CHAPTER NINE- A GLASS IN TIME.
“You are pregnant.”
Ozioma stated in a manner that was so matter-of-fact that her friend coughed and rolled her eyes, burying the laughter that had almost escaped her at the accusation.
“And this conclusion of yours must be why you have been watching me all afternoon like a hawk, right?”
The floured cassava cackled in tune, on the wide, iron, massive pot it was being stirred in over raging fire. Uloma’s expert hand turned and twisted the stirring flat bowl to and fro over the floured cassava as if the flat stirring bowl was the very extension of her hand.
“Stop, please, tell me.”
Ozioma insisted. Her friend rolled her eyes again, and her hand did not for a second miss its rhythm on the wide pot.
“Ozioma, if ‘working together’ means me just doing all the work while you sit about speculating nonsense, you should stand up now and start going back to your house. I will do both yours and mine and bring your share back to you.”
Ogechi shot her friend one of her looks and returned to her frying. A silly fly landed on Ozioma’s forehead, but was swatted away without a thought.
“It won’t make any difference whether you are here or not; I always do both of our work anyway.”
Ogechi muttered to herself, loud enough for her friend to hear. But she knew her friend had a bone now, like one of those rapid dogs in the village square, dissuading her would take more than putting your foot down. The fly Ozioma had swatted away made its way to Ogechi’s ashy, bare left foot and contentedly settled there, ignored by the foot’s owner. Ozioma pulled her kitchen stool closer to her friend. The mid-afternoon sun caused her sweat-glistened exposed skin to look shiny. The overwhelming smell of yet-to-dry floured cassava that permeated the whole place came off strongly from Ozioma as if she were the one laboring over the fire, Ogechi mused, irritated.
“See, when your breast started looking fuller than usual, I was like, eh gods, why is my friend becoming even more delicious looking chai, and then your skin started shining, Oge, that was when I realized what lusting over your body was keeping me from seeing.”
Ogechi looked at her friend, considering the tiny woman for a second, and then nodded, as if she had made up her mind.
“So, when I asked you to start the fire over the other firehouse, you said the smoke was getting in your eyes, and you were not feeling well today. But you must have recovered because my fire that you are supposed to be tending to can probably be seen from my father’s house two villages over. Look at the smoke everywhere, this small task you cannot even do. But aimless talk, they will see you.”
This shut Ozioma up. She watched her friend for a while, visibly annoyed.
“Okay, if you are denying it, let me feel your stomach. Come.”
Ozioma was on her friend before Oge could angle away from her.
“Ozi, did your ancestors swear against you? What is your issue?”
Ogechi breathed, throwing the flat, staring bowl into the massive pot. Ozioma did not know when to stop. A slow smile crept into Ozioma’s face. Oge could not help herself; she was smiling as well.
“Oge!! Our gods!! Oge! Ahh. Ochecheche!”
Ozioma was on her feet, jumping about as if she didn't have a sleeping baby on her back. Oge shot up on her feet with a speed that caused the fly that had found a place to hide away from the blazing midafternoon heat to bristle and flutter off. Ogechi wrapped the palm of her hand over her friend’s mouth to silence her. Ozioma would not be stopped. She angled away from her friend and sat heavily on the bare red kitchen floor.
“Ochecheche!”
She chanted with excitement. Her tiny hands reached over her back to pull her son, who was crying now, roused by all the hubbub. Oge sat beside Ozioma.
“Even my mother-in-law cannot tell yet, but your nosey eyes do not miss anything, do they?”
Ozioma’s smile was fast turning into tears. She pulled her favored suckling breast into her son’s wailing mouth. The transition from laughing to crying made Ogechi laugh. Oge put her hands around her nosy friend. Her own eyes copied Ozioma's. She was not sure she could believe it even now. She was unsure she could bring herself to believe it, no matter how many telling signs she saw. She now knew she should have taken the Debia seriously when he said her Uche would come back to her. A single tear fell on Ogechi’s face. She chuckled, looking over at her dancing fire and the heavily smoking kitchen. She was awake. This was not a dream. Breeze rustled the leaves of the trees surrounding Ogechi’s compound, and flies ignored the roaring blaze of the firehouse, enticed by the strong smell of the cassava flour. She was awake, Ogechi thought, smiling.
