In the Loving Arms of Servitude

1. In the Face of Danger

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At that moment, her entire world stops and there is an overwhelming stillness. All she can hear are the mild whistles of the evening wind and the yelping crickets, who have no regard for horror. As she gazes upon the venomous creature poised before her, her pulse starts to race and her heart, pound with reckless abandon. 'What on earth was I thinking, coming out to fetch water this late?' she wonders. The sun has long retired to its chambers. And like a coward, the moon is nowhere to be found. Whence will her help come?

Running is not an option because of the loaded jerry-can of water balanced on top of her head. It too, quivers in fear of the giant cobra stationed barely two metres away. The sky is almost pitch black, yet somehow, she can still see the vile creature vividly. Its yellow eyes are glowing like a lantern flame, and like scaly raffia mats, its fan-like hoods are spread out. Its whip-like tail is slithered into a perfect coil and its scaly torso; erect like a palm tree. Whilst hissing ominously, it keeps swaying skillfully from side to side, as though dancing to its own song of death. She is petrified. The rhythm of its songs do not appeal to her. And unlike Eve, she does not intend to socialize with this serpent.

Eventually, she decides to make a move. Yes, she has finally summoned enough courage, or hasn't she? In split seconds, a myriad of thoughts begin to rummage through her dishevelled mind. She does not know much about snakes, but she is certain of one thing; that whatever decision she makes next could mean her death. Therefore, instead of challenging the already rattled creature to duel, she decides to back away as slowly as possible. If only it were that easy.
She achingly struggles to move her limbs, but her feet become so firmly rooted to the ground, that it would take some sort of divine intervention to move them. Right now, she is beyond devastated. Streams of hot tears are trickling down her jittery cheeks and she begins to feel a heavy lump in her throat, while her entire skin becomes covered in goosebumps. Dissolved in her blood, fear starts to course like a river through her veins.

It is quite cold tonight. The entire atmosphere is saturated with the blistering harmattan breeze; so dry that she can nearly taste the smoky dust in the air. Despite the low temperature, for some reason Uju cannot seem to comprehend, she is still sweating profusely under her palms and feet. She becomes tormented even more by the scorching cold she begins to feel in these regions, burning yet at the same time freezing her sweaty flesh. The rustling sounds of half-dry elephant grass leaves dancing frantically to the song of the wind gradually fill the air. And the grass field around her keeps going on and on, bound by thick dry forests along its margins, until it pierces the horizon.

"Hoot! Hoot!" then goes the cursed owl on a distant tree, ever keen on announcing doom. Uju's grandmother always told her that the cry of an owl was a bad omen. 'Nne couldn't have been more right.' she acknowledges within herself. This owl's foul cries keep pervading the ambience of the entire terrain, echoing repeatedly in her ear, as though drilling a hole through her tympanum. At this point, her rapidly pulsating heart has nearly detached from its sockets. So unable to do anything else, she decides to clench her eyelids tightly shut and pray for the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary and every Saint she can think of.

Uju's guardian angel must have been quite close by as she prayed, because after opening her eyes again, she discovers that the creature is already gone; almost as though it just vanished into thin air. Now, all she sees before her is the narrow bush path leading to the outskirts of her village. 'Where on earth did it go?' she wonders in bewilderment.