The instant Okokon saw Ikanganyong, a wave of profound fear washed over him. He instinctively bowed, making a deep obeisance to the priest. "Ete ifiọk," he began, his voice laced with reverence, "the wisest man that ever walked on these blessed lands, the one whose eyes are sharper than the eagle's. The oracle, and the very mouthpiece of the gods. The one who wrestled with the wild lion and conquered. May the gods of our land lengthen your days."
Ikanganyong raised his staff and then brought it down, its thud against the earth a clear signal for Okokon to speak. Okokon, still trembling, continued, "I know you are already aware of the reason for my visit. You see with the eyes of the gods, and your proverbs have already confirmed everything. My child's hands are stuck together, clutching some sticks, something utterly unnatural."
A shiver ran through Okokon as he spoke. "Such a thing has never happened before in Nung Ikpong. If my distant cousin, Chief Akpan Nsidibe Ikpong, were to hear of this, he might believe the child is cursed and banish me and my family from this village. What must I do, O wise one?"
Ikanganyong replied, his voice calm and firm, "Worry not for the child, because as a messenger of the gods, they will watch over him."
"What about me and my wife, O wise one? What was the death you spoke of? Am I going to lose my wife to the cruel hands of death?" Okokon's voice broke.
"As a vessel that carried the messenger of the gods, your wife, Mafiong, will live to care for the child so that he may take his rightful place as the slit drummer of the gods. At age 10, Ndarake will begin his assignment. You will..." The priest's words were cut short by Okokon's heart-wrenching cry.
With a loud, guttural sob, Okokon wept a river of tears, his voice echoing through the dense forest. "Is there no salvation for me? Can't you avert this death and let me live? I don't want to die! Please! Help me! Save me!" He collapsed to the ground, holding onto Ikanganyong's legs, shivering as if struck by lightning.
The heart-wrenching plea from Okokon shattered the priest's stoic facade, Ikanganyong sighed deeply. "I wish I could save you, but the gods have already determined your fate. However, I will delay the time of your passing so you may enjoy this life for a while. Heed my words: take that child and your wife to Nto Edino in Annang. There's a priestess who lives by the riverbank. Tell her I sent you. Do not let anyone know you are leaving."
Ete ifiọk continued his instructions, "Ah, yes! Lest I forget, take this eagle feather and scent leaf. Grind the scent leaf and add three tablespoons of water. Afterward, dip the tip of the eagle's feather and sprinkle it on the child's body seven times. When you are done, place one shilling on the back of his palm as a token of acceptance; only then will his hands open."
Ikanganyong wasn't finished. "Pay close attention to these sacred rules: your child must not taste anything with feathers. He must not eat dog meat. He can only take his bath in a river or stream. You must not cut his fingernails until he is ten years of age. Now, arise and go quickly, before the chief's guards arrive! May the great Nturukpuum (eagle) be with you."
Okokon rose in haste and bowed before the priest in gratitude. "Ete ifọk, sọsọñọ ke nti utom mfo. Yak akwa mba nturukpuum, uwere fien k'idem."
Translated: "Wise father, thank you for your good works. May the great wings of the eagle encompass you.
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