Igbo traditional dancers
My experience with the so-call Ogbanje was during my ‘service’ as a national youth corp member. I was posted to the old Anambra state with headquarter at Enugu. My primary assignment was at Ozubulu girls’ high school, Ozubulu, then Nnewi local government area.
Prior to the ‘service’ year, I had heard a lot about people been involved in relationship with the so-called spirit-underworld. Most of the stories are regarded as fairy tale, more so that it always starts with “once upon a time”. Thanks to grandma and aunties. Few stories by men had third party practical involvements, but in most cases no-one believe them, but this is my own story which happened to me.
From ogwu orientation camp, I went with a colleague to owerri and enter Ozubulu through Ekusigo. After two days in town and village orientation, I travelled back to Lagos through the same Ekusigo because one of our associates wants us to see his village, Ihiala. From Ihiala you can easily get vehicle directly to Lagos. The easiest way however then was through Nnewi to Onisha and Lagos.
On my return journey from Lagos to Ozubulu, I followed the normal route. I came -off the bus from lagos at Onisha around 3pm; with these believe in my mind that you don’t move around on the streets of Onisha after 6pm unless you want to be armed robbery victim or be regarded as one. These we were told in camp. The number of crime reports then in the press and the unidentified corpses on the streets made all Doubting Thomases to beware. So for us who are non-Ibos we are advice to be at our resident by 6pm, even outside Onsha.
At the central park where I came-off the bus is also were am suppose to get a direct cab to Ozubulu, but after one hour of waiting, somebody who can speak my language just came and advised me to first get to Nnewi before the last bus would leave for Ozubulu from there. “You cannot get direct bus again and this place is dangerous, if you don’t have a place to sleep”, he emphasized. That sure confirm my fears and I have to get going.
I entered the only bus at the parking lot going to Nnewi, the front seats were occupied so I have to seat behind. There was only one person behind. Clearly one can identify her as a young market woman, she has in front of her a lot of “bend down clothes” tied with a big wrapper, her dressing too was an absurdity, the bra straps coming from under her blouse, the eye led and other make-ups looks very uncooperative; maybe as a result of stress from the market. Holding in her hands was a leave containing “African salad” which she was eating with full concentration.
Carefully, I sat beside her, wondering whether am sitting beside a normal person, but it seems I have no choice, if I want to be looking outside the window to known where am been taken to; which is my fancy. I manage to say “good evening” as a mark of courtesy, which she didn’t real appreciate; I guess she was still interested in her African salad. After adjusting myself, I began to worry; when will the bus be filled. When I could no more bear it, I have to ask her, “Do you think I will be able to get a cab to Ozubulu this evening”? Instead of a reply, she was just blowing Ibo language to the bus conductor. What they were really saying, I cannot decode. So I assumed she cannot speak English language. After awhile, maybe she can now read the anxiety on me, she just said “some people will soon join us and the driver had been asked to move because you”. Hiding my surprise that she can speak English language, I said “because of me”? No reply. I also refuse to be perturbed; after all, my people say “whoever you are left with, is your neighbor/companion. After sometimes again, I made to ask a question again, but before the words could be formed in my mouth; “you will get vehicle if we are able to get to Nnewi before six o’clock”, she snapped. “Will this bus stopped at the park?” No, she said, along the road, I would show you where to get the bus.
I said within me, the African salad is now over; there can be attention for me. Just then others came-in, five men; and she started another round of the local language; but this time around I knew she was talking in my favor, though I don’t understand what they are saying. “We‘ll move now”, she concluded turning her head towards me. “Thank you” I replied.
The bus left the park few minutes to five in the evening. The road was very bad and I was wondering why I did not follow Owerri bus and drop at Ekusigo. Ordinarily, the trip is to be for 30mins but because of the road and traffic build-up, it took us more than one-hour.
By nature, Am a very shy person and in most situations, am always short of words. So during the trip Cynthia led the discussion throughout the trip. My attention was on the road signs and land marks to be able to trace my way if I have to; “you have not passed this road before?” She busted into my thought. Yes, I replied without looking at her direction. After awhile, she brought out a picture, tap my hand and show it to me. With a little apprehension, I took the picture from her wondering what sort of picture is this. The picture is that of a lady in traditional dancing attire, but much more she has some other costume that made her look as if the person is not a human being after all. The skin was as if it has scales, the legs were quite shorter than that of a normal human being. That’s my picture, she said looking directly into my eyes. As I was trying to compare the picture with her, she took it from my hand and said “that’s when am dancing on the stage”. “What s your name?” l asked after some moments. It took sometimes for her to say “Ngozi”. “You have to think about your name so as say the right one”, I remarked. “No, at home am Ngozi but on stage, Queen Cynthia, a dancer”, she replied. I heard her, but something within me does not agree with that. There was silence again.
