Chapter 3

 I KILLED MY MOTHER.

And I am told she herself said so before she died.

I am an ‘Ige,’ Yoruba connotation for a child who came out from the mother’s womb with its legs. My mother lost a lot of blood during the delivery and all the efforts of the doctors to stop the bleeding was to no avail, and when they handed me over to her she gave me the name, Omotoke, ‘a child which should be cared for’, and then her next words were; “Omo yi ti pa mi—this child has killed me,” and she gave up the ghost.

Father wasted no time getting a new wife after her death. But luckily for me, Felicia took me just like her own daughter.

Aunty Ope always made sure to impress the fact that I am a murderer upon me anytime we happened to be alone and out of earshot of others, blaming me for the death of her only sister. ‘Murderer, mother killer,’ I was so sure Aunty Ope eyes were saying at that moment as they roved over me.

Taiwo stood beside me as if to give me support. They all knew how much Aunty Ope and I hated each other. 

“Toke welcome.” Aunty Ope’s face finally split into a smile, catching me by surprise. This was a first, the first time she had ever smiled towards me.

 “Good afternoon ma.” I finally came out of my shock and greeted, bending my knees.

“Come here girl.” Aunty Ope opened her arms wide towards me.

What was going on? I shared a glance with Taiwo who had a scowl on her face.

“Come here.”

I walked woodenly to Aunty Ope, scared there might be another motive behind those open arms. My body froze as she drew me into her bosom, holding me tight for a moment. Aunty Ope finally released me from her embrace, looking up at my face. I shifted my gaze away from her. “I came to take you to see Mama,” Aunty Ope disclosed.

It took a while for her words to sink in. Mama, my mother's mom, was the only person I was certain truly loved me amongst the meager relatives from my mother’s side of the family, and it has been over two years since I last saw her.

“What? What happened to mama?”

“She has not been feeling too well for some days now and has asked to see you.”

“Where is she?”

“At her house in Badagry.”

“We can’t go today,” I declared, thinking of how it was late in the afternoon. If we wanted to go to mama’s place we had to leave very early because of traffic congestion along the route and the bad roads that made the journey accident prone and twice as long as it should be.

 “I know, that’s why I’m here today. We will leave very early tomorrow morning.” Aunty Ope replied. “Go freshen up, we will talk more after.” she waved me away.

Talk about what? With aunty Ope?

Not me.

I left for my room still thinking about Mama and her health as Taiwo tailed behind me. Shola and Kenny came into my room some five minutes later, after I had changed into a sweat shirt and shorts.

“What does she want?” Shola asked first, frowning.

“Mama is sick and she is here to take me to her.”

Silence descended in the room as they thought about it. I sometimes sensed their jealousy anytime I spoke about mama. I was the only one with a living grandparent as the ones from our father’s side had died even before we were born, and the ones from Felicia’s side when Shola was still a little child.

Kenny sighed and stood up to his feet after a moment, passing me his phone. “Read it,” he said blandly when I looked at him questioningly.

“What is it?” I asked, intrigued.

“Just read it.” It was Taiwo this time.

Smiling, I looked at the phone screen to see a news article dated a few months back, and the headline immediately drew me in. It read; KUDAISI—THE CHILD WHO WOULD NOT DIE, and there was the picture of Kudaisi in the front page, looking so grim and lost that a pang of pain hit me seeing him like that. I had no time to marvel at the play of words on the headline—Kudaisi meant ‘death has spared this one,’—before devouring the article.

The phone fell from my hand to the bed once I finished reading, my whole body tensed. Could this be real? I looked up at my siblings who were watching me intently to gauge my emotions. Kudaisi, that seemingly bubbling youth with nothing but fun in his heart at every moment had gone through this much pain and struggles and he was still standing? I knew I would have given up if I was in his shoes.

According to the news article, Kudaisi’s immediate family died in a car accident when he was a baby, leaving him as sole survivor and heir of a huge inheritance and a multinational organization which was put under the overseer of his father’s bosom friend, a certain Andrew Kolajo. His grandmother had singlehandedly brought him up at her hometown in Ado-Ekiti before she died some seven months back.

After her death, Kudaisi was besieged by assassins and very nearly met his end, escaping death by a mere whisker. It was when he came to Lagos he found that his father’s friend, Andrew, had been behind the assassination attempt, embezzling a lot of money running to billions of naira from the company with some of the top echelons, and it had taken wit and pure luck for Kudaisi to survive and take back his birthright.

It all read like a thriller movie to me, one scary movie full of ‘what ifs’. Any single misstep on his part could have lead to death.

