I finally found the strength to continue this story. I will finish it this time. Next episode next Friday.
Nedu was now certain that something was amiss and that he and Otito had been held hostage. With no vehicle to get them away from Munachi’s house, no idea how to even find their way out of the village, and their dead mobile phones, Nedu decided to play along with the couple until he could figure out a way of escape. The first step to freedom was to find another living soul to talk to.
He suppressed the resentment that rose to his throat when he saw Otito dressed in another ridiculous gown, eating another snack. That night he sat with their hosts and laughed a little too loud at the jokes. He noted the surprise and question in Otito’s eyes but paid her no attention.
As the stars appeared with the keg of palm wine Obichi mysteriously produced, Otito asked a question that altered the night.
“Have you ever been to Enugu before? You look familiar.”
“Me?” the couple asked simultaneously.
“You.” Otito pointed at Obichi, about to pour herself a cup of wine. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
Nedu snatched it out of her hands and gave her a look. “What do you mean? Are you sure you’re not sleepy?”
“She must be sleepy,” Munachi laughed, rising and taking her arm. “It is time to sleep, my dear. Pregnant women need sleep.”
“How would you know? Have you been pregnant before?”
Nedu jerked like a flag slapped by sudden wind. “Babe, that was insensitive. You should apologize.”
Otito apologized, staggering to her feet and rubbing her belly. Munachi’s eyes were glued to her moving hands. “I feel drunk, you know. I think I should go and lie down.”
Nedu led her into the house.
As soon as the young couple walked in, Munachi’s face wrinkled into tears. No words could soothe the pain Otito had so mindlessly caused.
Obichi’s eyes travelled to the plot of land beside the kitchen hut, where they had buried seven of their children. His hands trembled at the memory of the pale, little beings he had carried to their shallow graves. At first, he had been the only one to do it, but after the fourth child, Munachi insisted on accompanying him. Together, they had wrapped their dead children in old wrappers and laid them tenderly in the ground.
Otito yawned, rubbing her belly. “I feel so lightheaded, but I’m telling you, that man’s face looks very familiar. As we sat outside eating and drinking, it was almost as if I was seeing his face for the first time. There’s something about his face that looks so familiar.”
“It’s his nose, isn’t it?” Nedu smiled.
Otito laughed. Munachi’s nose sat at an awkward angle, as if one side of his nose was following the other. “No, it’s actually the scar on his face. Even though it is hidden beneath his beard, it looks like something I’ve seen before.” Otito yawned. “Maybe I saw it in a drawing.”
Nedu shook his head, convinced that Otito was delirious with sleep. In no time, she was snoring, her arm slung across his chest.
As upsetting as their predicament was, Nedu was grateful for the quietness of the village. The rain of the day before had further sanitized the air, filling it with a freshness that calmed his nerves when he breathed it in.
In the city, he would be drinking with his buddies from The National Piece, laughing about the weird stories they’d heard in their investigations or mumbling about yet another crime the military had committed. No one dared to speak out loud about the executions, illegal arrests, or harassments. Nedu was tired of edging away from the truth. He was tired of telling sentimental stories that temporarily lightened the weight of dictatorship. He wanted to give his readers something to rejoice over. Stories that assured the people that traces of justice still existed.
He was gradually giving into sleep when Otito’s words nudged something in his memory. It’s actually the scar … Maybe I saw it in a drawing. Nedu’s eyes widened.
He remembered a story that one of his buddies had brought to the newsroom. It was the story of a man who had stolen a child in a bag. He had been caught and chased by a mob, who rescued the child and began to mete out jungle justice to the kidnapper. Luckily for him, two army officers arrived and dispersed the mob, and he managed to escape.
Soon, rumours began to spread that the army officers were in cahoots with the kidnapper. Summarily, a manhunt was declared for this kidnapper, and “Wanted” posters began to appear all over the city. The drawing was of a man with a scar running from the edge of one ear down to his chin, just like the one on Obichi’s face.
Nedu sat up and tried to recollect the couple’s reaction when Otito had blurted her question. Had Obichi been momentarily dumbfounded, or was it all in his head? Either way, excitement slowly raced through Nedu’s veins. Providence may have brought him right into the heart of a cold case.
Obichi could not sleep. It had been years since the incident in Enugu, yet, it seemed that karma had not forgotten about him.
Seven years ago, after the death of their fifth child, he had visited a dibia in desperation, anxious to put an end to the curse he and his wife seemed to be under. The diviner had taken a look at him and shook his head in pity.
“Let me tell you the truth: you can never have a child of your own. A curse is on you because you have taken the wife of another.”
The dibia’s consultations revealed that Munachi was betrothed to a sea god whose wrath was killing their children. Munachi was never meant to be married. Obichi had burst into tears, begging for a way out. He loved Munachi too much to abandon her.
“We will appease her spirit husband and see if he will bless your union.” He hissed, reaching for some chalk and palm oil. “You young folk can be so unwise, marrying blindly. You should have asked around before marrying this woman.”
On his way back home that day, Obichi tried to stem the guilt he felt from visiting a traditional priest. He would be banned from the church if anyone found out. Yet, some of what the dibia said matched what he’d heard over the years. Certain brothers and sisters had pulled him aside and asked if he was aware that his wife was the cause of their childlessness. They had each received revelations that she was an evil woman intent on bringing him misery. He could see the judgement on their faces when yet another child died.
The sacrifice yielded no respite, and Obichi returned to the dibia in tears.
“We will have to repair your destiny then.”
The only other way was to raise another person’s child as theirs and shower the child with love.
“The day this child tells you they want a sibling is the day your troubles are over.”
But it couldn’t be just any child, it had to be a child who sought them out. And so Obichi had travelled to Enugu, knowing that none of the children in his village would abandon their parents in search of a childless couple. This child had to be from elsewhere, lured by gifts.
Obichi had found a little girl crying by the roadside, sitting in front of an empty tray, eleven eggs smashed in varying degrees around her small knees. Her mother had sent her to hawk them, but a stone had tripped her up, and half of her merchandise was glimmering under the sun.
He took pity on the girl and cursed her mother. If only she knew how precious children were. What sin could be greater than the privilege of parenthood? There and then, Obichi decided that this child’s agony had sought him out. He baited her with a sweet and a promise of the cost of the eggs. She stuffed his sedative-laced candy in her mouth and soon fell asleep. When no one was looking, he grabbed her small frame and stuffed her in a large bag.
But this child did not seek him. Her spirit overcame the effects of the sedative, and she began to struggle in Obichi’s bag. It could not be hidden. In a flash, he was dragged down from the bus and forced to reveal and release the child. The mob descended on him with sticks, stones, and broken bottles.
Obichi could now feel his heart run helter skelter like it did that bloody afternoon. His trembling hand roamed his battered body, bumping over the scars and dents of that day. He had made only one mistake—he took a child that did not seek him.
Rising from his bed, he padded toward the window and stared at the moonless sky. The movement stilled his heart, and the air cleared his head. Their miracle was staring them in the face: Nedu and his pregnant woman had found him—this child had sought them out.
She must not leave.
Image copyright: Micah Boerma/Canva
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