by Reni K Amayo
How in all of heavens am I going to explain this? she thought, as she slowly rose from the floor. Her throat still tickled slightly.
‘Esinaala!’ a voice shrilled behind her. Naala whipped around so fast that she created yet another thin cloud of red dust. She coughed again. Small but firm hands smacked her back, encouraging her lungs to clear.
‘What in heaven’s name is wrong with you?’ Gini cried, as Naala’s coughing fit subsided.
‘Ndewo, Gini,’ Naala managed, bringing her crossed palms to her chest and letting them fall towards her closest friend. Gini looked down at Naala’s open palms and said nothing. She couldn’t even fathom returning the greeting.
Naala dropped her arms to her side as she regarded Gini standing squarely with her hands on her hips. Gini was a small girl, almost half the size of Naala. She was short and plump, save for her waist, which was cinched in to give her enviable curves. The girl may have been small, but she was also mighty, and with her teeth clenched and eyebrows increasingly slanted, it was clear that Gini was seething.
Naala gulped.
‘Okay, okay, I admit it looks bad, bu—’ Naala started.
‘Bad?’ Gini cut in. ‘The ceremony is in an hour, Naala! This is not bad … it’s catastrophic!’ Gini paced dangerously towards Naala. She stopped sharply before she crashed into her, shaking her head in disbelief. Naala rolled her eyes at the dramatic display, before throwing her hands up defiantly.
‘Okay, fine … it is bad,’ she replied. Her voice remained steady but her cheeks felt warm with shame.
‘What’s wrong with you? Why would you do this?’ Gini exclaimed; her fury grew stronger due to Naala’s obvious disregard. While Gini felt as though she knew her friend inside and out, at times it would dawn on her that she didn’t understand Naala’s behaviour at all: a realisation that never failed to make her even angrier.
‘I just needed …’ Naala started, as Gini looked up at her expectantly, but she couldn’t find the words to truly express why she had spent the morning before her wedding rolling around on the dusty ground. Naala felt herself getting even warmer under Gini’s gaze. ‘Look,’ she said indignantly. ‘You are acting as if this is your wedding. It’s not; it’s mine. And yes, this-,’ she said, pulling at her stained garments. ‘This is bad, but it’s bad for me. I’m the one that will deal with the repercussions, not you, so please calm down.’
Gini glared at Naala with raw anger.
‘It is your wedding,’ she cried out. ‘But it was my hands sewing those beautiful stones into your garments and helping you plait your hair –both of which are now ruined!’
Naala opened her mouth in protest before settling back down. She knew she was wrong.
‘It’s this!’ Gini continued. ‘These moments when you … it’s exactly why they say … this is why they say …’ she trailed off, shaking her head and biting her tongue before she could say something that she would undoubtedly regret. After a pause, Gini eventually settled for reaching up to brush off the dust from Naala’s shoulders.
‘They say?’ Naala asked, as she tried to follow Gini’s gaze, but the girl only looked away awkwardly. Naala knew that Gini would never finish that sentence, and she didn’t even have to, but Naala wanted to ask all the same. Naala had always loved her village and the people in it; warmth, laughter and playfulness had always flowed effortlessly through the small settlement. However, it had never felt like home. Naala had never felt like she belonged, and, while no one had openly admitted it, she knew that she was considered strange. Her impending marriage to one of the most sought-after men in her village was a complete shock to everyone. No one understood why someone like Chinedu would choose someone like her.
‘Despite your efforts, we may have a chance to salvage this,’ Gini said softly, as she took a small step back and began to inspect the damage.
A smile spread over Naala’s plump lips. ‘So I haven’t completely ruined it yet?’ she murmured, as a strange mixture of relief and disappointment coursed through her blood.
‘Hey, hey, stop that! Stop feeling sorry for yourself; it’s your wedding day, for heaven’s sake,’ Gini snapped, as she slapped Naala lightly on her arm.
‘I know,’ Naala said, trying to keep her face straight and sombre. ‘I’m just sorry that I ruined your hard work … truly.’
