Chapter 3: Spirit Meat Feast

“At first, I think say na only the rat skin get value. But since na spirit, even this smelly flesh fit fetch money!”

His eyes shone with new greed, lips already curling in a smile. He laughed, “All these city people, anything wey be juju, dem go pay double.”

Second Uncle came back carrying a bloody, mangled lump.

He staggered under the weight, his wrapper stained red. “See am here!” he shouted, dumping it before us with a thud. Flies rose, buzzing hungrily.

Turns out, when he first returned to the village, he thought the flesh was too heavy and only the fur was worth anything, so he skinned the rat and threw the body away in the bush. Now, in a hurry, he ran back to pick up the white rat’s body again.

He wiped his brow, panting. “I nearly forget am for bush. Wetin for happen if animals chop am first? Spirit go vex pass!”

I went closer to look. The rat’s head almost looked like a person’s, with two dark, empty eye sockets that made my skin crawl.

A cold breeze touched my neck. I shivered, feeling as if the dead rat was watching me. Its mouth was frozen in a half-smile, teeth too white for any animal. I quickly moved back, heart pounding.

“Tomorrow, Okoye family go do party—chop spirit meat, collect spirit blessing. Five thousand naira for one bowl!”

His voice boomed like the town crier’s. People’s faces lit up, hunger and greed mixing in their eyes.

People shouted in surprise. Spirit meat? That one na real treasure!

Some covered their mouths, others clapped. “Na true? Spirit blessing for only five thousand?” Even people who never greeted Second Uncle before now crowded round.

Second Uncle repeated Grandmother’s words, but added his own pepper:

He gestured to the meat, “This one no be ordinary animal o! Chop am—your body go shine, your children go pass exam, your farm go flourish. Women go dey beautiful like river goddess, men strong pass wrestler, old people go fresh, small children go wise like tortoise.”

“This one na treasure wey get spirit by virtue. If you chop am, women go fine, men go strong like lion, old people go live long, children go sharp and smart.”

He winked, “You dey see am? Okoye family dey bless una. But na first come, first serve o!”

Baba Musa, who couldn’t stand Second Uncle’s bragging, mocked him:

He spat to the side. “You dey run mouth. E fit be say na poison you wan give us!”

“You dey chop good thing—make thunder no fire you.”

Laughter erupted. Somebody shouted, “Baba Musa, if you fear, make you no near!”

Second Uncle burst out laughing.

He pointed at Baba Musa. “No be Jesus give him body? Prophet sef dey share holy bread. If you no chop, no blessing!”

“Even prophet give him flesh for people to chop. We dey chop spirit meat—na like we dey honour the spirit, help am climb higher.”

He waved a ladle over the meat like a preacher with a bell, “Na blessing, na honour! Everybody bring your bowl.”

Baba Musa wanted to argue, but Second Uncle shot him a wicked look.

He flexed his arms, showing off the cutlass scar from a long-ago fight. “If you no get heart, comot for road.”

“All this talk, you dey chop or you dey fear?”

Second Uncle’s eyes danced with mischief. The whole crowd waited for Baba Musa’s reply, egging him on.

“Fear wetin?”

Baba Musa puffed his chest, refusing to back down. “I be Musa the strong!”

Baba Musa, not wanting to look weak, slapped five notes on the table.

He stared Second Uncle down, face set in a dare. “Serve me first! I no dey carry last.”

“Give me one bowl of head soup—make I taste this your spirit meat. If e no sweet, I go scatter your party.”

A ripple of laughter went round. Some clapped, others began to wave their money, eager for their own portion of the forbidden meat.