Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Ijeoma sat with uneasiness, having done all her morning chores. Her mother has gone out in the company of her friends, and her father had also gone to some places she had no idea. The situation held her captive as she cannot go out when there was nobody to look after the household. Stepping out when no one has returned to take over watch would be sacrilegious to her father. She knew quite well, that she rested on the kitchen stool she had brought outside. In a bit, she grew tired of sitting alone and began missing her friends, so she stood up and made it to the backyard.

“Ugonne,” she called, but there was no response. After some good space of time, she called again. She repeated for the third time and gave up.

“Ugonne has gone out,” she thought.

Where she stood was the best for anyone who wanted to whisper with stone-throw neighbors. As she received silence even until her third call, she presumed Ugonne was not in.

“There is nobody in the next yard,” she thought as she hissed out her disgust. “This only happens in my father’s court.”

When she turned to go, an unexpected voice came tending to her calls.

“Who is it?” The voice queried.

One guess was enough to tell it was Ugonne’s mother.

“Why is she the one responding?” She thought. The response did fuel her frustration as she had wanted to leave with the notion life is free elsewhere.

“Who is it that called my daughter? Is it a spirit or a human?” She queried again. The firmness of her voice appealed to Ijeoma, and she made humor from it.

“At last, I have met the person who will contend with evil,” Ijeoma said to herself. She thought about the battle between hen and hawks, and agreed no hen gave up her chicks in like manner. There must be decisive combat, and most times the defiance of the hens became too much for their terrors. “Even flocks know the pains of motherhood?”

“I will pluck your wings from here if you do not answer me.”

“It is I, Ijeoma.”

“O! Forgive me, my daughter. I thought our terrors has remembered my household this day.”

“Your names will continue to be heavy in their lips, and nobody will ever hear the spirit call from my father’s court.”

“Tufiakwa! May our gods forbid.”

“Is Ugonne in?”

“No, she has wandered away.”

The conversation ended with the last words from Ugonne’s mother, or Ijeoma dismissed it. The life of it laid on her response, and she had no reason to stir it on.

At least, the little engagement robbed of her loneliness. There were stains of humor left on her face, but it was short-lived. Only until she turned to go did she notice she was dripping. The driblets railed to her kneecap, and when she first saw it, she was as shocked as anyone could be. She traced it to underneath her thighs, scooped some, and brought it to her eyes.

“This looks like blood,” She thought, proceeding to have a taste of it with the tip of her tongue.

“This is blood,” she said and puzzled as more strings dripped.

“I will not let my blood to waste,” she thought, and without giving a second, she began licking her coated fingers. She did until she remembered the herb for bleeding cuts in her mother’s garden.

She went into the garden and searched for the herb. Her knowledge of the herb was vague as she could only tell the scent. She plucked a leaf from every plant in the garden, squeezed the juice of each, and inspected with her nose. On several occasions, her mother has used it to stop her bleeding foot, but she had not cared to know what leave it was.

“I must not die by my hands,” she would say, each time she thought about the pains it added to her wound before it worked. Now, she has exhausted herself in search of the herb. She regrets not utilizing her chances to learn about the plant from her mother.

This was quite unlike every other bleeding cut she has had. If it were to be one of those, she would have waited until her mother returned to attend to it. She did not wish anybody to know she has bleeding from her private. From where will she tell them she sustained the injury?

She again realized the urgency which she should fetch the herb and carried on. After a dozen trial, she perceived the peculiar scent and smiled of success.

“Little thing one knew nothing about can throw one into frenzy.”

She squeezed as much as needed, dug under her thighs, and began painting her privates with the herb. About then, she felt some friendly pains which reassured her the herb was working its magic.

The bleeding ceased with the pains, and she recounted the caterpillars in the garden. Though she had not counted, she saw it littered everywhere she turned. She fetched a wide basin and started picking off the pests into it.

“I...”

She heard her name, turned, and it was Kachi standing behind her. She had given up having anyone as she could not reach Urgonne

“Is this you, Kachi? It is going to rain today.”

“Do you not want to see me?”

“I never knew you would someday grow up.”

“I am here now.”

“I am only wondering how you got to know I am here?”

“I heard your voice with Ugonne’s mother. I learned you were dying for a companion,” Kachi said and chuckled one ball of laughter.

“I was only checking on a friend.”

“I have not asked for a wage, tell me if my service is not wanted.”

Of course, she was happy to have him, and she could not conceal her gratitude. She contemplated what good Kachi’s presence would do, to prove she was never dying of boredom. Her attitude was sort of, ‘hence you have come, I can manage your stay.’

“Could you join me in getting these pests from our garden?”

“What do you intend doing with them?”

“I want to gather them into this basin.”

“I know we do not eat them.”

“Tufiakwa! Even if we exhausted all the food in the world, I will still not,” she said as she snapped her fingers. “I am going to crush them. They have eaten so much from my mother’s garden, and must pay for it with their lives.”

“That is wickedness.”

“Is it fair I leave them to continue harming our crops?”

“No. Throw them in the forest instead.”

“The forest is where they came from. I must make sure they do not come back,” Ijeoma exhausted her patience and jumped on Kachi’s neck. “Will you join me or you still have more objections?”

Kachi was very much defeated, and he had no more to say. So, against his will, he joined Ijeoma in harvesting the pests into the basin.

Not much had they done together before Ijeoma began to feel pains. At first, she fought to contain it, braced herself, and concentrated her energies on the task. But it intensified more than she could bear, so she grabbed her stomach and cried. Only then did Kachi realize her predicament. He threw the pests he had in his hands and rushed to hold her, then he led her into the yard and made her sit.

“Where do you feel pain?”

“Right here,” Ijeoma emphasized her abdomen.

