Numen!

by Olatunde, Biola;

  Fairly satisfied that she had done the best she could possibly do for the moment, she turned her attention to her cousin and friend and asked the driver to take them home.

  ~~~

  Lucas was taken to the palace and became a patient of a sort. Babamogba treated him and Ife had to be patient with the monosyllabic answers she was given. She had a lot to think about anyway. The press either were muzzled or did not know about the previous girl who was murdered, for nothing about it came out in the press. The young girl that had come with Lucas made a very slow recovery. Ife checked if she knew what happened the night of the capture and she still looked blank. That had Ife really puzzled and worried. How could someone be so near death and still not be traumatized by the experience? Josephine told her that the girl was in a deep shock and that was why she viewed everything that had happened so calmly.

  Josephine was back with her own issues but that was easy compared to the duties that Ife was now faced with.

  “You know, I used to think I will just live through life blithely having answers given to me by my friends, but I am learning different,” she confided in Josephine one evening as they sat in her consulting room, one of the rare evenings that she was not handling an emergency.

  “Welcome to the adult world, my dear friend, “Josephine replied.

  “Even my sense of humor is tired,“ Ife continued. “If I am not trying to understand one aspect of our tradition, I am learning to be a good liar, which I find very alarming.”

  “You just learned the art of being diplomatic, that is all. You were not going to tell that woman who came to visit you that she was not really pregnant after I brought the test results to you, were you?”

  Ife shook her head firmly. “I had no choice in that matter; she had phantom pregnancy because she badly wanted to be pregnant for that boyfriend of hers so she could finally get married. That entire story that some witch had tied up her pregnancy was not going to work.”

  Josephine said, “It was painful watching her face fill up with disappointment and tears rolling down. I never could handle that emotional part of the job.”

  Ife nodded and explained that it was in such situations that she felt the most pain and she had never been able to remove her compassion of seeing a woman desperate to have a child.

  Josephine agreed with her and wondered why in the contrary context, a woman would have a child and attempt to abandon the baby, more so when she was grown and mature and perfectly capable of having a child. Ife laughed knowing Josephine was referring to the scandal of a few days back when a woman had attempted to sneak away from the maternity ward. The woman was fairly comfortable, had come in swathed in expensive jewelry. What had been odd was she registered a single name and was very nervous. Ife had assumed that it was the labor pains that were making her nervous. She had asked if she had any baby things with her and the woman had said yes. Ife was expecting to see a bag, but suitcases had been brought in. When the baby finally came, a very beautiful, obvious half-caste, Ife was expecting to see an elated husband, but the woman had attempted to sneak out of hospital in the middle of the night. She had written a check for a million naira for the child she had named Christine.

  Ife was the one who had seen what was happening and she took the lady to the Matron. It took the threat of Matron that the police will be called in to make the woman decide to talk. The second surprise for Ife that evening was when Matron leaned over and gave the woman a keen appraisal: “I think I know you, and your last name as well. That child does not belong to your husband and the child did not ask you to give birth to her and then be abandoned.”

  The woman collapsed in tears and the story spilled out. She had wanted a child for fifteen years and in desperation when she learned that her husband had made another girl pregnant she had gone to a fertility clinic in Lagos. They had been treating her and the day she was asked to come with her husband so they could complete the process, she learned about the other girl of her husband. He had not only made one girl pregnant but three. According to the woman, her husband had said he was ensuring his seed were viable and also wanted to prove he was not impotent. The woman said she was so upset she went to a hotel, got drunk, and was serviced by a white male. She missed the appointment naturally and they rescheduled for another month. She also missed her period that month. The rest, they say, is history; the woman said she went to England for a while, was too ashamed to ask who was the male she had gotten drunk with that night. Most of the events of that crazy night was hazy in her mind. She asked to be separated from her husband and told him she did not want to have anything to do with him. Being rich in her own right made the separation easy for her, but emissaries had come from the husband, who being not as warm in the pocket as her, did not fancy looking after three pregnant girls and had asked his wife to come back. Then the woman had second thoughts but did not want to return with a pregnancy that was unplanned.

  Both Ife and the matron were quiet for a while and then Matron smiled and gave the woman a compassionate smile. “I think you were meant to be a mother and not a wife. You can’t hide a human being forever, you know. What were you planning? That we kill the child for you? Or give her to another woman? How are we to explain she is half and half? You may not know much about motherhood right now but you will not easily wipe a live human, my dear. You are to be discharged tomorrow; how do I tell my CMD? Have you heard of babies being killed for rituals these days? Politics is around the corner and more mad people are turning up on our streets. A young innocent baby is priceless.”

  Ife stared in horror as Matron went on, but the woman covered her ears with her hands, bursting into tears. Matron gathered the woman into her arms and winked at Ife giving the thumbs up sign. Ife quietly left the room.

  That was two days ago. The woman left with her baby and Ife did not hear of a murdered baby. She prayed the woman would feel love for the child and give her child a home.