“Ozi, the burned garri would be yours, right?”
Ogechi asked, smiling sweetly at her friend. Ozioma’s attention snapped towards the floured cassava on the fiery firehouse. She shook her head and shot Ogechi a pleading look.
“Oge, my mother-in-law will kill me.”
Ogechi laughed at the young woman rocking Ogechi’s son, by right of friendship, as he suckled on his young mother’s tiny breast.
“It is always interesting to me that, as fearless as you are, there is someone in this world that you fear.”
Ogechi laughed and marched back to the pot, which was still on fire. She gingerly sat herself back on the short kitchen stool and adjusted her red and purple wrapper over her large breast, hiding a smile all the while.
“To be fair, it is that smile you keep attempting to hide that gave you up, rubbish girl.”
Ozi fumed, swatting a fly away from her son. It would have been a lovely day; the sun had turned the day golden, and the breeze helped with the heat. She had a day off from farm work and her obnoxious mother-in-law, and Oge was doing all her work for her as usual, but the irritating flies would not leave wet cassava flour alone.
“I am not scared of her, but if you don’t want me to move in with you this night, you better not let me return to the evil woman with burnt garri.”
“Oh, the gods forbid evil, you move in with me and your aunt, what did we do to deserve that kind of punishment?”
Ozioma pouted her annoyance at her friend, who ignored her. Ozioma pulled her small kitchen stool over to Ogechi with one hand, while the other hand expertly held on to her son, half dozing on her breast.
“You are rubbish, you know that, right?”
She asked Ozioma, and Oge nodded her acceptance.
“So, you will not give me this burnt batch, right?”
She asked sweetly. Oge gave an exaggerated sigh, her shoulder rising and falling.
“Woh, will you just do the small job and tend to the fire? Why are you stressing me?”
Ozioma eyed her friend. She slung her son over her shoulder and gently lowered him down to the middle of her back, bending slightly so that he did not slip off her back. She tied the piece of cloth she had put around her waist when he first woke up, securely around her, covering him firmly, only leaving his neck and head exposed. She hoisted him gently so the wrapper had him in a swaddle glued to her. Ozioma walked over to the front of the firehouse and bent over. Kneeling in front of it, she pulled out two red blazing pieces of wood and arranged the rest to soothe their absence.
“Oge, I am scared too, you know?”
Ozioma said after a few minutes of welcomed silence, as long as Oge was concerned, silence around Ozioma was well accepted. Ogechi lifted her head and looked at her friend for a second, her plain face that did not do her attitude any favors, but had caught Ogechi’s heart the very first day they met. Ogechi nodded her understanding; this small, plain woman had become a sister who loved her like she would love her own. Ozioma smiled tentatively and went back to tending the fire. Ogechi watched as her friend’s hand paused mid-air, holding on to one of the fiery woods. She saw the question on Ozi’s face before Ozi even asked it.
“Has she returned to us, do you think?”
The hope in the air was palpable.
~
Uloma looked up again at the daunting, solid structure, which looked back at them stoically.
“Do you think it is as solid as my palace?”
She asked her friends, her eyes still fixed on the tall structure. It would have caught the sunlight plenty if their realm could boast of any sun, but instead, droplet after droplet of rain slid down its long, smooth surface. It reflected the grey sky at least, Uloma told herself. An insane person, Umaji, Uloma thought. It was not an original thought, but she still thought it. The three friends and Abali’s crow watched the structure silently as if expecting it to spring a leg and run off.
“No, I think it is like every other building in this realm; it does not exist. It is here simply because she has decided it should be here.”
