CHAPTER 3

It’s been three moons since the episode in the forest, yet Ejima could not shake off those ecstatic faces. Their smiles still glossed her brave heart and mended it with a warmth that had kept her in disarray. Those bright eyes. They had glittered with the sun, chiseling on her soul, and driving her consciousness into that valley of hysteria. Her sleep had been inoculated with lurid sights which at a time made her wonder if she had offended the gods in touching the babies. She had even screamed herself up from sleep one night when she had seen a silhouette of some twin figures chasing her with a horsewhip.

“Are you okay?”

Ejima blinked and shifted her weight, hoping to find comfort on the wooden chair. She was terrible. The hollowness in her soul was anything but fine. This was the first sign she normally gets when she takes in. But her denial was something she was beginning to believe as truth. Yes, she was living a lie.  A lie which she had perfected so well. 

"Don't worry, it will pass,” She said, hoping her friend would stop staring.

“Why the gloomy look then or has someone died?”

Ejima snorted as if she could perceive the stink of death. 

“Just lack of sleep, that’s all,” she said and emptied the fresh Vilari water into a clay cup. The muddy end of the cup was already on her lips when she heard her friend's giggle.

“What’s funny?” Ejima asked before gulping the liquid. She dropped the cup by her side and spat once before letting her coppery eyes return to Nneamaka.

The woman’s hair had been woven and braided to stand on her head like the roots of a buttress tree, matching those angelic eyes of hers. Some red beads also lined the hair, contributing their crimson grace to the beauty of the widow, which got some lustful men talking. 

“Don’t be a fool, I know what’s wrong."

"You do?" Ejima's heart fell. Perhaps the concoctions she took to keep away the physical appearance of her early pregnancy were not effective enough. She would have to increase the dose.

"Enjoy it while it lasts. At least your husband survived the war.”

“You are unbelievable” Ejima shook her head as relief caged her soul. Maybe the drugs were working after all.

“Uche was just lucky." She said, "it’s what one can call, a meagre of wavering luck. Besides, your husband was the better soldier. He risked his life for us. His legacy will remain for all time,”

“Legacy,” Nneamaka said and picked up a cassava tuber with the edge of her knife, “Legacy will not bring him back. His name has already been carved on the sand of time, but that would not bring him back to life.”

"It won't. But come on. You are blessed with six children."

“Those kids are all grown up. Soon I will have suitors coming from all parts of the world. But, ah” Nneamaka shrugged, “I still need the touch of a man. I still need that...”

Ejima laughed. “Look who's talking. Have you forgotten how you complained that your husband was your insomnia?”

“I regret those days. I take back my words” Nneamaka laughed.

“Uwa eju afo (nothing on earth can satisfy)” Ejima added as they returned their attention to the cassava.

She was about to pick the third cassava when she suddenly felt a weight on her head. She tried to lift her hand, to make sure she was not imagining things, but her hands would not obey. They had developed minds of their own, causing Ejima's world to spin. The strength in her body had veered into the strength of water, and every attempt to make sense of the situation threatened to mask her world with darkness.

“Nne mo!!” Nneamaka screamed and held Ejima before she could fall off the small wooden stool. “Ejima O gini? (Ejima, what is it?)”

“What are you talking about?” Ejima asked and lifted her head to see the many images of the woman. For some odd reason, her vision had suddenly become hazy and the ringing sensation in her ears caused her head to ache.

“You need to see the Dibia. I don’t think you are okay.”

“I will be fine. Like I said before, lack of proper sleep,” The multiple images of Nneamaka merged into one, and Ejima was grateful when the smoky air in her vision cleared out.

“No, I insist you go to the Dibia’s place right now,” Nneamaka said, wearing those narrowed gazes that were too motherly to be neutral.

“Okay,” Ejima whispered and stood up. Her feet wobbled as she started her walk home. She couldn't keep a hand on her current situation, but she thought she heard herself saying something about the cassava they had harvested and abacha.

“I will not, you can count on it,” she heard her friend say.

Ejima nodded, still not knowing what she had said and why her friend had responded so kindly. But she continued on the path anyway. She needed that sleep. 