  Chapter Nine

  Ife was supervising her ante natal unit and watching the nurses take notes of each pregnant person, she felt somebody was watching her so she looked up and it was the girl. She beckoned for the girl to come over. The girl had become a ward to her as no one knew who she was related to—in the two weeks that she had been in the hospital, nobody had come to ask for her. Ife was not sure if she was dumb or just still in a state of internal shock as she did not speak. She just gestured if she was distressed. Ife was surprised she had left the security of her room to come out, so she gestured for the girl to come over. She called her ‘Girl’ as there was no name she could call the girl.

  Lucas was also much better and was back on his farm working. However, there was always a faraway look in his eyes these days. Tinu had explained that sometimes Lucas would wake up abruptly, hands bunched into fists and strain as if he was under stress. There was a pained, haunted look in his eyes, Tinu had said. It was a mystery and Babatunde had advised that everyone should be patient as the mystery would soon be resolved.

  The girl came over and gave Ife a shy curtsy, which touched Ife as the girl always simply stared. However Ife sensed that there was something different in the girl and gave her a warm smile.

  “Looks like you are returning to us, Girl.”

  The girl pointed to her head and nodded, smiling.

  Ife felt affection stir for the girl and drew her close to her, rubbing the girl’s head.

  Suddenly the thought came to her to get a piece of paper and show it to the girl, wondering if maybe she could write on it—the girl might be able to communicate.

  So she wrote on the paper, asking if the girl could read and write. Ife was amazed when the girl gave a soft laugh and wrote back, ‘Yes’.

  In growing excitement Ife asked, in writing, for the girl to write her name and she wrote back the words, “My name is Iwapele, I am a 200 level student in the university, until my experience I could talk.”

  Ife stared at her in shock and wrote back, “Give me a minute and we will get out of here.”
Her hands were trembling as she wrote that, her thoughts racing. She prayed in her heart, as pain for the girl rose in her again.

  The girl wrote again, “I think my mum must be worried to death about me. I remember I have a mum. I was on my way to see her when we had the accident. Do you know if she is looking for me? Hers is the only face I can remember now.”

  Ife studied the piece of paper and the words and she knew if she didn’t leave she was going to burst into tears, so she signaled for Iwapele to follow her and she took the girl to her room. As soon as she got into the room, she burst into tears, which she found profoundly puzzling. She was so easily emotional these days.

  With paper, Ife held her first proper consultation with Iwapele and she learned what had happened. Iwapele did not remember much after the accident except feeling herself being carried through the forest for a long distance. She wrote that she was not sure how many days she was left in the forest, but that each evening one of the men would come and rub paint on her body. She did not resist because she could not resist. The liquid they gave her kept her calm and unafraid even when somewhere deep inside her she felt something was wrong. She knew she ought to start praying or think of some way to escape, but it was involved too much stress so she simply let things be.

  Ife asked her if she had been abused sexually while in the forest. Iwapele replied that the men wanted to but some kind of restraint was placed on them also and each time they tried, they fell off screaming. Iwapele wrote that a few days later a man had tried to help her only they had broken into the hut and hit him on the head. When he came round later, Iwapele said she saw the men force some liquid down his throat and the man became docile, thereafter doing their bidding.

  Ife knew Iwapele was now writing about Lucas and read that Lucas had been forced to try to rape the girl but at the last minute he threw up, which had enraged the men, and that was when they all heard the roar of the Lion and the men had fled.

  It was late before Ife asked Iwapele to relax. “I think your voice will come back. Relax now, we will try to find out what happened and check out any unreported accidents. We will try to find how to reach your mother. What is your full name? Can you remember?”

  Iwapele was close to tears again as she shook her head negatively.

  Ife wrote again, “Don’t panic, all your memory will return as most of the effects of whatever crazy drug was given to you starts to wear off.”

  Iwapele nodded, and Ife called the Matron from her room explaining that she now had a name for the anonymous patient and had asked the girl to spend the night with her in Ife’s apartment.

  She felt pity for the victims, Lucas and Iwapele, then she remembered her friend Tinu and felt some relief that she could put Tinu’s mind at rest over Lucas’s strange behavior after the incident. Obviously he had been drugged and may have been going through withdrawal symptoms. Ife wondered at the new style of ritualists these days. It was no longer like the ancient times when it was all blood and gore and a victim was used who went along with the violence. He is rendered incapable of defending himself and is murdered in cold blood sometimes with his own active participation. It was a level of cruelty and depravity that made Ife feel sick to her soul.

  The reasons for the increase in ritual murders was not because a god or goddess needed to be appeased, but the greed of the very few had taken tradition by the throat and murder was now the order of the day. There was an underlying current of fear and sickness that Ife could observe. She felt very sick and worried. How could men seek political office over the carcasses of the very citizens they were saying they wanted to help?

