Chapter 3: Oga Madu’s Legend

Everywhere for inside house just tense anyhow.

Wall seem to close in, shadow for mud floor dey long. Only my breath and far-off goat bleating dey sound. Even fly no gree enter house.

Fear catch me, cold sweat full my body.

My back dey wet, shirt stick for skin. Hand dey shake as I wipe sweat, lips taste salt and dust.

Oga Madu na every pikin nightmare for this place.

Since small, the story dey haunt my sleep. When wind dey howl for night, na those green eyes I dey imagine for window. Oga Madu name alone dey make even stubborn boys shiver.

Dem get one nursery rhyme wey dem dey sing:

“Red eyes, green nose, four hairy legs. Dey waka with gbim gbim sound, dey find pikin to chop.”

Older children go chant am, dey stamp foot, eyes wide to scare we small ones. Sometimes, dem go paint face with charcoal, everybody go scatter, shout till person begin cry for real.

Na Oga Madu dem dey talk about.

Him story dey everywhere—lullaby, moonlight tale, even scratch for school desk. Nobody really wan see am, but him legend old pass first well wey dem dig for village.

Story talk say Oga Madu tall pass two meters, eyes green like lantern. E fit waka ten meters once, e dey come out for night to catch pikin chop.

Old men dey shake head, voice drop anytime dem mention am. Some say e fit reach whole compound with one step, eyes shine like fresh pawpaw leaf for torchlight.

E dey eat person from inside out.

First, e go remove all organ. After e chop, body go remain like empty skin sack.

Women go shiver, cross themselves, dey describe how no blood dey leak—skin untouched, but empty. Horror wey dem no dey talk loud for night.

Then e go remove bone one by one, chew am.

They said his teeth sounded like mama dey pound yam for evening—bone dey break like dry stick. That sound alone fit make sleep run from whole household.

After e don chew finish, e go put broomstick inside the skin sack, so e go resemble person wey dey alive.

Elder go demonstrate, stuff wrapper with cassava stem to show how Oga Madu dey work him evil. I dey watch, fear and wonder mix for my mind.

E go stand this broomstick person for your door.

Children dey warned—no open door for night, no matter who call, because e fit no be your real mama, but Oga Madu broom man wey dey stand for mist.

E go wait near am.

Neighbours swear say dem see that thing stand for sunrise, disappear before grownup fit check. Fear go linger for days, nobody wan fetch water alone.

If anybody open door, the first person wey come out, e go chop am.

Every night knock, every strange voice, everybody dey suspect. My aunty always double-check bolt, dey mutter prayer.

E go dey chop till everybody for house finish.

No be only one pikin, na whole family—nobody safe till morning.

Na that time e go chop the skin join.

Him feast complete only when nothing remain, not even wrapper. That thought dey make me wake for sweat some night.

After e finish, e go next house.

That’s why if one house lose pikin, every door stay shut for days. Mama dey hold pikin close, even if farm work plenty.

If pikin cry for night, once adult talk say, “Stop that cry, Oga Madu go hear come carry you,” pikin go quiet.

I remember many nights I dey bite lip, even if mosquito dey bite. Nobody wan make Oga Madu hear.

Before I start primary school, I no believe say Oga Madu dey real. I think say na just adult way to scare us.

I dey roll eye behind their back, think say I wise pass the stories. I even dey brag, dare my friends to go near old bush for dusk.

But as I see Grandpa and Uncle face, e be like say e fit dey real o.

That night, see grown men dey shake, my own bravery just melt. Heart squeeze small, mind dey run wild with the thing wey I see for mist.

I ask Grandma, “Grandma, Oga Madu dey real? You don see am before?”

I pull her wrapper, voice low. I want make she laugh am off, but her face serious.

Grandma swallow, talk, “E dey real o. That time for old bush, more than twenty years ago, one dey there. Anytime family born pikin, e go come out for night do bad thing. That time, one family get twins—boy and girl. Oga Madu chop dem, nothing remain. Since then, anytime woman wan born, dem go hide for another place. When no newborn, e start to dey chop bigger pikin. Later, e no send again—adult or pikin, if e catch you, e go chop you. When e stand, e tall pass house. Eyes big pass calabash, and green. Some strong young men try fight am, but even their skin sack no remain. At last, the whole village join hand, use hunter’s dane gun blow am. The dead body na eight strong men carry am. Dem dig pit, burn and bury the ash. Since then, nobody see am again. Over twenty years don pass. Abi e fit still dey?”

She muttered Psalm 91 under her breath, fingers tracing her faded rosary. Her voice drop lower, hands dey wring wrapper. She look past me, as if she dey see old days. "E fit still dey, if bush never forget am," she add, cross herself, quick prayer for mouth.

Uncle just sit like say him spirit don comot.

Face hollow, lips dey move, no word dey come out. He hold head, dey rock, dey mutter things only heart fit hear.

“Mama, I swear, na wetin I see. First time I see am, I know say no be human. If na person, why e go dey inside old bush? For this village, who I no sabi? I never see that person before. If na stranger, who go enter old bush for nothing? From wetin I see, e tall pass two meters.”

He dey beg with eyes, hands dey show height for air. Even Grandma look uneasy.

As we dey talk, loud noise just burst out.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Windows shake, echo for compound. My body jump, heart skip one beat.

Na from village chief house side, banger dey sound.

Sharp gunpowder smell follow, mix with fear for air. I dey wonder if na signal or dem dey chase evil.

“Ah, my papa!” uncle shout, rush go outside.

He bolt go door, but Grandma grab am, strength strong pass her age.

That night, I hide my face for pillow, but Oga Madu shadow still dey my mind.