Chapter 6: Spirit Revenge

When they found him, Baba Musa dey lie on his back for bed. His left eye disappear, right eye dangle for face. His mouth and throat stretch wide, showing broken throat and empty stomach, like something chop all his organs and crawl out through his throat.

The elders who entered first ran out vomiting, hands shaking. “Na ogbanje spirit, true true!” one shouted. The entire room stank of blood and something older—something that made even dogs refuse to enter.

Bloody claw marks full everywhere—body, floor, table, even ceiling—different claw prints everywhere.

It was as if a whole bush of animals had passed through, all fighting for space in that tiny room. The blood patterns looked like the marks left after Odo festival, only these ones drip with evil.

You go see dog prints, monkey prints, cat prints, chicken prints—every kind and size.

One hunter bent down, tracing a lizard print with his knife. “All the animals wey Musa ever chop, dem come pay am back!” he whispered.

Baba Musa’s old mama fear so till she land for hospital. His wife, Aunty Kande, gathered her men friends and dragged the corpse to our door.

She tore her wrapper, rolled on the ground, beating her chest and wailing. “Okoye! Okoye! You kill my husband!” Her voice rose, drawing the whole village.

“Okoye family suppose die—selling poisoned meat! Give me my husband’s life!”

She banged on our door, voice hoarse. People gathered, ready for fight or drama.

“He die because of your demon meat. Na you kill am!”

Her eyes rolled, spittle flying. Some women nodded, others whispered that she only cared for the money.

Baba Musa liked food, liked gamble, and fear die. Aunty Kande don dey follow men since. Now she just dey jealous the big meat soup money Second Uncle made yesterday.

One old woman hissed, “Na money she dey eye, not her husband. Her tears dry since.”

Baba Musa’s body lay in the mud outside our house, both sides shouting, nobody looking well.

The mud soaked his wrapper, flies crawling everywhere. No priest wanted to pray for him, the elders shook their heads and spat three times, muttering, "Let no evil spirit follow us home."

Suddenly, I heard strange sound, and before I know, my eyes go meet Baba Musa’s corpse.

It was like a faint rustle, almost too soft to hear. Goosebumps crawled over my skin. I turned slowly, heart thumping.

From deep inside his open mouth, faint squeaking sounds come out, like something inside dey watch the quarrel.

A shiver ran down my spine. It was not rat, not any animal, but something old—spirit sound.

That thing noticed me and slowly turned its head. Fear grip me.

My vision blurred. I felt as if something heavy pressed on my chest.

My mind tell me say if I look am for eye, wahala go happen.

Every instinct screamed at me: Look away! Look away!

But my body no fit move at all.

It was like the spirits themselves held me in place, cold and unyielding.

Suddenly, one dry hand press my head down.

The touch was cold, yet strong. I felt safe and terrified at the same time.

Na Grandmother.

She smelled of bitter leaf and old palm oil. Her grip was unbreakable.

She lower her eyes and whisper:

Her voice was barely a breath, “No look. If you see spirit for eye, e go follow you for life.”

“No look. The spirit dey mark enemies. Anybody wey e mark, e go visit one by one.”

She held me close, shielding me from the darkness.

Second Uncle and Aunty Kande argue until, with her men threatening, he finally paid one hundred thousand naira.

He grumbled, “Dem dey blackmail me! If not for this wahala, I go use juju for una.” He counted the money with trembling hands, heart full of anger and fear.

“Na accident, just accident. The man drink, hit head for table, die. No concern Okoye family.”

He shouted this for the whole village to hear, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

Aunty Kande, after collecting the money, smiled and walked away with her men, leaving Baba Musa’s body in the mass grave outside the village.

She counted the money, tied her wrapper tight, and didn’t look back. The men followed her, grinning, their eyes already on her new fortune.

Not only did she swap her useless husband for one hundred thousand naira, once Baba Musa’s mama die, the Musa family house go be her own.

The whole village gossiped for days. Some said she had planned it all. Others warned their sons, “Avoid woman wey get sweet mouth and dry tears.”

The next night, Aunty Kande and her men all died—killed by Chief Bako from the east side of the village.

Nobody knows how, but come morning, their room was locked from inside, and not a soul answered. When the door broke, what people saw made strong men cross themselves three times. Chief Bako stood in the shadows, his eyes wild, the white rat’s fur shining on his shoulders. The whispers started that night: "Spirit dey hunt Okpoko."