Chapter 2: Bad Death, Angry Spirits

I wipe all the bloody handprints. Then my mother come back with plenty people, tell me to come greet them.

She hire one old baba to help arrange the burial, wanting to give my sister big send-off.

The old baba ask, “How old the person wey die?”

My mother reply, “She dey her twenties.”

The old baba just open him eye wide. He shout say to die for twenties na bad death—how you wan do big burial for that?

I know too. Big burial na for people wey die old, after long life, so people go laugh, celebrate them. Bad death, na low-key burial. Who go celebrate person wey die young?

Everybody sabi the rule—if you break am, wahala fit land for your house, spirit fit vex, people go talk. Even masquerade no dey dance for bad death house.

But my mother no understand. All she know na money. She just talk, “Abeg, I go give you extra two hundred naira.”

For her mind, money fit buy tradition. She dey reason say two hundred naira na big thing, but old baba no be hungry man.

The old baba shake head, refuse, say if you do big burial for bad death, wahala go enter your house. He no gree for any amount.

Village elders dey respect this kind warning. Na true, people dey fear angry spirit. Old baba stand him ground like iroko tree.

He wan waka go. My mother vex, dey curse am, say he no get sense, she go do am herself.

She start dey mutter, "Na why poor people no dey progress!" Her own pride no get equal.

The old baba hear am and shout, “If you do am by yourself, you sabi which prayer to say? If you say the wrong one, her spirit go vex more. Wahala go reach you!”

His voice loud, like thunder. Some women for compound hear am, cross themselves and rush enter their houses. The warning hang for air like raincloud.

He waka commot, but my mother just dey grumble, say she go save money by doing it herself.

Inside, she suddenly lose control and slap me for face.

The slap loud, my face burn. She use back of hand, say "You dey useless like your sister!" Spittle for her mouth as she shout.

From the corner of my eye, I see our neighbour, Mama Ugo, peep through window. As my mother shout, she sharply duck back inside—nobody wan enter another person wahala for this compound.

I shock. She point wall, shout, “I no tell you to clean am well?”

I just dey look. Wall full of bloody handprints. But I just clean am finish now.

I touch the wall—immediately, my hand full with fresh, wet blood.

My chest grip. Na thick, warm blood, no be old stain. I wipe am for rag, but the rag red fresh.

My sister blood suppose don dry, and even if I use water, e no fit be this thick.

The blood be like say e dey come out from inside the wall, and the smell strong so tay my body dey shake.

The room smell like abattoir mixed with hot palm oil—heavy, make person wan vomit. My head dey spin, my hand dey tremble. I dey remember all the stories elders dey talk about blood that no dey dry—bad sign.

My mother just dey there, tell me to hurry and wipe, eyes glued to her phone.

She no even look my face, as if money dey more important than wetin dey happen for house.

I look her phone. She dey on transfer page.

I ask, “Who you dey send money to? Where you get money from?”

She say, “Bride price.”

I shock. “Sister don die, you no suppose return the bride price?”

She say, “You no understand. Na the person wey help me before. I just transfer the bride price to am. He say he fit help me unlock the frozen money, even recover all the money I lose.”

Her eye dey shine like person wey see vision. She dey reason say miracle go land if she just transfer one more time.

I just weak.

Scammer wey chief’s court no fit catch, na im she still dey find.

For my mind, I dey remember as chief talk that day, "Some people head dey strong for scam." My mother no dey hear.

She inject AIDS blood into her own daughter just for bride price, just to get back the frozen money. She no go gree say na her fault—she dey blame us.

Looking at my sister’s corpse, bitter laugh just dey my mind.

My sister do everything to protect us, but at the end, mama see her as bad luck.

I ask, “You don send all the money? What if dem ask for more?”

My mother answer with annoyance, “After tonight, when my money enter, I go get pass am. I go soon be millionaire. Why I go fear am?”

She dey talk like woman wey dey dream, dey see herself dey spray money for village square, as if God go reward her evil.

I waka commot, fear dey catch me. My mother shout, “Where you dey go?”

