CHAPTER 2

It's been three moons since the incident in the forest, yet Ejima could not shake off those angelic eyes. Their smiles still waxed her brave heart and mended it with a warmth which she could not explain. Those rich dark eyes that glittered with the sun were still evergreen in her memory, and drove her consciousness into that valley of hysteria, as though it were only yesterday. Her sleep had been fill with lurid sights which at a time made her wonder if she had offended the gods in touching the babies. She had even screamed herself up from sleep one night when she had seen a silhouette of some twin figures chasing her with a horsewhip.

"Are you okay?"

Ejima shifted her weight at the voice of Nneamaka. Her emotions anchored itself to the soft voice of the woman as her wandering thoughts dived back into her body. She had left Uche at home and had visited Nneamka's house to help her with the cassava she had harvested.

"You look dull," Nneamaka added as her bright eyes walked on her.

Ejima hissed, trying with failed attempts to lubricate her dried mouth.

"Just lack of sleep, that's all," she said and emptied the fresh idodo water in the calabash, into the clay cup. The muddy earth on the cup was already on her lips when her friend giggled.

"What's funny?" Ejima asked before gulping the liquid. The water did just what she had proposed and blessed her throat with its goodness. By the time she dropped the clay cup on the bamboo bench, the slurry in her mouth had returned. She spat once before letting her coppery eyes return to her friend.

The woman's hair had been woven and braided to stand on her head like the roots of a buttress tree, matching those angelic eyes of hers. Some red beads also lined the hair, contributing their crimson grace to the beauty of the widow which got some lustful men talking. Even the Uri (local pencil) that ran from her forehead to her mouth, matched the rich hair.

"Don't be a fool, I know what is wrong. Enjoy it while it last. At least your husband survived the war."

"Don't start," Ejima babbled, "Uche was just lucky. It's a meagre of wavering luck. Besides, your husband was the better soldier. He risked his life for us. His legacy will remain for all time,"

"Legacy," Nneamaka sighed and picked up a cassava tuber with the edge of her knife, "Legacy will not bring him back. His name has already been carved on the sand of time, but that would not bring him back to life, will it?"

"Amaka, please don't dive into that agony again. Keep your head focus and bring up your children in the way your husband would have wanted."

"Those kids are all grown up. I have brought them up with the toil of my hands. But, ah" Nneamaka shrugged, "I still need the touch of a man"

Ejima laughed. "Look who is talking. Have you forgotten how you complained that your husband is your insomnia?"

"I regret those day. In fact, I take back my statement" Nneamaka laughed.

"Uwa eju afo (nothing on earth can satisfy)" Ejima added.

The two women laughed at their jokes and continued peeling the cassava in silence when the laughter died down.

Ejima had finished peeling off the brown clothes of the cassava tuber in her hands, and was about to pick up another when suddenly she felt a weight in her head. Her world spanned like the eyes of an owl, and the bones in her body veered into the strength of a water.

"Nne mo!!" Nneamaka screamed and held her before she could fall off the small wooden stool. "(Ejima O gini?) Ejima, what is it?"

"What are you talking about?" Ejima asked as she lifted her head to meet the many images of the woman. They were all smoky.

"You need to see the Dibia. I don't think you are okay."

"I will be fine. Like I said before, lack of proper sleep," The multiple images of Nneamaka merged into one, and Ejima was grateful when the smoky air in her vision cleared out.

"No, I insist you go to the Dibia's place now," Nneamaka said, wearing those narrowed gaze that was too motherly to be neutral.

"Okay," Ejima whispered and stood up. Her feet wobbled but not strong enough to bring her weight down.

"Just make sure you keep my own abacha. Don't eat it alone." She added, looking down at her friend which she towered over with some few feet.

"I will not, you can count on it," Nneamaka said and returned to her work.

The woman was true to her words, Ejima knew. They have known each other for what seemed to be ages and Nneamka had been a wonderful friend to her during the hard times. They had married the two bravest warrior in Amechi, but unlike her, Nneamaka had six children. Her eldest son owns one of the largest farmland in Ezziobodo and was successful in all that he does.

Children again.

Ejima hissed as she walks out of the compound. Her legs were heavy, together with her eyes, which were about to shut their curtains on her. She had not felt like this before, not in a long while. It had been long since she slept with the mosquito repellant leaves. She suspects she must have taken ill or something. Not anything the Dibia's medicine won't handle though.

The smoky vision appeared again as she hit the road, but she held on to a palm tree to keep her body from kissing the dusty floor.

"Mistress of evil," Came an ear piercing voice.

Ejima jumped.

"Ezenwanyi, Ndewo (Queen mother, I greet you)"

"Save your greeting," The Dibia scowl.

Ejima frowned when she saw the woman's black eyes. They studied her from the crown of her head to the soul of her bare feet. If looks could kill, then Ejima was sure that she would have been buried six feet below. But for the chalk that lined the dark eyes, the Dibia also had that gnostic aura about her. Her dark tattered hair blended with the cowries and the red shambles she called clothing. It was hard to tell if the woman's body had ever tasted the grace of a warm shower.

"I was about going to your place." Ejima finally said. She leaned away from the palm-tree, confident that her feet were strong enough to hold her. "My bones are like the rivers of Umi, I will need some medicine."

"Serves you right. How can you be fine?" The Dibia pointed the slender hand whose finger was long and dirty "You want to eat a tortoise and it shell, right? You want to bring judgement upon the land. Know this, you daughter of misfortune. The lizard and the salamander might claim oneness, but on the day of procreation, a lizard will always remain a lizard, and the salamander a salamander"

"What are you talking about, great one? Have I by error or omission offended you?"

"Tufia kwa gi." The native doctor spat, "Ichoro ino na-ana mara egbe di ime, okwa ya (you want to determine the pregnancy of a hawk by mare looking at it, right?). You have failed. Bet me, you have failed."

"But wise one, I don't understand what you are talking about," Ejima frowned, but did not meet those dark eyes.

"You will not understand until nemesis catches up with you." The Dibia hissed and continued on her way.

Ejima murmured, not knowing what to make of the woman's behavior. What was she talking about? She waved the thought off and continued on her path home. These old people and their archaic lifestyle. They should wake up to the ever dynamic patterns of life, because only change is constant.

The sandy path divided into two, and Ejima paused when a thought dropped into her mind. Her eyes were studying the green foliage now. It's been months since she last visited that forest. Not that she was afraid, but the decree of the king had prohibited anyone from venturing into it. But looking at it now... Her heart thumped under her chest as she considered the possibility.

Just one look and you will be out of there. A voice said in her head. The possibility of seeing those twin babies again, jutted her stomach, and made a sweat drop walk down the side of her head. The king had dedicated that forest to the gods. It was now sacred, a place where the abomination of child birth was left to die. Anyone aside from the Dibia, caught wandering in the forest was damned to be banished from the village.

But those babies...

Ejima swallowed uneasily, looking to the left and right just to make sure she was alone. Her eyes were still heavy, and that weakness in her bone was still there, but a force she could not describe seemed to propelled her feet. It was as if a hand was pushing her into the forest.

Just a look. She said finally and hurried into the forest, not minding the voice in her head that kept reminding her of the consequences of her actions.