Chapter 2: Midnight Fire and the Tortoise Trick

I quietly prepare for house—set charcoal pot, incense, candle.

I sweep floor, wipe table, set mat for ground. I even spread small white cloth for table, just to show respect. My hand dey steady, but my heart dey drum for chest.

But I soon realize say I don make mistake.

I forget say I still get one small sticker for my cupboard. As I dey arrange things, my eye just jam am.

The charcoal pot dey under my cupboard. As I open am, I see sticker inside—na small Tales of the Tortoise sticker—old, but the tortoise eye still dey shine, dey look me like say e dey plan another trick.

The sticker dey shine small, old but still clear. Na from primary school days, I dey use am motivate myself.

I reason say if Mama Eno see am, she go vex. Tortoise na spirit for many folk tales, dem dey respect am for shrine. Some dey call am messenger; others dey call am trickster.

For my mind, I dey pray make she no notice. My grandma always talk say, "Tortoise dey bring wahala if you no respect am for ritual."

Mama Eno say make I remove all cross, but this sticker don dey since I small. After so many years, how I wan peel am?

If I peel am, e go spoil cupboard. E don blend with the wood. I no even get tool for hand.

To respect her, I close cupboard and room door. As long as cross no dey see am, e no count—na "avoid cross" be this.

I just talk for my mind, "God abeg, cover me for this one."

When everything set, I wait reach midnight.

For my mind, I dey count clock tick. Even cock for backyard stop to crow. The whole compound quiet—na only frog dey croak for gutter.

Before I fit off light, everywhere just dark. This house old, the circuit breaker dey outside wall. Mama Eno fit off light from outside to make sure I dey do am well.

I hear sound for outside, like key dey turn for meter box. Next thing, NEPA light commot. Na only candle remain.

No wahala.

I lock window, block small air, sit down for mat. Na so my mind dey prepare for big job.

I light candle, room just dey dim.

The flame dey dance for breeze. I watch am, dey feel one kind shiver wey no be cold, no be fear. Just that kin tingling wey dey make person know say something big dey happen.

I place the spirit tablet for table, in front of charcoal pot, kneel, offer three incense.

I use stick incense—na fine smell, like gardenia mixed with palm kernel oil. The smoke dey rise like snake, I blow am toward window, just to respect spirit.

After incense, I look the money wey full ground, swallow spit. E pain me die.

My heart dey cut—na so much money, and I go just see am turn ash? For my mind, I dey tell myself say blessing dey ahead, no look back.

But as I don collect her money, I gats do the work.

I close my eye, say small prayer. "Make my hand pure, make nothing bad happen."

With heavy heart, I use candle catch the cash, put am for charcoal pot as fire catch.

As the fire catch, the paper just dey curl, twist. The smell of burning naira choke my nose—no be like suya smoke, e dey sharp, almost bitter, like when you roast bitterleaf by mistake. I dey watch am, dey count my breath.

But something dey odd.

The flame no dey behave like normal. E dey make sound, like 'whoosh', then settle. My skin prick, like say ant bite me.

As the money dey burn, the flame dey green, like spirit fire.

I pause, look am well. The green no be ordinary—na deep emerald, like snake eye. E dey shine for darkness, dey throw shadow for wall.

I never see am before. I don burn all kind spirit money—different material dey give different color. But I never burn real cash before. Even for film, na fake money dem dey use—nobody wan burn real money.

I remember one time for Lagos, person try burn fake dollars, the thing burn blue. But this one pass blue—green dey like say na juju.

So na so real cash dey burn green fire, I talk for my mind.

I reason say maybe na chemical for naira dey cause am. But fear dey my mind. I dey pray make nothing spoil.

To burn money sef na skill—you no fit burn am too fast, fire fit die. Too slow, if fire break, you go relight am, and that one no good for ritual. The thing na to make money dey burn dey go, e mean say wealth no go finish.

For my papa side, dem dey talk say steady flame mean steady blessing. So I dey careful, dey turn the note, dey make sure e catch well.

As I dey focus, I hear small sound.

E first be like rat for ceiling, but the sound come from door. My ear stand—ritual night no be time for visitor.

I look up—my room door dey open small small by itself.

The way e dey open, slow, no be breeze style. My heart do kpim. I remember say window still dey closed.

I watch as the door creak open, my mind just dey jump. I no even know why—maybe na breeze from fire dey cause am.