I just say I wan fetch water to clean wall, but true true, na to run I dey plan.

For our bush village, if you get money, you fit do anything. Police no dey do anything. If you get power, you fit kill person, bury am, nothing go happen. Nobody go call police, and police sef no go know.

This na why people dey suffer in silence. Rich man word na law for here. Justice na who get better connection.

My mother no go get the bride price back, and the richest family no go leave us. I no fit die with her.

Even if dem kill my whole family, nobody go report.

Because the richest man control the only factory for here. If you report am, the whole village go lose work, everybody go suffer, must travel far to hustle.

The worst thing for this world na to leave your home, go suffer for strange land, leave your family, dey work for another person gain. At the end, you no get anything, your pikin no know you, your youth finish for another man city, your money go pay another man rent, and people still look you like outsider.

Even for Lagos, you go hear people talk, "Who send you come city?" My heart dey heavy as I dey plan my next move.

Nobody for village go offend the richest man for my sake.

My mother think say I dey loyal, she no even send me.

I pack small things, try sneak out, but never go far when I see the old baba dey hide, dey look our house.

He ask, “Where you dey go? You no fit leave.”

I know say ‘fetching water’ no go work—my bag dey my back.

I ask, “Why I no fit leave?”

The old baba say, “Your sister die with strong anger?”

I remember the bloody handprints, nod.

He stamp foot, “Your mama no only wan do big burial—she wan arrange spirit marriage for angry spirit. I hear say she just buy red wedding dress. Wetin she suppose do, she no do; wetin she no suppose do, she do. Wahala dey.”

I say, “Na my mama cause everything. Why I go suffer join?”

He answer quick, “If angry spirit appear, na blood relatives e go find first. You be her junior brother—she no go leave you. If you wan survive, you must bury your sister well, if not, you no go see tomorrow.”

The way baba talk am, e be like say no be only human being dey vex—spirit fit carry matter pass ordinary hand. My back cold.

I no answer am. My mind just dey run—I wan escape before the richest man show.

As I dey go, the old baba chase me, shout, “If you no believe, you go die tonight!”

His voice cut through air like sharp knife. I dey sweat, body dey shake. I dey reason if I fit risk am.

Halfway, I stop.

As I turn back, the old baba happy, think say I wan hear am.

But I just pass am, run go house, straight to my small room upstairs.

Because I see the richest man dey come.

I hide upstairs, see as the man come with him boys, break gate, rush inside. Soon, I see them drag my mother out by her hair.

The richest man shout, “Your daughter don die—bring back my bride price now!”

They throw my mother for ground like goat. She shout, “Wetin dey rush you? I go give you tomorrow!”

“Now. Give me now.”

“If you kill me, I no get the money now. But after midnight, my money go land—I go pay you double.”

The man pause.

He ask, “And if you no get am?”

My mother bark, “Then cut me anyhow you want! No dey do shakara for me. You just get small money—I go soon pass you.”

Her pride fit fill river. Even with fear, she still dey shout.

Seeing my mother dey brag, the man nod, then turn to his boy, “You hear am? Show her wetin ‘cut into pieces’ mean.”

The boy come, no even send say she be woman, pull up her shirt.

My mother scream, threaten say if dem touch her, she no go return money.

But dem no touch her that way.

They press her down like animal, expose her back.

The boy enter house, carry breakable plate, break am, pick sharp piece, and use am tear my mother back.

My mother scream like goat for slaughter.

Breakable plate no sharp like knife, so e cut skin slow, like say dem dey slice am bit by bit.

People gather look, but nobody fit talk. Village fear don cover everybody.

My mother roll for ground, hold her back, tears and snot full everywhere, pain so much she kneel down vomit her food.

The richest man say coldly, “Remember this. Na so e be to cut person into pieces. This na just one. By midnight, if you no get my money, I go cut ten pieces of flesh from you and your son, and I go make sure you no die quick.”

As I hear am, cold dey catch my body.

Na my mother cause wahala, but I go still suffer.

