Among the Igbo, every compound had an obiri—an open meeting hut built at the entrance of the family compound. It was where visitors were received, neighbors gathered to share fresh palm wine, and elders discussed matters of importance.
The obiri had no walls.
The elders believed that walls had ears. A conversation hidden behind mud walls invited secrecy and suspicion, but one held beneath an open roof allowed every man to see who stood within hearing distance. In the open, there was little room for deceit.
It was in his obiri that Mazi Ojika usually spent his evenings, drinking palm wine while exchanging stories with friends.
But on this particular night, things were different.
Instead of sitting inside the open hut, he had dragged his wooden stool into the courtyard and settled beneath the stars, a calabash of fresh palm wine in one hand while the cool night breeze washed over him.
*
Outside the compound, Nnanna waited patiently.
He tossed one small stone onto Ego's thatched roof.
Nothing.
He waited.
Then he threw another.
Still nothing.
By the fifth stone, concern had begun to replace anticipation.
Normally, Ego appeared after the first or second signal.
Something was wrong.
His mind immediately drifted to the stories she had told him.
Her father, Mazi Ojika, was notorious throughout Umudibia for his love of palm wine. After drinking beyond his limit, he often returned home shouting insults at Ego and her mother. On his worst nights, insults became blows, and sometimes he locked both women inside their hut until morning.
Nnanna's heartbeat quickened.
What if tonight is one of those nights?
Without another thought, he made up his mind.
He would rescue her.
In his imagination, he could already see the relief on Ego's face when she discovered he had come for her. Someone needed to stand up to the drunken old hunter.
Why not him?
Keeping low, he slipped quietly through the narrow path behind the compound—the same hidden route Ego always used whenever she sneaked out to meet him.
Every step brought him closer to her hut.
Every step carried him deeper into trouble.
*
As he rounded the corner...
He froze.
Mazi Ojika sat directly outside Ego's hut, lazily sipping palm wine while gazing at the moon as though he had not a single care in the world.
Nnanna instinctively tried to retreat into the darkness.
Too late.
The old hunter's eyes locked onto him.
In one swift motion, Ojika reached for the rusty hunting gun lying beside his stool and leveled it straight at the young wrestler.
Though known throughout the village as a hopeless drunkard, Mazi Ojika was equally famous for another reason.
He was one of the finest hunters Umudibia had ever produced.
His aim was legendary.
"Who goes there?"
His voice cracked through the night like thunder.
"N... Nna anyi... it is me..."
Nnanna swallowed hard.
"Nnanna... son of Mazi Okoro."
"What are you doing inside my compound at this hour?"
The hunter's finger rested on the trigger.
For the first time since becoming Dimgba, Nnanna felt completely helpless.
His mind raced desperately for an explanation.
Then it came.
"Our black goat..." he stammered.
"It has been missing for three days."
"I came looking for it."
His voice trembled so badly that even he scarcely believed his own lie.
Three empty calabashes lay scattered beside Mazi Ojika's feet.
The old man had clearly drunk enough palm wine to intoxicate an elephant.
Yet his eyes remained frighteningly sharp.
"So..." Ojika growled as he rose slowly to his feet.
"You are the fool throwing stones onto my roof?"
He began walking toward Nnanna.
The gun never wavered.
Seeing the old hunter approaching, Nnanna immediately dropped to his knees.
"N-no, Nna anyi!"
"It wasn't me!"
"It must have been you!" Ojika barked.
"So you were throwing stones to chase your goat away?"
"Nna anyi," Nnanna pleaded, "how could I ever throw stones onto your roof? I would never disrespect your compound."
The shouting awakened Ego's mother.
Ejika hurried outside and stopped in horror.
Her husband stood with a gun aimed directly at Nnanna.
Without hesitation, she fell to her knees.
"My husband... my good husband..."
"Please lower the gun before you accidentally kill this young man."
Ojika ignored her completely.
Instead, he shouted toward the hut.
"Ego!"
"Come out here!"
Behind the door, Ego had heard every word.
She had remained frozen in fear, praying silently that her father would not pull the trigger.
The moment she heard her name, she hurried outside, pretending to know nothing.
"Nna anyi."
She bowed respectfully.
"My daughter," Ojika asked calmly, "did you happen to see a black goat pass through this compound today?"
Ego understood instantly.
This was her chance to save Nnanna.
"Yes, Nna anyi."
"I saw a pregnant black goat pass behind my hut this evening."
She pointed toward the rear of the compound.
Ojika slowly turned toward Nnanna.
"Your goat..."
"Was it pregnant?"
Nnanna nodded frantically.
The hunter frowned.
"Young man!"
"Do you think I am blind?"
"I asked you a question."
"I said..."
"Was the goat pregnant?"
"Y-yes!"
"Yes, Nna anyi!"
"It was pregnant!"
The answer echoed through the silent compound.
For several long moments, nobody spoke.
Then...
Slowly...
Mazi Ojika lowered the gun.
"So," he muttered.
"You don't know that sensible people search for missing goats while the sun is still shining?"
He shook his head.
"You are fortunate; my daughter confirmed your story."
"Otherwise I would have shot you in the leg for trespassing before sending you crawling back to your father."
"And if anyone from your family came here demanding explanations..."
He smiled.
"They would receive exactly the same treatment."
Then he looked at Ego.
"My daughter..."
"Show this young man the path your goat supposedly took."
"Yes, Nna anyi."
Ego bowed again.
Nnanna let out a deep sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Nna Anyi."
He climbed to his feet.
"Did I ask you to stand?"
The rusty gun shot upward once more.
Nnanna dropped back onto his knees so quickly that even Ego nearly burst into laughter.
"N-no, Nna anyi."
"You did not."
For several seconds, Mazi Ojika stared at him.
Then he threw back his head and laughed.
A loud, uncontrollable laugh.
"I thought you were Umudibia's mighty Dimgba."
"I am..."
Nnanna answered, still kneeling.
"So..."
"The great champion is terrified of one drunken old man carrying an unloaded gun?"
Silence.
Then realization dawned on every face.
"The gun... isn't loaded?"
Nnanna blinked.
Everyone—including Ego and her mother—burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Nnanna finally stood, laughing harder than anyone.
"Nna anyi," he said, wiping tears from his eyes, "I truly believed it was loaded."
"I still remember the day I followed you hunting."
"You brought down a huge wildcat with a single shot from an unbelievable distance."
"My father kept praising your marksmanship all the way home."
"He even warned me never to cross you."
Ojika's chest swelled with pride.
"Your father is a wise man."
He rested the gun across his shoulder.
"And he was right."
He leaned closer with a grin.
"Even when I'm drunk..."
"I still don't miss."
The old hunter stretched out his hand. This time, Nnanna accepted it without fear. The two men shook hands warmly.
"I would offer you some palm wine," Ojika said, glancing at the empty calabashes around him, "but I have finished every keg."
He lifted the little remaining wine in his cup.
"And this last one..."
He grinned mischievously.
"...is far too sweet to share."
Nnanna laughed.
"Thank you, Nna Anyi."
"I had more than enough before leaving home."
It was a polite lie.
But one that allowed the evening to end with laughter rather than gunfire.