Chapter 2: Halima for Night

As grandpa talk am, I hear footsteps for gate.

The sand crunch slow, heavy like person wey dey drag leg. Harmattan moon shine on top zinc, shadows long, everything quiet except that step wey dey come closer. My own chest dey drum like ogene.

With moonlight, I see one woman enter yard.

Her wrapper black, headtie tie well, but na the white face shock me. The dust no touch her, but her skin white like calabash wey sun never touch, eyes red pass fire. Wind carry dry leaves tumble for her back, as if even harmattan dey fear am. For my mind, I dey reason if na masquerade or spirit. For Okpoko, dem dey talk say only mad person or spirit fit waka when bush dey fear.

Her face white like calabash wey sun never touch, her eyes red, dey scary. If no be say shadow follow her, I for think say na spirit.

She waka as if ground dey push her, each step silent but strong. Even dog wey dey bark before, just whimper and hide. Nobody dey talk—everybody dey look her, eyes wide, mouth open.

Grandma shock, talk gently, "My daughter, this night reach like this—wetin bring you come our house?"

She put hand for chest, voice low, as if dey try use respect chase evil. For our side, you no dey ask stranger for night without prayer for heart. She dey use that her old method—greet first before you ask question.

The woman reply with pity voice, "Mama, harmattan don block road. I miss my husband. I see light for hill, na im I waka come. I never chop for two days. Hunger dey finish me."

Her voice weak, but when she mention hunger, the way she look grandma, fear grip everybody. Her eyes scan everywhere, like person wey dey search for something to bite. Her hand rub belly, and she kneel one leg, a sign of plea mixed with threat.

As she talk, "Hunger dey finish me," she talk am with force. Her eyes come bulge, the veins red like blood wan drop—like say demon dey find flesh chop.

Her voice get small echo, the kind sound wey no dey fit ordinary person. For my mind, I remember old story grandma dey tell—say some hungry spirit fit use human skin waka.

Fear catch me. I hide behind grandma, hold grandpa cloth.

My heart dey pound, hand dey shake. I no even know when I use grandpa wrapper cover my face. I fit smell tobacco for him cloth, but even that one no calm my spirit. Grandma hand strong for my back, dey try block me from the woman's eye.

The woman force smile, waka come small, ask, "Mama, hunger dey finish me. I wan chop goat meat. Una get any for house?"

She lean forward, tongue lick her lips. The smile no reach her eye. For Igbo land, when stranger ask for food like that for night, people dey suspect. The voice dey heavy, like say if you refuse, wahala go start.

Her voice get as e be—half threat, half beg. E be like say if goat meat no dey, na person she go chop.

Everybody hold breath. Even palm wine tapper for next compound go fit sense say something dey wrong.

Grandma fear, freeze.

Her mouth open, words no come out. She hold me tight, as if say na me go be sacrifice if matter spoil.

As the woman wan near, grandpa talk coldly, "The goat meat dey for pot."

He no blink, just talk like chief priest for shrine. His voice sound for air, and I fit swear say night cold reduce small.

He carry half basin hot goat meat come out.

The basin big, steam dey rise. He place am for ground with steady hand, eyes no blink. For that moment, e resemble chief priest, no just ordinary old man.

The woman shock small, then smile, "Papa, half basin no reach me. I never chop for two days."

She talk am with head cock one side, her mouth dey open like person wey dey count teeth. The way she eye the meat, I know say if dem give am whole goat, she go still find more.

Grandpa look am with cold eye. "Na all we get."

His tone no accept argument, as if the matter don close. He stand arms folded, face hard.

He drop the goat meat for ground. The woman just kneel, use hand dey carry meat dey swallow.

She no even wait for spoon or plate. Her fingers dey blood and oil, and she pack meat like say dem dey pursue her. Chew, swallow, choke, no care. The sound of bone dey crack, and for one second, I think say she go chop her own hand.

She even dey chew bone, the big ones she no fit chew, she swallow am whole.

The way she gulp, you go think say na well dey her throat. Her jaw dey move like machine. I see small blood for her lips, she no even wipe am. Goosebumps dey my skin.

From far, you fit hear Mama Uche for next compound lock her door sharp-sharp, as if she sense say wahala dey.

Grandma drag grandpa go one side, whisper, "Old man, this girl no be human. She resemble hungry spirit."

She talk am, her voice low, but I hear every word. Her eyes wide, voice dey shake. For our side, when person start dey see something wey no pure, elders dey pray or pour libation. Grandma just dey whisper, her hand dey cross and uncross.

As she talk am, the woman freeze, look grandma with wicked eye, then smile. Her mouth black like pit—no single tooth inside.

Her smile wide like market thief wey police no catch, and the way her mouth open, you go know say something dey inside wey no be for human eye. I shift back, grandma too shift one step, make sure I dey behind her.

Grandma fear, no fit look her, she turn face to grandpa.

Her lips dey move for prayer, but her eyes dey avoid that wicked smile. She wipe sweat from forehead, despite the cold. She mutter something, maybe Psalm, maybe old Igbo incantation.

Grandpa puff pipe two times, talk coldly, "Old woman, go arrange the west room make Halima sleep there this night."

He call the woman name, Halima, like say na old friend. His voice no carry feeling. For our village, to call person name for night like this dey risky, especially when the spirit of the hills dey restless.

Grandma shock, "Who be Halima?"

She step back, hand for chest. Her voice high, almost break. Even I no understand, because nobody ever mention that name for our house before.

Grandpa point the woman, vex. "Quickly go arrange the room."

He point as if na small pikin him dey command. The way his hand shake, you go know say patience don finish for am.

Grandma frown, shout, "You sabi am?"

She no gree, voice sharp. For Igbo wife, to ask husband that kind question, na only when wahala big. Her eyes red, she squeeze face, grip wrapper as if she wan tie herself for ground.

As she vex, grandpa vex pass, push her, shout, "Go!"

His hand heavy, voice loud, the whole compound echo. Even night bird wey dey sing for tree, quiet.

Na that time, the woman laugh one kain, the laugh cold, dey fear person. She don finish all the goat meat, dey lick the basin with her long tongue—e fork for the tip like snake own.

Her laughter coil for air, sharp like blade. For that moment, I know say this night no go end like other nights.