‘Mhmm,’ she huffed, as she avoided being sucked into Naala’s guilty glistening brown eyes. Gini, like most people, had always found it difficult to stay angry with Naala. Even now, Gini could feel her anger dissipating into the afternoon air, but she desperately wanted to hold on to it, if only to teach the cheeky girl a lesson.
‘Come,’ Gini muttered, as she grabbed Naala’s slender hand and dragged her towards the Anambra river. It lay towards the east side of the village, where the trees began to thicken and grow tall. Aside from a few disgruntled grumbles from Gini, the two of them said nothing on the short walk. When they eventually reached the riverbank, Naala sat on a smooth rock and dipped her feet into the lukewarm water, creating an unfurling, red-orange stain. The smell of moist rich soil, hippo grass, and desert rose wafted through the air and the birds were in the midst of their afternoon song.
‘Are we going to talk about this?’ Gini said in a tone that appeared harsh, but she failed to fully mask the concern in her voice. Naala paused and looked up at her friend.
‘I want to marry him,’ she replied.
‘You should.’
‘He is very handsome,’ Naala continued.
‘Éh.’
‘… and strong,’ Naala added.
‘So?’ Gini asked, with her arms outstretched perplexed.
‘So …’
‘What’s the problem?’ Gini exclaimed in frustration.
‘There is no problem,’ Naala said, before pausing.
Gini sighed, but rather than continuing to probe, she gathered a handful of banana leaves and clumped them together. She didn’t say a word as she lightly ran the damp makeshift sponge over Naala’s dusty garment. However, to Naala, her silence was louder than her most verbose speeches.
‘He’s … Chinedu, and he chose me, and that’s good. He’s … I know this is good … I really do, I’m just feeling, feeling unsettled,’ Naala tried, pausing to look for validation in Gini’s expressionless face. ‘Didn’t you feel unsettled when you married Tito?’ she asked, but Gini said nothing as she continued to work away at her garment.
‘Gini,’ Naala said, exasperated, as she grabbed the small woman’s hands. ‘I’m really asking, didn’t you feel …’ Naala couldn’t find the words. She sighed in frustration and dropped her hands.
‘I felt scared? A little scared. Well, more than a little. Naala, it’s normal to feel … strange before your wedding day; it’s the day that you become a woman. That’s a hard burden to bear. But we must all do it! Even pretty, loud, troublesome girls like you,’ Gini teased with a smile; try as she might, she could not hold onto her anger.
‘I …’ Naala started, before looking away, ashamed.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t feel scared. I feel restless,’ Naala muttered, as she looked out at the tall foreboding trees. She stood up abruptly, almost knocking Gini into the lake, and smiled as she saw Enwe, a little grey mischievous monkey that had taken a liking to her when she was a child. He swung freely from branch to branch in the huge white mahogany tree a few steps away from the riverbank.
‘Look, it’s Enwe; I haven’t seen him for a while,’ Naala commented, as she watched him soar. Gini kissed her teeth in irritation.
‘You better not call that stupid monkey over here; remember what he did to my nkwobi? I spent so long on that dish and that little—if he comes near me I’ll skin him alive—I’ve warned you.’
‘I don’t know how many times we have to go over this. He’s a monkey, he didn’t mean to knock it over,’ Naala snapped, before turning back to the leaping monkey. ‘Wow, look at him go. Do you remember when we used to chase after him up those trees
?’
‘I remember. But I remember you climbing trees to avoid playing normal games with everyone else.’
‘Nonsense, you used to climb too,’ Naala teased, as Gini rolled her eyes.
‘What now?’ Gini sighed, as Naala gestured at the giant tree in front of them. The dark green leaves rustled musically in the wind.
‘Should we do it?’ Naala said.
‘No.’
‘Gini, come now; you haven’t even heard me out yet.’
‘I don’t need to; I’m a big woman now and so are you!’
‘I think we should climb the tree.’
‘Of course you do! Because you are mad.’
‘Gini.’
‘Esinaala.’
Naala regarded Gini quickly, before forcefully grabbing her hand and attempting to drag her towards the mammoth tree.
