by AC Alegbo
‘That means I will fail this work.’
‘You haven’t been to school for a long time – that’s why. And you should learn to read.’
‘I don’t have time for books,’ he said looking more and more like he was about to give up on the assignment. ‘If you don’t want to help me, then, stop preaching in my ear.’
‘Well, you know.’ I finished.
Presently, he folded his exercise book and placed it on the pile of other books on the teachers table.
I finally managed to get his full attention after school that day. We walked home together and I spent the first few minutes trying to find out why his attendance was so poor and getting worse. He would not give as I expected.
‘I was not well. I was sick.’
‘What is wrong with you?’ I asked trying to get to the root.
‘Nothing.. I can’t tell you. Just leave me alone.’
‘Why can’t you tell me?’ I pressed on. ‘Did you go to hospital? You can tell our Miss, you know?…She will understand.’
‘My mama say that I wasn’t well enough to go to school so that was why I stayed at home.’
‘Why she say that?’
‘Don’t ask me. Ask her,’ he replied quite defensively. ‘Why are you asking me?’ There was something shifty about the way he spoke.
‘Anyway, you should come with me to the debating society,’ I said changing the topic.
‘You will like it. We talk about interesting things.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like last week, the topic they told us to debate on was that the pen is mightier than the sword and I was asked to argue that that is true. What do you think?’
‘What kind of sword are we talking about so?’ Ireneh asked with a look of bored disgust. ‘A plastic sword? Even a plastic sword will be hard to argue against.’
‘Well, do you have any ideas?’
‘Don’t keep asking me stupid questions. How can you say that the pen is greater than a sword? Is that the kind of rubbish you do in this society?’
‘I think it is a very good test,’ I defended, a little hurt at his denigrating tone. ‘I am going to say that not everyone can get a sword but everyone can get a pen.’
‘Hmph,’ Ireneh scoffed. ‘People can get aké very easily. All my brothers have one each but the one TJ has is the most wicked. They say it is marked with juju.’
I did not want to get bogged down with more of his fantastic tales when I was more concerned about my forthcoming debate but I could not help the urge to hear more. ‘What juju?’
‘You see how I pulled out the aké only halfway that day. They say that if a person pulls it out completely, it will refuse to go back into the leather until it has touched fresh blood. But as only you and I were there and as I couldn’t cut myself and I didn’t want to cut you and I didn’t want TJ to know that I found his aké, that was why I didn’t pull it out fully.’
He had said all of this as a simple matter of fact and I felt a slight wave of goose flesh come over me to think I had been so close to being asked for my blood on that day. Well, as he admitted, he’d ruled himself out of any bloodletting. I wondered if he would have shed my blood even without my consent if he’d been pushed.
‘But you said that that one day you are going to stop TJ as you were pulling out the aké. What did that mean? Did you mean that you were going to cut him?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Ireneh said looking at me nonplussed. ‘I didn’t say that I was going to cut my brother.’
‘No,’ I replied wondering how safe it was to go on, ‘I heard you; you said you would stop him from beating you as you pulled out the aké.’
‘Well, I can’t remember everything I say; it doesn’t usually mean anything or..,’ his voice faded away for a second and he seemed to be weighing his words, ‘or maybe it was the voices,’ he finished quietly.
‘Which voices?’ I asked feeling weird for both of us.
‘I don’t know – sometimes, I hear people tell me different things. I can’t see these people and my mama thinks that they are evil spirits. So, sometimes, I can talk rubbish things that don’t make sense to other people.’ He made it sound like some flimsy excuse.
‘What did your mama do?’
‘She asked our pastor to pray for me. I went for prayers and once, I spent a week at the pastor’s place; we had a vigil every night for seven days. We also went to the beach every evening for heavy prayer.’
‘Beach? Which Church is this?’
‘Cele. Aladura.’
‘Oh,’ I said remembering the stories I’d heard of the very dramatic rituals employed by the Celestial Church of Christ, commonly called Aladura by the local people.
‘Did the prayers work?’ I asked.
‘Yes, of course. Our pastor is a man of God. I even saw the evil spirits as they left me; they went up in the smoke of the incense. We burn plenty of incense at our church and it drives away evil spirits.’ At this point, he began looking all around backing off from me ever so slightly; his attention was clearly beginning to slip.
‘Is that why you said that you are a different boy?’ I asked eager to get all my answers while I could. ‘Because of all these spirits who tell you things?’
‘When did I say that?’ Ireneh asked looking genuinely shocked for the second time, enough to focus on me for a second but before I could give a reply, he suddenly jerked his head away to the right as if he’d just been hit with a small jolt of electricity.
‘Papa!’ he screamed looking behind me terrified. ‘I must go home,’ he said to me as he jerked again. This time, his whole body bobbed sharply upwards and so quickly, I was not sure I saw it happen. ‘Leave me,’ he added in a scratchy voice and dashed off, running very quickly indeed before he finished the very short sentence.
