Obiageri

Ojiugo lay buried in a deep and troubled sleep. Her body twisted and turned restlessly beneath the thin sheet, as though an unseen force had taken hold of her. She tossed from one side of the bed to the other, struggling desperately against something she clearly could not understand.

In the darkness of her sleep, Ojiugo seemed to be fighting her way out of a strange and terrible spell.

She had struggled through the night, waking several times in a cold sweat. By morning, she was relieved to see the first light of day, but the memory of the night still clung to her like a dark shadow she could neither outrun nor shake away.

In the evening that followed, a strange man appeared beside the plantain clusters at the entrance of the compound. He wore a faded brown shirt, unbuttoned from the chest upward, and a loose pair of black trousers that hung carelessly around his waist. His worn out shoes were coated with the brown dust of the road. There was something unsettling about him. His face carried a frightening expression of concern, and his eyes remained fixed on the nearby houses, as though he had been waiting for someone for far too long and was beginning to lose patience.

Two elderly women walked past him.

They slowed down briefly, casting suspicious glances in his direction before continuing along the dusty road. Neither of them spoke to him. There was something about the strange man's presence that seemed to demand caution.

Ugonma had felt the heat of evening and decided to adjust the faded curtains before opening the louvres to let in some air.

As the breeze entered the room, She glanced outside. Then she saw him.

The strange man standing beside the cluster of plantains, his posture remained tense, his eyes fixed on the houses as though he were expecting something or someone to emerge from them.

Ugonma watched him for a moment, uneasy.

Then she called out.

"Ojiugo!"

Her voice travelled through the house and into the backyard.

"Aunty!"

Ojiugo's voice came from behind the house.

"Where are my children?" Ugonma asked.

In the backyard, Ojiugo was busy hanging freshly washed clothes on a line. She paused, looking toward the house as she answered.

"They are in Mama's room. I'm through with the washing. I'll be with them immediately."

"Alright."

Ugonma turned away from the window.

She walked into the kitchen, where a pot sat over a smouldering fire. She crouched beside the hearth and added a few dry pieces of wood to the flames. The fire crackled weakly, sending a thin trail of smoke into the kitchen. Ugonma lifted the lid of the pot, stirred its contents briefly, then covered it again.

Outside, the evening was beginning to settle into its usual rhythm.

De Friday was returning from the day's hustle.

He walked along the dusty track road, his steps slow from the exhaustion of the day's work. As he approached the compound, he passed the stranger standing beside the plantains.

De Friday glanced at him.

He looked toward the houses, then back at the stranger. Something about the man's presence made him uncomfortable. De Friday slowed for a moment, studying the stranger from a safe distance, but said nothing.

The compound housed quite a number of tenants, and strangers occasionally passed through. No one had bothered to ask who the man was or why he had been standing there for so long.

But De Friday could not shake the feeling that there was something unusual about him.

As he walked into the compound, he glanced back once more.

The stranger was still standing beside the plantains.

Watching.

Waiting.

And whatever or whoever he was waiting for, De Friday had a feeling that it would not bring anything good.

...................... ..............................................

Ugonma walked through the kitchen door towards the hallway and noticed that Udochukwu was playing alone on the floor. She picked up the child and placed the boy on her side before going in search of Ojiugo and Obiageri.

She walked to the backyard, but it was empty. Hurriedly, she returned to the kitchen, believing they must be in Mama’s room.

It was almost dark when Mama returned from her Bible study class. She opened the door to her room and saw Ojiugo lying on a mat on the floor. Ojiugo, now awake, greeted her.

Mama, surprised, asked,

“Ojiugo, what are you doing sleeping by this time of the day?”

Ugonma overheard her mother’s voice from the kitchen and hurriedly came to meet her mother and Ojiugo, with Udochukwu still clung to her side.

Ojiugo answered,

“I was lying here with the twins, and I didn’t know when I slept off.”

Ugonma, visibly startled, asked Ojiugo where Obiageri was.

