Chapter 1
TALES BY MOONLIGHT
The cool breeze kissed the damp leaves which rustled at its touch. The moon had crept to its peak, its light tearing through cracks and crevices of the hut where the children huddled. The clouds so dark had parted so that the full moon had enough freedom to roam the skies. The voice of an old woman rang out in the compound as she sang songs from the folk tale which she shared with the children.
"Mma" (Mother) as the children addressed her, was in her eighties. She had begun to walk with the aid of sticks and wrinkles had played a puzzle on her face. Her neck was wrinkled by her age and her teeth darkened by the snuff and by the herbs she chose to drink. She clutched her wrapper with her frail hands which threatened to slip from her bosom as a result of her demonstrations.
She often scratched her head filled with sparse grey hair while singing her songs. The little children fought to keep their attention but shivered because of the turn the story had taken. Mma usually told adventurous stories about the wise and crafty turtle, who was always came out of every danger unscathed. Her stories about the tortoise, they found not only amusing them but also insightful and the lessons they learnt were always shared with their mates. This ritual of telling folktales had been established by Mma, a continuation of a sacred method of teaching which had been instituted by her fathers and the fathers before hers. The children were seated on a mat, each with a piece of wrapper, provided by their mothers wrapped around their tiny bodies to shield them from cold.
The windows and doors of the hut were left wide open and the closeness between night and dawn could be sensed. It was at that time that the dead folks who were trapped in the world, roamed the lands in search of bodies to claim. There had been many stories about such happenings and the children heeded to the advice of their parents to always stay indoors till the dead had gone. "When the cock crows, it means the living are free to come out". Obi's father had once told her as she made inquisition concerning the so called myth of possession.
Mma had diverted from amusement to hard lessons as she told the tale of a disobedient boy who had been captured by an evil spirit. The faces of the children had paled and some were so afraid terrifiedone their teeth began to clatter. Obi, a young girl who was one Mma`s granddaughters, fought bravely the fear that drew on her nerves, there was no way she would let a mere story unsettle her.
Despite the cold, her cousin Chukwudi had beads of sweat trickling down his face and the boys who sat with him had accused him of wetting their buttocks with urine.
Tobe was the youngest, he found refuge under the old woman's wrapper. Settling in between her thighs he found solace in the tent he dove into. His face could not be made out clearly but soft whimpers could be heard from Mma's thighs whenever the evil spirit was mentioned. The boy had managed to fall asleep a few minutes after his voyage. Other children would have envied Tobe if only he had sought refuge in a better place.
"Then the mother of the boy came, she was ready to fight and take the boy home with her. She could not bear to lose her only child. But immediately she entered into the jungle she began to see different forms of spirits. The ones that had two heads, those with no heads, some with three heads and four hands. Some who walked with their heads, the poor woman kept walking till she found the place where her son had forgotten his flute. She cried as she found the spot empty and thought of how she had warned her son never to go on a search for the flute. She had promised to get it back for him at daybreak but the stubborn boy had snuck off.
The evilest of the spirits which the others revered felt her presence and descended with a force so mighty that he shook the grounds. Then he began to question her. The woman narrated all that happened but instead of releasing her son which he had made prisoner, he turned the woman away". It was then that Mma began the song which she had taught the children earlier. The song was merely the altercation between the evil spirit and the pleading mother
Taa! Ikuku buru gi (Shoo! Let the winds carry you)
Taa! Ikuku buru gị
Mma had told the children earlier about the response they were supposed to give to her chorus. None of the children except Obi responded because of how frightened they had become. The old woman was satisfied with the fear she was driving into the children, it would make them more obedient. The sole aim of her story was to teach Chukwudi whom his mother had laid complaints about, a strong lesson .He was always causing trouble for his poor widowed mother and flogging him had brought futile results.
Taa ikuku buru gị Zamiriza
Taa ikuku buru gị Zamiriza
buru gị, buru gị na nwa gị Zamiriza (Carry you and your son)
Nwa gị chọta kwara mbe ya (Your son came in search of his flute)
mbe ya tọgbọrọ n'úkwù ( His flute ,laid at the base of a tree)
Osisi kpọrọ nkụ
Chọọ ya ahụghị ya, chọọ ya ahụghị ya (He searched but couldn’t find it)
Ha hahaha! Kahoooooooorooooo
The wicked laughter that ensued from the old woman and her facial expression made the children picture the evil spirit. Some shut their eyes involuntarily but the images dwelled, if only the picture could be driven from their minds.
"Mma what happened to the woman?" Chukwudi fearfully asked still dripping urine on the floor like a mindless baby.
"He swallowed her too" Mma replied with an evil grin.
Chukwudi could no longer hold his fear as he ran from the hut screaming and calling out to his mother. All the other children could not do the same as Chukwudi as they feared being eaten by such ghosts described by Mma.
And so with their pale faces, clattering teeth and fisted knuckles they prayed for daybreak to save them from Mma's tales. At this point, the old woman's wrapper almost left her waist as more children sought for the refuge it had given Tobe. Even the brave Obi had begun to vibrate on the floor, Mma should have really stuck to the tales about the tortoise.