“You only need to rest, and the pains will go away.”

This was the first time Kachi was getting close to Ijeoma ever since he stepped into the yard. The stink from her body whelmed him so much that he allowed her no recovery before he remarked.

“You smell.”

“I do not smell. I am a human, very much alive. It is fine if you do not like the fragrance of my body, but I will not hate myself. It’s my body, and I should like it anyhow I wake up to it.”

“I am not saying how bad. I am only marveled.”

He looked her closer and made out traces. She has wiped it off, but the marks did not go away. It did not take him much to draw the conclusion the lines were of blood.

“Is this blood on your body?” he asked, and even took his gaze much closer. Ijeoma allowed him. Everything in her only wanted the pains to go away.

He held still in his position, inspecting the traces on Ijeoma’s laps when Obiageli entered the yard. She caught Kachi on his knees, with his eyes glued to Ijeoma’s laps, and his fingers traveling around it. There was Ijeoma sitting on the stool like a nine months pregnant lady waiting to bring forth her child. Obiageli did not need further clarification to discern what was happening.

“Chai! Abomination has happened,” she wailed so loud that Ijeoma and Kachi jumped to their foot. Even the pains Ijeoma felt disappeared one time.

“I caught you red-handed. You came into my court to defile my daughter?”

Every attempt Kachi made to explain he was innocently failed. Even Ijeoma tried her best to make her mother understand, but she never listened. Who would see a ripe maiden and a youthful boy in such a position, and accept there is an atom of innocence in their act? Instead of heeding to their appeals, she cried onto the community to come and bear her witness. She wailed until Nwosu returned. He understood what has happened from Obiageli’s lament, but he would still ask what the matter was. Obiageli explained all she has seen with her eyes, and he wiggled his head in disgust.

“I beg you, do not gather the community to my yard this noontide.”

“When you get home, tell your father I like to sit with him,” Nwosu said to Kachi who took the message as a bid to go. As for Ijeoma, he never told her anything. This ignited her resentment for her mother, and onwards, she locked out on the kitchen task.

Soon as Kachi’s father, Isiama received the message, he got up to go and learn what it was about. One does not keep such rare summon hanging for long.

“If a man who seldom call came calling, there must a cogent cause,” he thought, and as Kachi prayed, he did not ask what about.

“Are there people in this yard?” Isiama announced his presence.

“As the gods willed,” Nwosu responded.

“This is kola nut.”

Now presented the lumps of kola nut he kept handy for this meeting. Isiama received, inspected, and returned to Nwosu who collected and broke. He then presented it to Isiama who took out of it.

“I have called you for a reason, but I cannot say if it is for worse or good.”

“I know there must be a cause and is why I have come at once.”

“You may not know your Kachi came behind me to fetch the orange under my watch,” Nwosu said after his guest settled. He always knew when they took the third bite.

“This is not a small allegation you stated.”

“I have called you so we can reason as men. I am not telling you to cut your son’s throat when you return.”

“Please forgive us, I do not know of this until now. How do we appease you?”

“I want to inform you the orange your son came like a thief to take is ripe. If one has grown to begin to have an appetite for oranges, it means the person is man enough to own one for himself. If what I say is a lie, put me right.”

“All you have said are nothing but the sincere truth. Allow me time to call my relatives together, and we will come for a bigger visit than this. I thank you for making it this easy with us.”

“Hasten your steps before the abominable happen.”

“I will do as I promise,” Isiama said, and beg to take his leave. Nwosu searched his memory for anything he has not said but found any, so he persuaded him to take some more kola nut.

“One will be enough for me,” he said as he picked, then bade farewell.

“Say my regards to your household when you return.”

Unlike how it has been every other normal day, this night was quiet. Rumors have it that the sacred masquerade comes out upon dark hours. This masquerade does not appear, unless in severe cases. And when it does, people see it in different places in one time. Whatever be the case, this appearance was a pointer to a disastrous event. People associated it to mysterious deaths, but many elders disproved this assumption. They did not believe the masquerade has even appeared anywhere in the community. These elders have a good knowledge of their traditions, and so, they could always tell what about it. As far as they knew, nothing grievous has happened that would bring out the sacred masquerade. If people think it has to do with sacrilege, then they must know, the gods have nothing to do with perishing souls.

During this evening six women ran into Nwosu’s yard to seek refuge. The appearance of the sacred masquerade has caught them on their way. Now could tell all was not well from the manner which the women stormed in.

“A rat does not start running if it has not seen its terror? Not at all. This does not happen,” Nwosu thought. “Where did you say you saw the sacred masquerade?”

“Please, let us in if you do not wish we lose our wombs,” the women responded under heavy breath.

“Whatever it is must be grievous. These people are sane, they only have balls of fear in their hearts,” Nwosu thought. “Come in if you have not come to take over my courtyard. Let the ills anyone bring remain with him.”

“Tufiakwa! May the gods forbid if we have come to perpetrate evil.”

“Where did you say you saw the masquerade?”

“We only sensed it coming. Do not wish any one of us saw it.”

The women’s response soon told Nwosu how silly his question was. He ought to have known women and the sacred masquerades were not pals. Put aside the barren wombs, no other woman has ever seen the spirit with her own eyes.

“Of course not,” Nwosu responded, and not much later, he heard the sound fluttering across. So, he requested everyone to keep quiet until the masquerade passed. This was when the silence began to grow in his own yard.

“The paths are not safe for anyone. You must not venture outside until morning,” Nwosu warned.

The women took turns to express their gratitude. Obiageli began to usher the women into her inn, even before Nwosu stated where they would pass the night. Of course, she has only done as her husband would have wanted. The silence after everyone has found a comfortable position was too dense to imagine.