Ojiugo repeated the same explanation, how she had been lying on the mat with the twins and didn’t know when she slept off.

Mama searched the other rooms, while Ugonma looked through the sitting room, but the child was nowhere to be found.

All h£ll had broken loose.

Thoughts came flooding into Ugonma’s head.

Where was the child?

A girl barely a year old. Who would want to take her without permission?

Could their father have sent the strange looking man she had seen earlier in the evening?

How could she and Ojiugo have been this careless?

Since she left her husband’s house a few months earlier to raise the twins in the comfort of her father’s home, Ezekiel had been threatening to come and take his children back to Enugu.

Ugonma had left their home unannounced, saying she could no longer tolerate the drunkenness and the frequent beatings. She had insisted that it was no longer safe to raise the children in such a hostile environment.

.............................,.......................................

De Friday heard shouts coming from the main building and ran out of his hut in the backyard. Ugonma's voice was renting the air, backed up by the frantic cries of her mother. From the shock of not knowing what had become of the little girl, they had pounced on Ojiugo, and she kept repeating that she had slept off and did not know when the child had left the room.

De Friday tried to calm the situation by asking if they had gone to check with the neighbours. The child might have crawled into one of their neighbours' houses. Ugonma said she had gone around to ask all the neighbours, but none of them had seen Obiageri.

De Friday also confirmed their fears when he told them that he, too, had seen the strange man standing outside in the early hours of the evening. It was now gradually becoming clear that Ezekiel had plotted to take the children from their mother but had only succeeded in getting the girl.

Ugonma held on to her son, Udochukwu, dearly and cried bitterly. It was late, and they had no means of confirming their fears. Nobody could go to Enugu at that hour of the night. The only option was to wait for daylight.

The despair that pervaded the house grew heavier with the night. Mama prayed and cried to God to keep Obiageri safe wherever she might be. Ugonma cried and stared into space, hoping to hear something, anything that would confirm or dispel her worst fears.

If only it was Ezekiel's handiwork, she would thank God and fight him to get her daughter back. De Friday was certain that his in-law had a hand in the strange disappearance of Obiageri.

They all kept vigil through the night, waiting for the c0ck to crow.

Ojiugo sobbed softly in a corner of the room until she passed out. She had been flogged and punished heavily for her gross negligence.

She could not tell whether it was a nightmare or an actual episode. Once again, she saw that same familiar scene: a man with a broad back, clad only in something that looked like a long skirt. She could not discern its colour; the pictures were hazy and blurred.

That all too familiar voice was commending her.

With a promise of love and wealth, she received the praises in awe, keenly peering into the haze, trying to catch a glimpse of the face behind the voice. But all she could see was the same bare back, broad and dark.

The voice kept echoing:

“You have done well, my dear. You will be greatly rewarded. I shall give you riches and show you the mysteries of this world. You have done well my dear.”

......................................................................

Ugonma felt pressed in the early hours of the morning after a long night without shutting her eyes for a second. She turned up the light in a lantern beside her mother, who still lay on a mat, muttering prayers.

She went out of the house and headed towards the odikpiri, a pit latrine built a few metres away from the building so that the stench would not disturb the house and its occupants.

The latrine was a small zinc shelter built over a slab that covered a twenty foot hole underneath. A small opening stood at the centre of the slab, through which people passed faeces and urine.

Ugonma slowly opened the zinc door, bending to avoid hitting her head against the roof. Almost immediately, the faint cry of a child came to her ears.

She stood frozen.

For a moment, she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her.

Lowering the lantern to have a clearer look around the small room, she heard the cry again, this time louder and clearer.

She screamed.

The lantern slipped from her hand and crashed to the ground. She ran out of the latrine, calling on her mother and her uncle. Her screams tore through the stillness of the morning, waking the entire neighbourhood.

“My child! My child! Nwam o! Nwam o! They threw my child in sh!t!”

The End.

Obi Ogbuehi.