“Kudaisi is a billionaire,” Kenny muttered grimly, breaking the silence.

“Why are you saying it like it is a bad thing?” Taiwo countered, giving Kenny a disproving look.

“It means he doesn’t need to go to school, he doesn’t need the degree or anything,” Shola replied. “We are only trying to gauge his motive and watch out for Toks.”

“And what if he does not have any motives and just simply wants to lead a normal life?” Taiwo retorted.

Shola shook his head. “You don’t know people like them, rich kids who have it all and have nothing else to do with money. They make the most irrational decisions and cause damage everywhere they go thinking their money would rectify everything.”

“Kudaisi is not like that,” Taiwo argued stubbornly.

I listened to their arguments, even as my mind wandered in thoughts. I had thought Kudaisi was merely the son of the house when I met him at the dinner party the other night, not knowing he was actually the owner of the company father was bidding for, and I could not but begin to grow suspicious of his motives now. I remembered vividly that day he had said he liked me, and then weeks later he was a new student in my school? That was just too much of a coincidence.

Was Kudaisi really here just for fun and to take advantage of me? That cannot be the case, I mentally shook my head. Somehow I have always sensed his intentions, and I never felt any such thing from him.

“It’s okay,” I said, cutting in as the three of them began to argue heatedly about Kudaisi.

“No,” Shola began vehemently.

I sighed. “I understand what you all are getting at. I’ll be careful in my dealings with him.”

“That is what you should do.” Shola nodded in satisfaction, while Taiwo scoffed.

I spent the rest of the day thinking about Kudaisi, going back to read the news article on my phone again and again, and also searching out other news articles to corroborate the story until sleep took me.    

*

Long webs of lightning streaked across the sky totally covered by dark clouds, followed by the occasional peals of thunder as the rains fell with unabated intensity. The drive to Mama’s house was awkward at best, silent and tensed, and the bad weather did nothing to help matters. It was a great battle getting father to let me come visit Mama. I heard Aunty Ope quarreling with him in the study at the top of their voices yesterday night before he finally acquiesced.

We arrived at Mama’s place—a long bungalow building—at around 5:00pm, after leaving the house by 10:00am. I jumped out of the car with my small plastic suitcase as soon as Joseph parked before the house, running through the rain to the house which was brightly lit and powered by a generator. I entered into the house without knocking, and there was Mama seated on a worn out couch in the sitting room, watching television.

Mama looked up sharply at my unannounced entry, her frown changing into a wide smile once she saw it was me. She stood up from the couch half running towards me, and then I was in her embrace, basking in the soft smell of smoke, wood and the kitchen as she drew me tight into her bosom without a care for my wet clothes.

“Wow, you’ve become so big I can barely recognize you.” Mama released me from her embrace and held me at an arm’s length to study. “I’ve missed you so much.” Her eyes misted as she drew me in for another long embrace.

Aunty Ope entered to meet us like this, her loud grumbles spoiling the magic of the moment.

“You sure did take your time,” Mama chastised Aunty Ope as she gently drew me to the couch and sat down, pulling me to seat on her lap like a little girl.

“Her father is such a—” Aunty Ope growled, leaving the final part of her statement hanging as she marched off inside.

Mama shook her head and shifted her gaze back to me. “How have you been?”

“Fine Ma.”

“Good. Hope you’ve not had any problems lately?” There was a strange intense look in Mama’s eyes as she asked the question.

“No, No.” I shook my head.

A knock sounded at the door and the Joseph’s voice filtered through.

“Come in,” I called.

Joseph came in dripping wet, carrying two baskets heavily laden with fruits, beverages, and some other stuff which father sent for Mama in his both hands.

“Good evening ma,” Joseph greeted, bending waist down to Mama. “Oga extends his greeting and said I should drop this for you.”

“Oh, thank you. Just drop it by the floor there, I’ll call to thank him later,” Mama replied, passing him a warm smile.

Joseph dropped the baskets by the door and stood awkwardly for a moment. “If you don’t need me I’ll be going. I’ll get a hotel to spend the night and be back by morning.”

“What hotel?” Mama asked, frowning. “You can spend the night here. I have at least two empty rooms where you can stay.”

Joseph stood where he was, a struggle going across his face, “Actually I want to go cool off a bit.”

“But it’s still raining out— Oh…” Mama said as understanding dawned on her. “Okay, have fun.”

“Thank you,” Joseph replied. “Toke take care of yourself,” he added before leaving into the rain.

The car sounded minutes later as he drove off into the night.

“I heard you were sick.” I challenged, looking at Mama as soon as the sound of the car went out. “Aunty Ope said it like you were in a really critical condition.”

