Chapter 2: Night Secrets and Mountain Chains

2

For that moment, leg no gree move. Na only when cold breeze slap my face, I remember to run. I run anyhow go back village.

No time to reason anything. Na so I tear race for bush, jump root, even cut my hand for thorn. E be like say my shadow dey drag me go faster.

I stagger reach house, everywhere don dark.

Sweat dey my body, dust for my hair. I shake like goat wey fall for rain. I no even remember say festival still dey go on for village square.

Guests don sleep. Only bulb for yard dey on, leftover food still dey on top wooden table.

I look the food as if e fit answer my question. My body hungry but my mind dey heavy.

I chop small anyhow. My mind scatter. That thing wey I see for mountain dey play for my head:

Every bite hard to swallow. I dey force garri and soup for my mouth, but taste no dey. My mouth dry like harmattan, fear dey dance for my throat.

For Mushroom Rock at night, two dark shadow dey close, body press each other.

My head dey spin as I remember how breeze dey shake tent, shadow dey move for firelight.

And those stockings, chain for leg, those legs wey no move—na so e dey disturb me. If I no do something, spirit fit drag me join their wahala.

I blink, think say na dream. But the image still dey clear for my mind—white stocking, iron chain, no shoe.

Uncle Bala dey camp alone for Mushroom Rock. Yesterday I carry woman go, I even think say Ifeoma na Uncle Bala daughter.

I reason am again—na only family fit get that kind privilege. But the way things be, something no pure.

How daughter go dey lie for tent like that?

No daughter go gree sleep chained for tent, even if na strong head she get.

Today I carry another, and she dey hold Uncle Bala—wetin really dey happen?

Lele too dey free with am. Na like say she dey find something wey I no understand.

And tomorrow nko?

Wetin go happen if I carry another woman go? The chain for my mind dey tight more.

Three women still dey guest room. Their leader, Aunty Yetunde, na she ask me to carry Ifeoma and Lele go Mushroom Rock.

Aunty Yetunde get authority for her voice. Even elders dey respect her. She dey move like person wey no dey used to wait for anybody.

Aunty Yetunde na fine woman—her skin dey shine, face neat, everything about her scream money. She no look like person wey come hike.

Her wrapper dey straight, perfume dey follow her waka. Even mosquito dey fear bite her. But she dey move with swag, like person wey sabi street and boardroom.

But the four women wey dey with her, all of them fine in their own way, all dress like traveler.

I look them with corner eye, dey count my luck to dey see such beauty for one place.

Ifeoma: cap, ponytail, short shirt, cargo pants, hiking shoe.

Her bag even get water bottle and compass. You go think say she dey go NYSC camp. She dey smile always, but her eye dey sharp.

Like university babe, though I never see one before.

Dem say book dey change person eye, e sure for Ifeoma.

Lele even carry big bag of toiletries come.

I shake head as I see toothpaste, soap, body cream—over-pack like person wey dey run from home.

The other two: one dey call Zainab, fine mixed-race babe; the other, Amina, na the oldest—over forty, but her body still dey correct.

Zainab na the kind wey light skin dey shine for sun, with curly hair. Amina na real madam, her step strong, her voice dey command, but laugh dey always her mouth.

I don dey do guide work for over six months, I hardly see women tourists. If dem come, na with their husband—never group of only women like this.

Even chief for village talk say e never see this kind thing before. People dey point small small, dey gossip under breath.

That way wey Ifeoma lower body no dey move dey worry me.

E dey worry me pass as mosquito dey disturb sleep. Na only person wey get big sickness or wahala fit lie like that.

No dey move?

I talk am for my mind again—no single twitch or shake.

She fit don die?

My hand cold as I reason am. If person die for mountain, na big curse for guide.

Na me carry her go. The more I think am, the more fear dey catch me.

My mouth dry like harmattan, fear dey dance for my throat. One wild idea enter my head, just dey grow:

I close my eyes, try chase the thought, but e stubborn. Na only one thing fit cure am—see with my eye.

Mushroom Rock. I must go back go see with my eye.

No sleep for me this night, no matter how tired body dey. The mountain dey call my spirit.

3

No be full moon tonight, but the sky clear. Moonlight bright and cold, everywhere dey white.

