A sense of despair flooded my senses as I watched a group of elders go into the obi. Although most villagers dared not to say it, nothing good comes along with their presence. Their stay was not long however, but I could sense a death trail behind them. Moments later Ikemefuna was called into my father’s home. I waited for him, but the winds blew across whispers of talk from the obi as if the Gods wanted me to hear. My father’s deep voice boomed, “Ikemefuna, you are going home.” But I knew that Ikemefuna was not going home and that realization had punched me from all directions. On instinct, I cried. I cried for my brother who taught me to become a man, who lived with my shattered family for three years, and who managed to give me a sense
