Manifest

Thirteen

Even though Abasi Enyong had taken Edidiong Okot and disappeared, Uduak had work to do so she scoured Edidiong's family home that morning. Everything Abasi Enyong knew and cared about was completely compromised. His temples, his homes, even his boundary mounds where he held meetings with allies from other communities. All those places were desecrated and/or destroyed. There was nowhere for him to run. He'd certainly never run to his sister's temples. Not when he was aware of Abasi Isong's not-so-polite intentions.

Uduak focused on Edidiong, hoping something in Edidiong's life would point them somewhere.

He had family in Owerri, but according to history, Abasi Enyong would rather remain on Ọyọnọ soil than risk the enemies he'd made in Igbo land knowing that he was awake and vulnerable.

Edidiong hadn't made much of a life in Antaikot. Everything he'd done here centered around his father. He had no ties in Akwa Ibom and his foreign ties were lukewarm and stale. He'd kept to himself for the past two years and spoke only to one cousin. And even that relationship was inaccessible to Uduak. Edidiong's phone hadn't proved useful and there was only so much social media could tell you about a recluse.

Uduak had nothing.

With the sunrise, Uduak's hope rose as well, because every new day was just one step closer to Abasi Enyong's slumber. His tusk was not in Akwa Ibom. It wasn't even close. Not because Abasi Isong had foreseen her brother's slip from their grasp. Simply because she'd traded it to people far, far away for other reasons. Even if Abasi Enyong managed to elude capture, there was no way for him to get to the tusk in time. Uduak knew.

She rubbed her face and assessed the immediate area. There was nothing special about the compound, at all.

Uduak walked over and squatted above the broken patch of earth where tiles and sand and a gorgeous piece of ukara lay mixed up, together. She pulled the ukara till the sand let it go and examined it. Uduak recognized it. Green designs wove into square patches of blue fabric and vice versa. A green lion on a blue patch. A blue tusk on a green patch. A green leaf. And, surprisingly enough, a blue ax. She'd watched the previous ubokabasi enyong bless the ukara as he prepared it for Abasi Enyong's slumber, four hundred years ago. Its loose weaves hadn't lost their strength in all that time. It still had its rough, burnt edges. The yellow string that had been attached to the center for secure wrapping, remained. Everything was the same.

Except for how it had been found buried in the ground and not lying in the temple where it had been originally placed.

When other tribes in the area had offered up their gods to the white man in surrender, when other villages stood back and watched everything they held dear be stripped down and torn up, Oyono's heritage had survived because Abasi Isong was lucky to have her brother to sacrifice. With the foreigners and white worshipers fighting Abasi Enyong's priests and tearing down his altars, no one was looking for his sister. Those who knew she existed chose to keep quiet and those who didn't were satisfied with Abasi Enyong's downfall.

Even as ekpo ran for their lives, it never occurred to them to bargain with Abasi Isong's existence.

To protect her brother's body from desecration, Abasi Isong pushed it further into the ground than she knew any human could get to. She'd sacrificed him for her worshipers to remain, but that didn't mean she wanted him dragged into the streets in disrespect the way other gods were being dragged.

Rather than hold up a god to scorn, the church leaders had sewn wretched figures together and punished the fake figures while calling them Abasi Enyong.

To protect her brother, she'd used her powers to move his body lower and lower, knowing that they would never find it.

She'd never imagined that she would go looking for it and not find it, herself.