Nneamaka was her best and only friend. They have known each other for ages. Indeed, both women were not related, but the understanding they shared was something stronger than a sister's bond.

They had married the two bravest warriors in Ame, but unlike her, Nneamaka had six children. Her eldest son owns one of the largest farmland in Ame and was successful in the Duduma masquerade dance.

Children again. 

Ejima hissed as she walked out of the compound. Her legs were heavy, together with her eyes which were about to shut their curtains on her. She had not felt like this before, not in a long while. It had been long since she slept with the mosquito repellant leaves. She suspects she must have taken ill or something. Not anything the Dibia’s medicine won’t handle though.

Her smoky vision appeared again as she hit the road, but she held on to a palm tree to keep her body from kissing the dusty floor.

“Mistress of evil."

Ejima jumped from the crispy voice.

“Ezenwanyi,

“Save your greeting,” The Dibia scowl.

Ejima frowned when she saw the woman’s black eyes. They studied her from the crown of her head to the soul of her bare feet. If looks could kill, then Ejima was sure that she would have died from the diviner's gaze. 

White chalk lined the woman's dark eyes, the Dibia also had that gnostic aura about her. Her dark tattered hair blended with the cowries and the red shambles she called clothing. It was hard to tell if the woman’s body had ever tasted the grace of a warm shower.

“I was about to go to your place,” Ejima said. She leaned away from the palm tree, confident that her feet were strong enough to hold her. “My bones are like the rivers of Vilari, I will need some medicine.”

“Serves you right. How can you be fine?” The Dibia pointed the slender hand whose finger was long and dirty. “You want to eat a tortoise and its shell, right? You want to bring judgment upon the land. Know this, you daughter of misfortune. The lizard and the salamander might claim oneness, but on the day of procreation, a lizard will always remain a lizard, and the salamander a salamander”

“What are you talking about, great one? Have I by error or omission offended you?”

“Tufia kwa gi.” The native doctor spat, “Ichoro ino na-ana mara egbe di ime, okwa ya (you want to determine the pregnancy of a hawk by looking at it, right?). You have failed. Bet me, you have failed.”

“But wise one, I don’t understand what you are talking about,” Ejima frowned but did not meet those dark eyes.

“You will not understand until nemesis catches up with you.” The Dibia hissed and continued down the path, cursing and fussing.

Ejima watched the hunched features, any other day she would have engaged the woman. She would have found out what the dibia meant in her salamander and lizard riddle. But not today. Her world was floating. She needed sleep desperately.

Turning the other way, she sauntered towards the familiar path. Her senses were heightened and the fogginess of her vision made her snail home like a weather-beaten bird.

It was not a pleasant journey, but she kept at it. Her husband was at the warrior's meeting, in the neighboring village. She had hid her sickness from him. She had even tried to hide it from herself. She was pregnant, for the fourth time. But the fear of another miscarriage made her keep this one to herself. It was part of the reasons why she had decided to self medicate. It had worked. But now, she knows that her lies were not going to do her any good. Not when the pregnancy grows into the fourth or fifth month.

Dried leaves crushed under her weight as she continued on the path and the songs of the morning birds mellowed her troubled heart. The air padded her lungs, sweet as wine and precious as the love of a man. 

Ejima breathed in, gulping it greedily. She was just about to round the last bend when she noticed the basket sitting under the wild mango tree.

How did I get here?

Her eyes widened. It was hard to explain. Somehow, she had managed to avert from the path home, and had returned to this place. The same place where twin babies were allowed to starve and die. The same place she had been, about some months back.

But how in the world did I get here?

The question lingered unanswered when she heard a soft cry, coming from the brown basket, under the wild mango tree.

The babies…

Ejima swallowed uneasily, looking to the left and right just to make sure she was alone. Her eyes were still heavy, and that weakness in her bone was still there, but a force she could not describe seemed to propel her feet. It was as if a hand was pushing her forward, urging her to do their biddings. Unlike before, she obeyed, this time more willingly.

Picking the basket, she traced her way to the river, resisting the urge to look inside. She was going to drop them on the waters, and let their fate be determined by the gods.