I was stunned by this action and looked around me for what had caught his attention. Nothing and no one stood out in particular. I stayed watching his fading form for about two minutes. He carried on at about the same speed right until he became a small blob at the end of the long road. I got a certain feeling then that I would not see him for another two days at least; he would have to see the pastor again.
****
I hadn’t believed White coat; I wouldn’t let him fool me. And then Raphael came to visit. I hadn’t expected him to so it was a pleasant surprise to see him. He’d always been taller than I was but he seemed even more stretched out now, all lean and dry. His arms hung way too close to his knees and his neck looked bent on keeping his head and shoulders very apart. As he approached me, all that I could see at first was his Adam’s apple jutting out and very much alive especially when he spoke. And when he did speak, he sounded deep and reflective even when he tried on a joke.
‘Rez! Rez!’ he hailed lamely but didn’t reach to hug me. At least, he was speaking to me and not to some white coat as my mother did when she appeared.
‘Rafo! Is this you? Where have you been all this while? Because you are a big man now, you have forgotten us eh?’ My voice sounded strange. I couldn’t hug him either; I felt weak, powerless, like there was gulf between us.
‘I am not a big man,’ he replied quite humbly. ‘We are surviving by the grace of God. I have my own shop now but it still is very hard work as you know.’
I’d heard about his ‘freedom’ which is the equivalent to graduation; he had written home about seven months before to say he was setting up on his own with the help of his master after being an apprentice for as long as was required. The master had been generous and had made available to Raphael what contacts he used and given him some exposure via his own customers.
‘So how is Onitsha?’ I asked in the usual manner.
‘Onitsha is still Onitsha. It is still crowded with people, money and robbers.’
‘Mmm? So which one of them are you?’ I joked.
‘Ha Rez, I am one of the people, one of the people.’
‘Are you sure you are not the money?’ I leaned in closer
and added whispering, ‘let’s leave these dirty people,’ I said referring to my captors who must have been keeping watch outside the room, ‘and you can gist me more about the pepper money.’
‘So how are you?’ he asked a little sadly.
‘What do you mean? Ok, I know. I am not as big as you are but at least I am working.’
‘Working?’
I didn’t like his tone. He sounded condescending.
‘Yes. I am making money.’
‘Rez, you are not working,’ he replied. ‘You are in hospital.’
I roared with laughter. That was when it struck me even harder that this must be a dream; such confusing scenarios are only found in dreams.
‘This must be a dream,’ I said to Raphael who appeared even sadder.
‘No Rez. It is not a dream. Look, you are lying on a bed.’
Instantly, I felt the bed underneath me more forcefully like he’d cast a spell on my senses. The white ceramic tiled walls gleamed brighter and drew closer and I feared the white coat would re-appear and Raphael would leave me to talk to him.
‘This is a dream,’ I repeated. ‘Or you wouldn’t be able to do this magic.’
He stood up shaking his head. ‘I’ll pray for you my brother.’
‘For what? What is my sickness?’
He sighed and waited like he didn’t want me to know. I took this as ignorance. ‘See? This is a dream,’ I crowed with a big smile.
‘The doctor says you are sick in the head,’ he spat out as if in anger.
Again I laughed loudly and as I did, realised I was back at the garage. ‘I know, I know,’ I said looking around. ‘I thought the same when I took this rubbish job but better than no job eh? Did you hear him Tolu?’
Tolu smiled and said nothing. He must have felt embarrassed to be dragged into our conversation.
‘I’ll pray for you,’ Raphael repeated.
‘Don’t!’ I shouted, now getting angry. ‘I remember saying I was no longer a Christian. And I don’t need prayers.’ I looked around me for support.
‘What are you doing?’ Raphael barked at me. ‘There is no one here. Can’t you see? It is just you and me and these four walls.’
I began to laugh again at his assurance because I knew this was all a dream. This would be the one time I wouldn’t be fooled in my sleep. As I laughed, I looked forward to waking up.
V
‘Hand Of God’
I did not expect Ireneh back at school anytime soon after his odd demonstration in my presence the day before and he did not. This was understandable and in fact, I thought it a very important development that he was absent from school as he’d need to secure a more lasting solution to his problem. No doubt, his mother would be taking him back to the pastor who was dealing with his case. So I thought because it really did seem like he must have been visited by some spirits to have acted or reacted the way he did on the street. Anyway, if the pastor was dealing with the situation, I supposed it couldn’t be too long now before he was relieved of those spirits, although, I would have preferred if some Catholic solution were included in his prescription.
Needless to say, Ireneh had not been of much help to me in preparing for my debate and Eze and I had struggled. In the end, we decided to merge our arguments into one and that Eze would make the speech. Well, we both had to speak but Eze was going to be the lead debater. I made it a point to insist, quite magnanimously, that I had a go at lead some other time on a fairer topic, on something I could really sink my teeth into.