The man leave, but leave two boys to watch us.

My mother dey shout for yard, “Why you dey do like say you get power? When I pass you, I go hire people deal with you!”

I just dey panic. Then, somebody tap my back.

I turn, fear catch me—it’s the old baba. How he take enter?

He whisper, “No wonder you wan run. But even if you dodge debt, you no fit dodge your sister.”

I snap, “Abeg, leave my sister matter. Na my mama kill her. She no go find me.”

The old baba shake head. “If you no believe, try burn candle and pour libation for your sister tonight. You go see.”

Old baba dey talk like person wey sabi things wey no ordinary eyes fit see. My hand dey shake, I dey sweat. For our side, candle and libation no be small thing—e fit open door wey you no fit close.

I just dey panic. Then my mother call me down, dey cry, say make I ready to serve relatives.

I no get choice. She sit for chair, hold her wound, ask me, “You get any savings?”

I say no.

She break down, “I still need small money. After I transfer, the man say time don pass, so I must pay thirty thousand extra to get my million out.”

She dey mumble like mad person, voice dey shake. Money matter don turn her to shadow.

Now, my mother finally break.

She stagger enter small room, climb my sister corpse again, slap her, cry, “Na your fault, useless girl! If dem cut me today, I go drag you out, flog your dead body—you no go rest!”

This kind talk no dey ordinary. For our side, no mama dey curse pikin corpse—unless something don carry her far from herself.

I look my sister in that room, body just cold.

She don wear red wedding dress.

Everything old baba say make we no do, my mother do all.

I remember the warning, fear catch me, I light cigarette to calm down.

But as I puff, the stick burn finish in one go.

How e take happen?

Cigarette suppose last at least two minutes—how e go burn finish for one drag?

I light another, no smoke am, just dey watch.

The stick dey burn quick, smoke dey go my sister side.

My sister no dey breathe.

But the smoke dey enter her nose.

Suddenly, one saying come my mind, make my body stand:

Ghost dey chop incense.

Na wetin dey happen to my sister.

The old baba correct. Something dey wrong.

My mother still dey beat my sister, no notice anything. I run go upstairs. The old baba see say I dey panic, ask me wetin happen.

I swallow, ask, “Cigarette fit count as incense?”

He open eye. “Ghost don start to chop incense?”

I nod quick.

The old baba begin shake, “E don finish. Ghost dey chop incense for daytime—your sister anger too strong, no fit clear am. By midnight, all of una go die.”

His voice dey tremble. Old baba wey no dey fear ordinary juju now dey sweat. I no fit even shout—my throat dry.

I just dey panic.

All because of my mother—now both living and dead wan finish us.

I ask the old baba wetin I fit do. He think for long, then we hear noise downstairs.

Relatives don land, dey cry.

My sister always good and hardworking. Even though mama hate her, everybody else respect her for what she did.

People dey talk say, "She get better heart, she no deserve this kind death." Some dey pray for her soul, some dey curse my mama under breath.

I look window, see my mother dey collect condolence money.

She wan quickly gather thirty thousand to send to scammer, still dey dream of millions.

The old baba get idea. “We no fit fight am, but we fit hide. You wan live?”

“Of course!”

He grab my hand, take knife from my drawer, slash my wrist.

Blood rush out.

I hold my hand, pain dey catch me. I bite my lip hard, try hold shout—no wan make any sound.

He say, “Make your blood low, your spirit go weak—like say you half-dead. Follow me.”

He drag me go downstairs. My mother too busy with relatives to see me.

She dey try collect condolence and wedding gift money.

Relatives see my sister, just die, wear red wedding dress, makeup full her face, and begin curse my mother.

One cousin vex, throw money for my mother, shout, “Take this money for your own grave! You mad old woman, dress dead body in red and paint her face!”

She cut family ties.

More relatives follow, all curse my mother.

But still, dem give money—because dem pity my sister, want her to rest. Dem no know say all the money go scammer.

My mother no send the insult. Relatives quickly waka go.

House wey dey lively now cold and empty.