‘Ai! Listen, we are married women … we can’t climb trees like your monkey friend,’ Gini protested. ‘Ah-ah, there’re barely any branches at the base … what is this nonsense? Naala, there’s just no way—’
‘We’ve climbed harder trees, Gini, and what does being married have to do with anything? We can do what we want; being married doesn’t make us dead.’
‘Well, I don’t want to climb this tree.’
‘Aren’t you afraid?’
‘I am—that’s why I don’t want to climb it.’
‘Not of the tree … of being stuck and restricted, not being able to breathe under the never-ending heap of duties.’
‘Duties are good.’
‘So is freedom. The problem is there is no balance. Let’s create some balance.’
‘By climbing a tree? Naala, listen to yourself.’
‘I know you think I’m crazy,’ Naala said quietly. ‘And maybe I am … but try and understand … this is our time, our moment, and it just feels as though … we’re missing it. We’re just standing here, trapped by … customs, watching life go by. I think that, sometimes, we should indulge ourselves in a little silliness.’
A loaded silence ensued before Gini finally said, ‘We should head back; I think I’ve got as much of the dust off your garments as I can.’
Naala nodded in reply, her eyes cast downwards to hide her burning disappointment.
Gini began to walk back towards the village. Naala almost followed but a short, sudden screech from Enwe hit her squarely in her heart. The grey monkey leapt joyfully through the air and, before she could think, she rested one foot against the trunk before hauling herself up.
‘Hey! Naala! Come on! We said that we would leave!’ Gini exclaimed, but Naala was already too far up.
Naala felt completely calm as she climbed that tree. Her muscles were stretched and bursting with energy.
‘You’ve had your fun, Naala!’ Gini called from the ground, but all Naala could hear was the wind rustling through the green leaves.
Naala stopped for a moment as she almost neared the top of the gigantic tree. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was at peace. She thought briefly about having to say goodbye to the child she had been, and the life of adventure she had never lived.
A bitter taste entered her mouth. Why should she give up these simple pleasures in life? Sure, she may not be able to explore the world and reach the moon as she had once hoped as a child, but she could always climb a tree and dream. Marrying Chinedu would not be the end of her life; she wouldn’t let it.
Naala smiled as she felt Enwe settle onto her shoulders. She opened her eyes and took in the beautiful scenery before her. The lush green trees bent back and forth and the crystal blue lake cut through the sparring forest, creating intricate patterns. The birds floated gently in the hot afternoon air and various beasts wandered lazily through the shrubs and bushes. Naala’s smile suddenly vanished as something else caught her eye.
Her body instantly tensed and she squinted. Something big and fast was moving in the bushes to the far north. She leaned outwards from the tree, and her heart skipped a beat. The Eze’s army, she thought, almost falling off the limb in fright.
DEATH AT THE WINDOW
CITY OF NRI
SEVERAL MILES AWAY FROM IGBAKWU, a girl with the same face as Naala stared blankly out of an oval opening in a bright, sand-coloured wall, overlooking the waking city of Nri. The sunrays cut the morning sky with deep red slashes, and chased away the darkness of the previous night.
The window that Sinai stood by was far larger than she was. Her bare feet curved at its base and her toes poked out into the open air. Sinai’s heart fluttered as she felt the promise of death reach out its cold hand and brush her skin as the wind played softly with her long, thick, moss hair. She rarely wore it down. It was usually tied away in muted braids or hidden under one of her wrappers. She preferred it not to attract unwanted attention. However, this morning her mind was fixated on things far more disturbing than glaring looks and chuckled remarks from delusional men.
‘What does it all mean?’ she muttered. She closed her eyes and felt she could still feel the remnants of her dream hanging over her like dead skin. It wasn’t a bad dream; in fact, many would argue that it was a pleasant one. She had fallen into a different world where the colours were brighter than she had ever seen them. The food was delicious and rich. The sky shone like the opening to heaven itself. It was her world, only different. She could sense something in the air that she had never experienced in her life; it seemed like true freedom. In her dream she had met a girl that she knew, but had never met. A girl who was exactly like her and yet nothing like her at all. There was something eerily familiar about that girl, and yet Sinai could not recall her name. Still, they had greeted each other like old friends and walked hand in hand, with one focus—the bright red light.
