The leaves had lost the morning dew and bashed her skin as she traced her way into the forest. The previously cleared paths were beginning to lose their visibility as the grasses tried to sprout their heads from them. It was becoming difficult to see the white sands, and even more difficult to keep the familiarity away.
The moist decaying smell, the constant whistles of the birds, the shimmering sunlight which filtered from the canopies of the tall trees, creating a warmth that made her remember her evenings with her husband.
She was trading this path again. Not because she was out to hunt. No, this was different. She was different. Those abandoned children were making her different.
Gathering her sling on her waist, she rounded the last bend.
Dried bones and leaves crushed under her weight. Decayed flesh of men and women alike. Fleshes of people who were rejected by the village. Men that had been buried alive. Lost in history. Forgotten.
Ejima knew she was breaking the King's decree. He had placed a curse on this forest three days ago. Iyi. As the locals called it, was now a store for woes, taboos, and other inanity which the society scoffs at. It was an evil forest. A place where the so-called 'abominations' were left to wrought.
This same name, Iyi, was given to the cursed forest in the distant Village of Alaocha. Stories have it that the Iyi forest in Alaocha used to be the prison that harbored all kinds of mythical creatures until princess Ada's lineage had wiped them out.
Well, nobody knows the truth behind the story. Not that Ejima cared. She was a hunter and a wife. And would be a mother soon if the gods were willing. Too many miscarriages. Too much sorrow.
Ejima rubbed her flat tummy, silent prayers on her lips. She had not told anyone yet. It was her secret and would remain that until the opportune time.
The songs of the birds were present by the time she finally made it to the clearing where she had found those twin babies four market days ago. Her bright eyes searched the parameter, but she breathed out the disappointment when she found nothing.
There was no basket, no cries, and no babies.
Maybe the gods were now wise enough to bless mothers with children of 'abominations. They must be reconsidering their choices.
Ejima stroked her nose, gulping down the feeling that was knotting her stomach. It was a good thing that the babies were not here. That should have made her happy, but no. The reverse seemed to be the case.
Turning back, she was about to hit the lonely path, when she heard something.
It was solemn at first, soft, and could have passed for the voice of the wind. But keeping her ears to the ground, her stomach lifted when she heard the chuckle.
"Babies" she laughed and she returned to her feet.
It was hard to mistake it this time and even as she trotted towards the direction, she couldn't help the bubble that lifted her stomach.
Why am I happy?
The answer to the question never came. Ejima had suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and before she could think, her hands were already on her waist, ready to draw out her sling.
She hadn't mistaken the chuckle. They were that of babies, resting inside a brown basket, underneath a tree whose name was not forthcoming. What made her eyes dilate was the creature beside the basket.
It was at least twice the size of a dog, with brown rich skin, spotted all around with black. Its tail stood above its body, and the claws were glinting dangerously with the afternoon sun. It had buried its head inside the basket and the children in the basket kept giggling as the animal continued to smear their faces with its slurry saliva.
"Get away from them," Ejima shouted as she drew out her sling.
The brown eyes of the tiger lifted away from the basket as if surprised, but they narrowed with hate, and Ejima could feel the heat as the animal walked towards her.
She readied her sling but cursed when the realization struck her. She had no stones.
The tiger roared and galloped towards her without warning.
Ejima searched the floor of dried leaves and was glad when her eyes fell upon a stick sitting close to her. She picked it, just in time to gag the mouth of the animal.
The tiger tried to push through but Ejima held the stick, knowing that her life depended on it.
She pushed the tiger back but frowned with disappointment when the stick finally snapped.
The tiger roared and charged again, galloping towards her with a strength that could send a hunter on his heel.
Ejima did not back down. How could she? She was not just a hunter. She was a warrior and one of the best in the kingdom.
Tightening her grip on the broken end of the stick, she waited, just in time for the tiger to leap into the air, aiming for her throat.
Stepping to the right, she swung the stick, making sure her footing was balanced enough to cause severe damage.
The tiger whimpered like a wounded dog as the force of impact carried it back towards the far side of the forest.
Despite the intensity of the situation, Ejima couldn't help the smile of triumph that plastered the side of her face. She had seen worse and had succeeded. This won't be an exception. She was going to kill the tiger and use its skin as a pelt.
