Chapter 5: The Real and the Mist

Uncle pause.

Hand freeze for bolt, doubt and fear dey fight for face. He look Grandma, dey search her eyes.

Grandma say, “Your papa no dey patient. He no dey knock just three times.”

Her voice strong, full of person wey sabi her man. Those words make everybody pause, heart dey beat fast.

My blood cold, room dey spin, fear grip me like hand for throat. I remember wetin dem talk—how Oga Madu go put broomstick man for door. If you open, na you e go chop.

I just dey shake.

Hands tremble, I hug myself. Even teeth dey knock, though harmattan no too cold.

The person outside come dey vex, slap door like thunder.

Sound loud, dust fall from lintel. Air vibrate, I close eyes, dey pray for morning.

Still Grandpa voice: “Open door quick!”

Now e dey angry, like e sabi say we dey hesitate. Familiar cadence, but pain for heart.

Grandma give uncle eye, point ladder.

She mouth "Check," eyes dey urge am to climb. Uncle nod, understand.

Uncle climb roof to peep who dey outside.

He move quiet, feet no make sound for mud floor. Old ladder creak, head disappear through thatch.

After small time, he come down, leg dey shake.

Eyes wild, sweat dey run for face. He hold ladder, voice dey tremble.

“Mist too thick. Person stand for door. From roof, I no see well. But I see top of head. My papa no tall like that. No be am.”

Words send new fear. If no be Grandpa, who dey there?

Gate dey shake, almost break.

Pounding fierce, hinges dey cry. Dog for next compound howl in terror.

My blood cold, room dey spin, fear grip me like hand for throat.

We three no fit open door, no fit leave am too.

Trapped, heart dey thunder. World outside dangerous, unknown.

I fear so tey I no fit breathe. Uncle leg still dey shake.

I dey try breathe soft, tears dey near. Uncle cutlass hand dey wobble, blade dey shake.

Grandma first calm down.

She breathe deep, straighten wrapper, square shoulder. Her voice strong.

She shout to gate, “Old man, wait small!”

Words ring out, full of command. Whoever dey outside pause, pounding stop one second.

She tell uncle hide me for coal pile. That coal go hide both my body and smell.

Uncle hustle me corner, pile cold black lump around. Coal dust scratch my throat, but I no dare cough. Nose dey itch, but I hold still.

“Chijioke, no matter wetin happen, no talk, no come out. Oga Madu no go find you,” Grandma whisper for ear.

Her breath warm, words sharp. I nod, press myself small.

Person outside say, “Quick! If you bring Oga Madu come here, our family go finish!”

The accusation, in Grandpa’s voice, cut deep. E sound too real, too urgent.

Grandma fear, “We don enter Oga Madu wahala.”

She cross herself, dey mutter prayer. Face pale, eyes dey run between uncle and door.

Uncle hold cutlass, voice dey shake, “If e enter, I go fight am. Mama, carry Chijioke, jump go Aunty Ngozi house.”

He square shoulder, try look brave, but voice betray am. Cutlass grip tight, knuckle white.

Grandma say, “No. If Oga Madu enter house, you no fit stop am. Even if we jump fence, e go still catch us. Oga Madu dey fear gunpowder. Go bring banger. Na dane gun we take finish am that year, no be knife.”

She talk with authority, voice stronger. Old victory, tradition power. Uncle nod, hope dey shine small.

Lucky say Christmas near, our house full of fireworks.

Boxes of banger, knockout, sparklers dey wait for Christmas Eve. Now, bright wrapper dey promise safety, not celebration.

Uncle carry plenty come out.

Hand sweaty, ready to fight evil with noise and fire. Hand dey shake as he dey fumble match.

Gate dey shake from pounding.

Sound rise, world small, night heavy.

One finger reach inside door crack to hook bolt.

The finger long, nail sharp. Black as charcoal, e scrape wood, send chill down spine.

That finger black like charcoal.

No be Grandpa own. Even dog outside whimper, crawl under veranda.

I watch as e wan hook bolt open.

Eyes fixed, I squeeze coal so tight, palm pain me.

Sharp sharp, uncle light banger, throw am for door.

Spark flash, bang deafening. Smoke curl, nose dey sting. We hold breath, dey wait.

Bang! That hand just disappear.

Finger vanish, retreat with hiss. Pounding stop, silence come. Relief wash over room.

After two seconds, Grandpa voice come from outside, “Why una dey set banger for afternoon when festival never reach?”

Voice sound hurt, almost scold, but cold. I shiver.

Grandma breathe relief.

Shoulders drop, tension go for one second. She wipe sweat from brow, sigh deep.

“Obinna, na your papa.”

Voice get hope, eye dey find uncle.

She wan open door.

Hand reach bolt, small hesitation before she touch am.

This time, uncle stop am.

Hand clamp down, shake head. “Wait, Mama. Something no pure.”

“Mama, no. That finger wey reach just now no be my papa own.”

He talk calm but firm. Memory of black finger dey haunt am.

Grandma say, “Mist thick, you no see well. That voice and talk, na your papa.”

She want believe, desperation for voice. The fear of leaving Grandpa outside dey fight the fear of letting evil in.

Grandma and uncle dey argue.

Voices tense, old love and new fear dey mix. Nobody wan make mistake.

I think, talk, “Grandpa carry banger when e commot, abi? Make he set one, make we see. Oga Madu dey fear gunpowder, e no go fit.”

Idea flash for my mind. I talk from coal pile, voice dey shake but sure. Logic dey safe—Grandpa always get way to prove am.

Grandma say, “True!”

Eyes bright, hope dey show. She raise voice, shout through door.

She shout for door, “Obinna papa, set banger make Oga Madu run before you enter!”

Words ring clear. Even fear pause, dey wait response.

“I don finish my chewing stick, how I go take light banger? Who dey set banger for afternoon?” Voice outside dey impatient.

Answer quick, irritation inside. Too smooth, too easy. My fear creep back, cold and slow.

Na true, e sound just like Grandpa. Even wetin e talk make sense small.

Him complaint sound familiar, Grandpa own. But now, e feel like echo—shadow dey pretend.

Grandma confuse. “Obinna, if na your papa true true, e dey risky for am to dey outside.”

She dey pace, dey wring hand, love and fear dey fight. Uncle eyes stay for door, cutlass ready.

Uncle say, “E make sense. If na Oga Madu, door no go hold am.”

He reason aloud, voice dey shake. Truth be say, nothing make sense again.

Suddenly, neighbor Mama Ngozi shout from next compound, voice full fear.

“Oga Madu! Oga Madu dey for village! Ah—”

Her scream sharp, fear raw. E cut confusion like knife.

One scream.

E echo, quick, then silence swallow am. Absence of sound loud pass any noise.

The cry just stop like that.

Abrupt, chill run for my body. I freeze, no fit move.

Grandma panic. “Obinna, quick! Open door! Let your papa enter!”

Her voice now frantic, fear pass doubt. She push uncle to lock, desperation for eye.

I still feel say something no right, but I no fit talk am.

Heart dey pound, mind dey scream warning, but urge to save Grandpa strong.

Uncle rush go open door.

He fumble bolt, hand dey shake. I press deeper into coal, dey wait, breath hold, dey pray for morning light. Outside, the mist swallowed everything—even the truth.