The problem with crawling on dry leaves is usually the fact that it
screams like a dog in heat. Yet, my addiction for this spot in the deep
forest was unparalleled. This was not boosted by the fact that the
Oracle sat a stone throw away, no. Neither was my visit encouraged by my
very love for nature; whose presence here was closer than the distance
between the testicles in the scrotal sack. I would rather miss my
breakfast than miss the sight of the Demon as she strode past towards
the thatched building donated to new religion just towards the edge of
the village. Morning mass, they called it, was conducted by the white
lengthy-nosed figure of a man, who spoke through those nostrils while
the followers answered AMEN, some earlier than the rest. Obviously, the
later respondents were as dumb as the dry leaves that lay beneath my
feet; laughing only when stepped on and moving only with the wind.
Enwongo must have been the most beautiful idea nature conceived. Of all
a fifteen year old boy would want to see, her figure seasoned my worst
nightmares with wet shorts and dreams of certain very erotic activities
most nights. This never deterred me from hurrying the following morning
to my spot of sight. Her presence alone at the new god's worship place
attracted so much young men that married women needed some spiritual
exercises to keep their husbands sane. I called her the Beautiful Demon.
Her barely clad buttocks moved as if they connived to deceive any
starring eyes. Crafted in form of largely moulded akara balls, one would
jump on the other in turns, while she walked calculatingly across the
forest floor. I have resisted the urge to describe the two pointed
moulds that decorated her chest for reasons that my infancy would be
violated by the true words with which they can be defined. I was just
fifteen: yet, the figure between my legs must have been much older. Of
course, while my fifteen year old brain imagined why a human being
should be this beautiful, my older third leg always responded much
faster; it would kick and stay at an attention until some liquid left
its peak. I was not ashamed to stroll home with patches of liquid around
the penal region of my shorts. After all, Asuquo, the hunter, Affiong's
husband, had far bigger patches than mine: yet, I was told he was born
in the same yam harvest season with my father's elder brother. Of
course, we met every morning, just that he never saw me.
It was
unusual for the Beautiful Demon not to pass. The last time she didn't,
masquerades raided the village and killed a Chief. Next, the Oracle was
nowhere to be found. In fact, if Enwongo overslept, it was a bad omen.
The white Preacher had insisted that those who don't attend the morning
Mass will be kept in a special fire that burnt forever. At this thought,
I took a quick glance at my skin and smiled. This morning seemed colder
than usual.
The temperature stayed unusually low even as I
sneaked out of Mama's hut. I could risk death just to catch my daily
dosage of a glimpse at the Beautiful Demon...or, so I thought. There was
no rain, yet, the clouds fought themselves angrily. I took the usual
route, away from the village stream and resurfacing directly behind the
Oracle. My hiding place was, as usual, unoccupied. Soon after I had
positioned myself for the video, Asuquo followed suit. He placed his
hand in between his legs, through the rags he wore, and, as usual,
rubbed vigorously at whatever was left there...(I learnt any object that
is rubbed with such intensity everyday for a period of about five years
would gradually disappear completely) Asuquo had been doing this
everyday. His very existence seemed to be dependent on this.
It
completely occurred to me that the Demon had not passed on time as the
signing by the white Preacher's followers begun. Suddenly, my heartbeat
increased its pace. The morning darkness got darker as the clouds
bellowed in sudden anger. My legs shook. Asuquo seemed more confused
than myself. His activity was slowed down by whatever thoughts moved
through his head. Memories of all the evil I had committed danced
through my head. The elder between my legs folded to its normal age.
Once again, I felt fifteen down there. The dry leaves around rose in
unison, exposing the bare forest floor. The Oracle fell of the tree
trunk it hugged. Something was wrong! I could smell it. Then it came out
of the shadows: a Demon: this time, from the depths of doom...I rose to
run, yet its claws took a long swipe at me. Asuquo produced so much
urine that the figure got concerned. With this distraction, I jumped off
the forest floor...
...rather, my bed.
The hotel
attendants hurried to my door and knocked. I signaled that i was fine
and rose from my sitting position. My bladder screamed the need to be
emptied. I knew that relief I usually had when rising from
nightmares...I waited for it, it never showed up. I felt an evil
again...the nightmare was not over. I recognized the stench of the demon
from that netherworld. I resisted the urge to believe that it was just
an ordinary nightmare. My soul quaked. The very depths of my testicles
pounded in unison with my heartbeats. Once again, my bladder blew an
alarm within. I hurried towards the door to the toilet. As I opened the
door, I realised fully where it all began. Well balanced on the WC, was
the demon from my dream. This time, I fell hard on the tiles and woke in
absolute darkness.
I am i~witness.
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