NWATAIRIUJU-Child of Sorrow

          1975 was the year. The year the war started. A war against destiny, a war that has left me desolate, a war that has torn me from inside out. I do not speak of a physical war, but of the war against the gods, captors of my happiness. A war that has earned me the name Nwatairiuju; meaning child of sorrow. A war I must fight till victory. My name is Nwatairiuju, son of Odenigbo the great hunter and this is my story.

          I was born in Okpanam, a village in Asaba, Delta State, Nigeria. My birth, rather than bring great rejoicing, brought mourning and sadness. My birth took the life of Adaeze, my mother. Very much loved by my father and adorn by the villagers for her selflessness. I was the one to take all that away. Nwatairiuju, child of sorrow! It was only natural that I grew up feared and hated by the other children and neighbours respectively. I knew I had to leave the village. Find a new and better path.

         
          Hated by my father, I knew no love so it wasn’t easy accepting the love shown to me by the beautiful Olama. Olama wasn’t supposed to happen. I am Nwatairiuju, child of sorrow. Why had the same gods who set me on this path, brought love my way? I wasn’t deserving of her love.
          I had met Olama 5 months ago at a church service in Lagos. Her hair! Thick, natural and African. It glowed as the ray of sun running through the church from a broken window rested on her hair. Just like an angel, she was. My angel, sent from heaven to bring joy and love into my life.
          5 months seemed like 5 years. I was ready to make her my bride. Time went by quickly as we prepared for our big day. Soon, the day came. The day Olama was to be mine. Words could not express the joy I was feeling as I waited at the altar for my beautiful bride to work down the aisle.
          “Jesus!”, a woman screamed.
          “Somebody help!”, another exclaimed.
          We rushed outside the church as quickly as our legs could carry us. There she was. My Olama. Laying on the ground lifeless.
          “Call an ambulance!”, I screamed, with tears and catarrh dripping down my face.
          “Why!, Why have the gods cursed me with sorrow”, I lamented.
          The pastors held me up as the paramedics carried my Olama into the ambulance. We followed behind, Mike my best man and the pastors. Olama’s parents were right behind us as we all drove to the hospital.
          “The wind blew off her veil towards the road. She tried picking it up quickly when an unforeseen careless driver drove off the road and knocked her down”, an eye witness had explained. My world was at a stand still.
          Olama was still in surgery. I prayed to God to spare her life for me. I could only imagine what Olama’s mother was going through being that it was her only daughter that was being operated on. I put myself together, got up and sat beside her. She held my hand so tight, I could feel my veins close each time families wailed passed on hearing the death of their loved one. I hugged her and we remained that way saying prayers for Olama until the doctor came out with news.
           “Her condition is critical”, the doctor said.
          “We did all we could but I’m afraid she may never walk again due to a severe injury to her spine”, he explained. I was content she was still breathing. Her alive was all that mattered to me. She was the reason for my new found joy and I would give up anything to see her beautiful smile every morning.


          9 years after, Olama is Mrs Obiuto. I had a name change and we have been blessed with two strong boys, David who is 4 and Nathaniel, 2. The gods had smiled on me. For some estranged reason, the cloud now seemed clearer, the trees greener, I can finally hear the birds whistle. Life is good. I now work as the CEO of a subsidiary energy renewal company owned by Olama’s Grandfather. I now live the fairy tale I watched and read about.
          I never did hear from my father again until the news of his death came 3 years ago. Olama and i are still very much in love and are living happily ever after in Abuja, Nigeria.
          2014 is the year. The war is over and I, Obiuto is the victor.

THE END.