When it was about ten minutes before six o’clock, and we are yet at Nnewi, I began to look worried again. Then I asked her if she’s based at Nnewi. This she affirmed, smiled and said “I will make sure you get a cab to Ozubulu”. Really, I don’t know whether I should be happy or not, because the other people seem to be on their own. When the first person came–off the bus it was well after six o’clock; the driver just said “corper, you drop at the two stops”. I had imaging I would see many people on the road, but the untarred road had very few people; I began to pray silently that the people should understand English language.
At the stop, as I was about getting down, this lady also got down with her loads. She just said ‘that is my street (100feet street) if you would allow me to drop my load with somebody I would take you to Ozubulu’. “I will be at the bus stop, if I don’t get a vehicle well”, was my reply. It’s just three kilometers, you would be happy trekking than going by vehicle, she jokingly replied.
Truly, I was unable to get vehicle until she came back. Somebody drove and parked in front of one of the shops beside the bus-stops; that was seven or there about. She excused herself to talk to the man because she knew he would be going to Ihiala. “I don’t want to travel with unknown man, I would rather wait” before I finish my sentence, they were already speaking in Ibo. She was the first to enter, “at least you know me, enter, or you would sleep here”. At that, I entered. She did accompany me to Ozubulu, and when I still miss my way, she was there to make sure I enter the corpers’ lodge. That was how I established relationship with Ngozi. The corpers join me to see her-off that night at about eight-thirty, with the proviso that I would come to Nnewi the following day.
I did not go to Nnewi as promised the following day because the next was supposed to be the CD (community development) day at the same Nnewi, aside the get together that other corpers are attending in the afternoon.
After CD, I went with colleagues to Orifite, another town within the local government until about five o’clock when am sure Ngozi would be around.
Her house was a two storey building to the left of the stream flowing across the end of the street; though big, but to locate Ngozi was not a problem. Her room was that of an average middle class level, with the right settings. A little boy and a maid was staying with her, I was wondering from our previous discussion how they fits in. “you have problems keeping your words”, she wondered in to my thoughts. I ignore answer to that, and took my sit. “Well, I told my friends you will be coming yesterday and everybody were disappointed by your absence, hope you know you’re passing the night here”, she continued. “Who”? I quickly put in. “who else if not you”? I smiled and calm her down, apologized for the other day and made it clear that I leave in thirty minutes. “You are joking”, she bluffed. How do I cook for you and meet my friends within thirty minutes. It was a very hot contention, though not with voices raised, she did had a plan to keep me for the night in her house; and am also ready to do everything possible to get out of the house before six o’clock. How will I sleep in a house that I cannot trust the occupants? Finally, I tricked her out, immediately I was on the street I told her am moving to the bus stop. She was surprised and knew she had lost, because corpers enjoy almost all immunity like paramilitary organizations, she cannot hold me. I would come and stay with you in Ozubulu for the night then, if you don’t mind. No problem, you can come but am not going back into the house. Under five minutes she join me at the bus-stop; it was well after six o’clock again, this time around, we are not lucky as before, if not for my determination, I would have agree that we can no more get vehicle to Ozubulu, but I did got one at about seven thirty without her assistance. She reluctantly entered the cab after me, murmuring.
During the village orientation, we were warned of the danger of passing through the forest close to our lodge when it is seven o’clock. They said it an evil forest. A lot of tales were said about the place which I for one did not really believe, but all the same, we do observe the rule; especially when the other route is livelier and has a lot of people around; the distance notwithstanding. The evil forest route however is our main road during the day, being short–cut to the school and Almazor bore hole, where we get water every day.
That night, I asked the vehicle to drop us at Almazor junction, why, I could not figure-out.
As we crossed the artificial gutter created by the water spillage from the bore- hole tank, Ngozi just stopped on her track chanting words that has no correlation to me. We are all alone, so I pulled her to let’s go. After few steps forward, I can no more pull her, and then I heard movements around us. It seems she was struggling between forces that I not seeing and my grip. I knew definitely something was wrong. I let go of her for a moment, then I realize I could be a target of a stray bullet since I cannot understand what was going- on. I cannot really behold her face again but just the figure. When I grabbed her again, she was dancing and now singing song that I don’t understand. I can feel the change in her texture, as if some things are scratching my hand. She was now dragging me to the bush instead of me pulling her; no doubt she’s now more powerful than me. I wanted to run, but I remember other superstitions that say it can cause madness and apart from that I realize I will still bear the responsibilities of whatever happens; her people saw me with her even if they don’t know me, simple corper’s parade will show me up. At a time it was voices and latter steps. I kept pulling as if am not really sweating from fear; it finally paid-off, she moved with difficulty towards me, we manage to get to the evil forest path, then my pulling seems to be all she required for succor. She was displaying as if she’s been overwhelmed by the unseeing force and needed to be dragged off-stage. After some time she collapsed on me and I have to support her, dragging her towards the lodge. Then a cold flowed through my spine, her body left scratches on me and I felt what am carrying was partly scaly hard substance and partly human flesh; the darkness was so tick I could not see anything, but I kept on dragging. As we are about passing the evil forest boundary, I began to feel the human flesh again, but the weight was heavier than expected.