Abali answered automatically, his face concentrating hard as if lost in another thought. Uloma knew he was still worrying about her. But that was why they were here. To get answers that would ultimately translate to help.
“What type of a nut case lives in a structure made entirely of glass?”
Ekama said out loud. Uloma nodded.
“Right?”
She said, and shook her head in wonderment.
“Okay, ground rules!”
Abali called to his friends.
“Mhm?”
Ekama groaned, and Uloma shot him a look.
“I am serious. I don’t know why I have to give you two explicit disclaimers every time we are about to meet people. But here goes, be nice!”
He looked at his friends, who were looking back at him as if he were falsely accusing them of a heinous crime.
“It's because she has a crush on him, right?”
Uloma asked Ekama, and Ekama nodded in response.
“Mmm, but to be fair, almost everyone in this realm likes the flirt.”
Ekama reminded Uloma, the two sniggering.
“At least let me do the talking.”
Abali pleaded.
“Of course, certainly, you can in your dreams.”
Ekama replied, and Uloma sniggered even harder now. She pushed open the rectangular glass door in front of them.
“Continue fighting or come with me.”
She called to her friends.
Uloma had a look on her face that both her friends mirrored as they stepped through the very solid-looking glass door. Even Abali’s crow looked like it was digging even harder into Abali from fear of falling off from shock because nothing they were gawking at looked real. And that was saying a lot considering they had been to the Heavenly realm.
Everything they saw looked as if a glass-possessed lunatic created it. However, that was the least of the bizarre things, as they were outside again for some reason. Around them, life surged, as glassy butterflies fluttered into glassy, droopy, dying flowers. Birds of glass sang on glass growing like trees; however grating sounding, birds made of glass could sing. Uloma shuddered. The hedges were growing glass, and even the ground they walked on was paved with glass. The grey sky overhead looked like it was intruding here, Uloma thought as rain noisily splattered on and slid off the glass surfaces.
“Is it me, or is this a little sad?”
Ekama whispered. Uloma nodded. It was sad to look at. And it had nothing to do with the feeling of hollow emptiness that hung over the place. It was in the feeble attempt to make the place look festive and magical, like the creator could not be bothered to try hard enough. Some realms were festive and mystical, but their realm was not one of those, so instead, the grey that was synonymous with their realm covered this place. Uloma tried to see through the glassy, thickening air. Whatever Umaji was trying to accomplish had not worked out for her, because even the visible air was pervasive, smoky grey. Shades of grey met their eyes wherever they looked. They all three tried to walk stealthily, as if the ground were reverent; the whole place gave off the sense of nearing the tipping point.
“Visitors?”
A squeaky voice came from behind one of the bushes.
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
“Visitors.”
The birds chorused; their grainy voices painful to the ears, left the three friends wincing. But the echoes were worse; they bounced off every glass surface, which was everything around them. The echoes stopped the three friends dead.
“Oooohw, the notorious three!”
The voice squawked.
“Hello.”
A tall, beautiful girl said, stepping out from behind one of the glass bushes. Her endearing grin was ahead of her as she stood in front of them, the smoky mist that made seeing difficult parted in her wake
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
The birds and the echoes started up again; it was all Uloma could do not to hold her hands against her ears. The sound was grating; it sent thoughts through her that she was certain no one would be proud of: thoughts like, smash this glass, girl.
“Stop them at once, or we will.”
Ekama growled, her windy eyes swirling, and the air around her was comfortably chillier than usual. Uloma moved closer to her friend, anything to distract herself from the shredding noise. The girl waved her hand, and everything went still. The silence pregnant as it was, was very much welcomed. Uloma breathed out and relaxed her jaw; she wasn’t even aware she had been holding her breath.
“What can I do for you?”
