CHAPTER FIFTEEN - A GIANT BORN.

Obuzor’s mother tutted at the clear blue sky. It was a sunny, windy day. 

“Mama, is this rain?” 

Oge observed from the kitchen, where she was stirring a pot of soup over the fire, in the firehouse. The old woman tutted again and hissed. 

“Are you blind? Asking obvious questions.”  

Oge sighed and shook her head. 

“Do you think a lion is giving birth?” 

The old woman gazed at her for a second, her nearly blind eyes appraising her daughter-in-law. 

“Who knows? What do I know?” 

“Mama, why are you so irate?” 

The old woman’s head snapped towards the direction of the closed kitchen where her daughter-in-law had carried the steaming pot of soup. ‘That was it, ’ she thought. She was snapping at her daughter-in-law because she felt irritable. Something was not right, but she was unable to place what that something was. 

“Where are the girls? The rain is getting serious.” 

She called to the younger woman. 

“It is still afternoon, they are probably adventuring somewhere, wreaking havoc in someone else's compound for a change.” 

Came the singsong response from the closed kitchen. As the old woman watched the wooden door of the kitchen, her irritability grew. Her daughter-in-law popped her head through the door. 

“I feel for whoever has the ill luck of hosting those three this afternoon. They left here fully rested with a full stomach and too much energy. I had to beg them to find somewhere else to expend the energy. I deserve a break.” 

“Ehn.” 

Obuzor’s mother replied curtly. Oge pouted at this. 

“Okay, what is the matter?” 

She asked. 

“I mean, let's forget that you are standing under the increasingly heavy rain and getting soaked. Later, you will be sneezing the roof down. But these curt responses. What is it?” 

“I just don’t like it.” 

The old woman replied. 

“Like what?” 

Oge retorted. The sigh from the old woman was heavy this time. She looked up at the clear, sunny blue sky. A drop of rain fell on her lashes, clouding her vision. 

“Mama, come out of the rain, please.” 

Oge called. She had felt lighthearted earlier because, of course, it was not usual for rain and sun to shine and fall at the same time, but it was a known sign of cosmic events happening. Something huge, like a giant birthing a child, must be happening. Watching her mother-in-law stare eerily into space under the increasingly heavy rain, the lighthearted feeling was giving way to worry. Was the old woman losing her head? She was certainly in a mood. 

“Where are the girls?” 

Her mother-in-law asked again, to Oge’s irritation. 

“I said I don’t know.” 

Oge snapped at her, just as her eldest child ran into the compound, tears or rain striking down her face. She was out of breath when she reached her grandmother. 

“My chi, Amaram, what is it?” 

Oge was on her feet and on her daughter. Something shifted in the atmosphere. She saw the look in her mother-in-law's eyes. Was it her, or did the rain intensify? Lighting crashed overhead, shaking something inside Oge. 

“Amara, where is your sister?” 

She could hear a rumble in her ears, a static absence of sound. 

“Mother.” 

Amara managed between heavy breathing and gulping of air like a fish starved of water. 

“Omasirim.” 

She gulped, her eyes wild with the fear sitting on Oge’s chest.” 

“Amara, where is my daughter? Where is your sister?” 

Oge shouted at her. Her chest was beating drums in sounds she had never before heard. Nothing mattered to her, nothing registered, except for the lifeless image of Uche, her poor little girl who would never get to play or laugh again, running amok on repeat in her imagination. Even before Amara finished, Oge felt the familiar pang. Her Oma! She knew something had happened to her daughter. 

“Edge of the evil forest.” 

Amara finally blurted. Oge bolted, her bare feet hitting the ground towards the direction of the evil forest, but someone lifted her off the ground at the entrance of her compound and held her in place. 

“Let me go! My daughter, let me go, my daughter.” 

She screamed, kicking and flailing, her hand beating against the hand holding her in place. She punched and scratched and dug her nails into the hairy arm wrapped around her waist, but they would not let her go. 

“My Oma. Omamu. My life, my life, my light, my eyes, let me go to her. My world, oh.” 

Her screaming tore through the compound. She was blind and deaf to everything else. 

“Why is she still here? Someone take her away.” 

A woman yelled, her tone commanding enough to compel the body attached to the arm holding her flailing body. It moved her in the direction of her hut. Her wrapper must have come loose because someone tried to cover up her exposed breast, but she swatted at the hand. 

“Where is my shame, when my pride, Oma, is being taken away? Where is my decency? I am blind, the gods are snuffing out the light again. I am blind. Omam please.” 

“We have to sedate her, go boil the herbs for sedation.” 

Someone said as Oge was being carried away, screaming herself hoarse. Where was her daughter? If they were not letting her see her Oma, Oma must already have left her. The thought sent her body convulsing, her head sagging, as if her neck was too tired to continue its job, just before her brain mercifully shut down, taking her into disturbed sleep.