Chapter 5: The Curse Revealed

I freeze, fear no let me shout.

Mouth open, no sound. Leg stiff, like say sand swallow me. Goosebumps full arm.

Thank God say drying ground dey village center, and Musa Smallie scream wake people.

Within minutes, I hear door bang, voice rise, feet dey run. Village no dey sleep when danger knock.

Soon, people begin run come.

Women tie wrapper, fall for ground, roll body, dey call Musa Smallie name. Fathers carry stick, young men bring machete—everybody gather.

"Wetin happen? Wetin dey go on?"

Voice dey clash, panic dey clear. Torch dey wave for mist, shadow dey dance across blood-stained earth.

More and more people gather for drying ground.

Some carry lantern, some only faith and shaking hand. Night thick with prayer and curse.

"Na Musa Smallie! Musa Smallie don miss! We just dey play hide-and-seek here—I hear scream, next thing, e don disappear. See as blood full ground!"

My voice finally come out, cracked, desperate. Everybody gasp, women start to wail like say she wan wake dead person.

Fog everywhere; nothing dey clear.

Mist swallow sound and sight, make familiar face strange. Even moon feel far.

Musa Smallie mama grab the blood-soaked sneaker, faint as she dey cry.

Her scream tear air, sharp. Neighbour rush fan her, pour water, but her pain deep pass fainting.

Somebody run go call local vigilante.

The fastest boys dash, sand dey fly, dey call men wey dey keep night safe.

People dey talk anyhow—some say na wild animal, others dey whisper about spirits.

"You sure say na animal?" "This one pass ordinary..."

Village head look the long, winding blood trail wey dey go Okete Hill.

Wrapper loose, staff for hand, eye narrow like person wey dey see wetin others no fit. Elders dey whisper behind am.

"I don live for here reach old age, I never hear say any animal dey do this kind thing for bush. Everybody, carry your cutlass, hoe, hammer—bring torch! Make we go hill go look. Pikin no fit just vanish like that!"

Voice firm, command wey people dey obey. Crowd murmur answer.

"Yes o, we must bring the pikin back!"

Somebody start prayer. Others curse to chase spirit. Air dey vibrate with worry, determination.

Everybody dey talk at once, voice full of anger and worry.

Younger men dey bounce, old women clutch rosary, dey pour libation for ground.

Baba Ocholi, oldest man for village, dip finger for blood, smell am, talk slow,

He bend low, eye cloudy, speak like person wey don see plenty.

"No carry torchlight. Carry real torch, the one with fire."

Everybody rush make torch from rag and kerosene, hand dey shake as dem light am.

I dey squeezed for crowd, follow go hill.

Knee dey wobble, but body press hold me up. Smoke from torch dey my nose, warmth dey comfort me.

First, blood trail na just line. The more we climb, the more blood we see. E come turn pool.

Air cold, mist thick. Only foot shuffle and fire crackle dey sound.

Na that time I realize say human body fit get that kind blood.

Horror hit me. I wan cry, wan run, but I just dey move, eye on torch ahead.

People dey whisper for back:

Whisper float, fear and disbelief mix, the kind talk wey dey follow tragedy.

"With this kind blood, even if we see the boy, e no go survive."

Somebody sob, another spit, dey pray.

"So small... God help am."

Women sing quiet, midnight vigil song, voice dey shake with tears.

"Baba Ocholi say make we carry fire torch—you sure say na animal do am?"

Doubt dey spread. Elders make sign of cross or mutter prayer to Sango, Ekwensu, or Allah.

"To carry pikin run vanish like that, which animal fit do am? Something dey wrong tonight. See as this fog thick, e don tey I see am like this. Who know wetin dey for bush."

Head dey shake, eye dey find shadow, hand hold cutlass tight.

The more dem talk, the more fear catch me.

I hug myself, wish I fit disappear. Blood smell mix with burn rag, I dey dizzy.

Group follow blood reach top of Okete Hill, but no sign of Musa Smallie.

Even brave ones begin fear, hope dey finish as we climb. Hilltop silence total.

Finally, for mouth of one cave, dem see pile of flesh, Musa Smallie bloodstained cloth by side.

Gasp rise, person start wail. Elders hold breath, hand dey shake as dem cross self or touch charm.

When my parents reach, I dey for crowd, hold torch, body shake.

Face wild with fear, dem dey find me. My mama run grab me, hand cold as ice.

Both dey pant, show say dem run come sharp sharp.

Papa shirt half button, leg dusty. He look like person wey wan swallow me keep safe.

My papa come kick me hard.

Pain shoot up, but shock big pass pain.

"You this stubborn boy! Who tell you make you waka for night?"

Voice rough with fear and relief. He shake me, tears for eye.

My parents no talk to villagers, no ask about Musa Smallie. Dem just drag me down hill.

Dem move like haunted people, eye straight, no talk, just dey hold my arm tight.

At first walk, then move fast, finally run.

My mama nearly fall, papa hold am. We run, torchlight dey bounce, shadow dey chase us home.

As we reach house, dem no talk. Dem pack, drive commot that night.

No time for question or goodbye. Car speed go, night swallow our past.

Later, I hear say vigilante search bush tire, no see anything.

People talk say bush never recover. For years, nobody let pikin near drying ground after sunset. Elders pour libation, others just keep quiet.

I no know wetin happen after. I just sabi say, over years, my papa dey send money—no put name—to Musa Smallie family.

One time, I see am seal envelope, hand dey shake, eye shine with tears. Guilt heavy for house.

I sit for ground, half face still dey pain from papa slap.

Palm for cheek, I dey wish pain go, but the ache inside big pass slap.

But suddenly, one thought flash my mind.

Cold clarity catch me. Body tense, heart dey pound as I remember wetin I see.

"Daddy, that night Musa Smallie get accident seven years ago, I too see that black shadow wey dey wave for me."

Words just come out. Voice dey shake, but I no fit hold back again.

My papa slap me again.

This one hotter, almost desperate. Eye dey blaze with fear—not anger—like man wey dey fight last hope.

"You still get mind mention am? Na you suppose die that night."

The words echo, heavy like thunder. I look am, heart dey hammer, finally know say wetin dey chase us no be just secret, but curse wey dey our blood and silence. And as my papa eye meet mine, I swear, I hear that same slow knock for our window again.