Chapter 3: Prayer Mountain

If I tell other people my fear, dem go say na just overthinking, fear of death, nothing dey.

My guy Sola for work go laugh say na only person wey never chop pepper soup dey fear die. But for my mind, this one pass normal.

But if na baba, he go believe, even get solution.

So I waka go one baba for outskirts of town. The place dark, red oil lamp dey ground, smoke from burning incense full air. The air thick with old tori and secrets. Cowrie shells scatter for ground, red cloth hang for wall, small calabash dey corner. Baba sit for mat, white chalk for eye, leg cross like tailor.

The baba check him hand, count him finger. "You talk true. Your family get big wahala."

Him eye sharp like razor. "You get pikin?"

Baba voice strong, e dey look me as if he dey see inside my chest. His hand dey move with ancient rhythm, as if he dey summon old spirit.

"Yes, na boy I get."

I nod head, voice low. My mouth dry. For this moment, I dey wish say my pikin na girl.

"If to say na girl, e for better," baba sigh. "This your family curse no dey catch woman. Dem fit live long. But your son, e no go pass twenty. You sef, na thirty your own go end."

The way baba take talk am, cold run my spine. The smell of ogogoro and burnt leaf strong for the air.

Twenty. Twenty. My heart just cut. Twenty years—how now? Small pikin, how e go die?

I dey see my son face for my dream. I dey imagine as e go waka for street, as e dey play ball for backyard. My chest dey pain me.

I panic, grab baba cloth like my last hope:

I fall for my knees, tears dey my eye. My voice dey beg, words dey rush like flood. "Baba, abeg save my pikin. Save me. I no wan die young, my pikin never suppose die."

My hand dey tremble as I dey hold baba cloth. The thing serious, I no care if people dey look.

"Way dey. God no dey use life play. Since you come meet me, I go try my best."

Baba voice deep, e calm my spirit small. E stretch hand, draw white circle for ground, spit inside am.

As baba talk am, my mind calm small, but I still dey fear.

The silence for shrine thick, only sound na small bell for corner. I dey look baba face, dey beg make e give me solution.

My thirtieth birthday dey near. If baba no fit break am, na die remain. Who wan die when life still dey?

I dey see my wife and pikin for my mind. If I die, who go guide them? The fear big pass me.

Baba solution be say make I go stay for prayer mountain.

He talk say make I pack small bag, carry only wrapper and Bible. No phone, no radio, no anything. Just prayer, just mountain.

"If you wan dodge rain, you go find correct roof." No come down, no talk to anybody, no tell anybody say I dey here—just disappear from this world.

He press my shoulder, look my eye deep. "If you want live, forget this world for now. Hide for prayer mountain. Fast, pray, let God use you hide from evil spirit."

Baba warn me well: "Thirty na big obstacle. If you pass am, you go live long, no wahala. If you no pass, na here e end. Hide here, evil spirit no go see you, nothing go do you."

He use kola nut talk, break am for ground. The white powder spread, baba blow small dust for my head. I dey shiver, but I agree.

"I wan let my family know say I dey okay. If I just disappear two months, dem go worry die."

I dey think of my wife, my mama. How dem go take hear say I just vanish? For Naija, police fit even enter the matter.

Work, I fit quit, no wahala. But my mama, wife and pikin go worry if dem no hear from me.

Na true. The people wey love me go think say I run mad or village people carry me go.

But baba just shake head. "No. Evil spirit fit dey anywhere, fit use anybody. If you reach out, dem fit find you, and once dem find you, you no fit escape."

His voice strong, e no get pity. The wind for shrine blow the curtain, candle flame bend small. I fit feel say power dey for the place.

I wan talk, but as I see baba face, I just keep quiet. He don talk finish—if I no gree, na me go suffer.

I bow head, carry bag, just dey pray for heart. Na only God know how I go take survive this wahala.

I just agree.

I sign cross for my chest, nod head. If na this one go save my family, make I do am.

As long as I survive, I fit go beg my wife, pikin, mama, then spend many years with them.