The security light from the lodge brought hope. I was expecting my colleagues to come and help me but I don’t want the clan people close to us to know what was happening, because I don’t know whether am carrying a dead body or a monster.
Finally, I dragged her to a double setter In front of the lodge, no one saw us getting to the place and my colleagues are not around. If not that I can feel her breathings, I would assume she’s dead, for all am doing to her has no response. It was when I was shouting her name that two of my colleagues came. Bisi and Banky. ‘So na woman you follow go since we dey wait you, woman wrapper’ they abuse me in turn. When they now realize the babe was lifeless, they became speechless. It was Bisi the jester that first came off it. “Let’s do deliverance for her, close the gate”, as he was joking with hallelujah choruses, Banky also joined him, he went into the room brought-out his Quran and started making recitations. I was just holding this girl to prevent her from sprawling on the floor, while the joking show was on. Let’s go and bring the school bus and drop her at ihiala, before it’s too late” conclude Banky. “But she’s still breatheing’, I said. “That’s not too good, why don’t we try and see if we can eat her”, Bisi reasoned. As we were laughing, she sneezes. After some time she came alive, while we talked in Yoruba dialect.
What was happening? She asked. Ha exclaimed Bisi, “Can’t you see the person seating by you sweating like somebody waiting for the hangman’s rope”? We all laughed and I narrated my experience in our dialect. The three of us concluded that we have a demon on our hands, and they excuse themselves.
When they left for Bisi’s room at the back, Ngozi warn me not to tell them more; that she understood all human languages. “I know it is my fault, am suppose to prepare for the meeting instead of coming here with you and I don’t expect us to cross any stream or flowing water on the way; all the same I will still go to the meeting but you are saved,” she concluded. I pretend those words are not important, rather I was rubbing my marked neck. “Don’t worry I had removed the poisons and by morning the marks should be gone, unless you want it,” she continued. I don’t want it, I replied. Promised me you will not tell anyone here again, she required. Not in Ibo land, I replied.
Just then Banky and Bisi came back to us. Make sure she bathe, we already have water in the bathroom for you. Also prepare for a fight, in case, we will be in the next room, I advise you not to touch her, Banky directed. All I can reply was okay, since she understood what we‘re saying and others don’t know.
Going to bathe with this girl seem to be more difficult than visiting my grandma in the afterlife, but I have no choice.
I hate putting on light when am sleeping, but willingly I demand for it. Ngozi was just laughing, “I like your boldness, but I promise I won’t take you to the extremes, when I leave for meeting none of you will know and until I come back you will not shake your body” she said. She flaunted her naked body on me, and looked directly into my eyes and said, “fear not, I will not harm you, your breathing is getting faster than normal”. I smiled, try to push her away, but I couldn’t, she seems suddenly overweight for me. “Your friends asked you to give a shout if you needed help, they will only hear the sound of our kisses, but sleep now so that I can go, I will wake you as soon as I come”. Before I could say a word, she covers my mouth with her lips and that was all I remember until she came back around five in the morning. Definitely, I was far from being in control.
As the door jammed, I woke- up. Do you remember me? Yes of course, I replied. “Then you have won yourself a woman”, struggling out of her dress, she jump on the bed. How was meeting? I asked. “Fine, everybody was mad at me, but the queen-mother forgave me and allows our relationship”, she replied.
It was when I was pumping her that my friends finally woke-up. When they got to the window they were hearing the moan sound coming from her, then Banky said, “see the stupid fellow we were trying to protect fucking the girl’. Ngozi and I busted into laugher at the same time confirming she did understood Yoruba.
Later, she helped us do the home cleaning like a normal human being; we saw her off, with Banky denying her the chance to go with my bed cover which she was interested- in. She left with a warning that she hates rivals, as if we have any other job than ‘bush allowance’ after school.
After two more incidents about her, I quietly work my redeployment back to Lagos, but I never forget her up till now.
