Weekend Titbits by Boma Nwuke
They say when two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. But in our own time, it is no longer only grass that suffers sometimes, a man suffers too, without a slap, without a punch, without even a bruise. Again, our elders warned that a man who carries fire in his mouth should not complain when smoke blinds him. In the world we live in today, words have become weapons and threats have become bullets. And as the saying goes, the mouth that spits curses does not always chew peace. This is the story of a meeting in a Port Harcourt suburb where two men clashed over a trivial matter, yet one almost paid with his life — not by fist, but by fear, mystery and the unseen.
The, two men attended a meeting like every other community meeting. It was not a political rally. It was not a boxing arena. It was not even a battlefield. It was simply one of those gatherings where neighbours come together to discuss issues affecting them: security, sanitation, electricity, ,community levies, land matters, leadership misunderstandings — the usual “our people” business.
But what began as a normal meeting ended like a scene from a disturbing drama.
Somewhere in the course of the deliberations, two men had an altercation over what many described as a trivial matter. Perhaps one felt insulted. Perhaps one felt cheated. Perhaps it was simply ego clashing with ego — that common sickness that makes men behave as though humility is a disease.
Voices rose. Tempers flared. Words flew like arrows. Before anyone could caution them, the argument turned into physical confrontation. Blows were set to be exchanged, but other members of the meeting stepped in quickly. Like responsible neighbours, they separated the two men and attempted to restore calm.
One would think that was the end. But it was only the beginning.
The man seen as the aggressor refused to let the matter go. Even after being restrained, he continued to spit anger and venom. Then he issued the kind of threat that makes the air go cold:
“I will teach you a lesson you will never forget in your life.”
The challenger, perhaps confident in his physical strength or perhaps simply unwilling to be intimidated, responded in defiance:
“You can do nothing.”
It was a sentence that many people have said before. A sentence that has ended fights. A sentence that has sometimes provoked more violence. But nobody expected what followed next.
Before the meeting could understand what was happening — before a fist landed on his body, before a slap touched his cheek, the man who had spoken boldly suddenly slumped. His body shook. Foam gathered around his mouth. He began to gasp for breath as though an invisible hand was squeezing the life out of him.
The meeting turned into confusion.
Men jumped up from benches. Women screamed. Some ran closer. Some ran away. Some shouted prayers. Some shouted “water!” Some shouted “hospital!” It was one of those moments where everyone is present, yet nobody knows what exactly to do first.
What was clear, however, was that this was not normal.
There was no visible wound. No blood. No punch. No kick. Yet the man lay there, helpless, foaming and fighting for breath like a fish thrown on dry land.
The community immediately mobilised and rushed him to the hospital. As at the time this story reached me, he was said to be fighting for his life.
Then the whispers began — the kind of whispers that spread faster than wildfire.
“Nobody should try that man.”
“That man is fetish.”
“You see why you don’t provoke some people?”
“That was diabolical.”
And truly, it is difficult for ordinary minds to process what happened. Because the question that remained in the air was heavier than the man’s body on the ground:
What did the aggressor do?
Nobody saw him strike the victim. Nobody saw him push him. Yet something happened immediately after his threat. And the timing was too close for comfort.
Some said they noticed the aggressor stretching his hand. Others claimed he had something in his mouth. Some insisted he had chewed something earlier. Some said he spat something. Some said it was charm. Others argued it was mere coincidence.
But in African communities, especially where people still believe strongly in spiritual powers, coincidence is a hard thing to sell.
Soon, the aggressor became the hunted.
Two strong men in the meeting confronted him with a warning that sounded like judgement:
“If this man dies, we will remove you and your family from this community. You will pay dearly for it. Pray he does not die.”
Instead of showing remorse, the aggressor replied with a strange calmness:
“What did I do to him? Did you see me hit him?”
That response only worsened his situation. It was like pouring petrol on a fire. Because in the mind of the people, his words sounded like the voice of someone who knows exactly what he did and is confident he cannot be proven.
And that is how fear is born.
The fear of the unknown. The fear of the unseen. The fear that some people do not fight with fists but with forces. The fear that in this world, strength is not always physical.
This is the world of the strong.
But who are the strong?
In many communities, the “strong man” is not necessarily the one with broad shoulders. He may be the one with influence, money, connections, or intimidation. He may be the one who has cultivated fear around himself like a personal security detail. He may be the one people avoid provoking, not because he is right, but because he is dangerous.