As we expected, the opposition wiped the floor with my team and following a few chuckles at Eze’s presentation, Mr Okpara gently explained that our topic was more metaphorical than literal. The teacher went on to explain how the pen could be used to alter the lives and welfare of millions of people. Like, we could be expected to rake up all that kind of knowledge, I grumbled inwardly. I could see we’d been silly but couldn’t see how we would have done any better even if we knew as much as we did after as before the debate. We’d only have debated differently, not better.
In the days that followed, I took to walking home with Eze; he’d naturally filled Ireneh’s position and more than once, had stopped over at mine to join in tackling some difficult homework. In time, he too got to know of Ireneh’s situation and shared my opinion that some Catholic measure might help. That wasn’t surprising as he was also Catholic.
‘How about we go and visit Ireneh?’ Eze asked kicking up in front of us enough dust to choke a war horse. ‘I don’t understand this sickness of his; it is always one week on and two weeks off.’
‘How can you talk like it is his fault? It wasn’t Ireneh who asked the spirits to disturb him,’ I reproached.
‘Ehn, so should we go to visit him?’
‘We can’t just visit him; he could easily be at his pastor’s place,’ I replied. I was not yet ready to run into Ireneh’s mother who didn’t know me and much less excited at the thought of encountering the wild TJ.
‘What will he be doing at his pastor place?’ Eze pressed on. ‘Isn’t it just praying that the pastor does for him? Why, then, would he be staying with the pastor or is he the pastor’s servant now?’
‘He is not the pastor’s servant; he is receiving constant prayer every day. His mama wants all the spirits to go away so the pastor needs plenty of time to cast all of them out.’
‘Ah. Which church does he go to?’
‘Aladura.’
‘Ha, those people who worship mammy water the sea goddess. They can’t do anything for Ireneh. Let us call our fada for him.’
‘You can go and call fada yourself,’ I replied flabbergasted that he would even suggest that we go on our own to solicit a priest. ‘I have enough homework and plenty of housework to do and I certainly don’t want my mama to think that I too am possessed.’
‘Okay Arinze but let us try and bring some holy water or a medal for Ireneh. He is our friend and you know holy water and holy medal always drive away evil spirits.’
‘Hmm, okay. But we will wait for him to return to school first,’ I gave in. His suggestion this time was more reasonable.
We had good reason to trust Catholic because as it happened, I’d never had any reason to fear any attack of any kind by spirits and Eze probably hadn’t either. There was simply a host of options at the ready that any Catholic had at their fingertips all powerful enough to break the power of the ‘enemy’. My parents certainly made sure we had available to us all of these measures which didn’t include directly involving a priest in an act of exorcism.
At that point in time anyway, I did not know anything about exorcism but I was quite aware of the power of blessed objects like holy water and incense and if these needed backup, there was the medal of the blessed virgin along with the scapular. When any of these was combined with the rosary, about the most popular of Catholic prayers, there was bound to be results. This must explain, I thought, why I had never had so much as a whiff of spiritual disturbance. I could not even fully grasp what the concept meant not that I wanted to; there was a lot that could go wrong when evil spirits got involved. One may never recover from being possessed – marred for life depending on what kind of spirits was in action.
I felt lucky for the protection that my religion offered me, a protection that I had come to trust so completely that even when the city ran amok from fear of some dangerous wave, I had always managed to find some capacity to stay calm, reassured by the faith my parents had in Catholic solutions.
Only two years before, there’d been widespread reports around the country of a new kind of voodoo scheme that required penises for a wealth producing ritual. Every male was a prime target, even babies; as mothers usually carried their children on their backs, those with males went on high alert. Whatever you may think, it really wasn’t funny at the time.
Many mothers found new ways to hold their kids; young boys went around clutching their crotches and grown men eyed everyone else suspiciously, avoiding contact wit
h anybody. That was a smart move because to operate the voodoo, all it took was direct and intentional contact by the carrier of the charm with the victim and the victim’s penis would instantly disappear.
Sometimes we got reports of failed penis snatching attempts and, even better, reports of the perpetrator getting caught; evidence was quite easy to determine too – the last person to make any kind of physical contact with the victim before they noticed their reproductive organ had gone awol was without doubt the criminal.
These reports also detailed how mob justice had prevailed, the crowd beating up the suspect to a pulp until they not only confessed to their crime but also reversed the spell and reproduced the lost organ.
Comically – and this was the only bit we found funny, there were always issues with organ retrieval as the victim had to be able to identify his penis accurately to make sure there was no mistake. He was also always pressured, after doing that, to test run the appendage to ascertain it still functioned properly.
Such test runs had to be done close to the spot of action while the ‘criminal’ was still held by the mob. Prostitutes were usually solicited for this mission and while the duo did their business behind closed doors, the crowd would stay put, suspect in hand, awaiting the result of the test. If the penis failed in action, the suspect was a goner.
Furthermore, there was always the odd person who would deny their true but not too formidable organ after it had been returned and, instead, try to get a bigger one. Bottom line was, once lost, penis retrieval was a minefield of issues – airport luggage control is a walk in the park in comparison.
