Where the Wind Blows

A few days later, Polo led a family from the neighboring village to Obiozo’s house. The family woke from sleep and realized all who slept in the house were sick. Five members of the family had their bowels closed. None could urinate or defecate. Obiozo laughed after listening to Polo. “What can cause you to laugh, my friend?” Polo said. “I brought you a family in trouble, and all you do is laugh. Does laughter here mean you can handle this or not?” Obiozo stood near his friend and shoved him jokingly. “Polo, is this the thing you cannot handle yourself? Are you just a part of me for nothing? I have shown you several herbs to deal with simple cases like this one. You are not just paying attention.” Polo stared at his friend. He knew Obiozo told the truth. He believed his head was not meant for his friend’s line of business and never wished to try. “Please, this is urgent. The family has been like this for two days. I am afraid they will die if something is not done quickly.” Obiozo stepped forward, turned when he got to the door, and beckoned at his friend. “Follow me.”. Polo went with him without a further word. At the edge of the compound beside a palm tree, Obiozo stopped and pointed to a tree a few yards away. “What about the tree?” Polo said. “Do you know the name of that tree?” “Commonleaf, that’s what our people call it?” “That is the name. It does not have a foreign name. “ “Is in every bush around.” “Go there, cut a branch, and bring.” Polo grabbed a knife, and quickly did as he was asked. Both men returned to the living room and stepped over to the kitchen. Then they cut the leaves and herbs they brought in pieces. Obiozo set up the fire and asked Polo to stuff up the pot with the chopped herbs and leaves. Polo carried out as directed. In ten minutes, the pot heated up and the savoring smell filled the atmosphere. In another five minutes, Obiozo ordered the pot put down, and he extracted a jar of concoction. He then served each of the five family members a cup of the medication in a lukewarm state. One by one, in a minute or two, each patient dozed off. After one and half hours, they all woke up having no traces of the ailment. The grateful family head approached Obiozo, bowing. “Thank you very much, great herbalist.” “We praise the gods.” “How much is our bill?” Looking at Polo, Obiozo said, “Give him any amount you like when you get to his house.” “So, our soil has all the answers to all the medical issues we face daily?” Polo said, pleasantly surprised. “I can’t believe those herbs we picked in front of the house settled all the medical troubles that had arrested the family for two days. Unbelievable.” “Nature is kind to us,” Obiozo said, gathering leftovers of different leaves in a basket. “Our forests are rich with herbs of all kinds. If only we can pay attention to what we are given freely by nature, we have enough on our soil to keep us healthy all the year round.” The family head, now joined by the rest of the healed bloated stomach patients, knelt before Obiozo. “We owe our lives to you,” the family head said. “Please, permit us to pay something, we may at least show gratitude. How can you do this service for free?” “Thank the gods you are fine,” Obiozo said. “Give any token you have to Polo, my friend when you get to his house. He is my longtime friend. Anything good for him makes me happy, too.” Polo turned and addressed the family. “You don’t know Obiozo. The gods tell him where to go and how to get there. That’s the only way he can be happy. Please stand, and let’s go. He has spoken his last word.” “May the gods add value to your life, great healer,” the head of the family said. “May you receive more than proportionate reward for your good services! You shall live along.” Obiozo, Polo and the other family members cheered, “Iseeeh! So be it!” The following day, Obiozo witnessed a queue at his door. Children, adults, men, and women waited anxiously for medical attention. What was going on? Were all Zamza people gripped by the same ailment simultaneously? He could not immediately determine. By midday, a score had died across the kingdom. Fear gripped the King and many other leaders of the kingdom. In the evening the king summoned all the native doctors. “What have we done to offend the gods?” the King posed to the elders. “We must consult the sage,” Kwetara, the oldest of the palace chiefs said. “We have never seen this kind of thing before. I think the gods are angry with us.” “Kwetara may be right,” Udukaka said, intent to blame it on some people known to him. “Too many things have happened recently. We must have offended the gods one way or the other. How do you explain more than 20 deaths a day? How many are we that we should lose several people in so short a time?” Everyone at the meeting agreed the disease ravaging the land was not ordinary, that the gods must be responsible for the situation. The elders advised the king to send a delegation to the sage without delay. The king took Kwetara aside and whispered for a moment. Thereafter, he announced a team of thirteen elders led by Kwetara to visit the sage. “We cannot delay for a moment when our roof is on fire. Go, go to the sage, enquire of the gods the reason behind the strange disease now sweeping across our kingdom like wildfire. Our people must know what is behind this strange wind and how we can survive the plague.”