EJIMA

CHAPTER 7

The lights of the sun were hiding on the other side of the world and the birds were retiring to their nest by the time Ejima decided that it was time to go home, having fed enough on the bread of affliction. She tried to swallow but the fluid in her mouth was all gone. Her lungs were like the face of two stones rubbing over each other and her stomach hadn’t rumbled in protest either. She wasn’t hungry; the sorrow had made sure of that. What kept flooding her mind was all the time she had spent with Uche.

He was her first love. They had met on the eve of the new yam festival after she had danced with some of the virgins that were not betrothed. It was love at first sight. He too had performed that day. He had wrestled with Dinta—who turned out to be Nneamaka’s husband—and had lost. The villagers had been angry with Uche, for losing the crucial wrestling match. Most people called him a coward. But Ejima had seen his failure with one eye closed. Even though Uche had denied it, Ejima could tell that their bond had begun that night. The very first night they met. That was the first time they had spoken to each other. The first time they ever touched, and the first time they had kissed. A few months of courtship and then he proposed. Twenty years later, yet it felt as if it were only yesterday.  They had promised each other forever. To be together no matter the circumstances. Their love was like living charcoal that never goes off.

Or was that an illusion?

Ejima hissed and placed the rag on her head. Perhaps their love was nothing but a harmattan fire, which burns wild for a long while but dwindles to nothing when the winds cease. In her case, children were the wind.

 She picked up the basket of yam and steadied it on her head. If only she could just bear him a child. Maybe their love would go back to being living charcoal. If only the gods of the land would let her have this baby. She would be called a mother and would join the mother’s circle.

She walked out from her farm, using her free hands to keep the tall grasses from her eyes. She had not consumed this amount of time on the farm before, not since she took in though. 

Another woman, to share my husband’s bed? The gods forbid. 

She wiped her eyes. Her lacrimal gland must be running empty now, but that didn’t prevent the heat in her gaze.

The sandy path continued as she followed them toward the familiar direction of her house. If only her husband would give her this one chance, who knows what would happen?

“You must have mud in your ears,” A voice said.

Ejima turned her attention to the woman standing some paces away from her. She was dark-skinned and stood closer to the ground, using a dried cedar branch as a walking stick. Her name was Adaku, one of the village midwives.

“Good afternoon…I mean…good evening, ma.” Ejima fumbled with words but hoped to keep her face stern.

The crease on the older woman’s face deepened.

“I have been calling out your name, yet your ears remained adamant as though I was a fool.”

“I am sorry. It wasn’t intentional.” Ejima curtsied, trying to remain neutral.

“Please keep that to yourself. I just want to remind you that I am coming to collect my money first thing tomorrow morning,”

“But…” Ejima stammered as she shifted her posture to the other foot. It was hard to divulge if the discomfort was from the weight of the yam or the sudden realization that she was in debt. “My…my husband said he would clear the debt,”

“Well,” The woman shrugged, “Where is your husband, because the last time I checked, he was in the King’s palace, taking a new marital oath and denouncing the old one.”