But my body cold. I dey sweat, but cold sweat. For ritual, if anything move, you gats pay attention.

But door no suppose dey open—tortoise sticker still dey my room. Since I don collect Mama Eno money, I gats do the work well.

For my mind, I dey reason say maybe na spirit dey check if I dey respect agreement.

I quickly burn new bill, rush go close door.

I stand up, move fast, jam door well, use my back block am. My hand dey shake small, but I hide am from spirit eye.

I come back, continue to dey burn for charcoal pot.

I dey quick, dey make sure the fire no go out. I dey watch candle, dey check my time, dey pray make morning no reach too soon.

But my room no get lock—na old house. I just sit, door open again by itself.

My eye wide, I no even wan look up. But na so ritual be—if you fear, you don already fail.

This one no fit work. I get idea: I join the bills together, make dem dey burn like chain.

I take small spit, gum some note together, light all of them once. The fire catch, burn faster, green flame dey dance like masquerade for festival.

I rush enter room, plan to use cloth jam the door.

I pick my old socks, wet am small, wedge am for hinge. My hand dey sweat.

As I dey find cloth, I see light outside window.

The light dey flicker, orange and green. For my mind, na only candle I get—so where the extra light dey come from?

For open space outside my house, charcoal pot dey burn, and woman wey wear iro and buba dey squat near am.

The fire bright, dey cast long shadow for ground. My chest dey rise—who fit dey burn another ritual for outside?

The iro and buba na the same with Mama Eno own, but this woman fine—like thirty-five, her body still fresh.

Her skin dey glow for candle light, her wrapper tie with extra swag. She fit pass for Nollywood actress, no wrinkles, no sign of age.

She squat dey burn spirit money, the slit for her wrapper show pale, smooth leg—just dey shine for firelight.

The leg long, no scratch, no scar. For my area, na only nurse or teacher fit get that kind soft skin.

Woman wey get that kind age, wear iro and buba, e get one kind charm.

I no go lie, even my heart skip beat. I no fit shout, I just dey look am with respect and small small hope.

But the main thing be say, she resemble Mama Eno—just younger and finer.

I rub my eye, think say maybe sleep dey catch me. But the woman still dey there, her skin dey shine like say moon dey follow am waka. I dey reason, maybe na family thing. Some people dey resemble their mama well well.

She dey burn spirit money, so I reason say maybe na Mama Eno daughter. Mother and daughter wear matching cloth. Their family get money true true—maybe dem no sure whether to burn real money or spirit paper, so dem do both. But rich people no fit break law, so dem hire me to burn real money.

For this life, na rich people dey confuse tradition, dey mix everything together.

Rich people get mind, I swear.

The way dem dey do, e be like say dem no fear law, spirit or police.

I no fit hold myself, I look her leg again—too fine. No blame me, I dey live for outskirts, no dey see woman, talk less of this kind fine babe.

I even dey imagine if to say na her I marry, wetin my people for talk. But sharp sharp, I shift eye, refocus on my ritual.

I sigh, pick socks, wedge am for door, go back burn money.

The socks old, smell like kerosene, but I no care. Na survival matter.

After that, my mind sweet. With this money, I fit buy house for town, buy car, still get hundreds of thousands left. I fit finally chase fine babe—maybe person like that woman.

My mind dey fly—house for Awka, car wey no go break down for every pothole. Even my papa go respect me.

But soon, I realize say something no pure.

As I dey imagine better life, my body begin dey slow. E be like say cold dey hold me from inside.

I no feel anything.

No joy, no ginger. E just be like say my mind dey far, body dey empty. I pinch myself, nothing. My blood dey slow.

I never get babe before, so anytime I see fine girl, my body dey ginger. But today, I just dey tired—body no even shake at all.

I try remember the woman face, but e no sweet me. My chest dey dull. Even music for my head no play again.

I try imagine the woman, but shock catch me—nothing move for body.

E be like say my blood dry. My skin cold. The cold enter my bone, pass harmattan breeze. My grandma go say na spirit dey waka near. Na that time I know say wahala dey hide for corner.

This one no normal.

I remember say my friend talk say, if you dey near grave and you no feel anything for body, spirit dey close.

As I dey wonder, gbam! One loud noise for room, shock me.

My heart almost jump comot. The sound loud like tyre burst. I nearly bite my tongue.

I turn, see say the door don fling open, jam wall.