Mama sighed. “I’m very sorry, I put her up to it. I wanted to see you and I know that was the only way your father would release you to come.”

 “Okay,” I replied, forcing a smile to ease off the embarrassment on Mama’s face.

“Mama what did you cook? I’m famished o,” Aunty Ope shouted from inside.

“…Or are you not happy to see me?” Mama continued, ignoring Aunty Ope.

My smile became less forced this time. “I’m happy, very happy.”

“Good. Go take your bath and freshen up while I prepare dinner, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Okay ma.” I stood up, heading inside.

I took my bath, changed my clothes and decided to rest a bit on the bed as my whole body hurt from the long journey. I didn’t know when sleep carried me off. I would have slept through the night if not for Aunty Ope who came to wake me for dinner around 8:30pm.

Mama’s food was like nothing I’ve ever tasted before, it was divine. Except for the fact that the vegetable soup was a little too spicy—pepperish—it was out of this world. And the yam flour was very smooth and nicely done. Mama could not stop herself from chuckling in amusement when I asked for more helpings again and again, and by the time we were done with dinner, my stomach bulged like I was a few months pregnant. I had to stay at least an hour at the dining table, spent and unable to assist Aunty Ope as she cleared the table while Mama chuckled amusedly.

I finally moved to the sitting room about an hour later to watch a movie showing on the TV, just after taking a shower and speaking with father on the phone, facing the brunt of his anger as he railed me for not calling as soon as I arrived at Mama’s place.

“Toke.”

“Ma.”

I looked up from the television as Mama entered into the sitting room with only a wrapper around her body. She had just had her bath, looking fresh, and the overwhelming scent of her soap encompassed me as I made space for her on the couch beside me. Aunty Ope also came out and sat on an opposite couch.

 “There is something I have to tell you,” Mama began. “But first look at this.”

A tiny gold chain lay in her palm, glittering softly under the fluorescent light. The chain had a pendant of an eagle with it wings spread wide, and it was very beautiful to look at.

“It’s pretty,” I muttered, as Mama held it up, letting the eagle spin.

“It was your mother’s, a sixteenth birthday gift. She loved it so much so she wore it nearly every minute from the day she was gifted even till she became an adult.” Mama paused for a moment as her voice broke. “She wanted you to have it at a certain stage of your life.”

My mother’s? My heart grew heavy as the chain very quickly became more than just any beautiful gold chain watching it spin in Mama’s hand. It became the universe, the cosmos, glittering with gazillion stars of hopes and wishes. It brought back all the dark-lonely nights I spent crying my eyes out into my sheets when I was younger, wishing for my mother, wishing I wasn’t born, as I drowned myself in guilt, self-pity and loneliness. And then it embodied the hope that finally I would have something of hers, something which she held dear and that had been with her for so long, something tangible that I can hold to anchor me during the depressing times.

 I stretched a quivering hand towards the gold chain, reaching for it.

“Ah Ah… Wait a moment.” Mama held it out of my reach. “I have something to tell you before I hand it over.”

I shifted my gaze between the chain and Mama with a pleading look, as she dropped it back into her palm and closed a tight fist around it. Please, I begged with my eyes, but Mama didn’t budge.

“I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say, and with an open mind,” Mama continued.

“Okay ma,” I sighed, shifting a quick glance at Aunty Ope who was looking teary eyed. The ding dong of the wall clock split the air as it clocked 12:00am. Mama cleared her throat.

“I heard what happened to you at school,” she began.

She lost me there.

I raised a questioning brow at Mama, and then shifted a glance at Aunty Ope for answers. I had not told Aunty Ope anything about school despite how much she badgered me on the way here, and I doubt father or any other person had.

“I mean your encounter with the Emeres—the spirit children—in school. I heard four of them cornered you,” Mama added.

“What Emere-?” I began and stopped, gasping. She couldn’t be talking of Ebiye and her group could she? “What Emere? How did you-?”

“I was coming to that. Just listen and let me do the talking.”

How did she know? Who told her? My heart began to pound faster as I stared at Mama wide eyed.

“You might have heard rumors of what Emeres are? They are spirit children, immortals that chose to be born as children into mortal families again and again. But that is not where I am going.” Mama sat up straight on the couch, pushing the bottom fold of her wrapper between her thighs. “What do you know of witches?”

“Wi- witches?” I stuttered. “Nothing.”

Mama smiled. “But you called them that day and they came to you.”

‘You called us…’ Lara’s words resounded in my head. My breath caught as light finally shed on the confrontation of the other day and I understood their rivalry. Ebiye’s group was Emeres, spirit children, while Lara’s were witches. But how did Mama know all these?

