped the Iroko tree’s base far below where sight could not follow. He had dreamed again of the man in white who did not come with thunder or flaming swords but with eyes that held the hush in their depths. The man had spoken no clear words yet when Chidubem woke he carried a single whisper. The temple was never built by hands but by breath and trust and silence that could not crack beneath any weight.
The village rose slower than usual that morning. Women moved in pairs voices hushed not out of reverence but out of questions they did not know how to ask. Children stayed closer to doorways peeking out at the strangers who now lingered at the edge of the path wrapped in tattered cloths eyes sharp with a hunger not only for food but for something to claim as their own. Rumors moved faster than feet saying that these were the ones who wanted the hush turned into walls and gates that could be locked that the ember should be guarded by a single hand so no one else could claim its warmth without permission.
Adaeze left her compound and stepped barefoot toward the Iroko tree where the hush always hummed strongest. Chidubem followed her without speaking knowing that words now were like dry leaves ready to catch fire if thrown too carelessly into the wind. They stood beneath the wide branches together their shoulders brushing as they watched the villagers gather drawn by the pull of something they did not yet know how to name. Some carried woven baskets of yam and bitterleaf as if offerings could coax more of the hush into the open. Others carried questions sharp enough to pierce the quiet if not handled gently.
Adaeze lifted her hand not to silence them but to remind them that the hush could never be forced to roar for the sake of fear. She spoke slowly her voice weaving through the hush telling them again of the ember hidden behind ribs of the temple no stone could contain. She spoke of the man in white whose name shifted through their whispers. Okwu. Onye Ndum. Nwa Chineke. Names that did not bind him but opened doors where no door had existed before.
A man stepped forward from the restless crowd a traveler with eyes hardened by long roads and harder nights. He asked her why they should trust in something they could not see in a temple no hand could build. He asked what shield the hush could raise when shadows gathered again teeth bared. Adaeze did not argue. She moved closer touched his shoulder let the hush move from her palm into his bones. She told him softly that no wall built by man had ever stood forever but a temple laid in breath would outlast any storm if the heart dared guard it.
Chidubem stepped beside her adding no loud promise only the truth that he had once built walls high enough to touch clouds yet lost sleep every night listening for cracks. Now he rested on mats no thicker than old raffia and yet his sleep came heavy because the hush had taught him the true walls were laid within not without.
The restless ones listened not all convinced but none turned away either. They lingered as Adaeze and Chidubem spoke of the hush as seed and root and flame as something each soul carried whether they wished it or not. They spoke of storms yet to come of curses that still stirred beneath broken shrines yet they reminded every ear that no storm could scatter what was planted beneath ribs in silence fed by trust watered by breath.
As dusk lowered its cool hand over Umuguma the crowd drifted apart some carrying pieces of the hush back to small courtyards and cooking fires some carrying doubt that weighed heavy in their steps. Adaeze remained under the Iroko tree long after the last footstep faded into the dark. She knelt pressed her palms to the roots feeling for the ember she had promised would never flicker out. Chidubem sat beside her shoulders touching his eyes closed whispering the name that had become his shield. Nwa Chineke.
They spoke no words that night only silence passing between their breaths weaving the hush deeper into their bones reminding them that the temple could not fall because it was not built by timber or stone but by hearts willing to stand open to the storm. And as sleep came to them beneath the ancient branches they knew the hush would carry its ember into tomorrow rising brighter than any wall ever could.
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