Two stories I wrote: Business among the Igbo and Victor's Journey

[Nahash]

I would really appreciate constructive criticism. Thanks in advance for reading these stories.

Business among the Igbo was inspired by Things Fall Apart. I had to write it for a school project and it ends abruptly because my English teacher didn't want to read more than four pages.

The Diary of Howard Covington III
Wednesday, June 19th, 1889
It was hot today when I stepped off the ship at Onicha. The trip down from Lokoja was a hard one as the sailors were inexperienced and I suffer from a curious condition where I get nauseous very easily. Every time the boat rocked slightly, I felt even sicker than usual and only by force of will was I able to control myself from running to the side of the ship, jumping over, and swimming ashore. The goods I had stored in the ship were a huge motivation to stay as I needed to sell them all to the Igbos. This was my first assignment as a trader with the Royal Niger Company and if I abandoned the ship and the mission, I would lose my only job since I came to Africa.
One of the sailors had a pet Sclater's guenon, a small monkey named Owo (after the city), and it was my mortal enemy. The little thing loved to sneak into my room and eat my dodo, little fried and salted plantains that tasted wonderful. I had only three pounds of them, cooked by a surly chef in Lokoja who seasoned them with delicious spices, to last me for the three day and four night trip. The first night on the ship, I woke up to see the monkey standing over me, grinning and laughing, I was so frightened that I almost passed out. I felt death had come for me in the shape of a monkey who had a beard and sideburns like my grandfather and the stupid little grin of my brother. Owo jumped off my bed and ran over to my storage trunk. He rummaged around in it for a bit while I watched, dumbfounded. The monkey found what he was looking for and took it out. It was my bag of dodo and Owo opened it and ate some. This enraged me as I had paid quite a lot for this dodo and I had wanted it to last throughout the trip. I jumped up and chased the little thief away. The monkey didn’t eat too much dodo, thank God. The next few nights were full of anxiety since I didn’t like getting woken up, especially not by a monkey that reminded me of my grandfather. I secured the storage trunk with rope to force the lid shut, saving the dodo from Owo. When we arrived today at around nine at night, I rejoiced. No more seasickness! I left the ship with a heavy heart and headed to my arranged home, a small hut in a corner of the village. It is spartan in style with just some bedding, a table, and a fire. I put my things on the table earlier and closed the door made of sticks. I lay down on the bedding and will fall asleep soon as I am quite tired from my guarding duties.
Thursday, June 20th, 1889
At dawn I was roused from sleep by a knock at the door. When I called out, “Who are you?” He reminded me that he was the translator I hired. I quickly made myself decent and opened the door. The translator is a tall man. His eyes seem to convey multiple emotions. He introduced himself as Oberkia and said in a very accented English, “The Obi of Onicha want to welcome you to our village.” This was a pleasant surprise and it would certainly make trading easier for me to have his approval. I replied, “I would very much like to be welcomed by your Obi.” Smiling, Oberkia led me to the centre of the village. Naked children ran to see me as I arrived and some cowered away from me, scared of strangers. One brave little girl ran up to Oberkia and asked him something. He turned to me and said, “Little Chiamaka wants to know where you are from and if you are sick.” The first question made sense but the question of sickness was confusing. I said, “I am from England. Can you ask her why she thinks I am sick?” Oberkia nodded and spoke to the girl quickly. She responded and he started laughing. Still chuckling, he turned to me and said, “She thinks you are sick because your skin is so pale.” I found this very amusing. I told her through Oberkia that natives of my land are born with white skin, that I am healthy, and thank you for your concern.
We headed along to meet the Obi and after walking for a bit, I found myself in the middle of a large clearing surrounded by huts. A very fat, happy man waddled toward me, the Obi, I assumed. He was carrying a plate of small nuts in one hand and gestured for me to sit with the other. I sat and he sat in front of me, crosslegged. The Obi took my right hand and touched the plate with it and then let go of my hand. He then took a nut and said to me, “Öjï luo ünö okwuo ebe osi bia.” Oberkia whispered to me, translating it, "When the Kola nut reaches home, it will tell where it came from." An old man was called from the audience. He was easily around seventy and his face was creased with wrinkles. The old man walked over and took a kola nut from the plate using his right hand. “Ihe dï mma onye n’achö, ö ga-afü ya.” Oberkia translated it to "Whatever good he is looking for, he will see it." A man ran to the Obi and handed him a sharp knife. I tensed up, I had heard horror stories of cannibalism in certain parts of Africa and while I knew that these people didn’t practice it, I was afraid that, with my luck, they would change their minds. To my relief, the Obi used the knife to split a nut. It split into two and the Obi frowned. Oberkia also frowned but told me now to explain the purpose of my visit. I said, with Oberkia translating, that the Royal Niger Company had heard of their recent battles with the Oka and that the Oka had Dane guns, making the tide of battle turn against Onicha. The Company felt this was not right and sent me to offer you the chance to purchase the Martini-Henry rifle. It is much better than the crude Dane guns that the Oka use. I smile and offer to demonstrate how to shoot one.
The Obi consulted with some men and ordered a man to come with us. Oberkia, the man, and me walked to the ship. While Oberkia and the man chatted, I went into the boat and collected a rifle, a few cartridges of ammunition, a wooden block, and a few small clay pots. Coming back out, I made sure the man was looking at me and I set a clay pot on the block. I slowly loaded the gun, explaining every part of it to Oberkia who translated the directions to the man. I raised the rifle, held my breath, and shot at the pot. If I didn’t hit this pot, they might think the rifles are inferior. Thank god, I hit the pot and it shattered. The man smiled and I handed him the gun. He loaded it and spoke to Oberkia. Oberkia turned to me. “Okonkwo wants you to put another pot down.” I obliged and quickly put the pot up. Okonkwo shot it and smiled. He spoke quickly to Oberkia and through him, said, “These are good guns. Let’s go back.” We walked back to the centre of the village and Okonkwo met with the Obi in his hut. I was invited in and sat as they discussed the guns. Finally, they came to a decision and called Oberkia into the hut. They spoke through him, saying that they would like to buy the guns for fifty cowrie shells each. I accepted and we drank palm wine in celebration.