Sinai shook her head in frustration.
‘What does it mean?’ she groaned, as she looked out onto the golden clay city. It sparkled before her. The buildings curved and bent in submission to the ever-changing sun, creating art, not only in their design, but in the shadows they created. The bustling sounds of the stirring people had already begun to surface in the early morning; she could hear songs of the strange nnunu women; the rumble of the hagglers and the children’s shrill laughter drifting slowly in the sweetly scented warm air.
Sinai felt as though she was viewing Nri through a thin veil. A veil that she had grown accustomed to, so much so that she had forgotten it existed –until that dream. Something was wrong. Something was missing, but she had no idea what this something was. She felt as though she had forgotten a word, her favourite word. It hid somewhere in the corner of her mind. Sinai was frustrated, and ashamed; how could she have lost such a beautiful thing?
She closed her eyes and felt the wind against her warm face. As the sun emerged from a cloud, it bathed her legs with a warm crimson light.
Sinai’s eyes suddenly sprang open.
Something had changed. She swivelled around, but before she could register what was going on, something hard hit her head. She yelped in shock, drawing her hands up. The blow was not strong enough to knock her out, but caused her to lose her balance. Sinai swayed back and forth against the edge of the window. Her heart plunged to the pit of her stomach as she realised that death was no longer a quiet onlooker that she could wilfully ignore. It was a real and unstoppable force that had come to stake its claim.
Those brief seconds were both painfully short and disturbingly long. Her head turned and she caught a glimpse of the long fall that would certainly break her neck if she lost her footing. Sinai forced her gaze away from the sickening view and back into the room that was no longer empty, but held three or four people who watched from a distance.
She stretched out her hands in a plea, but this action inspired no movement from the inspectors; it only worked to throw her further off-balance.
Sinai screamed as her weight dropped into the open air. Her arms swung high above her head before scraping along the same ridged window ledge that her feet had hung from not too long ago. She clawe
d her fingers in desperation, trying to cling on to whatever she could. Suddenly, her descent towards the ground stopped. Her hands had found a grip along the window ledge. She screamed in pain as the weight of her body pulled against her armpits; she felt as though her arms were being ripped viciously out of their sockets. Three dark figures looked down at her with shadows cast over their faces.
‘Help! Please!’ she shouted in desperation, as she raked her toes against the grainy wall. But all Sinai heard was a short snarl in response. A sense of doom washed over her bruised body as it dawned on her that her fall was no accident.
‘Oh, look girls,’ Ina sneered, as she stepped into the morning sun. ‘The little rodent has learnt a new skill.’ The two other girls, Ebun and Lebechi, laughed nervously. For as long as they could remember, Ina had been their queen, their Lolo. She was intelligent, cruel, and breathtakingly beautiful. Her large dark eyes glowed with formidable power, her striking broad nose and thick lips captivated attention from anyone with a heartbeat. Ina walked through life with the intoxicating confidence of someone ordained by the gods. She brazenly wore her ankle-length hair in thick locs, a practice typically reserved for only the senior lords; she swore that she was a dada and her hair simply grew in that fashion. No one disputed her claim; after all, she was the daughter of the King of Oyo.
Whilst Ina was not born of Nri and her links to the Eze were obscure at best, no one could deny that she belonged. That said, neither of Ebun nor Lebechi had ever played a part in anyone’s death before, and as they looked down, they could see Sinai’s eyes begging them for mercy.
‘Maybe we should help her …’ Ebun said quietly, her heart quickening when she received a cold stare from Ina. ‘I—I mean … she seems so … um … pathetic.’
Ina sighed, irked; she hated weakness and she could hear it in the cracks in Ebun’s voice. It was clear that Ebun was afraid that the girl might die. It definitely looked like that might be the case, Ina thought, as she looked down on Sinai’s quivering hands; they would not hold on for much longer.
