By Vanessa Obioha
They say I’m special, different from my siblings. Of course, I am. Chinwe and Eno don’t come close to my beauty and intelligence. Ifeanyi was the only one who could compete successfully with me in academics. But this fat woman in an overflowing white floral gown staring down at me with her huge bosom like the big ripe pawpaws mama buys from the market thinks differently.
I wish Mama was here, maybe she would explain to her how special I am. Everybody treats me like an egg. Whatever I want, I get. I often wonder why I was given this preferential treatment. Sometimes, I feel they are all scared of me. The other day at Mazi Okoro‘s compound, immediately I came in with Mama, Mazi and his visitors quickly stood up to salute me. I was stunned by this action. I looked at Mama, who stood with hands akimbo, appraising the elders. Mazi Okoro’s wife had been sick for a while. I don’t know why Mama asked me to accompany her to see this wicked woman. Not too long ago, at the village square, she beat the living daylights out of me, Chisom and Ogonna, while Eno looked on, with a smirk on her face. She was the cause of our beating. I don’t like Eno. I feel she dislikes me a lot. Maybe it’s the way Papa pampers me. I notice the green in her eyes whenever Papa gives me the biggest piece of meat at dinner.
Mazi coughed and nodded to Mama in silent agreement. His compound was very big and cool too. The compound bragged of three beautiful bungalows. It was rumoured that the third one was built for Mazi Okoro’s new wife who never returned with him after he paid her dowry. I’m sure his first wife had something to do with it. Wicked woman. The sting of her slap still hurts till date. Maybe the gods had hidden all her children for fear that she might beat them to death, and that is why she has no child.
The sun must be weary from its efforts to peer through the huge coconut and palm trees that have taken root in the compound. If there is anything about Mazi Okoro’s compound that I love, it was the huge Udara tree at the centre of the compound. It faced the obi majestically with its fruits dangling seductively, begging to be plucked at this time of the year.
‘Nne, let’s go,’ said mama.
Thank God! I turned my back to leave but Mama drew me back. She headed to the bungalow adjacent to the obi. The room was well lit and sparsely furnished. A half-eaten plate of Ukwa lay on the wooden stool beside the wooden bed. I nearly ran out of the house when I stared at the figure lying on the bed.
What is this? Is that a human being? Mama saw the terror in my eyes and held me close. That couldn’t be Mazi Okoro’s wife. She looked like a carcass. Her flesh looked rotten and there were big sores all over her face. I made a dash again but the painful voice stopped me.
‘Please, my child, whatever you want, I will give you, but make me whole again.’
I stared at Mama in bewilderment. What was she talking about? I’m not Dr. Onyeanwulaa or the Chief Priest. Why would she ask me to make her whole again? I looked at Mama for an explanation but she avoided my eyes. Mazi Okoro’s eyes were pitiful. Was that a tear flowing down his cheeks? The room was suddenly clouded by a fog of pain that tore my heart, but I had no idea how to dissipate it.
‘Nwanyi oma, I plead on my wife’s behalf, please forgive her,’ Mazi Okoro said with a choking voice.
What is wrong with these people? What are they talking about? I’m no magician or healer. Maybe they should call Chukwudi, the stammerer who claims to be an evangelist and farts each time he pronounces Jesus. How on earth would I heal a woman who looked like a vulture’s vomit? The urgency to run overwhelmed me. I looked at Mama again for rescue. This time she stared right back at me.
‘Nne, you have to do it.’
Do what? My little mind wondered. Why can’t she speak in plain words instead of bombarding me with parables? Then she untied the edge of her wrapper and brought out a piece of white chalk. She started chanting a song I don’t know, but somehow I sang along. I was suddenly overpowered by a strange force and I felt my head getting bigger. I tried to scream but my lips were as dry as nuts. My arms flailed of their own volition, while my feet were lifted off the ground. I shut my eyes in pain, as they were hurting me. I could feel a thick trickle down my cheeks. Oh God! what is happening to me, why was Mama doing this to me? Even though her voice was a distant sound to my ears, I wished she would stop chanting. I was unconscious for almost half an hour.
When I regained consciousness, I was lying on my mat in my father’s compound, with my parents fanning me. My other siblings looked awed.
‘What happened?‘, I asked, but no one replied me.
That night, I thought I had seen a ghost when Mazi Okoro’s wife came to our house looking very healthy. This wasn’t the scarecrow I saw earlier in the day. I was more stunned when she knelt in front of me and rained praises on me. She brought two tubers of yam, a bottle of palm oil, alligator pepper, and a sack full of Udara. My mind couldn’t fathom what was going on. But the tempting udara was too much for me to resist.
A big lash on my bare back jolted me back to reality. The fat woman’s breasts swung left to right as she waved the cane.
‘Come out you evil spirit.’
Where is mama? How can she allow this woman to humiliate me in public? How can she strip me naked in the village square while others watched with interest?
‘You witch!‘ she spat on me, accompanied by another whip.
Witch? Me? Am I a witch? That was the last thought in my head before I slipped into unconsciousness.