If I fit cheat death, I go show gratitude for church, do thanksgiving, dash beggars for street. I dey plan all the good things wey I go do.

But if I die, my mama go lose son, my wife go become widow, my pikin go grow without papa—na big wahala.

I dey imagine their tears, the wailing wey go happen for village compound. My mind dey pain me, but I no get choice.

I know wetin to do, so I stay for prayer mountain. Everyday hard o.

The air dey cold for morning, hot for afternoon. Mosquito dey bite anyhow. Sometimes hunger dey catch me, sometimes sleep no come. Sometimes, na only garri and groundnut I fit chop, water dey taste like stream for dry season. I dey use old wrapper tie for waist, dey walk round the mountain, dey pray.

I cut off from everybody, throway phone and small radio, just dey follow baba—sometimes dey fetch firewood, sometimes dey pray and meditate.

We dey sing hymn in Igbo, dey clap hand. Baba dey teach me old song wey dem use call angel. Sometimes e go tell me tori of how him survive war with only fasting and prayer.

Boring no be small, but na the fear and worry full my mind—just dey count days, dey wait for that day.

My beard grow, my hair rough. I dey look mirror sometimes, I no dey recognize myself. I just dey wait for the clock, dey count every sunrise as blessing.

I no know if I go live or die, the fear sef worse pass death.

Night go come, I go dey sweat, dey see shadow for window. My dream dey full with strange people and animal. Sometimes I dey hear my pikin voice for bush.

As I dey suffer, my thirtieth birthday finally reach. From the night before, my mind no gree rest.

The air cold, wind dey blow from hill. I dey look sky, dey talk with God, dey ask am make e remember me.

My heart dey beat anyhow, just like baba talk—na the evil spirit, like those two mad drivers for my solar birthday.

I remember the car, the hospital, the way I almost chop poison. My hand dey shake. Even ordinary water, I dey taste before I drink.

Even my wife food—how we all get food poison—these things no suppose happen, but e happen for that day. E no make sense.

My mind dey race. I dey ask myself if all my sacrifice go pay. I dey pray say make my son no follow my step.

So today, wetin go happen? I go suffocate as I sleep? Or choke on water? Or poison go catch me again? Or I go fall down die?

I dey imagine all the way person fit die for bush. I dey count my step, dey avoid snake, dey close window well. I dey cover my body with wrapper, dey tie red thread for wrist.

Anything fit happen. Human being too fragile.

As wind blow for roof, I dey shiver. Mosquito dey hum for ear. My chest dey rise and fall.

I dey think how I fit die.

I dey count, dey check my pulse. Every small pain, my mind go to death. I dey look for sign, dey pray for sign.

But last last, I know say I no wan die. I too fear. I no fit die.

For this mountain, na only me and baba dey. The spirit of the place thick. Even leaf wey fall for ground, I dey jump.

But baba just calm, like say today na normal day. But I know say he sabi wetin today be.

Baba dey sing hymn, dey grind pepper for stew. Him voice steady, e no even shake. I dey envy that kind peace.

Because that night, he no sleep. He call me come him room. Both of us just sit face each other.

Oil lamp for corner, smoke dey rise. Baba close eye, dey pray under breath. I dey listen, my leg dey tap ground. The air cold, everywhere quiet.

Nobody else dey for the mountain. The so-called prayer house na just small hut wey dem build for there. Dem talk say baba na lay prophet.

Dem say na for him hand God dey show sign. People dey come meet am for help, dey drop white fowl, dey collect anointing oil.

For over two months, na only me and am.

We dey share food, dey share silence. Sometimes I go hear am dey talk with himself for bush. E get as the man be, but na him I trust now.

I trust and depend on am well. After midnight, baba open eye, smile tell me: "Big wahala don pass. Go house."

His voice calm, steady. He stand, lay hand for my head. "From today, your story go change. Go meet your family. Your own don pass." The words sweet me like honey. For my mind, I dey shout, dey dance. I bow, thank baba, my heart dance skelewu for inside chest. But as I begin go house, I dey wonder—this story don really end?