Dike stared at his sleeping wife, watching as her chest rose and fell evenly, the stillness of her face altered occasionally by twitching brows, her pale skin shimmering within the dark interior of their bedroom. Tonight, the sky was a gaping void of blackness, without a trace of twinkling stars or silver moonlight leaking into their bedroom through its lonesome square window. He stared at her neck, slender and long, with traces of bulging veins, and imagined the dagger he had in his hand making a clean cut. He imagined the red blood that would look black against her pale skin, and the confused horror that would register on her face as pain fired up her nerves. He also imagined the haunted look in her eyes, the disbelief and betrayal etched in those pair of bright blues as she gaped at him, her stunned mind connecting the dots.
He fought the moan of agony that threatened to leave his swollen, tightly pressed lips. He had silently cried himself raw earlier, pleading with the forces that be to change her fate. But the goddess Ani, mother of all things fertile, had been clear; “The life of your soulmate in exchange for your manhood.”
And when he had gaped at the goddess, bewildered and uncertain, she had asked; “Do you not wish to father children of your own any longer?” Her ageless eyes shimmering with mockery, her vile intent unconcealed.
All he had to do was refuse her offer, choose his wife over his need to father an offspring. But the people of Ukorie had started to whisper, and rumours hung on neighbours’ puckered lips. Even his friends had begun to give him ‘the look’. A look he knew questioned his masculinity, a look they reserved for a man who could as well be a woman. How could a man of his status not sire a child after a year of being married? The women of Ukorie were not known to be barren, such a thing was unheard of, so surely, this childlessness had something to do with his loins. Perhaps a curse from a past lover who would not let go, or one from his lineage. Whatever it was, Dike’s reputation, and that of his family was at stake, he had to prove himself man enough, he had to prove he functioned as properly as every other fertile man in Ukorie. His entire legacy hung dangerously between generational shame and restored dignity. Surely Yeni would understand, she might die with a broken heart – as one betrayed by the man she had loved and trusted, but she would later come to see the bigger picture, she would forgive him; he hoped.
A drop of sweat, or perhaps tears, trickled from his face onto Yeni’s, and she stirred. Dike bristled, almost losing his grip on the dagger. His heart thundered within his ribcage as he watched her moved slightly, a soft moan escaping thin pink lips typical of people born with pale skin. He shuddered with relief when she did not wake. Once again, he drew himself over her, a looming figure of sweat and thick muscles, sucked in a deep breath, tightened his grip on the hilt of the glistening dagger, swallowed the lump of terror, guilt and shame lodged in his throat, and slowly lowered the dagger to Yeni’s neck.
“Forgive me my love,” he whispered.
Yeni stirred again.
‘Now!’ he heard the goddess Ani’s voice echo in his head.
His hand moved with the practiced precision of one who had killed too many times, the sharp silver blade of the dagger slashing across smooth pale skin, drawing blood. It happened as he had imagined it; Yeni’s eyes flew open, blue as the sea and alert as a cat. She opened her mouth to speak, or perhaps scream, but gurgled on her own blood. In the dark, it sputtered in waves of black against her pale skin, squirting all over Dike’s dark thick abdomen, warm and sticky, the stench of it, metallic and heady. Her eyes found his, and for a second, the confusion flickered within them, then instant realization. He watched as those eyes widened in disbelief. Then, as though an afterthought, her body began to thrash beneath him, her slender hands, once delicate and smooth against his hardened body as she caressed him into slumber on those many nights when he returned to her in exhaustion from the day’s labour, now clutched desperately at her gaping neck. Everything within him begged to look away, but he did not, he allowed the image of Yeni, thrashing and gurgling for life, to plant itself in his memory, an eternal burden he’d bear as retribution for her.
When Yeni finally stilled in death, her blue eyes, now devoid of light, remained wide open, staring accusingly at him. Dike released a ragged breath. His body trembled and sweat slicked across his skin. He ran his free hand over his sticky abdomen, feeling Yeni’s blood mixed with his sweat. The sob lodged in his throat like a rock, refusing to be released.
