“Chika!” her mother called. “Chika!” she called again. The girl stood at a spot, her eyes fixated on the wall in front of her, her body unmoving. Nneka backed away and stretched out a thin shaky hand to touch her daughter's shoulder.
“Don't touch her!” the priest roared.
Nneka snatched back her hand and scrambled to a corner where she folded and whimpered like a child. The priest was standing at the center of the hut, staring intently at the girl in front of him, his sacred staff in one hand and a live bird in the other. He was an old dibia with charcoal drawings on his arms and a white chalk line under his left eye, his long wrapper wrapped around his lean body and passed under his left arm. He threw three cowrie shells on the ground in front of the girl and began to draw a circle around her with his staff. At the end of the circle, he made an incantation and struck his staff into the ground, the girl fell to her knees. Nneka began to cry out. Twelve years she had spent in childbearing, twelve children she had lost, one by one, every year. Chika was her thirteenth, and she had managed to live the past five seasons of life. The cry turned to laughter, a chilling cynical laugh that echoed throughout the compound and sent chills down the spine of her husband, Ekenne who sat quietly in his Obi, listening.
She questioned her Chi if she had cursed her with a fate to die childless in her old age, and began to call her dead mother to intervene. Beside her daughter, Chika, was the bamboo bed she had slept on for the past eighteen years since her wedding night, the one on which she had birthed all her twelve dead children. Nneka pointed at it and asked her mother not to let all her blood go to waste. Above the bamboo bed was an open window that overlooked the fireplace and brought in the rays of the full moon. A pot of boiled leaves lay on a tripod stand in the fireplace, the charcoal under it was still warm. Nneka informed her mother that she had been on her knees, fanning and blowing them since the sun went up at noon and that her efforts should not be in vain.
“Silence!” The priest thundered; this time, he threw a glare at her. Nneka fell silent and still as if life had left her. The old man turned away quickly.
“Ekenne!” He called out in a loud voice.
Ekenne answered from his Obi and soon, the dibia could hear his hurried footsteps approaching the hut.
“Take your wife outside,” he said as soon as the young man stepped foot into the hut. “I have something very important to discuss with you, and I do not want fear.”
Ekenne nodded and tightened the wrapper knot on his waist. His hairy chest rose and fell heavily. He, too, was afraid like his wife, but as a man, he needed to bury his fear. He heaved a big sigh as he picked up the heavy body of his wife. She was unconscious, but her eyes lay open. Ekenne blinked and quickly passed his hand over her eyes to shut them, then carried her out to his Obi. When she was laid on his bamboo bed, he called one of the maids to attend to her and quickly returned to meet with the priest.
“Here I am,” he said as he got into the hut.
“Eke, Orie, Afo, Nkwo” the dibia counted the days of the week. “You desecrated Orie, the day your Chi was to be honored, you refused to perform the sacrifice. That was twenty seasons ago.”
Ekenne fell silent and his eyes went to the ground, with his eyebrows furrowed as if trying to travel back through time.
“Listen carefully,” the priest continued after a brief pause. “Your daughter will die at midnight today, but there is a solution.”
Ekenne jerked as if suddenly awakened by a thunderstorm and lifted his two hands to his head. “Dibia,” he said calmly. “What is the solution?”
“A life for a life,” the dibia responded.
“What does that mean?”
“Your life or your wife's own for your daughter’s.”
Ekenne’s mouth fell open and his two hands fell to his sides. “Is there no other way?” He asked.
The dibia shook his head.
Ekenne stood there for a while staring at his feet, then lifted his eyes to the dibia and said, “I will be back,” and turned on his heels.
“Time is running,” the dibia said as he reached the door. “Your daughter's spirit will soon cross the threshold of the living.”
Ekenne nodded and walked out of the hut silently, and went to stand at the center of his compound facing the entrance. Then he turned and looked at his Obi, which stood behind him and ran in to stand at the door. A maid was attending to his wife, wiping her forehead with a towel. Slowly he sat down at the foot of the bed, staring down at the unconscious woman.
“You may leave us briefly,” he said to the maid. The young woman stood up and walked out. “Nneka,” he called, but his wife did not answer. She was still unconscious. “Hmm,” he sighed and cleaned off a tear under his left eye. “It is true what I said,” he continued. “You were going to be my first and last bride.” He sat there for a while with his head hung down, uttering no word until he heard the dibia call for him; then he got up and walked out quietly.
He walked into the hut where the priest and his daughter were, took a look at his daughter for the last time, then stooped down in front of her to have a clear glimpse of her face before turning to the priest to say, “I'm ready.”
“Your daughter is about to pass the threshold into the land of the dead,” the priest said and struck his staff into the ground. “Pass through my staff.” He commanded. Ekenne stood for a minute staring at the staff, breathing heavily. Then suddenly, like a man pulled forward by some force, he ran towards it and disappeared into nothing. The dibia lifted the staff and struck it a second time, then a third, and Chika sneezed.
“Life to you!” The dibia said. “Life welcomes you, child; live and do not die.”
Just then, Nneka ran in, completely oblivious to what had transpired. Chika sat up and stared at her mother. “Nne,” she called. Nneka fell to the ground because her legs could not carry her due to shock. Slowly, she edged closer and gathered her daughter into her arms, her body quaking violently as she yelped. After a while, she lifted her eyes to the dibia and asked, “Where is my husband?”
The dibia shook his head and said, “A life for a life,” his eyes fixed on the girl in her arms.
Nneka's face shrunk into a frown, then confusion, then shock. Then slowly, as if struck by madness, she began to laugh and to kick, and to shout, calling the names of her ancestors to tell her husband to retrieve his steps from the land of the dead that his daughter was alive. All the while, she held onto Chika, and soon, the girl began to cry too.
Mmeyene Joseph
A little glossary for you :
Chi - A person's personal god in the Igbo land.
Obi - the hut where the husband, who is the head of the home lives in a traditional Igbo household
Nne - Igbo word for “mother”.
Dibia - the name for an Igbo traditional priest.
A story full of magical realism! One life, for another life. Thanks for the glossary. It helped me in my reading. Regards
😍😍 you're welcome, I'm glad you enjoyed the read. Thank you!
Thank you. 🙏
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A charming story with many elements that make it mind-blowing. Traditions and beliefs blend into an engaging narrative. Very pleased to read your story.
Thanks for sharing your story with us.
Happy Holidays.
Thank you so much for reading. 😊🤭
Happy holidays!