Amobi and the Door Beyond Time (PREVIEW)

3. Three Masks Sentence Us to Death (By Awakening)

The place was huge, stretching away as far as the eye could see. Giant golden buildings twinkled in the distance and overhead, ghostly figures chased each other through the blue sky. The sun wasn't harsh here – it was rather pleasant actually – and trees bearing tangerines stood guard at intervals. Brightly coloured stalls and canopies took up prime positions in the arena. They held baskets full to bursting with kolanuts, chalk, figs, mangoes and surprisingly – bars and bars of chocolate. Their owners called out to people or else haggled loudly with them, arms flailing about.

"It's a market," I.K laughed, pointing at a stall that sold jumping beans. Even Kosi looked impressed, her eyes huge with wonder.

"The House of Life is more than just an institution," Iboma said. "It's the very heart of our culture."

Two old men hurried past, clutching thin metallic staffs festooned with charms at their sides. They nodded to the god and after taking one look at us, began to mutter excitedly to themselves.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"They are excited," my chi explained. "They rarely get to see acolytes in their teens. Most dibias start their journey from adulthood."

"Okay, hold up a minute," I said, raising a hand. "What do you mean that we're dibias? Do we look like we practice rituals and other fetishes in our spare time?"

"A dibia is born, not made," my chi explained. "Each of you is a descendant of Eri, the first king of the Igbo people."

"I thought Igbos never had kings until the coming of the white men," I.K mused.

"Most didn't," Iboma agreed. "But Eri wasn't just a king. He had a special relationship with Chukwu, the Supreme God. Every proper dibia in existence – and some of the more powerful ones – can trace their ancestry to the first king."

"But I... I can't be a dibia," I said. "My dad's a pastor! He would never agree to it."

My chi made a disgusted sound. "Don't you get it? Our dibias were forces of good. They kept the balance and made sure God and man were in harmony. But then the white men came and demonized everything about our culture. We and the other gods were branded as evil and tossed away. Christians," he spat. "They're the reason we are in this mess."

"What mess?" I.K asked gently when he saw that I had been rendered speechless. "What's going on?"

The god sighed and his shoulders drooped. "Igbo gods are quite different from other gods. We are completely connected with the people's wishes. That's why gods can be killed and wiped out from existence if the people decide that they don't want them anymore. That's what happened to the major gods. They were forgotten, sealed away in a realm outside of time. Lesser gods like us chi hung on either because we were tied to something that couldn't be easily forgotten—like a river—or we were an intricate part of the people. You can't throw away a part of yourself."

"Okay, but what has that got to do with us?" Kosi asked.

"It has everything to do with you," replied the god. "Or rather Amobi in particular. Fifty years ago, your grandfather undertook a most vital mission. To free the gods from their prison."

"Why?" I asked, eyebrows knitted.

"He asks me why," my chi complained to the sky. He turned to me, a dark frown on his face. "Tell me, what do you think happened when the gods were sealed away?"

"Bad things?" I tried.

Iboma pinched his nose, muttering darkly to himself.

"I... erm... I guess the world fell out of balance without the gods," I.K stammered. "The primordial wheel was broken and knocked out of place."