EJIMA

CHAPTER 12

Culture and tradition? They are nothing but twin sisters in a symbiotic relationship. It would be hard to tell which of the two was sucking the virtue and the moral rights of the people. Generations have come and gone. Good and bad people fading with its hood. These traditions that govern the cultures of the people had been enacted by some of the fathers who had lived long before the village had been born. But, thinking about it now, it would be difficult to pinpoint the moment in history when evil had crept in. The people had lived long enough with the folk tales of the fathers to blot the dent in the dough that had swelled in the batch of morality. Perhaps the adage, Ihe ojo gba afo, obulu omenala (If evil remains long enough it becomes a culture), was in play at the moment. Or was it the people? Why was it so hard to play the good card in life?

Ejima hissed as she traced her path into the forest. She tried to keep her mind from wandering, but too many things tussled for her attention, making it difficult to keep a clear head. The earth had gulped so much innocent blood. If only it was satisfied, then she wouldn’t bother with the ills in society. But, the soil was a glutton for blood. Well, that’s because man’s heart is piled with evil and rooted in evil. The reason remains a mystery, a piece that has refused to fit.

The sun was standing over the earth by the time Ejima came to the point where the Dibia normally disposes the children. There was no smell or bones as one would have expected. The only testimony of what the place stands for was the mysterious chill and the two skulls of the Uchenna’s babies, whom Ejima had failed to discard into the river as she had done to the hundred and fifty-two others.

She rubbed the exposed part of her skin, not able to place words on the feeling that was cuddling her stomach. Do you think you are a saint? A voice mocked in her head, and she finds herself licking her upper lips. She hated that voice. Try as hard as she could, she just hated the voice. It would not stop yelling. It always reminds her of her past mistakes and of the things she had failed to do. Every time she tries to do something good, the voice was always there to remind her of her worst. No matter how pure her motives were. 

With her free hand, she tossed her divination bag to her side. The children were sleeping, and their angelic faces were glowing with the morning sun. She watched as their chest raised and fell, a peaceful cadence that had no hurt or hate in its grace.

Why not keep them?

Another voice in her head asked, but she was already shaking the thoughts off. Keeping the babies would add more salt to her injuries. She was childless of course but also broken. She just can’t keep the children and serve the gods at the same time; they were better off in the river than with her.

She continued on the path and was glad when the dried grasses started to part ways for the fine sands. The moist air pricked her noise long before her eyes could see the golden river, which was shimmering with the sun, giving out different colours that were distinct and delicate to look at.

“The gods of our fathers,” Ejima yelled. She took a step further and her feet were welcomed by the cold waters which sent chills coursing through her bones. 

“I bring to you children whom you have condemned. You and your people have rejected them and have cast them to the wild to be killed by the unseen. But I bring them to you today. I bring them to the river goddess. Queen of the waters and daughter of the gods. Kill them yourself if it pleases you, but please, make it quick and less painful”

She placed the wrapped basket into the waters. It was a reluctant effort that nearly ripped her soul from her chest.

Ripples swerved and danced around the basket as if glad to have it. But as Ejima’s fingers brushed away from the basket, the current of the river took its course and carried it down to the far side. It was slow but precise as if an invincible hand was keeping it afloat.

Ejima’s stomach lifted. Until that moment, she could have sworn that she had not noticed the way the basket kept afloat. As she continued to watch, she was able to observe the way it changes its course and flowed with the poor current of the river. It was not tossed aimlessly on every side like every other object could have done. It seemed to be following a particular course.

Follow it. Follow it now. A voice said in her head.

She didn’t wait for it to reiterate the statement as she searched the bank of the river. Her heart continued to race and seemed to sink into her stomach when her eyes fell upon some bamboo woods that had been washed offshore. 

She picked up her knife from her divination bag and cut the handle of the bag. She divided the rope, and using it, she tied the three bamboo blocks of wood together. It was not perfect, but she knew it would hold.

She dragged the woods into the water until her legs could no longer touch the floor bed. Without pausing to think, she mounted on the rafter. The object danced with the current of the river but kept afloat, immersing half of her body in the cold water. 

Using her free hand, she beat the body of the water, hoping to catch the current of the river. The rafter continued to dance for a while until they finally caught the current. Slowly she went, and slowly the thoughts kept jumping into her mind.

What in heaven's name am I doing?