No be small breeze fit do that kind thing. My leg weak, I stand, dey look door.

How wind go strong like this for room?

Window lock, no vent. Na only spirit fit do that one. My body dey shake.

As I dey reason, serious breeze blow, charcoal pot flame dey shake, nearly off.

The breeze cold, e blow my ear, enter bone. Candle flame just dey dance, refuse off. Charcoal pot almost die, but the money refuse quench.

Fear catch me, I wan stand block wind.

But my leg dey fail. My back dey pain me, like say I carry cement bag for head since morning. Even my teeth dey shake for mouth. For my mind, I dey pray, "God abeg, make I no fall for ground."

But as I stand, my body stiff, pain everywhere. My back, my leg—maybe na because I sit down too long dey burn money. I force myself stand, walk go room.

I bend, stretch, try stand straight, but back still dey bend. My leg dey shake, toes cold.

Maybe I forget close window?

But I know say I lock am well. I even test am before ritual start. For my mind, na only spirit fit dey waka anyhow this night.

But e no fit be—just now I see that woman for outside.

If person dey outside, how breeze go blow from inside? I dey reason say something no pure for this matter.

But na that time I freeze.

I feel cold hand for my back, but I turn, nobody. My heart dey hammer like ogene for festival.

I try stand well, block wind, but my back just dey bend more and more.

Na so my body dey hunch. My waist bend, shoulder heavy, like old person. I dey look my hand, e dey pale.

The flame for my back throw my shadow for ground—I shock.

Shadow dey long, dey twist, like say e get two head.

My shadow dey hunch more and more.

The more my back bend, the more shadow twist. I dey watch am, my heart dey cut.

But on top my shadow, another shadow dey.

I see another outline, tall, straight, dey stand for my shadow head.

That shadow start as old woman, hunch. As my own shadow dey old, the one on top dey young, dey stand straight, dey show fine woman shape.

I dey blink, dey rub eye. Na so shadow dey play for my room?

Fear catch me, I look back.

I use hand touch my neck. Room empty—na only me, no sound, no movement. Charcoal pot still dey burn green.

Nobody dey room, na only charcoal pot dey burn.

I even check behind curtain. No be small fear.

But who get the extra shadow?

I dey ask myself. I look up, look down, shadow still dey—old woman for top, young woman for middle, me for ground. My body cold.

Na that time, another strange thing happen.

My skin prick. The room quiet, but my mind dey run. I dey pray make nothing spoil.

Because I delay, the money for charcoal pot burn finish.

The ash scatter for pot. The smoke strong, make my eye water.

But candle still dey, so shadow still dey.

Candle light dey flicker, throw the two shadow for wall. My eye dey red, but I dey watch am.

My body small small dey get strength, back dey straight. But the woman shadow on top me begin hunch again, dey old.

Na so the shadow dey swap—sometimes old, sometimes young. E dey move as if e dey suck my own.

That time, I remember the fine woman with iro and buba, my body just flush hot.

E be like say memory wan come back, but my hand dey shake. Na real juju be this.

I get bad feeling. I waka go window look outside.

I tiptoe reach window, open small, peep. The outside cold pass freezer.

Charcoal pot still dey burn, and woman with iro and buba dey squat, dey burn spirit money.

The fire strong, ash dey fly for air. She dey move slow, as if e dey hard her to bend.

But this time, no be fine young woman again—na old Mama Eno, dey struggle squat, full old woman mode.

Her back round, hand dey shake. She dey cough small, as if she wan vomit.

She see me, turn, smile: "Why you no dey burn again?"

Her voice rough, like old broom wey don sweep compound taya. The smile no reach eye. I step back, leg almost give way.

My leg almost fail me.

For that moment, e be like say ground open. If to say na film, na that time thunder for strike.

Mama Eno stand, dey waka come my window. Only burglary proof dey between us.

She move slow, but her eye sharp, dey look me as if I be thief wey dem catch for market.

As she dey come, my fear dey grow.

My skin dey crawl, heart dey beat for ear. I dey reason if to shout or just close eye.

If everything wey happen na real, e mean say no mother and daughter—na as the money dey burn, I dey old, Mama Eno dey young.

Na so dem dey talk for story—spirit wey dey steal person years. Na my own life dey go so?

Wetin I don put myself?

My papa go talk say, "No chop pass your power." But hunger blind me.