The girl sulked, pouting her lips and scrunching up her nose. Today, she was wearing a mud-red flowing dress, not a wrapper, Uloma noticed. The last time they had seen her in school, she had worn something she called shorts and a jacket, all in black. She insisted they were the clothes of the future; she could insist until the glass leaves her body, but none of the other students would believe her. Those were silly clothes, and they all knew it. The girl’s eyes suddenly lit up, and Uloma’s stomach dropped; she could see the direction her eyes were travelling.
“Abali!!”
Her grainy voice screeched, and Uloma suddenly had the urge to smash her up again. It was not from jealousy. Uloma assured herself; the girl was pretty, but so what?
“I had no idea you were visiting.”
Umaji giggled and bounced towards Abali. She threw herself into his naked chest, giggling up at him. Ekama shot Uloma an amused look. But Uloma was not very amused at the moment, that girl was pushing up on Abali. Why had they even come here?
“There is a party tonight. Are you here to invite me?”
Umaji asked Abali, who looked at her as if he were caught in a difficult situation. He looked over at his friends for help. But Uloma had murder in her eyes, and Ekama looked like she was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.
“This is fun.”
Ekama mouthed to Uloma, but enough was enough, and it was not jealousy, Uloma told herself, as she walked over to Abali and pulled him away from Umaji.
“This... is not why we are here.”
Uloma said, firmly holding Abali’s arm, enough to discourage further enthusiastic contact. She looked at Umaji as if daring her to come any closer to Abali. Umaji’s black eyes flashed with annoyance.
“Oh, I know why you are here, Uloma. I can perceive you.”
Umaji hissed.
“That is a lie, I am not one of your humans.”
Uloma shot at Umaji. The girl was intentionally being hateful now, Uloma fumed.
“Are you sure?”
Umaji shot back and vanished. She did not even vanish like a normal person; she warped, turning into a blob mid-air that kept speedily turning inside out, before completely disappearing. All three friends looked at each other.
“Umaji is insane, she is always so much fun!”
Ekama was saying, but they were no longer outside. Ekama did not look surprised, but Uloma was. What was with everyone today, transporting other people without asking permission?
“How can she transport other people? She cannot control the bodies of other Cosmics beings, right? She is not even that powerful.”
It was not jealousy in her voice, Uloma insisted to herself, but Ekama was giving her a knowing look. She narrowed her eyes at Kama, who narrowed her eyes back, giggling silently, like she was having a lot of fun.
“Ulo, she did not transport us; she is perceiving and projecting. We see what she thinks we see.”
Abali explained. Uloma bristled; that was a skill even Abali had not mastered, but the annoying girl had? They were standing now in a massive room, cramped top to bottom with encased ‘memorabilia.’ At least Uloma thought they were memorabilia. She had never seen half of the encased items on display here.
“Over here.”
Umaji’s squeaky voice squawked. Like a hawk merged with a rat, Uloma thought, kindness be damned, she had no reason to be kind to this girl who had robbed her tall body all over Abali.
The three friends made their way to Umaji, balanced on a glassy throne. They weaved and curved their body to avoid most of the precariously placed items. At least Abali, the larger-than-life form, did, and Uloma tried to, but you could not bribe Ekama enough to care about not breaking things. She was a force of nature born to be free. She went where her legs took her, which thankfully was not near any of the glass encasements.
“So, are you here to invite me to the party?”
Uloma wanted to say no, but Ekama was faster than her.
“What did you mean about being able to perceive Uloma? She is not human.”
Umaji furrowed her eyebrows.
“Not fair, am I invited or not?”
She whined.
“Fine, you can come, just answer the question.”
Ekama said.
“No backsies?”
“Yes, no backsies.”
Abali echoed. Uloma eyed him in annoyance. Who did he think he was, inviting her to a party where nobody wanted her? She was not being unkind because Umaji was fluttering her freakishly luscious lashes at Abali. She smiled at him in a way that made her look divine. She was being shameless, didn’t she know? Uloma bristled.
“Okay. The truth is, I cannot see anything. I can sense her somewhere else; it doesn’t even make sense to me.”
