Chapter 1: Spirit for the Bush Path

In my third year of herding cattle, a spirit escaped from the realm of the elders, and the system just order me: “Carry am.”

As I dey waka that early morning for the bush path, just as the first cock crow, na so breeze blow, and the whole world quiet like say spirit dey pass. My heart begin beat small small. E never tey since I begin herd cow, but that day, I feel something different, like say my ancestors dey watch me. For my mind, I dey pray make today better pass yesterday.

"Carry am go meet the main man for the story, make their wahala love story begin."

The system voice loud for my ear, the way e dey come sometimes, like those old transistor radio wey dey pick signal from Ibadan one minute, then fade the next. I reason am small—this system no dey ever get pity. Na wahala dem sabi.

I look the main person for the story—him bones don commot, him eyes no dey again.

For my village, if person eyes disappear like that, na serious matter. Dem go say evil hand touch am or e cross where masquerade pass at night. But this one, the bone sef dry, like old stockfish. My body dey fear small, but I just dey reason am. I glance over my shoulder, check if any elder dey watch or if masquerade sign dey bush, heart still dey beat.

I sabi this spirit. That year when I dey beg for street, na him give me two hot puff-puff.

That memory dey sweet and bitter at once. Under Lagos hot sun, my feet don chop wound for tar road. I remember the smell of fried dough and how e melt for my tongue. E shock me say spirit fit get human kindness. Some people no dey forget wetin dem do for person. The taste still dey my tongue till today, sweet like honey, memory wey no dey fade. Na that kind Lagos puff-puff, hot, soft, with sugar dey stick for finger.

The man really, really get good heart.

Even now as e dey lifeless for ground, e presence still gentle, soft like evening breeze after big rain. I just dey look am, dey wonder how one person fit good reach like that, yet suffer reach this kind level.

I gently drag am commot from the river.

The water cold, dey slap my ankle as I wade reach am. My hand dey tremble as I touch him skin—spirit or no spirit, suffering dey written all over am. I dey careful, as tradition dey talk, make you no carry dead or spirit anyhow; but this one, na another thing. My mind dey heavy as I pull am reach sand.

The cane marks wey scatter for him body dey open to the harmattan breeze.

You know say for Naija, harmattan dey bite like say na small knife. The marks fresh, like say dem just flog am this morning. My mind dey vex—who go flog spirit like say e be thief? Even the smell of blood mix with dust dey choke me small. The kind mark wey no fit heal, e just dey there, red and angry.

The worst scar stretch almost reach the whole back, bend and twist anyhow.

This one no be ordinary cane. The way the thing run zigzag for him skin, e clear say dem use better koboko, the one wey get three heads. Village elders dey always talk say some scars dem no dey ever go away, e dey follow person reach spirit world.

Where spirit bone suppose dey, na only empty space my hand touch now.

For our side, spirit bone na like ogbanje mark—special, rare, make you know say the person no be ordinary. As my hand hover that space, na only emptiness dey greet me. My chest tight.

"System, this spirit bone wey suppose dey here... where e waka go?"

My voice low, fear dey for the way I dey whisper. Some kind things person no suppose ask aloud, but the system no send.

"Dem cut am commot. Na because Shi Nnaemeka—the spirit wey everybody dey fear—na the strongest for the whole story. If dem no remove the spirit bone, dem no go fit hold am down."

"And e still better for the later love story development."

My head dey swirl. E be like say na film I dey. This spirit, this wahala, all na for story wey system dey talk. I dey reason say e fit be jazz, but I no get option than to follow.

My voice dey shake, I no even fit touch am anyhow.

I dey use left hand touch am—elders say left hand na for abomination, but right hand dey fear. My spirit dey weak. I dey try control the tears wey wan drop.

"E pain well well?"

The system just dey look me like mumu: "Dem no be mumu. If e dey wake, dem no fit hold am at all."

I roll my eye. System dey talk like village market woman wey sabi everything. Sometimes I wan just throway the whole wahala commot my head.

"Dem give am medicine. E faint, so e no too feel am."

After I ask too much question, the system tire for me.

"Why you dey ask like this? Just carry am go, collect your reward, comot. I go log off, go flex myself, everything go settle."

E pain me say the system dey talk like all these Yahoo boys wey no dey care if the thing spoil. Na sharp sharp dem wan do am, no mind if e get consequence.

The spirit tall, but as I carry am, e light like say na feather.

Even though e body long, my hand no even dey struggle at all. I fit carry am with one hand. I dey look people wey pass, dey hope say dem no go suspect. For our area, if dem see you with dead body, na wahala be that, but spirit no dey show like human being.

Him white wrapper just dey hang for body; ribs dey show like say dem wan tear the skin. E nearly make me cry.

For my mind, I dey beg God make e forgive me, make I no fail this kind test. Hunger dey write Bible for this spirit skin.

People too stingy. Dem go dey talk about love and hate, but dem no even fit give am better food chop.

For this life, e hard to see person wey fit give beggar something, not to talk of person wey dey different. Everybody dey protect their own.

See as dem reduce person to this kind level...

No be only say e thin; e soul sef dey dry. Na poverty, na loneliness, na how society dey forget people when dem no need dem again.

Maybe na because my tears dey drop anyhow, the system come soft small.

"Na tormented love story be this, so small suffer must dey for beginning."

System voice soft, like say e dey pet pikin wey lose sweet. My heart still dey pain.

"But no worry, the ending for this novel na HE—Happy Ending."

The system dey talk am as if na sure bet, like say everything for life dey certain.

"Everybody go happy last last."

E still dey try console me, but my mind dey for how this spirit go survive reach that ending.

I remember the book wey the system talk about.

For my mind, I dey see the front cover: old book with tattered binding, red dust for edge. Na my oga for street give me make I learn patience. The story dey hard for my chest till now.

Inside, the apprentice wey fall join masquerade cult use bad mind drag him master, wey pure like moon, enter gutter, one step at a time.

That kain story no too dey far for our side. Sometimes na the person wey you help go turn against you, turn your name to mud for whole community.

That time, I just browse am small. The thing vex me sotey I use am wedge table leg.

My mind no fit take all those suffering and betrayal. Book almost spoil finish. Na like curse to dey witness person wey pure dey suffer.

Halfway for road, system come realise: "You no dey go the right road? This one no be the road to masquerade cult."

I stop for junction, dey look left and right, as if road dey show sign. My head dey swirl. Even the cow wey I dey herd dey look me, like say e dey reason my madness.

I hold am tight.

I hug the spirit like say na my own blood brother. For village, dem go say if you see person wey dey lost, you suppose help am reach safe place.

"I no go give am out."

"Na only wicked person go carry the person wey help am go wahala."

If my mama still dey, she go slap me if I do anyhow. I no fit throway this person wey once help me. For street, we dey survive on code—help who help you.

But as I dey talk, the night breeze just blow, and I feel say something big dey come—something wey fit change my life.