I force myself calm, talk: "Mama, abeg, no vex—na hunger dey make person reason anyhow. You know say person wey dey hungry fit chop sand. I no wan burn again. I fit return your money?"

My mouth dry. I dey shake as I dey talk. Na only God know say I dey beg from heart.

Mama Eno smile freeze.

Her face stiff, as if person pour cold water for am. Eye sharp, lips tight.

She ask, "Why you no wan burn again?"

Her voice rough, like old broom wey don sweep compound taya.

I say, "Fear dey catch me. The more I burn, the more I dey fear."

I talk truth. E no get as e be. My hand no fit move well again.

Mama Eno look me, sigh, talk: "Okay, leave am. Bring the money give me."

Her voice come soft, but I see her finger dey shake. E be like say she no expect me to stop half way.

I no expect am to gree so easy. I press my fear, turn go carry the cash.

My mind dey tell me say run, but leg no answer. I pack the cash small small, dey look her from corner eye.

Na that time, Mama Eno wey dey window, blow cold breeze for my shoulder.

The cold touch me, like say I bath river for night. My teeth dey knock together.

I turn, confuse. "Mama, wetin happen?"

Her face don change—her eye wide, black, mouth twist. Na so fear grip my heart.

As I turn, wahala start.

Before I fit shout, my leg fail, hand weak. I just fall for ground, body dey freeze.

My whole body just weak—I fall for ground. Cold just catch me, like say my blood freeze. I dey shake like leaf.

Even my voice no fit come out again. For my mind, na only prayer dey run.

I look back, see Mama Eno lean for window, give me one wicked, evil smile, begin squeeze herself enter room.

She bend like snake, her body long, bone dey crack as she dey pass the small window gap.

But the window small—na only her head fit pass, shoulder jam.

Her neck twist, head turn, eye still dey look me. The thing wey I see pass Nollywood film.

Mama Eno open mouth, do wetin I no believe.

Her mouth wide, jaw dey stretch like agbalumo wey dem squeeze, and the bone wey drop for ground get fresh blood, the smell strong like abattoir for Onitsha market.

She begin vomit—no sound, just dey retch.

The movement dey quick, but her eye no blink. For that moment, na only fear I know.

Her wrinkled face swell like frog, then something begin come out her mouth.

The thing long, white, with red mark—like say na real human part.

Long bone—real human bone, still get flesh and blood—drop for my floor.

Blood dey drip, the smell strong. I nearly vomit.

Person fit vomit their own bone?

E no get as e be. Na my first time to see this kind thing. I dey wish say I run when I first get chance.

I no believe my eye. As she spit the bone, her body just dey bend anyhow, squeeze pass window, crawl enter room.

Her back dey touch ground, but her leg still dey outside. E be like say she no get bone for body again.

Just now, she no fit carry cross, but now she grab me drag me for ground.

Her grip strong, her hand cold. I dey shout for inside mind, but mouth no open.

I wan fight, but no strength. I just dey watch as she drag me go charcoal pot.

My body dey scratch floor, my eye dey tear up. I dey beg, but no sound.

Mama Eno no burn the money herself—she force my hand hold the money, burn am.

She push my hand, put cash for fire. Her own hand no touch flame, but my finger dey burn.

As the money dey burn, she dey change. Her wrinkle dey vanish, her white hair dey turn black.

The process fast—like breeze dey wash her skin. Her voice change, her neck dey straight. Na so juju dey work.

Mama Eno turn to the fine young woman with iro and buba.

Her face shine, eyes bright. E be like say na the same woman wey I see outside before. Na so power dey shift for this world.

Me, my body dey weak dey go.

Every breath dey hard. My skin dey dry, finger dey twist. For my mind, I dey see all the money wey I burn.

I understand now: as I dey burn the money, na my own life I dey give Mama Eno.

If to say I know, I for no start this ritual. Greed dey kill person.

No be burning money for dead—na burning money for myself. I dey use my life exchange for her own.

For Naija, dem dey talk say no free lunch. Now, na me dey pay with my own blood.

Mama Eno just focus for charcoal pot. I, as I no get power, quietly use mouth bite one bill, dey chew am, swallow small small.

I use last strength, grab small note, bite am. E taste bitter, but I force am go.

I dey do am coded—Mama Eno no notice. She dey burn, I dey chop.

Na so thief dey behave for market—when everybody dey watch front, him dey pack pepper for back.

