THE UNKNOWN HANDS (EPISODE FIVE)

STORY SERIES

...I burst into hysterical laughter contrary to what the people expected. Even, at that little age, I knew it was an understatement for anybody to refer to any woman as a witch. It can be an erudite in human chemistry as to know when one is hungry and, more so, commandeered food from where no one had ever thought food was. Who could be so

perfect, if not a witch, to know the leaves that go together in making of fine, palatable and scintillating soup, that one may even bite one’s tongue if care is not taken? Who possesses the lullaby shoulders, palm, and hand in which babies take solace? Whose ears can be so sharp as to notice the mildest of shriek of her baby? Who is the natural psychologist that reads and understands all facial expressions, comprehends the language of the speechless and possesses a fountain of food from where a baby’s hunger is quenched?

The woman who had called my mother a witch only had a sharp tongue just like most market women do. She did not even spare my poor self in the attack.

“Useless witch, hopeless son!” “She had said and when she realized I was not bothered, she burst out again;

“You dirty rag, aren't you ashamed?”

“I am not “, I politely replied,” I have no reason whatsoever to be ashamed of my dearest mum, more so, since you, her accuser also shares part of the accusation!”

“How do you mean? “, she charged,” you even have the mouth to talk . . . when everyone in this village knows your mother to be a witch . . . Are you still talking, shameless thing?”

“Then, I knew too, so it’s no news… why should I be bothered by what I cannot help…”

By this time, my mother had seized my hand and had started dragging me towards home. I knew I had made my point already.

I could still remember vividly how I used to sit beside my mother all day, listening to different folktales. Those stories were so interesting and in exhaustive and I always had the joys of narrating them to my mates in our moon-games. In those days things were well with me and never did I realize the trouble I was to go through. I developed a strong liking to Kernels which I ate to my heart’s content. Later, however, I was forced to watch my consumption of it having contacted serious coughs through it on some occasions. In fact, at a time, my father would not see me with any of it unless I was looking for trouble.

Unfortunately and regrettably too, my mother died of the same cough when I least expected it.

It was the saddest moment of my life. Since then, I had come to see life as good for nothing and many of the realities I had come to see life as good for nothing and many of the realities I had earlier not known of began to reveal themselves one after another. I had learnt that there was no god like one’s mother, for; no woman would willingly give food to a son that is not hers. I had, since then, been taught how to live under harsh conditions. It was only that I had found Pa Lapite’s treatment too unbearable and I simply had to run for my dear life.

Perhaps, what compounded my problem was that I was my parents’ only child. It was shortly after my mother’s death that my father had told me why I was without any companion. My mother had had problems with child-bearing, no doubt the handiwork of witchcraft. Innocent people readily became victims of bad fortune brought about by these wicked spirits.

At times too, the method the spirit used in punishing women was through abiku's spirit. Sad enough, there seemed to be no sure remedy to such menace once a woman was unlucky to be a victim, hence, the popular saying that “an abiku makes…To be continued on Thursday.

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