  Ife had now attended enough meetings at the state house for the project of the First Lady and she knew now the under currents of fear, insecurity and jealousies that was a veritable river amongst the politicians. She found she was repelled by most of them. They were stories of betrayals, deceit and unspeakable vice.

  The First Lady had evinced a liking for her company and would send for her or call her on the phone. While her own circle of colleagues had raised eyebrows that she had such powerful friends, she had shrugged it off as she wrestled with a natural reserve to be confiding with the woman. They enjoyed the same types of music and books so the First Lady—who every one tended to call Mama—would invite her to concerts knowing she would enjoy them. However it tended to clash with her own schedules and Mama soon learned that Ife had a will of her own.

  Ife would always exhibit a preference to attend her patients over any social invitation and so most times would turn them down. A friendship of a sort evolved but it was stretched thin most times when Ife would make snap comments only to remember just in time that she was expected to agree at all times with the opinion of the First Lady. Then there was the issue of the numerous uniforms they tended to keep sewing for their various outings. Ife commented one day waspishly that she looked like a dressed moppet with strings hanging out. There had been dead silence when she said that, everyone looked at the First Lady for her to explode. She had laughed saying Ife was truly a doctor. She said her husband, being a medical doctor, was always like that too. Everyone relaxed but Ife felt terrible, because she meant what she said. She hated all the uniforms, with their aso-ebi. She had found a use for the famous per diem.

  The bearded horror called Nike had latched onto her asking her opinion for every ailment. Ife had indulged her for a while then simply referred her to another doctor. One day Nike had turned up at the hospital stating that she was inviting Ife to be a member of her own organization. Ife wondered if the woman was having sunstroke.

  Ife explained that she couldn’t possibly add another responsibility to those she was lumbered with, and Nike explained she was setting up a foundation for cervical cancer and had gotten in touch with two doctors to help her.

  Ife was relieved and explained that Nike didn’t need another doctor but a promoter to help with creating awareness. Nike went on a ramble hinting very broadly that she was the backbone of the First Lady’s charity. She carried on about the many times she had had to dress down because the First Lady didn’t like being upstaged in her choice of clothes and Ife listened wondering why she was stuck with such an idiot. It gave her an insight anyway into the insecurity of the wives of some of the politicians. This particular one had not only talked derogatively about the First Lady, but also about her husband as well. She said she was the real politician and her husband was too honest to be in public office. Nike continued the disparagement of her husband by hinting that the community had preferred her but she was just too nice to upstage her husband so she had graciously given him permission to stand for election and was giving him every necessary support.

  Ife kept Nike at arm’s length thereafter, determined to have as little to do with her as she could. She is not only ugly physically but even her nature is as well…ugh.

  She wanted to find the best way she could help Iwapele now that she knew her name, and her heart felt she might know just what to do. She explained all this to Babatunde when she got to the palace.

  Babatunde asked her some detailed questions and promised he was going to see if he could ask some friends of this could be done. He gave her a smile thanking her for being who she was. Ife wanted to know if more had been learnt about the indigo people.

  Babatunde frowned. “You know that might be a good name to search for them. They seem to operate within high circles as I saw something interesting yesterday when I attended the traditional council meeting.”

  “Really?” Ife said, her interest piqued.

  “A particular Kabiyesi kept staring at me and I wondered why as we hardly ever communicated. When I acknowledged him, he came over to ask my permission to ask some of his chiefs to pay me a courtesy visit as they were exploring for mineral deposits.”

  “The very nerve of the man,” Ife said angrily

  Babatunde continued that he sensed that the very particular Kabiyesi was just using that as an opening gambit because he was wearing indigo beads. Babatunde sa
id true traditional heads didn’t wear indigo beads unless they were medicine men representing their kingdoms. Babatunde said Babamogba, being higher, wore the original pure red beads and would use a simple white spun native cloth on his shoulder as insignia of his importance.

  Ife listened and wondered why, for a while now, she had not connected with home. Babatunde picked up on that thread and gave her a sharp look. Ife sighed and explained that she felt a bit disoriented and disconnected with her home base. Kabiyesi advised her that because she was anxious she was going to have problems connecting so he advised her to take a few days’ rest.

  As they spoke, there was a knock, and an old queen came in and knelt by Babatunde requesting audience. Ife knew the old queen and smiled as she respectfully excused herself. Ife decided she needed to visit Tinu anyway.

  Then she saw the vizier holding the sword to his lips and bowing. She shook her hair in happiness.

  Her old room didn’t look any different and she touched everything softly wanting to sense their physicality. It felt she had been away for a long time. The air danced around her and the sheer brilliance of the lights was like a welcoming balm as she walked the threads into the main hall for evening worship. The bells sent tones down in so many vibrant colors that she sang along, almost carefree laughing. Then she floated to the weir and absorbed its essence, feeling her energies renewed. A part of her essential make up was recharged and she felt exhilarated. Mae’s laughing welcome floated to her and she appeared.