“Well done.”
Dike’s head snapped up. In a shadowed corner of the room, just above the bed, Ani’s slender form blended like a darker shadow itself. She stared at him through a face partially concealed by a veil of beads flowing from a silver crown made of colorful seashells, only her nose and full lips were visible. Her long braided hair cascaded around her like tendrils, twisting of its own accord. Dike’s hands trembled as he stared at her, his breath came in laboured gasps. Then after long seconds of unnerving silence, she spoke again,
“Lay your wife to rest Dike, and when you do so, make sure you solicit the help of Okeke the witchdoctor, you may perhaps be in need of his… abilities,” her voice was like trickles of water poured into a bucket, ancient and beautiful.
Drawing all the strength he could muster, Dike said,
“W-will I be able t-to f-father a child now?”
Silence greeted him, for Ani was already gone, as easily as she had been there.
Through the night, while surrounding neighbours and the rest of Ukorie slept, Dike knelt before his wife’s corpse and wept till his eyes puffed, his throat burned, and the first crack of dawn peeked across the sky.
*
Yeni was buried two days later. Dike snuck her body out of their home in the dead of the night, and, according to instructions from Okeke the witchdoctor, took her to the deepest parts of Agunji forest where Okeke already stood waiting for him with a group of shirtless sweating young boys, armed with shovels. They stood in a clearing; a gaping hole dug by the boys at its center.
Dike stood back and watched as the boys lowered Yeni’s stiff body into the grave while Okeke paced the perimeter, muttering words under his breath. Yeni had died with a broken heart, her trust betrayed, Ani had asked Dike to solicit Okeke’s help because he needed to bind her soul, in case she became vengeful and latched on to the mortal world using her rage as an anchor, refusing to move on to the afterlife. This was also why Okeke advised against burying her behind their home as Dike had intended, for the closer her body was to Dike, the more likely she was to return.
Once the grave was sealed, Okeke, a tall bald man dressed in pure white wrappa tied around one shoulder, flowing all the way to his feet, stood over the grave, his voice sharp and clip against the rustling breeze as he uttered guttural incantations. Dike watched this through eyes that still stung from hours spent weeping. Okeke circled the grave, a calabash containing a white substance in his large, wrinkled hand. He traced the white powder around the grave, forming a circle in the black soil. Somewhere close by, an owl hooted, the undergrowth rustled as nocturnal beasts lurked, some peering curiously at the group of humans in their territory, others scampering away just by merely catching a scent of them.
Okeke instructed one of the boys to hand him another calabash, then sprayed its content — dried leaves — over the grave, all the while his mouth did not stop muttering those guttural incantations. He stood back, inspected his work, and nodded his approval.
“Now cover the traces of salt,” he said to the boys.
They swung into action, carefully placing damp earth over the circle of salt.
“Are you sure this will work?” Dike asked the man as they trudged through the forest, heading for Ukorie village.
“Yes Dike, it is done, the salt will keep her bound within the circle if she tries to return, and the achicha leaves will inconvenience her. When she gets restless, or tired of being confined, she will have no choice but to move on to the afterlife.”
Dike nodded.
“B-but will i-it h-hurt her? The salt and the ach…”
“Achicha leaves,”
“Yes.”
Okeke chuckled.
“Dike, Yeni is dead, nothing can harm the dead, she feels no pain, at least physical, however, emotional pain is not like physical pain, it never just goes away, especially when it is strong, it lingers; which is why some souls need to be bound in order to prevent them from leaving the planes of the dead where they belong. Yeni died knowing you betrayed her, which is no fault of yours by the way, the gods made a request, you had to do what was required of you. However, if she is not bound, she might return for vengeance,”
At this, Okeke patted Dike in the back, his calloused palm hard against Dike’s bare skin.
Dike nodded and spoke no further.
Later that night, while he laid in bed alone, the lingering stench of Yeni’s blood in the still air, he stared into the ceiling and for the first time since Yeni’s death, gave in to the wave of exhaustion that caused his eyes to close.
