Chapter 1: When Spirits Refuse to Move

Have you ever hear about the Parade of the Spirits?

If you never witness am before, na different level. You go hear villagers dey gist about am like old tori. For our side, spirit dey waka their own, but this parade na special one. The smell of burning incense thick like Abakaliki market smoke dey rise for front as dem dey carry am go—e dey linger for morning air after rain fall finish. The leader dey front, face strong like person wey fit use eye chase goat commot from yam barn. His wrapper dey sweep sand, and even breeze dey respect am. The Seven Stars Boys follow behind am—small boys, maybe ten or eleven, painted up like Sango festival children, each one clutch one small gourd or bell, dey do their own secret sign. Dem believe say this ritual fit send all those useless wandering spirits back to bush or gutter. Dem dey escort the main masquerade—real Ojuju Calabar, face like ancient thunder—drive evil away, and clear road so e fit dance enter without wahala.

Even elders go gather for roadside, salute as the leader and the Seven Stars Boys dey march. Everybody dey hush, nobody dey drag for space. For this kind festival, nothing like accident or mistake—everybody dey careful. The air fit choke with both fear and hope, people dey hide pikin under wrapper so bad spirit no jump enter. If you like, try block their road—man or goat—na serious matter. Dem no dey joke at all.

As the leader of the spirit guards dey lead the parade, nobody—person or animal—fit block their road. Even masquerades and wandering spirits dey clear from their path. If anybody try am, na only punishment sure, no mercy at all. Na so the rule be for the leader of the spirit guards any time festival reach for this place.

For this part of the town, the rule na law. Drummers dey beat dundun and omele until e be like thunder for sky; firecrackers dey burst, children dey run up and down, women dey shout praise and song, while men dey guard their corner. Even palm wine seller dey close shop, spirits everywhere dey respect the parade. From distance, generator dey hum, fowl dey shout, and one old mama dey sell suya by the gate.

Throughout the procession, drums dey beat like thunder, firecrackers dey burst everywhere, the whole area dey full of fear and excitement together.

If you be stranger, your body go catch goosebumps. The air dey heavy, the way your chest dey beat—fear, respect, awe—all join together.

But today, something strange happen for the Parade of the Spirits.

Something wey never happen before, even the oldest elder for the village never see am. Spirit procession pause, everybody eye open.

One woman just kneel down for middle of the road wey the parade suppose pass. She carry small pikin—baby boy—hold am tight, dey cry shout, dey beg for help.