Friday, June 21th, 1889
I sold the Obi half of my cargo. I told him the rest was being saved for another tribe far away. I also traded a rifle for one of the Dane rifles they captured in an earlier war with the Oka. They agreed and I was the proud owner of a Danish rifle. I spent the rest of the day working on it, weakening it. I also paid Oberkia to travel with us for his translation services. The ship left at dawn today to go up the river a bit and dock there. I directed the crew to unload a few rifles and the Dane rifle. A few sailors and me then marched to Oka. We arrived near sundown and the Oka were surprised to see us. I went through the nut ritual again and then, speaking through Oberkia, I spoke frankly to the leader of Oka. “Your village is in danger. I have just arrived from Onicha and they plan to attack you with advanced British rifles. I can sell you weapons to give you an advantage over the attackers.”
The Obi replied, “We already have weapons. We have the axe and the Dane rifles.”
I smirked, “The axe is useless against rifles and the Dane rifles are horrible. I will show you.” I instructed a sailor to set up a clay pot on a wooden block. I used the Dane rifle that I weakened and shot at the pot. As expected, the gun burst in half violently, splintering wood and metal flying away in all directions from the wreckage. Somehow, I was not harmed.
The Obi of Oka nodded his head slowly as he watched this scene. Oberkia asked him, “What do you think?”
The Obi responded, “Oka has relied on old weapons for too long. You have convinced me. Come to my hut and we can discuss prices.”
I sold the rest of the cargo for seventy shells each and am staying with the Obi for the night in his compound out of his gratitude. I plan to sail back to Lokoja tomorrow and laugh in the faces of the other traders who were stupid enough to get caught up in the culture of these men and who forgot to fight for every cowrie shell that they could get. I feel I will do fine in the Royal Niger Company.

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Victor's Journey is a fantasy story in its early stages, also written for the English class:

In a small town, an unremarkable baby was born. He was average looking for a newborn which meant that he looked like a tiny alien. His mother was an average woman, a pale medium sized woman who always seemed to be content with her lot. His father was a happy drunk who worked as a coal miner in the nearby mines. When the baby was born, once he was cleaned up, his father picked him up and said to his wife, “Let’s name the lil bastard Victor.” The woman, tired and trusting her husband, nodded her head in agreement. Victor wailed with a voice that seemed impossible to come from such a small baby.
When the happy couple took Victor home, they bundled him up so he wouldn’t get cold and then carried him onto their small wooden wagon. The new mother held Victor as the father got onto the front of the wagon and screamed at the two headed cow to pull. The cow groaned but started moving. The father, making sure that the cow knew the way home, then jumped into the back of the wagon. “Victor,” He cooed, “I’m ya daddy. Me name’s Howard Covington the Third. We’re descended from royalty, that means that ya a prince. Prince Victor.” The mother rolled her eyes and sighed, “Howard, I told you, that soothsayer just told you what you wanted to hear. Even if you’re descended from royalty, which I highly doubt, it doesn’t matter anymore. Victor, my name’s Maria. Don’t listen to your father’s stories. He’s delusional.” Victor gurgled in agreement.
When the family arrived at their house, Howard went to take the cow off the yoke while Maria took Victor inside to feed him. As Howard trudged through the snow to his warm yellow house, he smiled. He and Maria had waited a long time for a baby.
Howard thought of the numerous miscarriages that Maria had had. He still heard her wails in his nightmares. After the fifth, Maria had stolen his precious bottle of vodka from the Imperial Palace and drank the entire thing. Howard was asleep when this had happened and was woken up by a loud sound of glass breaking. Somehow, Howard could tell that he was going to miss the broken thing very much but then realized that Maria wasn’t in bed with him and the bedroom door was open. Knowing the dangers of the night and what they could do to his love, Howard struggled out of bed but got caught in the sheet and fell on the floor. Not caring, he ran out of the bedroom as a resounding scream rang from the hallway downstairs. Howard jumped down the stairs by twos and threes, his heart beating like the drums at his wedding, drums that heralded a major change to his life. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he almost ran into Maria. “Me love!” Howard exclaimed, “What’s wrong?” Maria didn’t respond and then Howard saw that she was carrying his special vodka. Another bottle lay on the ground, smashed. As he watched, shocked, Maria took a big swig straight from the bottle and finished it off; she then reversed her grip on the bottle’s neck and smashed it straight into the wall, sending glass everywhere. “What’s wrong?” Maria screamed, turning on Howard, “What’s right? You’re a prince who left the royal family in order to marry a chestnut seller from the Rock. I thought I was so lucky and wanted children so badly so we could finally be a real family. After the first miscarriage, I was upset and wanted to die but you comforted me with your beautiful words. I thought your seed might be weak and then admonished myself for thinking that. The same thing happened with the second and third and fourth. I thought that I had done something wrong and the gods had punished me. For the second, I blamed it on when I was a baby and stole my mother’s milk from my twin. The third, I figured it was the time when I was a small girl and cut purses. The fourth, I thought it was because I had the future king love me and I made him lose his kingship. Those are all my sins.” Maria angrily stepped toward Howard, “So tell me why I’m not holding a baby in my arms right now. Why isn’t it cooing right now? Your seed was weak or my womb is barren.” Maria punched the wall and left a hole in it. She looked at Howard and reached out for a hug while weeping. “The gods hate me. Why? I have made up all my sins. I hate the gods.” Maria broke out of the hug and ran toward the door. With Howard standing in shock, she flung it open and ran out into the new fallen snow. Howard sprinted to the doorway to see where she went and saw her a few feet away. Clothed in a white shift, she looked like an angel fallen to earth. Out of a nearby copse of trees a huge she-wolf emerged and walked slowly toward Maria. Howard stepped out of the doorway. ready to protect Maria, when she motioned for him to stop. He felt he must obey and watched as the wolf approached his love. The wolf licked Maria’s face and lay at the feet of his love. Maria hugged it and fell asleep. The she-wolf slept and Howard felt he had seen something holy. A few months later, Maria became pregnant.
Howard never spoke to Maria about that and Maria never brought it up. Both understood that it meant Victor was special in someway.
Years passed and Victor grew into a strong seven year old. It was time for him to come with his father to learn how to hunt. Howard somehow convinced his boss to give him a day off, unheard of in the mines, and they were off. Little Victor helped hook the cows to the wagon while Maria looked on approvingly. Howard smiled approvingly and once Victor did all he could do, lifted the little boy up into the wagon. He gave Victor a manly slap on the back. Victor smiled and did the same to his father, feeling like a man. Howard climbed into the front of the wagon and after checking to see that their bow, blunderbuss, and skinning knife were in the back of the wagon along with Victor, cracked the whip and the cows lowed, slowly moving then setting a brisk pace.
