Chapter 5: Okoli Dafe’s Call

As the voice stop, the bulb for house begin blink anyhow.

The light dey off and on, like say NEPA dey play draft with our mind. The whole shop dey quiet—only Zainabu voice, soft humming, dey carry small tune.

The way the light shine for Ngozika family, e make dem look scary no be small.

The shadow wey the bulb cast stretch for wall, but no reach their body. Na like say light dey dodge them. Some people begin pray, clutching rosary and whispering, 'Blood of Jesus!'

Fear just catch me. I dey pray make NEPA no take light.

Because if darkness swallow us now, nobody go fit run. My heart dey beat for neck.

I move back, hold my grandma arm tight.

She feel my grip, rub my back, whisper prayer for ear. Her hand cold, but she no let go.

My grandma feel something wrong. She carry me hide behind her, her face don serious.

Her eyes red, her mouth dey move, but no sound. She dey call her late mama spirit for help.

My grandpa face dey sweat, him eye no comot from Ngozika family body.

He dey try recall all the prayers he sabi, his lips dey tremble. He hold key tight for hand, like say key fit protect am.

Ngozika and Bala sit for wall side, no move, their face strong, their eye just dey look us.

Dem face no dey blink, no dey move. The kind stare dem dey give be like masquerade wey no dey smile. Even Zainabu just dey hum.

My grandma dey shake, whisper, "Old man, I dey sure say Ngozika and her husband get wahala. Dem fit be..."

Her teeth dey click, fear write for her forehead. She squeeze my hand so tay I wan shout.

Before she finish, my grandpa eye her, whisper, "Old woman, no talk am. Calm down."

His voice sharp, the kind warning wey only elders sabi. His own fear dey hide inside command.

My grandma face white, she whisper, "Na you cause am. You say make dem stay."

She cover mouth, tears for eye. Her voice break, guilt and fear dey fight inside her.

That time, Ngozika ask with cold voice, "Uncle, Auntie, wetin do una?"

Her tone flat, as if she dey talk from far. The sound cool, but fear dey ride am.

Her voice cold, like spirit cry—e dey fear.

The shop chill, some women begin rub their arms, others dey bite lip.

My grandpa force answer, "Nothing."

He no look her face, just dey arrange bench wey no need arrangement. His hands dey shake.

Bala talk, "Uncle, if nothing dey, we dey go sleep for upstairs."

He stand, voice low, no look anybody. Zainabu cling to his side.

He carry Zainabu.

Her feet no even touch ground, the girl light like feather. Bala head just bend, his shadow for wall still dey absent.

My grandpa say, "Go, but careful—stairs narrow."

He voice flat, eyes no move from the dark for stair side.

Ngozika look am, "I live for this house nineteen years. I sabi say stairs narrow."

Her voice sharp, cold. The words hang for air, no reply follow.

My grandpa force smile, "Ngozika, you know the village law. Na elders give us this house, we no thief am."

He try defend himself, voice small, like person wey dey confess.

Ngozika no talk again, just turn go upstairs. Bala follow, carry Zainabu.

Their footsteps no make sound for stair. For village house, old wood dey always creak, but tonight, everywhere quiet.

Downstairs, na only us remain.

Silence heavy, rain still dey beat zinc. I dey hide under my grandma wrapper, fear no gree me open eye.

My grandma fear, "Old man, na 11:40. Make we run."

Her voice low, breath fast, as if she dey plan escape. She grab key, eye door.

She wan open shop door, my grandpa block am quick, whisper, "No do anyhow. I notice na only us dey hear the voice outside. Ngozika and her family no even react."

He press her hand down, his own palm wet. He dey scan ceiling, as if he dey expect something drop from up.

My grandma freeze, whisper, "Na true. With how the man dey shout, dem suppose hear."

She bite lip, look up stair, then look door. Confusion dey her face.

My grandpa eye dey waka, "Maybe na the vengeful spirit dey outside, wan use trick make we open door."

He dey reason fast, mind dey fly up and down. His eyes bloodshot, sleep don vanish.

My grandma whisper, "But Ngozika family no dey normal—dem no be like people. When lightning flash, I see say none of dem get shadow."

Her words shake, she rub chest as if cold dey catch am.

My grandpa voice dey shake, "I see am too. But maybe na spirit dey use trick, wan make we open door."

He cross himself, whisper prayer to Saint Anthony, patron of lost things. Fear dey eat him voice.

"Spirit fit do that kind thing?" my grandma whisper.

Her eyes big, voice thin. She dey hold my hand tighter.

That time, the man voice outside shout again: "Brother, why you never run? If you wait more, e go too late!"

The sound sharp, urgent, make me flinch. Even rain seem to pause small to hear am.

The voice dey rush.

The words tumble like river, no breath in between. Shop walls shake.

My grandpa shout, "Who you be?"

He cup mouth, voice crack.

The man answer, "Okoli Dafe."

As the name land, cold pass through room like midnight breeze. My skin stand, my mind freeze.

My grandpa and grandma just look each other, fear grip dem.

The way dem look, I never see am before. Like people wey see masquerade enter bedroom.

Okoli Dafe na our village person. Some years back, motor jam am for village junction—scatter him body, break him leg finish.

Everybody sabi the story. People say him spirit still dey waka for night, searching for peace.

Okoli Dafe no get pikin, him family poor, nobody bury am.

When he die, only flies follow am for three days. People run from the body.

My grandpa pity am, do coffin, carry am go bury for back hill.

Some say na because of that good deed wey my grandpa still dey see tomorrow. He use own hand dig grave, carry body for midnight.

My grandpa voice dey shake, "Dafe, why you come back?"

He cover face, voice small like breeze. Even candle for counter begin tremble.

As he talk finish, my grandma glare am, whisper, "Old man, you wan die? Dey talk to dead person."

She slap his arm, tears run her cheek. Fear don reach bone. Outside, thunder still dey call, and for inside, spirit wahala no dey rest. As thunder tear sky and Okoli Dafe name hang for air, I know say tonight, sleep no go near this house again.