EJIMA

CHAPTER 6

Ejima wiped away the sweat that walked down the bridge of her flat nose, but sneezed twice when she accidentally sniffed the dust in her hands. She wiped the tears that followed and tried to return to work but leaned away when a sharp pain strode through her waist. She hissed out the frustration from her teeth and tightened her grips on the wooden hoe. All the light-headedness and the weakness she had been feeling for the last four months, had turned out to be pregnancy. A pregnancy she never wanted. It was a curse to her. A punishment from the gods themselves.

Tightening her grip on the farming hoe, she bent carefully but without ease, and was glad when her hands touched the heap of earth and grass. With the hoe, she dug around the brown tendril and tried to pull with her free hand. The yam obliged at the first trial but snapped in two when she tried forcing them the second time. She murmured and continued with the digging, hoping to bring out the rest of the yam that was still under the soil.

The sun was at its zenith, sending rivers of scorching rays, which came blaring the earth with their heat. It was direct and she could feel them on her nape. But what option does she have? The hot sun was tinging her physiology, but this was her life now. A life of rejection.

She stood again to ease the pain in her waist. This time, the sun left her neck and rested on the vertex of her braided hair. If only she had come early enough, at least she would have been done by now.

Stray away from the blistering sun and hard labor, in this your condition, I don't want to lose you. The voice of Uche, her husband seemed to warn. But she scoffed out his words by breathing in.

Her eyes walked through the green cassava leaves. She could pick out the number of heaps that have yam on them. They had planted enough yam this season. At least, Ani (the land god), had blessed them with a good harvest.

If only the gods could be merciful and make me fertile like this land.

Ejima laughed at the thought. No, not again. She wouldn't think about it, she was okay with her unfortunate condition with her husband, at least the gods have been kind in giving her a husband that was good and caring.

Stupid childbearing thoughts.

She hissed continued digging the yam.

"Ejimmamara!!"

Ejima stood and listened to the voice of the wind.

Who was the fool, shouting her name without course?

She flared as her white eyes studied the ocean of green leaves. That person must be dumb. He or she should have learned from the story of Ikemba, who had answered the call of a ghost on his farm and had died the following day.

"Ejima." The person called again. The voice was distinct this time, and familiar too.

"But for the gods and the mouth of people, I would have cursed you and your entire generation," Ejima shouted.

"Oh, there you are," The voice laughed, oblivious of the woman's rage. The leaves of the cassava parted ways as a small boy burst out from them, wearing a smile that contrasted with the scorching heat.

"Ejima, they said I should call you,"

"Ekwensu racha onu gi (may the devil lick your mouth)."

Ejima cursed as her eyes considered the little boy who was no taller than the hoe in her hands. His dark skin was like loamy soil and the broad lips seemed to cover his entire face. Two white lines trailed down from his nose, a testimony of the phlegm he had failed to clean, which dried out eventually in the wind.