The tragedy is that many people confuse strength with wickedness.
A man who cannot control his temper is not strong — he is weak.
A man who threatens lives over trivial matters is not strong , he is insecure.
A man who wants to win every argument by intimidation is not strong, he is empty.
And yet, in the broken logic of society, such men are respected.
That is why the incident at that meeting should not just be discussed as a strange occurrence. It should be discussed as a lesson about human behaviour, anger, and the dangerous hunger for dominance.
Because even if one dismisses the spiritual interpretations, there are other possibilities that are equally frightening.
Medical experts will tell you that a person can suddenly collapse due to:high blood pressure crisis stroke,heart attack,
asthma or respiratory failure,panic-induced shock.
It is possible that the victim had an underlying condition, and the stress of the heated confrontation triggered it. It is possible that fear itself became the weapon. Because fear is powerful — it can raise blood pressure, tighten the chest, and weaken the heart. Fear can kill.
So whether it was spiritual or medical, one truth remains: anger and threats can destroy.
And this is why we must be careful with words.
Some people think threats are mere talk. But threats are not ordinary talk. Threats are spiritual bullets. They plant terror. They shake confidence. They disturb the mind. They destabilise the body.
When you tell someone “I will deal with you,” you may think you are speaking grammar. But the human body does not always interpret it as grammar. The body can interpret it as danger. And danger triggers survival response.
This is why leaders — community leaders, religious leaders, political leaders must always speak responsibly. This is why husbands must not threaten their wives. This is why parents must not threaten children with wicked words. This is why neighbours must not joke with curses.
Words can be poison.
Words can also be charms.
In the aftermath of that meeting, the aggressor became emotionally withdrawn. He became suspicious. He became isolated. People no longer trusted him. Nobody wanted his friendship. Nobody wanted to share drinks with him. Nobody wanted to visit his house. Mothers warned their children to avoid him.
Whether guilty or innocent, he became a prisoner of public perception.
And that brings us to another lesson: when you live by intimidation, you die by suspicion.
A man who enjoys being feared will one day regret it, because fear does not build loyalty. It builds enemies.
Now, there is also the danger of community judgement.
As justified as their anger may be, the community must be careful. Threatening to remove a man and his family is a form of collective punishment. It can escalate tension. It can lead to mob justice. It can create another cycle of violence.
Yes, the community must protect itself. But it must also avoid becoming what it condemns.
Justice must not become vengeance.
At the end of it all, this incident teaches a moral lesson that should not be ignored:
1.Anger is a poor adviser.
It makes people speak and act beyond reason.
2.Threats are dangerous.
Even if you do not strike a person, your words can trigger trauma, fear, and fatal consequences.
3.The strongest man is the one who controls himself.
Self-control is strength. Temper is weakness.
4.Do not mistake intimidation for power.
True power is character. True strength is restraint.
5.Evil does not always wear a frightening face.
Sometimes it wears slippers and attends community meetings.
Communities must seek justice wisely.
It is right to protect society, but wrong to destroy due process.
In this world of the strong, many people believe the strongest is the one who can silence others. But history has shown that the strongest is the one who can silence himself , silence his pride, silence his temper, silence his urge to dominate.
Because there is nothing strong about a man who cannot walk away from a trivial quarrel.
And there is nothing honourable about a “lesson” that may end in death.
If indeed the aggressor taught a lesson, it is not the kind of lesson that builds society. It is the kind that breaks it.
In the end, this strange incident reminds us of what our elders have always known: the tongue has no bone, yet it can break a man’s head. Truly, he who cannot control his temper has already surrendered his destiny to shame. The strong man is not the one who terrifies others; the strongest is the one who can walk away from provocation. For the man who uses fear as a ladder will one day fall from it, and the wicked man’s shadow is always longer than his peace. If there is any lesson here, it is that life is sacred and anger is expensive. And as the proverb says, the man who throws a stone into the market must remember his relatives are also there.
May we never become so hungry for power that we turn meetings into battlegrounds. May we never become so angry that we turn our tongues into weapons. And may we never become so desperate to prove strength that we forget the sacredness of human life.
For life is too precious to be used as a bargaining chip in the world of the strong
Weekend Titbits is published by The Port Harcourt Telegraph Newspaper authored by the Managing Editor
