Chapter 2: Sacred Seed, Sacred Wahala

Me, I be fox spirit, don dey this life for one thousand years.

I dey reason sometimes say if dem dey share award for wahala and cruise, na me for carry gold medal. Spirit wey don waka Lagos, Kano, Calabar—anywhere you mention. I dey see all these mortal wahala as play.

Dem dey talk say for Christ Redeemer Monastery, dem get Sacred Baobab tree wey don reach thousand years, and the tree dey bear fruit every hundred years—na that sacred seed be that. If spirit chop am, e go boost your power well well.

Na all the agbalagba spirits dey cast eye for that baobab. Even small ogbanje dey wish dem fit sneak reach there. Dem say if you chop that seed, you fit dey do spiritual waka like say you be Governor for spirit realm.

But to be honest, no be the power dey hungry me. Na curiosity dey worry me. I just wan know wetin fruit wey take one hundred years to ripe go taste like, wey make all these spirits dey salivate day and night.

E get as e dey do me for chest. Abi this one na spiritual chop? Or na just correct gist wey don turn to myth? Make I find out by myself jare.

And abeg, which kind wahala place be Christ Redeemer Monastery, wey spirits dey fear am sotey dem no dey near am at all?

Even for our spirit council meeting, dem dey talk say if you cross that gate, better carry your last will and testament.

"Ancestor, abeg no go! Na Father Onyekachi dey control that place. The guy get holy relic—na bad market for spirit like us. If you enter, na trap you dey enter so!"

The old iroko spirit voice be like person wey dey use garri soak stone. E dey talk like say na him dey pay rent for my head.

I just wave the old iroko spirit comot from my front. "Abeg, I be fox spirit wey don reach one thousand years—na one bald monk go dey fear me? Just wait make I bring you better news."

I toss small pebble for ground. Old man dey always reason like say na only him sabi life. I dey young for spirit years, but my sense sharp.

For one dark, breezy night, I waka enter Christ Redeemer Monastery.

Even breeze sef dey whisper for my ear, "Hope say you sabi wetin you dey do." My wrapper dey dance for leg as I scale low fence, land for back of main chapel. Na proper Naija midnight waka—make nobody catch you.

True to talk, that sacred seed na spiritual fruit. We foxes get beta nose—I dey smell the scent from far, about several compounds away.

The smell heavy, sweet and bitter together, like burnt akara mixed with honey. E dey tickle my nose, dey pull me like mama call pikin for kitchen.

As I dey follow the scent, I land for one small, neat room.

You go think say na hospital ward. Mosquito no fit survive for there. Walls white, floor sweep sotey no single dust.

For top the raffia bed, one monk just dey meditate, deep inside him mind.

Na steady breathing, like radio on low volume. Him hand rest for lap, leg cross as if him dey wait for angel.

I look around, hiss small. Even this kind poor room, everywhere clean like say na clinic—this monk get wahala for cleanliness.

You go dey wonder if na OCD hold am or na just training. Even the broom for corner dey line up straight like soldier.

I bend check am well. Him eyebrow and eyes fine like say person carve am from ivory, skin fair, lips thin—no bad at all. But him face dey squeeze, and him dey breathe like say wahala dey. E be like say inner demon dey disturb am.

See as him dey fight spirit for sleep. I sabi that kain face. People wey dey battle butterfly poison no dey get peace.

Omo, no concern me. I just come collect fruit, abeg.

I hiss again, move my fox ear small—mission before pity.

The sacred seed easy to spot, just dey for calabash on top table near bed like say e no mean anything.

If na me, I for don bury am under ground. See as the thing dey display for public eye like Christmas chicken for market.

Abi na the correct one be this?

I dey reason if person dey craze, but my gut say na am. Spirits no dey mistake this kain aroma.

I carry the fruit wey big like kola nut, red like palm oil, reason am small, then I throw am for mouth, chomp am.

I bite am small, tongue dey wait for one holy taste. Instead, e bitter sotey I near craze. Na so my face squeeze.

I spit the thing comot, my tongue dey burn, my face twist like person wey chop bitterleaf raw. I grab plastic kettle for table, drink water sotey my eye nearly drop, then fling the kettle aside.

If no be say I senior some gods, I for swear for whoever hype this fruit. Na so dem dey wash mouth with lies for spirit realm?

Wetin be this kind fruit? Worse pass old iroko leaf! Rubbish!

If I see who hype this sacred seed, I go drag am for spirit market, no cap.

As I dey vex, I turn back—na so I jam two black eyes dey look me.

Omo! My chest freeze small—na that kain fear wey dey make person forget prayer. No be say e be ghost, but na that kain eye wey dey see everything.

—That kettle wey I throw so land for the monk body, wake am up.

If to say e dey sleep before, na now e don wake proper. Na so some people dey take collect slap from village chief.

But this monk get as e be. Him eyes black sotey e dey fear person, skin fair like chalk, veins dey show, jaw tight, and for him neck side...

If na film, I for change channel. This one pass Nollywood.

See am: butterfly mark.

E remain small make I shout, "Blood of Jesus!" Na butterfly poison dey this monk body so. Kain wahala dey this life.

This wahala—na butterfly poison be that.

You see this thing? E worse pass malaria and typhoid join together. Some talk say na only prayer and ancient herb fit cure am.

Butterfly poison na real wahala. If e catch you, and nobody help you within two hours, blood go dey come out from all your body holes, na so you go die sharp sharp.

Nobody dey use am play. Even masquerade dey fear am. If e catch you, no get hope—just dey prepare to sign out.

So na meditation the monk dey use hold the thing.

You go see as him dey focus, sweat for brow, but still dey try hold spirit together. I respect am small.

I just raise eyebrow. This monk no go last reach morning. Too bad—him fine sha.

No wonder spirit dey always warn, "No near Father Onyekachi." If to say na my hand fit heal am, maybe I for try. But this one pass my power.