He lives in me

Photo credit: Kanife Confidence

“Cheta, bring those bags inside,” mom said as she found her way into the house. I murmured and dragged my tired feet out of the car, having been sitting for over five hours. The journey from Benue to Umudim in Abia state was indeed a long one. 

We had returned to the village for Christmas; a yearly routine for us. We arrived earlier this year because we used the family car, not public transport. 

The sun had started to set and it was getting dark but we didn’t miss the opportunity of glimpsing the 'village'  sunset. Mom had confessed to never wanting to spend her Christmas in the city. To her, the village environment during Christmas was “heavenly.”

An hour after we arrived, Aunty Somachi; dad’s elder sister who was married in the neighboring village brought us some food. My heart leapt for joy because I really wasn’t  down to cook after the long, tiring trip. I just wanted to eat, stay on my phone, sleep, and get all the energy I needed for cleaning up the next day. 

Night announced itself quite earlier than I expected as the sky was already decorated with stars and the moon. We had dinner and soon it was bedtime. I laid down and got on the internet, texting, and watching videos as usual before sleep showed up.

I woke up to the noise of villagers and kinsmen who were already trooping in to welcome us. Rubbing my eyes and yawning, I stepped outside. That was some mistake on my part because I got trapped in a flurry of salutations to the incoming visitors. “Good morning sir,” “Good morning ma.” “You have grown o!” they remarked. “You don’t know how to speak Igbo?” Then followed a series of annoying checkouts and unsolicited massages. We expressed our gratitude to the villagers and soon were left to ourselves. With the cleanup concluded, the festive season was off to a swell start. All I had to do was stay home, eat, sleep, stay on my phone, gist, and play.

It’d been days since we got to the village and I was already tired of having to eat, stay home and amuse myself. My only opportunity to leave the house was going to visit our cousins who arrived a day before us. Waking up each day to see Mom, Dad, and my siblings; Felix and Amanda, wasn’t as fun as I’d hoped.

***

I woke up with a stomach ache at the wee hours of the morning, and had to take a dump. I couldn’t sleep afterward because the room was rather hot even with the curtains raised. I needed to feel the midnight breeze against my skin so I found my way to the corridor with my torchlight and sunk into Dad’s favorite lounge chair. It had an ancient look about it, but felt very comfy. The silence was a lullaby to my ears and the darkness felt easy on the eyes. 

I was starting to slip into a doze when I began hearing mumblings, like a soft cry. I ignored the sound and shut my eyes but it only became more intense. Fear and curiosity gambled with my thoughts and I couldn’t bring myself to make a choice.

“Help me!” this time it came as a loud whisper. I hurriedly retired to the room, dropped my torchlight on the table and lowered the curtains for fear of whose voice it was. 

But my curiosity was persistent, persuading me to have a look. I left for the backyard on tiptoes, muttering, “I cover myself with the blood of Jesus” more times than I could remember.

“Help me, please.” The voice came again, this time I couldn’t resist how innocent it sounded, although I couldn’t quite describe the figure yet. Was it human or spirit or something else? I wondered. Drawing closer to the sound, my eyes popped in terror at what it beheld. A ghost. It looked so pale and fragile in a nonhuman way. 

I back stepped, unable to believe my sight. Perplexed and dumbfounded, I froze, mindlessly muttering, “The blood of Jesus” to myself. The plea continued. I soon found myself putting the mysterious creature and decided to put it out of its misery. Its leg was stuck in a hole, one Dad had dug the previous day for the slaughtering of the goat and chicken. 

“Thank you,” I heard the ghost say. Still struck with fear, goosebumps riddled my skin. 

“You talk?” I asked. 

“Yes I do,” it said. “My name is Leo.” 

“I’m Chetachi,” I replied, holding my breath, my heart thumping loudly in my chest.

I stayed up with Leo for most part of the night. It was the most intriguing hours of my years on Earth. I couldn’t imagine having a conversation with a ghost and enjoying every bit of it. He didn’t know how long he had been around, but he was quite young.

Dawn was fast approaching and I needed to return inside. I bade Leo goodbye, promising to return every other night at the same spot. Christmas wouldn’t be boring after all, I thought to myself. I looked forward to every night of staying awake and talking to Leo. 

Being bored in the day didn’t bother me anymore, as I fancied my nightly company. The only night I couldn’t spend with Leo was New year’s Eve's, because we had to go for the crossover service held at the village chapel to usher in the new year.

It became glaring that the festive  season was coming to an end when mom announced our return date during dinner just few days into the new year. Somehow, I couldn’t find the enthusiasm to return to Markurdi. Each time I thought of leaving my new friend, I constantly wished he was human. He couldn’t leave the village vicinity except he possessed a human body; that was his plight. I had to do something before we would leave for the city.

“You people should not waste my time, I want to get  to  Markurdi by 3pm,” Dad barked at us from outside where he leaned against the car. My siblings and I hurried to stuff the booth with our belongings. We didn’t leave the village the same way we came. We came as five but were leaving as six; one of us had became two.

I had asked Leo to possess me the night before. 

I started the new year differently; a host and a ghost. But that never bothered me. My happiness lived within me.