Chapter 2: Agbo, Secrets, and Spirit Wounds

When Shi Nnaemeka wake, I dey boil agbo.

Agbo dey bubble for black pot, the aroma strong, mix with early morning dew. For village, everybody dey respect agbo—dem talk say e cure everything, from malaria to heartbreak. I dey watch the steam, dey pray make this one work wonders. My mama always say, “If you fit boil good agbo, you fit cure any wahala.”

Breeze carry the smell of herbs reach even sky.

All those bitter leaf, dogonyaro, and small ginger I mix, e dey choke the air. Even chicken for backyard dey sneeze. Old people go say breeze wey carry agbo aroma fit chase evil spirit.

E eyes empty, just two hollow space, like say masquerade borrow am, so as he fall from mat, he dey find road anyhow.

I pity am as e dey grope for ground, hand dey search like blind man for market. My mind dey pain; no be this person suppose dey like that.

As he hear me enter, he panic, jam leg for stool corner, come dey gasp from pain.

He bite him lip, the sound like small animal wey trap for cage. I rush come hold am, talk softly like mama dey hush pikin after bad dream.

"Who send you come?"

"Na Musa or na Baba Lawal?"

For this side, if wahala dey, na those two names dem go call. Everybody know say Musa get long hand, Baba Lawal get long mouth. If dem pursue you, e mean serious gbege.

I scratch head, no sabi how to explain the system matter.

I just dey wish make lie sweet for my mouth, but system no teach me that one. For my place, dem dey say pikin wey no sabi lie no fit survive market.

My eye land for the cow wey I tie outside, I just push all the blame go there.

The brown cow dey chew cud, innocent as ever. I just use am cover my tracks. As dem dey talk, 'No put hand for wetin pass you.'

"No be any of them."

"Na as I carry cow go river bath, na so I jam you."

I talk am with confidence, like say na true. My heart dey pound small, but my face dey straight.

The old brown cow outside, as e hear say na him I blame, e snort two times, turn back for me.

E be like say cow dey vex say I dey call e name anyhow. For my mind, I dey beg am make e forgive me. If cow fit talk, e for insult me that day.

For my place, dem dey say, “If wahala too much, blame cow—cow no go answer you.”

Just now, as we dey struggle, the spirit wound open again, blood dey come out.

My eye catch am sharp. Blood dey soak wrapper, small flies dey dance around. I rush bring clean rag, wipe am, dey whisper prayer under my breath. God, abeg, make this wound dry, make e no go spoil pass like this.

I fit only clean am, rub shea butter and tie wrapper again.

Shea butter dey heal, na wetin my mama use treat my wound as pikin. I rub am gently, dey avoid where the pain dey bite pass.

Him voice dey shake, weak: "Who you be?"

The way e ask, e weak like person wey no chop for days. My heart dey cut.

"Sule."

I call the name with pride, as if na king name. The way I dey answer, e show say I dey try cover fear.

I no sabi read, so I ask system many times before I pick this name for myself.

For my mind, system na like big brother wey sabi everything, so e help me choose name wey go cover me for story. Even if I no go school, I sabi say Sule mean say I get destiny.

The agbo outside don ready, but the smell bitter die.

Even fowl wey stubborn no go fit drink this kind thing. My nose wrinkle as I carry am inside.

Shi Nnaemeka press him teeth, refuse drink am, dey fear say I put something inside.

Na normal thing; for this place, trust no dey cheap. I try reason with am, my voice soft.

I try calm am: "No fear, you don help me before."

I dey look am, hope say memory go return. For street, small act of kindness dey mean plenty.

The spirit confuse: "When?"

Him voice empty, like person wey dey search inside old cupboard.

"For front of Christ Redeemer Church, two hot puff-puff."

That memory dey shine for my heart, like say na yesterday. The way hunger nearly kill me, na only God know.

That time, I never dey herd cow.

My life never get direction. Na just pure survival.

I just be one beggar, almost die, dirty and tattered, curl for inside old church.

Mosquito bite me, dust dey cover my skin, I dey shiver for cold, but I no fit move. No hope for that time.

As I nearly die of hunger, one spirit wey dey shine like sun push door enter, carry two hot puff-puff.

The light wey follow am na another thing. I remember the warmth of the puff-puff, how e dey hot my palm, the first food I chop in three days.

Na so he pull me commot for death hand.

Even if na just that one act, I owe am. For our side, gratitude dey follow person reach grave.

The man think am small, come relax face, gree make I feed am the bitter agbo.

E sigh, nod, open mouth small. E trust return, even if na just small.

That fine face twist sharp sharp like puff-puff.

Na real struggle to swallow. I nearly laugh, but I hold am. Nobody like bitter medicine, but sometimes na only that one dey save life.

I wash agbo pot clean.

For my family, if you wash pot clean, na sign say you dey prepare for better things. I dey hope say this one go bring healing.

Shi Nnaemeka just dey lie; e no remember.

E dey try force smile, but my spirit know say memory no dey come.

But e no strange. Better spirit like this don help plenty beggars like me.

Na so life be—those wey dey help, dem no dey count. Dem just dey do good, dey waka their own.

If e no remember, e normal.

Sometimes, the one wey you save, na e go come save you. Life na circle. I just dey hope say my own good go return to me.