Chapter 1: The Night I Died

I killed myself.

On New Year's Eve, the night when families suppose gather, dey jolly together for house.

But I no ever think say my ex-husband, wey treat me like ice block, go mad with revenge after I die—him dey chase everybody wey wrong me, even want die on top love matter, all because of me.

But when I dey alive, e clear say love no dey him side at all.

Na so life be—sometimes, na when you waka comot, e go dey sweet for people eye. E pain me say dem no notice me when I dey.

Now, as wandering spirit, I stand beside my own dead body.

Olowu the Soul Collector—the White Cap Spirit, full white cloth, face like Egungun mask, voice deep like old masquerade—stand for front of me, dey flip through the spirit register wey elders dey keep, dey search for my name.

Cold breeze wey carry scent of burnt palm frond and distant mosque call blow enter the bathroom, mix with the smell of old soap. My spirit self dey shiver, even though cold no suppose touch me again.

"Wetin be your name?"

"Amarachi Okoye," I answer, my voice echo for the empty bathroom like voice wey don lose flesh. I dey hope Olowu go just carry me waka, make I quick born for better family next time.

But Olowu the Soul Collector just dey stare the register, face hard, before him finally look up. "Your time never reach, and you still dey carry innocent pikin for womb, why you do yourself like this?"

He look me well, face like old retired Igwe wey no dey smile anyhow. The book for him hand old, yellow paper, but e get plenty secret pass police file.

I look my own bloodless body, soaking inside the bathtub. My chest squeeze, eyes dey hot, but no tear fit drop—na so spirit dey suffer in silence.

The water don turn red, like zobo wey dem forget for harmattan. Red everywhere, thick like blood money ritual.

"I no want live again, so I end am," I talk, voice low.

Olowu vex so tey even him white cap bend. He slap the spirit register and shout: "You know say to kill yourself before your time be like to report fake case for chief’s court—e dey scatter the order wey dey! And the pikin wey dey your belle suppose get life, but as you kill yourself, e no even fit born."

He hiss, shake head, voice thunder for the small bathroom. If na olden days, elders for village go say na ancestral spirit dey vex like that.

God knows, when I kill myself, I no even know say I get belle. If I know, maybe I for reason am well—maybe, maybe not. This life no just balance at all.

But after Olowu finish to lecture me, I frown. "Why rules plenty like this, even for person wey wan die?"

I no fit understand why even for afterlife, dem dey do bureaucracy. My eye dey red, but no tear dey come again.

Olowu sigh, him voice soft small, like pastor wey dey beg prodigal child. "Plenty sweet things still dey for life wey you never see. Abeg, try hear word, go back your body."

Even as spirit, I feel say e dey pity me.

I remember my vampire-like, wicked parents, my spendthrift sister and brother, and then my ex-husband’s stone face. All their faces line up for my mind like JAMB result—nobody get pass mark for care.

I answer with my chest: "Nothing sweet dey my life. Abeg, carry me go. Next life, I better be cat or dog sef."

If to say I fit choose, maybe na fat goat for rich man compound I for like be—just dey chop, dey waka anyhow.

No matter how Olowu beg me, I no gree go back. I fold arm, bone, even shift leg like stubborn secondary school girl. I be confirm stubborn head, even for death.

So he talk: "If you kill yourself before your time, to reincarnate go hard well well. How about this: I go give you one month to waka for this world as ghost. If after that one month you still no see reason to live, I go help you reincarnate."

Him eyes shine with warning, like principal dey warn last chance student.

I think am finish, I gree.

To be ghost no easy, but to waka for this world small fit even dey interesting. Maybe I go see better gist, or know wetin people really dey talk about me behind my back.

Suddenly, I just wan ask: for this world and the next, who really get my back?