Wolves were always a problem in the thick forests of the North but Howard found that when he brought Victor along, the wolves avoided their cart. This was wonderful for Howard, not only because of the increased safety but because now people hired him and his son to accompany them through the North. Knowing this, Howard felt safe taking Victor hunting with him. Victor sat in the back of the wagon, chattering away at Howard who listened to his son’s wisdom. “Papa, did you know that deers can jump really high? Even the baby ones? I know cause I saw a baby deer jump really high. A wolf got it though and ate him. The deer was far away though but it was on the plain where mama plants the wheat and I was sitting in the corner. I think the deer might have been okay though and I might have missaw if the deer got eated. I really hope not. I liked that deer. We’re going to kill a deer right papa?”
Howard responded, “‘Probably. I don’t wanna kill as you know but we gotta eat somehow. The Snowroad is blocked off by some bandits who wanna to get even fatter offa honest people like us. If you want, I could do the huntin’ while you sit in the wagon.”
Victor sat and thought for a while. “I wanna help hunt the deers. I wanna be like a wolf.”
Howard smiled, “Then you get to hold the blunderbuss little wolf.”
Victor squealed in joy and for the rest of the trip was quiet. He didn’t want to risk bothering his dad. The gun was a scary weapon but one that Victor wanted to use. Men used the blunderbuss and Victor wanted to prove to his father that he was a man despite his young age. They arrived at the forest clearing that Howard used as a base of operations for hunting. Victor jumped out of the wagon into a thick pile of snow and Howard retrieved the blunderbuss and handed it to Victor. Victor smiled and growled like a wolf ready for the hunt.
Howard smiled despite his grumpiness about Maria not allowing him any beer that morning. She justified it with some garbage about putting him into an early grave and anyway, he shouldn’t be around guns while drinking, plus he has to watch Victor. Howard stamped his feet in frustration at the memory and pulled out his emergency flask. Victor sat and watched as Howard unbottled the flask and tried to drink the contents. Maria, in her infinite wisdom, found the emergency flask and emptied it, replacing the whisky with water. Howard sputtered once the water hit his lips and cursed loudly. Victor laughed heartily as Howard spat out the water and then grew silent as Howard scowled at him. “Let’s get going.” Howard commanded, pointing towards the hunting path that had been in Maria’s family for seventy generations and lumbering toward it. Victor ran to keep up with his dad, clutching his blunderbuss.
The woods were quiet and still. Wolf howls echoed through the forest, flying through the trees. Victor felt chills down his spine, starting at the neck and ending somewhere around the small of his back. Snow fell and Howard silently took Victor’s hand to take him to the hunting blind that Howard usually used. It was the one place that the deer had to hide from the wolves and always had a big buck somewhere around. It was Maria’s traditional hunting grounds which her family had used for countless centuries. The blind was a small wooden shack, modest in furnishing and design. As the man and boy walked in, Victor looked around curiously. There was a wooden bench and a long glass window to see the deer prancing by. The two sat on the bench and Victor rested the gun against the bench.
After a while, Howard tapped Victor on the shoulder and held a finger up to his lips. “A deer.” He whispered. A wolf then appeared near the deer, sniffed, and ran away as fast as he could. Howard grinned at the wolf as it scampered away, and picked up his blunderbuss. He opened the door quietly and leaned out of the doorway. The buck didn’t seem to notice so Howard aimed at the damned animal. Victor watched from inside through the glass window with a mixture of horror and curiosity. Howard, after offering up a quick prayer to the She-Wolf; goddess of the hunt, shot. The buck fell in what seemed to Victor as slow motion as a mist appeared around the slain animal. He bowed his head in respect to the animal and then went outside. Howard had the hunting knife and was kneeling, already scoring the bucks skin in such as way that he could keep the fur. He looked up at Victor and smiled. “Here’s dinner for the next few weeks. Help me skin this.” A few hours later, they had a skin, a pile of organs, and a pile of bones for Maria to craft into whatever she needed. Feeling happy and indulgent, Howard let Victor perform the sacrifice to the She Wolf.
Victor first cleared the snow off the ground. This took a while since there was an inch of ice covering the earth. After that, he retrieved a faggot of sticks and untied it, putting the sticks in a tent formation. Finally, Victor got some sawdust from his pocket that he had stored beforehand and spread it in the middle of the tent. He took out a flint and tinder and after a few tries, lit the fire. This was his first sacrifice and he didn’t really know what to say. With Howard watching, Victor grabbed the brain of the buck and the spleen. “Um, thanks She-Wolf for giving us a good hunt. I hope you like these, I know I do. And... yeah... I guess that’s it. Have a good day.” He finished lamely and threw the organs into the fire. The organs burned and a fiery silhouette of a wolf appeared above the fire. Victor was confused and looked at his father. Howard was slackjawed. In all his years of hunting and sacrificing, the silhouette hadn’t appeared for him.
The silhouette of the She-Wolf howled and disappeared. The fire went out and Victor said, “Guess she liked it?” Howard nodded and laughed. “Son, I have never seen that happen in my thirty years. Guess she likes you a lot.”