Of course, I no fit chop reach as she dey burn. When she almost finish, I reason say I don eat like one thousand naira plus.

My mouth dey pain me, but na small price. I dey count every kobo as hope.

By now, Mama Eno don turn fine young woman.

Her skin dey glow, her face dey fresh. The transformation na magic, no two ways.

But me—I no fit see my face, but I see my hand, e be like old fowl leg, body don dry, like old person.

My voice dey shake, my eye dey blur. I just dey count time, dey hope say I go survive.

I dey breathe heavy, see Mama Eno frown ask, "Why you never die?"

Her voice sharp, her eye dey red. E be like say something dey worry her.

As I think am...

Na scam be this.

E clear for my mind—na my own soul she dey find. The whole ritual na set up. Na real 419 for spiritual world.

If I burn all the money, I go die. Then Mama Eno fit cancel the bank transfer, collect her one million back.

I dey reason say she dey use me for two way—my life plus her cash.

As she see say I never die, Mama Eno dey search for cash, dey shout, "You thief my money?"

Her voice loud, her finger dey tremble. She dey shake me, dey turn my pocket, dey check everywhere.

As she dey panic, I sure say the ritual need exactly one million to burn—no fit short.

If short, the thing no go complete. Na that small difference dey keep me alive.

She don turn twenty years old, but still dey panic.

Her face dey young, but sweat dey her forehead. Her hand dey move like market woman wey dem cheat.

I no fit talk say I chop am. In her state, if she find out, she fit cut me open.

If na movie, na here knife go land for my throat. I just keep quiet, dey pray.

As I dey reason, Mama Eno carry my kitchen knife, dey come my side.

She hold am like butcher, her hand steady. For that moment, I know say my life dey thin like pap.

She talk cold: "Tell me—where the rest of the money?"

Her mouth thin, her voice no get pity. Na only the knife dey shine for candle light.

I give weak laugh. "I don old finish. You think say I still fear die?"

I spit blood small, try raise hand, but na only laugh come out. For my mind, I don ready for anything.

By now, I resemble seventy or eighty. To turn from young to this—death no even bad.

Na so old people dey talk, "If death come, make e carry me quick." For this place, I no get hope again.

Mama Eno grind teeth. "If you no talk, I go cut your flesh small small."

She show knife, make small move. My body dey shake, but my mind dey calm.

I no know wetin to do. I dey look candle, hope don die.

The flame dey low, the room dey cold, my heart dey race. Na only prayer dey inside my mouth.

Wait—candle.

For my head, one light just spark. Candle still dey, charcoal pot wan die, but candle never quench.

Suddenly, I remember something.

For ritual, na candle dey end first. If candle no wan die, e mean say spirit dey block am. Maybe na the sticker for cupboard dey cause wahala.

Just now, heavy breeze almost off charcoal pot, make me stand block am. But with that kind wind, why candle no off?

E mean say the thing wey breeze dey find na charcoal pot, not candle. E dey try save me.

Something dey wrong.

E be like say sticker dey protect me. Na Tales of the Tortoise dey stop Mama Eno.

Maybe the wind na to off charcoal pot, to save me?

Na small sign, but my mind dey catch hope. I dey plan my next move.

The wind come from my room, and the only thing wey break Mama Eno taboo na that Tales of the Tortoise sticker.

I dey thank God for village wisdom. Sometimes, small thing dey change person life.

Suddenly, I get bold idea.

I dey reason say, if tortoise dey trick spirit for story, e fit help me now. My hand dey shake, but my brain dey hot.

At the same time, I see Mama Eno dey old again. She just look twenty before, now na like twenty-seven, twenty-eight. The thing slow, but I dey feel say I dey young small small.

Her hair dey change color, her skin dey rough small. My own hand dey strong small.

I form fear, tell Mama Eno, "I hide some money for cupboard. I think say you no go find am."

I bend back, point cupboard. My face dey twist, like say I dey cry.

Mama Eno grip knife, eye me, then sneer.

She no trust me, but greed dey her eye. She use knife point me, then waka go cupboard.

"I bin dey pity you before, but I no know say you go dey lie. Now, to die for me, you deserve am."

Her voice cold, her back straight again. The knife dey shine as she dey near cupboard.

She no talk again, just waka enter my room.

Na so my hope dey hang for thin thread. As she open cupboard, my heart dey beat like talking drum—if this trick fail, na my own burial dem go do for this house.