*
He dreamt of feet. Filthy strong feet, thrashing at black damp earth like a chicken searching for insects in the undergrowth, only, these feet were human. The earth peeled off where the feet thrashed, and white shimmering powder came into view. The feet kicked at the white powder, scattering it across the floor, then paused. One heartbeat, two heartbeats, then charged for his face. One foot rose above him, revealing a filthy sole, and came down with a grunt, smashing into his eyes…
Dike jolted awake clawing at his face.
*
When the people of Ukorie asked about his wife, Dike told them she had gone to be with her mother in the west. They had nodded in response, a knowing look in their eyes, which was why when Dike took a new wife for himself three months later, rather than ask if Yeni was aware of this, they cheered and congratulated him. His friends gave him strong handshakes, the elders patted him on the back, and the women sang his praises.
His new wife was a young woman whose parents were low earning farmers from the northern parts of Ukorie, which meant she was not as pale as Yeni, but was several shades darker than himself. Dike had carefully chosen her for her round waist, plump breasts, and long legs, all of which were qualities of a body that would know how to make and nurse a child.
Her dark skin and full body were not the only qualities that contradicted Yeni’s. Where Yeni was feisty, sharp-mouthed and laughed carelessly the way most women of Ukorie did not dare around their husbands, Njideka was a typical Ukorie woman, silent and subservient, judiciously performing her wifely duties in a bid to please her husband. Even lovemaking was not as loud or as wild as it was with Yeni. She did not mount him and twist her waist the way Yeni did; the way he liked. She did not press his head against her nipples as he nibbled and suckled on them. She did not scream his name and writhe beneath his bulk with pleasure, she barely made a sound, only short, suppressed gasps as though afraid releasing the moan of ecstasy he knew rippled through her would offend him. And when he tried to teach her the art of pleasuring him with her mouth around his manhood the way Yeni knew how to, she had been awkward and stiff. Hence, lovemaking with Njideka was quick, unexciting, and quiet, save for infrequent, suppressed grunts. But Dike was hopeful, he had no interest in enjoying it anyway, all he needed was for her to conceive.
He had his plans laid out; after three children, if they were all boys, or two boys and a girl, he would resume bedding other women for the sole purpose of pleasure, and if they took in and gave him more children, though he would not marry them, for his dwelling was too small to accommodate more than one woman and he wanted no such responsibility of being forever tied to his concubines, he would take the children and place them under Njideka’s care, as was customary in such cases.
*
The first two months came and went with Njideka still seeing her monthly flow. No one thought too much of it, for sometimes it took a woman up to five months after marriage before conception. But four more months came and went, yet Njideka’s monthly flow did not cease. The looks and whispers began anew, this time less conspicuous than with Yeni. The anxiety crept up on Dike like a slithering serpent, haunting him on those nights he spent thrusting into Njideka. Each time he released, he willed his semen to penetrate whatever wall stood between him and her womb.
By the eighth month, Dike had had enough. He knelt before his altar and beckoned on Ani. She did not respond. His fury blazed like suppressed burning lava. The lingering fear lurked in the recesses of his mind that perhaps, Ani had deceived him. It was not uncommon for the gods to toy with humanity, which was why most never communed with them directly.
Dike pleaded and called to Ani Day and night, but she never came. Then on the seventh day, fueled by rage, he mounted Njideka, determined to shatter her womb if that was what it took.
For hours he pumped himself into her, and even when she began to sob in agony, he did not stop. Whenever he got exhausted, he laid beside her for a short while to regain his strength, and when he did, began the process all over again. This he did until darkness fell across the sky, and he finally collapsed on top of Njideka, exhaustion causing his muscles to tremble.
*
By the end of the ninth month, Njideka’s flow did not come. She held her breath, refusing to get excited too soon. Then the morning sickness began, and along with it, the headaches and constant exhaustion. By the third week of the tenth month, women around their home confirmed Njideka was with child. The tension that had heaped over Dike’s shoulder like a humongous boulder, came crumbling down. Ani had fulfilled her part of the bargain after all.