I subconsciously tried to put a distance between Mama and I on the couch without making myself obvious.

“There’s no need to run,” Mama chuckled, shaking her head. “Because of time I’ll just give you the important details as I know it, but you have to be very attentive.”

“Since it is common knowledge that there are witches I won’t have to tell you that again. But you see witches are of different grades, and one can be initiated into becoming a witch through different means.” She cleared her throat and continued. “Although witches are usually united when there is a general problem, they are generally split into three different groups; White, Red, and Black. White witches are the good witches, and their aim is to help humanity. The Reds are on the fence, in-between the good and the evil, while the Blacks are the real definition of evil.”

Despite my fear and apprehension, I found myself a little drawn in to Mama’s tale.

“The three groups have the same system of administration, starting at the lowest rungs with the small covens that can be found almost everywhere and are headed by the strongest witch which is most times the oldest. Above the coven are the provincial cults, and there are seven provinces under which witches exist in this country, and above that are the sixteen elders which make final-binding decisions concerning the witches.”

“The sixteen elders consist of five members from each of the three groups, and the final sixteenth, the supreme leader, can be from any of the groups—black, red, or white. Also within the sixteen elders are the three Matrons, sovereign leaders of each of the respective group of white, black, and red, and the supreme leader is always from amongst these three.”

Mama took a pause to get her breath. “Are you following?” she asked.

I nodded noncommittally, my hands which lay on my laps quivering as her story took picture in my mind. It sounded like a moonlight tale, only that her starting with my encounter with Ebiye wrote it off as one.

“It doesn’t end there,” Mama continued. “There are fifty-four countries in Africa, and the supreme leaders of each country form the Council of African Witches, CAW, bringing us to the history of witches and the seven great mothers.”

“In the hierarchy and history of witches the seven great mothers cannot be left out. They have existed since the dawn of time, even before earth as we know it was created, and they gave life and power to all witches in existence all over the world. The great mothers stand on par with the gods and are even known as nemesis of the gods. When Olodumare—the supreme God—called all the gods back to heaven forcing them to leave the human world, the great mothers left we witches with a way out since they would no longer be allowed to personally interfere in the affairs of men ever again, so they gave us the witchlords and the guardians.”

Aunty Ope sighed loudly at this point, reminding me again of her presence in the room.

“The witchlords are always ten times stronger than other witches, with the ability to cast spells instantaneously without the need for incantations or other rituals witches do. And there have never been more than five witchlord in a given African country at a given time. The guardians although also from amongst the witchlords while being stronger than the witchlords are always never more than seven at a time in the whole of Africa.”

 “Time, Mama, Time,” Aunty Ope cut in.

We all shifted our gaze to the wall clock. It was 12:35am already, making me wonder where the time flew.

“I have to wrap this up now,” Mama said, pursing her lips. She took a deep breath and held my gaze. A faint glitter blossomed within her eyes. “Now, the reason I’m telling you all this is because ours is an old linage of witches—White witches. I am one, your aunt is one, and so was your mother.”

“Jesus!” I exclaimed involuntarily, finally putting a distance between us as I slid as fast as I can to the edge of the couch. Fear made my body heavy and quivering hard.

Mama smiled bitterly. “If you had arrived earlier I would have been able to explain better, but now we are running against time.” She shifted a gaze back to the clock, and sighed. “Normally you would have known all these as a kid, but your mother made us promise not to tell you or bring you in unless we really needed to so as to afford you a normal life.”

I gulped hard, barely holding firm on my precarious perch on the edge of the couch.

“You see, when your mother was pregnant with you, there was a prophecy that you will be the only child she will ever have and you will be a very powerful witch because you have a great destiny. The prophecy also mentioned that she will never live to see you reach adulthood because of that great destiny of yours. To us then, we thought the only remedy was to remove your powers before you were born and change your destiny to that of a normal child which we did, not knowing that was our undoing. You somehow used your mother’s life’s blood to reignite your powers and destiny when you were born...”

I really killed my mother! My eyes darted towards Aunty Ope as Mama continued. Now I understood why she hated me so much.

“…It was later we knew how wrong we were in doing what we did as we indirectly caused your mother’s death by tampering with fate.” Mama sighed grimly and shook her head. “I know now why you had to born no matter what, with the appearance of the cursed ones.”

“Mama,” Aunty Ope interjected again with a tone of urgency, looking up at the clock.

“Omotoke, you are one of the five witchlords of this era, and now we need your help to fight against a great evil that has risen to claim our lives and all we hold dear. This is your destiny,” Mama declared.