Na this kind night, story dey pass from mouth to mouth, as people gather round fire for yard. But me, I dey alone, dey waka silent, as if I be spirit.

From far, I see small light for Mushroom Rock—Uncle Bala lamp dey last.

That lamp dey stubborn, na only him sabi how e dey work am for breeze wey blow for cliff top.

I waka quietly for mountain, hide for bush near the path, peep through the trees—two tents dey there.

Bush dey scratch my leg, but I no mind. I dey count every step, dey try remember how hunter dey hide for bush.

No be fire dey shine, na lamp.

Lamp glow different—e dey make shadow long, e dey hide secret.

Uncle Bala sit down between the two tents, back face cliff, dey yarn with person.

Him broad back dey shine for lamp, as if he dey guard gate to spirit land.

The tent block my view. I no fit see who dey front am.

I stretch neck, but small bush dey block me. E no good make person waka too close; mountain dey expose any small movement.

Even though I know say na Lele, I still dey curious. I lie flat for ground, begin crawl small small to the side.

Sand and small stone dey enter my shirt, but na small wahala. My mind dey focus for the matter wey I come pursue.

Small small, I see side of one face for tent edge.

Eye catch the shine of her glasses. My heart jump small, but I press chest make e no loud.

Na Lele.

She dey smile, but e be like say the smile soft pass the one wey she dey give for village. Her hair dey glow for moonlight.

I no even know wetin I expect. Even people from here no dey come Mushroom Rock like that—nobody else fit dey.

True true, I dey look for juju, but na only flesh and blood dey here. Sometimes na human dey more mysterious than spirit.

Lele full body show, no far from me.

Her legs dey straight, shoe remove. She cross arm for lap, dey listen like student for class.

She sit for grass, one hand support her, leg bend to the side, dey smile for Uncle Bala.

The mountain wind dey blow her hair small, she no send. Her skin dey glow like say na light dey inside her.

She cute for day, but for night, she gentle and calm.

For this kind silence, you go hear your heart beat. Lele dey there, peaceful, like say she dey home.

Wetin dem dey talk? I no hear anything.

Lamp dey buzz, breeze dey blow, but I no fit catch single word. Their voice low, as if dem dey share secret with mountain.

After about ten minutes, Uncle Bala carry phone, make call.

He press am with strong finger, face hard. You go think say na chief dey decide case for village meeting.

His face strong, like say smile no fit come out.

Every line for him face deep, as if him dey remember old pain.

The call short. He raise hand, dey gesture up and down.

E be like referee wey dey explain penalty. Lele just dey nod, dey look am with respect.

Lele nod, bring her backpack to front.

She unzip am, hand steady. She dey do everything with style.

Both of them keep quiet, just dey look each other, nobody talk, just dey watch.

Mountain wind fit carry voice, but here, na silence rule. Na only their eyes dey do the talking.

The cold breeze for mountain dey bite me, my body dey shake. The two of them just sit like statue, my heart dey jump.

Even so, I no fit waka. My body dey freeze, but my spirit dey dance.

Suddenly, phone ring scatter for valley.

The sound loud, echo reach bottom of cliff. Even goats for corner pause bleating, birds for tree branch fly small.

Uncle Bala put the phone for speaker, drop am between them.

E set am gentle, like say ritual dey happen.

I no fit hear wetin dem dey talk, but I see Lele begin cry, tears full her face, but she dey happy.

Her face dey shine with tears, but mouth dey smile. E be like say she win big prize, but memory of pain still dey her heart.

Uncle Bala drop phone, wait for Lele to calm.

He just dey look her, no talk. Na the kind silence wey only strong man fit hold.

Lele wipe her tears, unzip her backpack, bring out one small colourful box.

She look the box like say na baby. She hold am with two hand, open slow slow.

Then she open shirt, rush go meet Uncle Bala.

Button dey scatter, her bra pink, stockings white like chalk. She waka bold, as if she dey act film for only two audience—me and Uncle Bala.

Pink bra, white stockings—I shock.

My hand cover mouth, breath stop. Na my eye dey see this kind thing for bush?

This no be the same girl I see for day.

As if two different spirit dey live inside her body. For day, na small bird; for night, na fire.

But for this mountain, na only those wey get strong heart fit survive the night.