Njideka’s body adjusted as her stomach grew, her mother visited from the north to assist with house duties and look after her daughter. Across Ukorie, Dike was congratulated for finally proving himself a man worthy of honour. In the eighteenth month after his marriage to Njideka, she brought forth twin sons.
Friends and neighbours went wild with jubilation. Not only had Dike been blessed by the gods with twins, but twin sons? That was more than any man could ask for. Dike held a feast at his home, slaughtering three bulls: one as thanksgiving to Ani, the other two for his sons. People drank and dined, women sang and ululated, men jeered and got drunk, and when at last night came, silence returned to Dike’s dwelling as the men and women retired to their homes.
That night, Ani visited.
Her misty shadow-body materialized out of the dark. Dike bristled when he saw her, shoving his penis back into the wrappa tied around his waist. He had been in the middle of urinating in the backyard of his home when the goddess appeared before him.
Dike went on one knee, head bowed. Silence and stillness peppered the chilly night as crickets and frogs in the surrounding bushes scampered away at the presence of the goddess.
“G-great A-Ani, mother of the sea and all things fertile, I greet you,”
She scoffed and heaved a sigh.
“Rise mortal,” she said with distaste.
Dike rose. A smirk lingered on her full lips. Through the veil of beads, Dike caught glimpses of her face. When she did not speak, Dike spoke first.
“I-I thank you for blessing my home with such undeserved blessing, I asked for just a child, not even a son, and you gave me two sons all at on—”
“You fool!” she hissed, her voice like the sound of waves slamming against rocks by the sea.
Dike startled, confused.
“You mortals are so stupid and unwise, so full of greed and driven by your desires, you plunge into your own doom without thinking!”
What was she talking about?
Seeing the questioning look on his face, she scoffed again and said,
“I blessed you with no children, those two sons are no sons of yours, you fool! How could you not see it!” she hissed, “your wife has played you for the fool that you are, the curse that kept your loins locked up was never lifted!”
Dike blinked at her; his mouth suddenly dry.
“I don’t understand,” he breathed, “I-I made t-the sacrifice.”
Ani’s voice carried into the night as she laughed, bitter and resentful. She shook her head, her beaded veil clinking against each other.
“Tsk, my instructions were clear and simple; the life of your soulmate in exchange for your manhood. Yeni was never your soulmate, she was merely your wife!”
Dike froze, his eyes bulging in disbelief.
“Your soulmate is never always your lover, mortal, your soulmate can be a friend, a brother, a sister, and in some cases, if you are lucky, a lover. Yeni was not—”
“But you s-said… that night, y-you came to me, y-you said it was done,”
Ani chuckled.
“I said, ‘well done’ and then asked you to lay Yeni to rest, I never said she was the one. And don’t you dare question me mortal!”
Dike’s knees felt like they would cave from beneath him. Yeni had died for nothing, he had murdered his wife for absolutely nothing, all of it had been a waste, the curse still clung to his loins, unyielding.
“B-but w-what about my sons, the twins?”
Ani made a sound that might have been a chuckle, but it came out like gurgling water.
“Have you not been listening to me, mortal? Your new bride deceived you. She saw how desperate you were for a child and did what most women in this accursed village do in such cases, she bedded an old lover of hers in your absence, those sons for whom you slaughtered two bulls are not yours!” Ani laughed and shook her head, “you mortals never cease to fascinate me.”
Her words sank in, each one unveiling like layers of onions, causing his eyes to sting and burn. Not only had he been deceived by the gods, Njideka had deceived him as well. He trembled, his rage churning, contorting, and morphing into a foul thing that twisted his hands into tight fists. He glowered at Ani, his hands longed to grab her slender neck and snap it in half. Ani smirked at him, relishing his powerlessness and fury. She knew he could do her no harm; he was but an ant in the face of her powers, and this fueled his anger even more. His breath came in huffs, his chest rising and falling, thick muscles heaving, veins bulging across his biceps.
“So much anger, so much hate,” she chuckled, “mortals and their fickle emotions,” she said to herself, shook her head, and faded into the shadows.