Umaji warped and stretched her tall body across her throne, yawning.
“I am tired, now go away.”
She said, sucking on her thumb. As they looked on, Umaji warped one more time, and a little girl lay across the throne now, sleepily sucking on her thumb.
“You came to see me, Abali.”
The little girl said, her eyes lighting up as they settled on Abali.
“Umaji, what did you mean when you said you could perceive Uloma in another place? Were you being serious?”
Ekama asked the little Umaji.
“I don’t know.”
The little girl, sucking on her thumb, said, shrugging her little shoulders.
“What do you mean by you don’t know?”
Uloma insisted she could hear the desperation in her voice. She had also sensed another girl when she closed her eyes before everyone said she had done something with time. It had been fleeting, and she had almost convinced herself that she had imagined the other person, but it stayed nagging dully at her.
“Go away.”
The little girl whined presently.
“Please.”
Uloma cajoled desperately. She could worry her friends even more if she asked about the girl before she was sure she was real. But what if something was happening to her because of this other person?
“I can’t see you.”
The little girl sang, her hands over her face.
“Because you can’t see us doesn’t mean we can’t see you.”
Ekama informed the girl.
“But I can’t see you.”
Little Umaji insisted.
“Let's go. I am not sure we would get any more out of her.”
Abali said. He took Uloma’s hand and laced his into hers. She looked up at him, and he was smiling. She wanted to cry and scream out of frustration, but he was smiling. He brought their hands closer to himself and held on as if he was keeping himself from falling over, as if it was he who needed the reassurance. So, she smiled weakly at him and nodded.
“Let’s go.”
She said meekly to Ekama. Ekama eyed the girl up and down.
“I could beat it out of her.”
Ekama offered seriously. Uloma shook her head. She was grateful that Ekama would always choose to fight; she was the outspoken side of Uloma that Uloma did not have to show others, because Ekama already did. She needed to know more, though. There were just so many questions now, and no one was saying anything to her about the prophecy, the scar, and now this. Whatever this was. She looked at Abali’s distracted grey eyes; he was worried, they were both worried, but Ekama was hiding it better than Abali.
Abali gently tugged Uloma along, his hand still intertwined with hers. Ekama kept in step with them, stomping to express her annoyance as they left. They were at a large, tall door, the only door in view, when they heard the warp again. Uloma realized she had not even noticed the warp had a sound until now. It sounded like a whirling machination or like the wind going through a broken clay pot. Like the splintering of firewood, the shattering of glass.
“One was twuuuuuuu.”
An old lady in Umaji’s clothes screeched, her eyes turned inside out, all Uloma could see was the white of her eyes, her shriveled body bent over in her tight-fitting clothes. Her bony fingers, pointing at Uloma, looked gnarled.
“Unnatural. Unnatural.”
She screeched. Her feet left the ground; her hand was still pointed at Uloma, and her voice sent chills all over Uloma. She could not trust that she would not have bolted if Abali had not held on to her. Ekama took her other hand and squeezed it. Uloma was breathing heavily now through her mouth. What was she saying?
“When Two becomes one again, Darkness and Time end all!”
Her white eyes did not leave Uloma’s for a second.
“The End of the End.”
The old woman hissed and warped. She was a child again, looking up at Uloma with the most innocent expression, as if she had not just shaken up the whole room with those words.
“Those were some of the words of the prophecy.”
Uloma muttered, too bewildered to do much else.
“Why...”
Uloma started—the question caught with the tears in her throat.
“Why is she saying the prophecy to me?”
Uloma asked, staring at the yawning little girl. Why? If the prophecy was about her..., no, no, Uloma shook her head; she could not think like that. The prophecy could not be about her, she decided. It could not. Just wasn’t.
“Okay, emm, I will see you later at the party.”
She said to little Umaji, smiling at her. With the smile still plastered on her face, she looked up first at Ekama and then at Abali and pulled her hands away from theirs as she vanished before they could say anything or stop her.