Chapter 4: Okete Hill

I be nine years old that time.

Small, eager, always dey chase lizard, dey play ball with bare foot, skin black from sun, mind full of dreams.

We just move from Makurdi go one small village for Kogi State.

Road dusty, tall trees line am, air dey smell roasted corn and wood smoke. Everybody dey greet, news dey fly faster than okada.

Dem no dey let me go out for night, but you know as small boys dey be—always wan play.

Curiosity dey bite me pass mosquito. My parents warn me, but I no dey hear word.

That night, as dem no dey look, I climb fence waka commot.

Fence scratch my leg as I cross, but excitement no let me care. I land soft, no wake dog.

I dey play hide-and-seek with some village boys for big drying ground.

Air full of laughter, mischief, voice dey echo for darkness, feet dey pound hard ground as we scatter hide.

The boy wey dey "catch" na Musa Smallie. Everybody sabi Musa Smallie—village boys dey always get that kind name. Him laugh loud like bell, legs thin but fast. Always wear one green shirt with elbow hole.

I hide inside firewood stack, dey watch as Musa Smallie dey pull other boys from hiding one by one.

Firewood smell earth, old rain. I wedge myself between logs, hardly breathe.

The ones dem catch join the search, soon everybody show except me.

I hear dem whisper, giggle, but soon dem tire.

E don late, others waka go house.

Slippers dey slap sand as dem dey go, call goodbyes wey float for night. Only me stubborn remain.

Only Musa Smallie no gree give up.

Na those stubborn boys, no fear dark, always wan prove say dem fit.

"Ikenna, where you dey?"

Voice echo, bold, playful. But air heavy now, play dey turn serious.

"Ikenna, I must find you."

He call again, determination strong. I wan answer, but pride hold me.

E dey call my name, search everywhere.

Footstep dey move, sand dey shift, plank dey knock, barrel dey poke.

E no fit find me, I hide so tey sleep dey catch me.

Eyelid dey close, night air cool, I dey drift, knees hug chest.

Half-sleep, one wicked scream wake me.

Scream sharp, slice through quiet like knife for ripe mango. Heart jump enter mouth.

I jump up, fear grip me, look outside.

Hand dey shake as I part logs. Mouth dry, eye wide like torch.

Musa Smallie don vanish, only blood trail dey for drying ground.

Blood thick, dark for moonlight, snake across ground like wounded snake. I freeze, skin dey prick with cold sweat.

Na hot season night. Just now, sky clear, moon dey shine.

You fit hear cricket, see bat dey fly, but everywhere hush.

I no even know when mist begin enter. The big security lights for yard dey shine through, everywhere white like garri water.

Mist come slow, curl first for ankle, rise till I no fit see hand. Light dey look like dying lantern.

Normally, to see fog for hot season rare, but this night different.

Old women dey always talk say when mist come like that, spirits dey waka.

Blood trail bend, enter mist. Nobody fit talk how far e go.

I swallow, teeth dey shake as I trace red path. Silence loud reach pain ear.

Fear catch me. I scramble out from firewood.

Leg weak, I nearly fall as I jump out, but fear no let me wait.

"Musa Smallie! Musa Smallie!"

My shout small, mist swallow am. Night dey press me, thick and watchful.

I waka small for blood path, see one sneaker, blood soak am.

Hand dey tremble as I pick am—Musa Smallie favorite shoe, lace miss. Blood drip from sole, warm, sticky.

Na Musa Smallie own.

Throat tight. Shoe heavy, pass small boy shoe.

The village small, bush and hill dey surround for three side.

On clear day from drying ground, you fit see red rooftops, tall palm, hill dey guard village like silent giant.

Okete Hill, the one wey mama dey warn say pikin no suppose near after six, stand for distance.

Blood trail dey point go south.

Head dey buzz as I realize say e dey lead straight to Okete Hill. Leg wan run, but eye dey look.

I look that side—and inside thick mist, I see one big black shadow dey wave for me.

Blood run cold. Shadow no move like person. Na like darkness itself, arm dey stretch slow, dey beckon me come.