The tiger shook its head and trudged up to its feet. It looked at Ejima again as if surprised by her strength.
Ejima did not wait for it as she searched the forest. The stick in her hands was useless now. She was defenseless. And running away was not an option. That was the fastest way to die in the hands of a wildcat.
And she hated wildcats with passion.
The tiger sneered and circled her. Its face had narrowed, with hate and anger.
Ejima tried to swallow, but there was no fluid in her mouth. Her heart was racing and she could feel each thump trying to hide in her stomach. The hair on her tanned skin was already on their feet and for the first time in twenty years, she felt an ambiance and a sensation that she hated most in the world.
Fear.
Taking some gentle but précised steps back, her feet touched something that was buried under the dried leaf which carpeted the floor of the forest. Her stomach knotted. The object looked like a skull, perhaps, the skull of a baby that had died here. She picked the object but frowned from the rotten flesh that glued her hands. The eyes and mouth were gone, and what remains of the ear were at the mercies of some decomposing worms.
Ejima steadied her grip on the object, placing them perfectly on her sling. She has not used something this heavy on her sling before, but what other option does she have?
The tiger roared and charged again, but Ejima did not wait for it to get so close. She swung her sling with all her might and in one swift motion, she let the skull on her sling fly.
The empty skull flew in the air, and like a cannon, it found its mark on the Tiger's face, shattering into many pieces.
The tiger flew back from the force, rolling down to the far end of the clearing like a weightless object. It heaved once and groaned, but ceased breathing afterward.
Ejima panted and staggered towards the basket. Unlike the first babies she had seen four moons ago, these looked as if they were just being born. They had blood all over them and looked dirty, barely able to open their eyes.
She picked the basket and walked toward the direction of the river. She was going to let them float into the void, like the rest. She was going to let fate take its course. It was better that way. Better than letting a hungry animal feed on the blood of the innocent.
The spark came from his fingers or was it his body? No, perhaps his soft lips were the force that was electrifying her, gulping her strength and leaving her moaning like a helpless child. He was a beast in the face of battle. She had seen him fight one or two times. But in bed, the story was different. His touch was as tender as the fur of a day-old chick and even though she had tried to master them, she always fell victim to this perpetual ecstasy that words can hardly express. “I wish I had you all along,” Nneamaka breathed in deeply as he caged her in his strong but tender grip. “Hmm, so romantic. Boredom would have killed us right before your late husband did. Besides, I have always been here. You were just too blind to notice me.” There he goes again, always with the habit of ruining the flawless moments. Nneamaka frowned and peeled away from him. It was a reluctant effort and even as she created a slight distance between them, she could hear the silent words that were yelling
Ejima wiped away the sweat that walked down the bridge of her flat nose, but sneezed twice when she accidentally sniffed the dust in her hands. She wiped the tears that followed and tried to return to work but leaned away when a sharp pain strode through her waist. She hissed out the frustration from her teeth and tightened her grips on the wooden hoe. All the light-headedness and the weakness she had been feeling for the last four months, had turned out to be pregnancy. A pregnancy she never wanted. It was a curse to her. A punishment from the gods themselves. Tightening her grip on the farming hoe, she bent carefully but without ease, and was glad when her hands touched the heap of earth and grass. With the hoe, she dug around the brown tendril and tried to pull with her free hand. The yam obliged at the first trial but snapped in two when she tried forcing them the second time. She murmured and continued with the digging, hoping to bring out the rest of the yam that was still under
The lights of the sun were hiding on the other side of the world and the birds were retiring to their nest by the time Ejima decided that it was time to go home, having fed enough on the bread of affliction. She tried to swallow but the fluid in her mouth was all gone. Her lungs were like the face of two stones rubbing over each other and her stomach hadn’t rumbled in protest either. She wasn’t hungry; the sorrow had made sure of that. What kept flooding her mind was all the time she had spent with Uche. He was her first love. They had met on the eve of the new yam festival after she had danced with some of the virgins that were not betrothed. It was love at first sight. He too had performed that day. He had wrestled with Dinta—who turned out to be Nneamaka’s husband—and had lost. The villagers had been angry with Uche, for losing the crucial wrestling match. Most people called him a coward. But Ejima had seen his failure with one eye closed. Even though Uche had denied it, Ejima coul
“I don’t think she can make it” Someone was saying. The words were gibberish and echoed in Ejima’s ears like the voice of some market women, arguing over the price of a goat. Her legs and thigh were on fire and her body ached. Lifting a limb was almost impossible. She tried to raise her head, but the sudden weight of ten thousand people will not let her. Where am I? She tried to recall. Her memory flashed back and a new pain sparked through her spine. She saw her husband and her best friend in her mind's eyes, smiling together, and laughing at their jokes. Nonsense thought She sniffed just as the image of her fall also flashed in her vision. My baby. She panicked but her hands would not move when she tried. The only thing that was moving at the moment was her eyes, which provided her with multiple images. “Drink this,” A voice seemed to say. The multiple images appeared over her head and poured something into her mouth. “But she is still breathing” Came another strange voice.