My mother dey count money, look me and old baba. I hide my bleeding hand.

She hiss at the old baba, “Wetin you dey do here? I don collect money, I no need your help.”

She dey twist face, as if old baba na ordinary beggar. Her eye dey sharp, dey calculate money.

The old baba no answer.

My mother tell me, “You try, help put makeup for your sister when I dey busy. When I become millionaire, I go give you one million. Everything na for this family.”

She dey talk say na for family, no even notice say her own pikin dey bleed.

But what shock me pass:

I no put makeup for my sister. I think say na my mother do am.

Because the richest man boys dey watch, my mother carry one go bank to deposit money for transfer.

Old baba see nobody dey watch us, quickly carry me go inside.

I see my sister corpse, fear catch me more.

She don die.

But her face dey red, lips like blood—not like dead body at all.

Red wedding dress, embroidered shoe, silver hairpin.

All these for my sister body just dey make everywhere feel strange.

Old baba mumble, “The worst thing for this world na ghost bride. I pray say I fit save you tonight.”

He give me rag to wrap my bleeding hand, tell me to hide inside the mud bed—under my sister corpse.

For here, mud bed dey keep body cold, and people dey believe say spirit fit no touch you if you hide where death pass.

I ask why.

He say, “You don lose blood, your spirit low. If you hide under ashes with corpse on top, your sister go think say you follow am die, she no go touch you. No matter wetin happen by midnight, no make any sound.”

He squat, grab my shoulder, talk serious, “Remember, if you talk, your sister go know say you dey alive.”

His face strong like rock, voice low, as if the whole compound dey listen. My heart dey beat kpai kpai.

The bed no too big, but I squeeze enter, old baba help me.

As I dey hide, I reason say maybe I go dodge the richest man boys too.

I tell old baba, “I no get much, but if I survive, I go give you everything.”

He smile, “No be money I dey find. Who wan see young person die?”

His words touch me, even as pain dey my hand. I reason say stranger show me more care pass my own mama.

My heart pain me.

Even stranger know say young life get value.

But my own mama watch her daughter die.

Old baba suddenly ask, “You help your sister before she die?”

I shake head. “I no help.”

He ask, “Why?”

I quiet.

I no help because, before she die, my sister cry tell me, ‘Na you born me. If I die, let this life pay you back. With mama like you, every day na suffering.’

Her words dey heavy, like curse. Even now, my ear still dey ring am.

I know the kind life my sister live after the scam.

No family, no mother.

If she cook, mama go throw food for her face.

If she sleep, mama go slap her.

Every day, she dey call my sister murderer wey kill her papa.

Because of this life, my sister get serious depression.

She don dey wish to die. This kind mother-daughter life make every day hell for her.

People for village dey pity her, but nobody fit fight my mama mouth. She dey make home hot like pepper.

One kind thought enter my mind.

I think say, since my sister life don bad reach this point, maybe she no suppose dey alive. So when mama kill her, I no help.

Till today, I no know if I wrong or right.

Sometimes, in the night, when wind blow, I go dey hear her voice for my ear. Na guilt dey hold my neck.

Old baba see say I no answer, he no talk again. He give me bag of glutinous rice, say serious, “When your sister commot, come out quick, scatter rice for door and window. She no fit enter. But make sure nobody see you. Ghost no fit enter, but human fit.”

I ask, “My sister don die. Dead no dey move. How she wan commot?”

Old baba just look me, no talk.

His silence loud. For here, if baba no talk, e mean matter don pass mouth.

I realise say e no dey joke.

He say if I survive midnight, I go dey safe, then waka.

Soon, sun don set.

My mother come back. I hear her for yard, dey brag, “No do shakara. After midnight, my money go land. I go pass your boss.”

Her voice dey loud, as if she dey toast palmwine with invisible rich men.

I know say she don send another thirty thousand to scammer.

I hide for bed, blood loss dey make me dizzy.

Sometimes I dey doze, sometimes I force myself wake.

Because old baba warn me not to make sound, I dey fear say I go snore.