EJIMA

CHAPTER 44

It took one last flash of lightning for Ejima to see the empty streets. The drizzling rain had fogged into a mist but was spirited by the torches slitting from the windows. Her wet clothes were glued to her body and plunging cold into her soul. Save for the lack of water and food, she preferred the dry season to wet season. It did not ruin things and activities like this.

"It's been like this all year," the muscular woman said as if reading her thoughts. "But we thank the gods for their mercies. Better to have wet season than live like a desert rat"

Ejima did not respond, they had crossed the muddy parameter and were breaking away from the heart of the village. Not even a dog was outside. If the torches burning inside every house were not lit she could have sworn that this village was inhabited by ghosts.

“Dry season is like its name, dry. But it's time for harvest. A time for plenty of food.” Ejima said.

“Ah, what about water?" The woman asked just as another flash lit the path, "taking care of the children is rather difficult in such times of lack. Plus, there is also an abundance of food in wet season,”

Ejima bit down the argument. Wet seasons, some farmers have argued, have left their crops decaying under the soil. Cooking was also difficult, as well as rareling animals.

"There," the woman pointed and hurried towards the small hut.

Unlike the first, this was much smaller and there were no baskets. Torches hung on the wall, and the dry air and floor introduced the emptiness that stretched in both directions. 

"What is this place?"

"Home." The woman smiled and patted Ejima's shoulders. 

They had stopped in the middle and as they waited, the door by the far side opened, and people that were clothed with leaves started toward their direction. There were men and women, but the population seemed to be paired.

“Is this?”

“Yes,” The woman nodded, “Twice they say is a coincidence. But thrice is definitely a sign. So tell me…” the woman's brow folded inwards.

“Ejima, my name is, Ejima”

“Ejima” The woman nodded, “Tell me, Ejima, does this look like a coincidence?”

Ejima swallowed as she stared at the choirs of eyes that were staring back at her. It was almost impossible to think that those little children that could barely make a sound, were now standing on their feet with no support. Who could guess that this day would come? Who could have guessed that dropping those baskets into the water would save lives? 

“This is the finger of the creator,” Ejima whispered, unable to find words.

“It sure is, Ejima, and by the way, my name is Ngozi." The smile broadens, "we've waited so long for this day. We have waited to give you her blessing and her gift.”

“What gift?”

Ngozi did not respond. She had disappeared into the door at the far end, and before Ejima could say another word, she returned with some braided necklace, made from the tail of a cow.

“The chief made this for you"

“No way,” Ejima backed away, knowing what the neckless stands for. It was a symbol of authority, a symbol that connotes one as a leader over a group of people.

“It was her last wish,” Ngozi smiled weakly, “She spoke highly of you and has predicted your return. Everything the chief had said was true.”

“That’s ridiculous. I only returned here because I needed help. I am going off to the Ijele hunt and I need someone from among your people to help save any twin babies while I am away.”

“Ridiculous? How do you explain this?” 

Ngozi nodded to the twin boys leaning on the door frame. They disappeared into the next door and reappeared again with a watermelon. It was like any normal watermelon, just that it had two distinct markings on either side and on the center of the two marks, was a hole that ran from one side to the other.

“What is this?” Ejima asked.

“This,” Ngozi pointed to the watermelon. “Is a target melon”

“Well?” Ejima shrugged. The glee in the eyes of the woman was causing more confusion.

“Before the chief died, she predicted that you would shoot this target from a far distance and not miss.”

“Ah, hilarious.” Ejima chuckled, “I didn't shoot anything…” She paused when she remembered the flaming arrow and the way she had stopped it. A sudden chill went from her bones, into every part of her body. Could it be that these people had predicted her every move?

“We wish you will be our new Chief, Ejima. Please be our chief. We would be glad to be called, Umu Ejima (the children of Ejima)” Ngozi bowed.

“But, I don’t deserve it. It’s too great a task. I don’t even know how to take care of myself, let alone these number of people.”

“You deserve it, my dear,” Ngozi said as she went down on her knees. As if that was the signal, everyone in the room started bowing down their heads and chanting.

“Long live the chief,”

“Long live the chief,”

“Long live the chief.”

Something crawled in Ejima’s stomach, this time, a sweet sensation. She just couldn’t help the tears that fogged her vision. Who could have guessed that this day would come? All her life, she had prayed earnestly for children to be called her own, but somehow, the tides had been against her and have given her the bread of affliction and the oil of misfortune. But now…now, it was different. Maybe all those years of suffering had been necessary. Maybe this day was meant to be. Maybe the creator has a greater plan for her. 

"No!!"

The scream echoed through the room causing the chant to cease. Every eye had returned to Ejima, and the surprise in them made her heart snap. She wanted to be great, she wanted a community where people would accept her despite her brokenness. But this was overwhelming, even for a shattered piece like her.

"What do you mean? Do you reject the offer to become our chief?"

"Yes," Ejima swallowed, "I am sorry, but I can't take the offer. And coming here was also a mistake"

Someone shouted or so Ejima thought as she took the exit and into the rain. She didn't belong here, it was too good for her. At this point, only the grave was befitting for her wretched soul.