Chapter 11: Nightmares and Hallucinations

Sixth hour: My stomach don begin dey twist in pain. Cold sweat dey drop for my face, my eye dey blur. Different noisy sound dey buzz for my ear. My aunty hand me one bundle, dey smile soft: “Tunde, the road far. I sew new cloth for you.” My uncle close eye, pat my head: “Take care. No worry about village.” I see outside Umuola village, for the stone wey get village name, people wey I sabi full ground dey see me off, dey tell me make I take care. Ehn? Strange: My aunty get one hand? When my uncle blind? I hold my question, still dey waka, turn look back, dem still dey wave, dey smile. I just dey waka go. I no know how long, after I waka inside grey mist, I look up, na village entrance I land again.

As I dey waka for the mist, my mind dey spin. The faces of my people dey shift, as if something dey play with memory. I dey try call their names for my heart, but the names dey slip like soap for rain.

“Tunde, the road far. I sew new cloth for you.” Aunty use hand wey get plenty fingers give me cloth. Black veins dey move, suckers dey soak the white cloth. Uncle open all im eyes, pat my head: “Take care. No worry about village.” All over im body, more than seven hundred eyes dey look me, dey smile. “For uncle eye, you still be pikin. You remember that time you dey play whack-a-mole?” Ah, I remember: When I small, I dey poke im eyes for fun, like whack-a-mole. If I poke open eye, I fit dig am out. As I remember, I just waka comot again, no wan look back. The way dem dey look me still loving, but for my mind… fear no gree make me turn look.

I dey mutter, "God abeg, make I no see wetin go make me run mad." The dream dey turn nightmare. I dey sweat, dey mutter prayers, call on ancestors—make dem no allow evil spirit carry me. The loving face of my family dey turn to horror, but I dey feel their love for inside all the fear. E pain me, but I no fit look back.

Thirteenth hour: Outside window, bronze bell dey ring for wind. Ding ding ding—Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding, ding, ding ding I bend my head, dey look dark sky outside. Thick juice dey pour from sky. I talk: “Bell don ring nineteen times.” Ding ding, ding ding ding ding I talk: “Bell don ring nineteen times.” “Bell don ring nineteen times.” “Bell don ring seven thousand, nine hundred, thirty-eight times.” I pause, then sharply talk: “Who you be?”

As the bell dey ring, the sound dey pierce my ear, dey echo for my bone. I dey feel like say I dey float between world and spirit land. The voice wey come from my mouth no be my own again, e get one kind echo, the one wey dey happen for shrine during festival night.