Dike did not know how long he stood there, rage, regret and shame, coursing through his nerves. While Ani was a goddess and beyond his reach, Njideka was not. She had deceived him just as much as the ruthless goddess, played him for a fool, and would have kept up the act had the goddess not told him the truth. He would have raised two bastard sons in his home, completely oblivious to who had truly sired them.
Unable to contain himself, Dike charged for the house.
*
Njideka snored softly, her still protruding stomach rising and falling as she breathed. His contempt grew with each rise and fall of that stomach, all the useless nights spent thrusting wildly into this useless lump of flesh of a woman, wasted. All the nights enduring her dullness in bed when he could have had Yeni by his side. Oh, poor beautiful Yeni. Dike growled, his voice startling Njideka awake.
“Di’m, my husband, is that you?” she said, blinking sleepy eyes at him.
That stupid meek voice of hers too, how he hated it. Dike went on his knees, reached under the bed where he had hidden the dagger, he’d used on Yeni, and pulled it out. It was still wrapped in the thickly bound rag he had used to encase it.
“Di’m, what is it, is everything o—”
The words died in her mouth when Dike rose, the glistening dagger in his fist. Her eyes bulged with terror.
“D-di’m—”
Dike roared as he plummeted her with the dagger, blindly stabbing and slashing at her flesh. Njideka screamed, her hands going up to shield her face. But Dike was a big man, his muscles were thick and well built. With both hands clasping the dagger, he brought it down on Njideka. He heard her hand snap from the force of his blows, and she shrieked. He caught flashes of terror in her huge eyes as her blood splattered all over the room, and when she could fight no more, she went limp. Dike sank the dagger into her stomach repeatedly, sputters of blood raining on him. Once he was sure she no longer lived, he charged for the next room where the twin bastards slept with Njideka’s mother.
He almost bumped into the frightened old woman as she too made to step out through the door. She froze when she saw him, a petit figure in the face of his brutish build. His eyes darted to the babies tightly clasped in her arms and the small bag at her feet. His nose flared. She had been about to escape, the old hag, she had probably planned the entire thing with her stupid daughter.
Dike killed her easily, first yanking the boys off her arms and tossing them on the bed. They wailed. Then, he grabbed her by the neck and bashed her head against the wall, twice. The woman’s skull popped on the second impact, and her body convulsed, then went limp. He tossed the body aside and turned to the twins. He snatched the first child off the bed by the leg, letting him dangle, his voice shrill as he screeched in agony. Dike held the dagger over the child’s elongated neck. He sobbed, tears trickling down his face, rage, and compassion rioting within him. The boys had done nothing to deserve this, but neither had Yeni. Ani had played him, so had Njideka. The image of her tall curvy body on a mat, moaning and writhing as another man, perhaps younger and better looking than him, thrusting into her, flashed before his eyes. Dike snarled. These little bastards belonged to that stranger, whoever he was, wherever he was.
The rage returned, shooting through his nerves in blinding bolts of white twinkling stars. The cut was deep, swift, and clean. He did not wait to watch the baby gurgle on his own blood, he tossed the child aside and went for his twin. He held him up by the leg, then all at once, as though a veil had been lifted from his face, the rage slipped away, taking with it the strength and determination that had fueled him. His muscles caved and he dropped the wailing child on the bed. He trembled. He sobbed. He gaped in shame and disbelief at the carnage he had unleashed on his household; the dead twin, twisted in an awkward position on the floor, neck gaping, his mother-in-law, sprawled in one corner, brain-matter leaking from the gap in her skull. And when he dragged his feet to his bedroom, he wept at the sight of Njideka, mangled and bleeding.
That night, while the people of Ukorie slept and the only surviving twin wailed, Dike, a man who had once prided himself as one who had fought in the king’s army and returned with the head of their enemy’s general, a man who had once loved a pale-skinned woman, but for his selfish desires, had sacrificed her to a goddess who had tricked him, walked out of his home, bloodied and sweating, never to be seen or heard from again.
The End