And so my dad started his story.

Nweroenwe was a simple man. He possessed simple things and he desired no more than to keep them. At 16 Nwere defeated all the wrestlers in his clan, two years after, he became the village champion after throwing Amanze the village giant to the ground.

He was like his father, his body akin with him. Golden skin, golden eyes, height that rivalled palm trees. Before he could utter his first words, families betrothed their daughters to him. Some secretly called him anwu, the god of the sun. He was a very handsome man, too handsome to be a man.

Tragedy befell his family when he was just starting to learn how to clip his own Bush meat. His mother died during childbirth. Blood stained the sands his feet walked on and the clay that was molded as a home. His father slumped and died at hearing the news from the weeping midwife, her clothes dyed red. People said his parents had been part of a blood covenant. He lost his little sister, his parents, his home - in a day. They were buried where spirits inhabited, he was only eight.

Nwere had uncles and aunts but, none agreed to take him in. They said his family was cursed and that his father's Chi let a woman tie him to her waist. His uncle Atanda, his father's eldest brother with fury and disgust in his eyes chased him from his hut with a stick and warned him never to return or he will end up as his father, the stubborn fly who accompanied the corpse to the grave.

Nwere never went back. He built a home for himself bamboo engaged to bamboo, till he could sleep without mosquitoes calling his name, and crickets telling him stories of lovers in the world beyond. His Chi stayed by him. It appeared to him in his dream painted with chalk. White as the cloud. Some nights he would kiss him and some nights he would whisper in his ears. He never quite understood the words it spoke but it seemed his manhood did. Whenever he woke up from such dreams he would notice that they had responded to them in a salute.

He would sigh and wonder why they didn't respond to earthly beauties like Ezinne, Olomma or even Achalugo the most flirtatious of them. Acha had waist like calabash. When she danced her feet did not greet the soil. She swayed her hips north and south and men grovelled, begging her to be their chi. They would promise her silver and gold and a feast of fattens.

The more their eyes hungrily feasted, the more energy she cultivated in swaying her hips. In the market place, on the road, wherever, her hips effortlessly, endlessly danced with her every step and while most girls in the village were envious, some flocked around her. They wanted to unveil her.

When men called, she paid no heed. She hardened her face like the shell of a tortoise barely teasing any with a smile. She loved the attention but she loved Nwere more. She called him the sun of her life. She told her friends that his skin will do well with hers on a woven mat. And she would tie his Chi to her waist like his mother did to his father.

It did not matter to her that Nwere rejected all other girls. She was confident he would acquiesce her, she thought herself the fairest of them all. The eyes and lips of men that walked past her, the mirror that arrayed this. She would bring Nwere food and smile sweetly at him, the smile her father said could quench the fury of the gods.

When she brought him a bowl with which to wash his hands, her hips faced the north, sometimes it forgot to come back south. When she sat close to him, she wanted to be in him, sticking as close as the lump of Garri in his hands. But Nwere didnt have eyes for her, or for any other of her friends. His manhood didn't acknowledge them.