Sacrifice the Witch!...

The village bells rang almost non-stop, and the voice of the town crier could be heard moving around as he went from compound to compound spreading the news.

But besides these two, the village of Adoka was quiet.. strangely quiet. Even the usually noisy cockerels seemed to have sensed the change in atmosphere. For even they, today refused to crow.

Where I sat, alone in the hut of the village priest, all the little details reached me like in a trance...

I knew I was going to die, but despite the knowledge of my impending death, and how public the voice of the town crier promised it to be... I felt no fear.

The only real bother I had, was the events of my immediate past. It was these that actually truly bothered me...

And the painful thought, that painful realization...

That I killed mama...

My mama...

I could almost feel each tiny drop, as the tears formed in my eyes...

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...

When dawn had broke that morning, long before the sun rose over Adoka's many villagers, no one could have foretold the sad events the day would bring upon us.

I remember turning on my wooden bed, half awake, wishing that something terrible would befall the cockerel who chose to crow just outside me and my Mama's hut.

The harmattan had chosen to return that morning, after a week's absence, and there was no better feeling than been stuck under my wrapper, holding on to the last bit of sleep before the day fully begun.

But it was not to be. As even though I tried my best to ignore the consistently annoying cockerel, Mama soon woke me up herself.

"Ochanya, it is mid-day already. When will you be up?"

I had grumbled an incoherent answer, and held on tighter to the comfort of my wrapper. But three less amiable calls later, and I had reluctantly left my bed, and had prepared to follow mama to the farm.

And it was on our way to the farm, exactly at that junction which intersects with the road to the village square, that junction where everyone who passed knew everyone else..

There, mama had suddenly stiffened, slumped and died...

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"It is an abomination!"

"Our tradition must be followed..."

"But she is only a little girl..."

"Tradition is tradition!"

"I say we sacrifice the witch..."

From my single seat in the hut, the arguments of the elders outside reached my ears. I was still numb from the events that had happened earlier. It felt like everything was happening at once, and some of it still felt unreal to me. Like they never truly happened.

For how can mama be dead? My own mama. I had watched from behind as she had become stiff, moments before she had collapsed on the ground in front of me. Yet she couldn't be dead. I could not believe it.

"Och', let us not rush into a decision. Let us be reasonable..."

"Tradition trumps reason! The girl is a witch!"

The arguments outside continued, and it did for a while. It was only many hours later, long after the sun had gone down, long after every dedicated farmer had retired for the night, that the arguments had subsided. A decision had been reached...

But even before the town crier had gone out to relay the news at the break of dawn, even before the deathly silence had spread over Adoka like a cursed cloud, long before the Chief priest had sent his messenger to come subtly tell me my fate...

Before all of that, I knew...

I knew that my mama had not just died. But she had died the same way my papa had died all those years ago. And I had been behind her, just as I had walked behind him...

Oh I knew... That somehow I was responsible...

It was the first time I realized I was a witch, and it would prove to be the last...

"It is decided. We sacrifice the witch!"

The voice from last night came back to me as if it was only just spoken. My fate was sealed.

But all I wanted was my mama...

That night I would die, long before anyone in Adoka would understand the nature of a heart attack, or a stroke. Long before they would piece together the coincidence which it truly was; of papa and mama dying on the same footpath, with the same person walking behind them... Their only daughter... Me...

I died...

THE END

#SladenSpeaks

Ochanya: a native Adoka name among the Idoma tribe of Nigeria.

Och': an idoma word for "chief"

Picture above was taken with my Tecno Spark2, back in 2019 when I was out on the field distributing permanent voter's cards to Idoma natives.

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