How long had they carried her? Ejima whizzed, fighting through the rope that gaged her mouth. It was hard to get enough air, especially since her hands have been tied backwards. The firm grip of the guard which locked her to the body of the Ostrich did not add any ease at all. She tried to struggle but realized just then that there was no strength in her. The weakness of childbirth was kicking in and it was taking all of Will's power not to drift into the world of serenity. The pace of the Ostrich eased as they came before two burning torches. The Palace guards alighted, and one of them undid the rope that held her to the Ostrich. She fell heavily from the animal and cursed, but the gag in her mouth would only let a gibberish undertone. She coughed and sat up, trying to suck air into her burning lungs, but all effort was like water poured on a stone. Where were they taking her? Ejima's coppery eyes searched the night. The creeps of the cricket could be heard as they announced the de
“As promised” Uche signalled with his first finger and the servants dropped the baskets beside the small hut, “here are the gifts.” The Dibia stood and counted the baskets with her nose. There were ten baskets of yam, six baskets of tomatoes, five baskets of ogbono, and a calabash of undiluted palm wine. At least six chicken in their prime were tied together in another basket, just next to some edible vegetables. “You have done well,” the Dibia nodded and returned to her seat. The antelope skin that hung on her shoulders, kept her proud nature affirmed and nothing suggested if she was pleased with the present or not. “And here are the Six bags of cowries, for your trouble.” Uche smiled and dropped the bag into the Lion's skull, right in front of the diviner. He nodded once and his servants retired home while he took the wooden seat opposite the older woman. “I hope everything went as planned?” Uche asked The Dibia muttered some silent words and took a chalk from her goatskin bag.
Ejima yawned widely, not bothering to cover her mouth. She rested her weight on the broom and allowed her bright gaze to wander through the place she now calls home. It was nothing close to the size of her husband's compound, and the dried leaves that carpeted the floor made her want to cuddle under her skin. Bloody cashew tree. She hissed and wiped the sweat drop that had strolled towards her eyelid. Leaning away from the broomstick, she continued with her chore, hoping to be done before the sun hangs on the centre of the earth. But for the many trees, nothing stood for miles, just her small hut and the grasses. It would take about eight to ten miles before the next house could be seen. Seven weeks have passed since they drove her out of her husband's place, to this serene environment whose loneliness could make a ghost run out of wit. If hardship had not been her best companion all these years, she would have died of boredom. Dropping the broomstick, she packed the gathered leaves
Culture and tradition? They are nothing but twin sisters in a symbiotic relationship. It would be hard to tell which of the two was sucking the virtue and the moral rights of the people. Generations have come and gone. Good and bad people fading with its hood. These traditions that govern the cultures of the people had been enacted by some of the fathers who had lived long before the village had been born. But, thinking about it now, it would be difficult to pinpoint the moment in history when evil had crept in. The people had lived long enough with the folk tales of the fathers to blot the dent in the dough that had swelled in the batch of morality. Perhaps the adage, Ihe ojo gba afo, obulu omenala (If evil remains long enough it becomes a culture), was in play at the moment. Or was it the people? Why was it so hard to play the good card in life? Ejima hissed as she traced her path into the forest. She tried to keep her mind from wandering, but too many things tussled for her attenti