CHAPTER Four - In the Reeds.

“Everyone knows the deal with having a Spirit child is that the heavens bless you with a real child afterward. Spirit children are generally there to open the womb of a woman who is unable to bear children.” 

Emenike said. His goatee dyed black extended to his collarbone. He peered through a glass he did not need, at the pacing shape of Uloma. This Emenike, unlike his other realizations, lived for the aesthetics. He even wore a black robe with glinting, mystical silver stars scattered all over it and carried a staff to support his frame, not minding that he had lived for millennia and never once required the staff. 

“So, my will be mother, sorry Oge.” 

Uloma started and then corrected herself. 

“Will she get to have another child after me?” 

Uloma paused for a second to look hopefully at Emenike. He watched her calmly behind a messy desk piled top to bottom with papers. They were in his study, and Uloma, a regular visitor here, knew that even she would get lost in the maze of books scattered in piles around the room. The ceiling-high shelves were not bare. It was just the opposite: they had books tightly shelved together. Today, Uloma did not come for his books or his eccentric wisdom. She was here for his knowledge and penchant for bending and breaking the little rules of their realm. 

“Uloma, you are bending the rules for this woman. Did you not go to your mother before you came to me?” 

Emenike asked her, his calm soothing voice doing nothing for her today. He had a deep voice that sounded to the ears as old as this tree he had made a home in. Today, Uloma did not care for comfort or reassurance; she was here on a mission. 

“Yes, but my mother is protective, Emenike.” 

Uloma fired at him with a searing look that said she knew he already knew this. 

“Is this your way of saying you will go behind her back, Uloma?” 

Emenike asked. His expression and voice did change, but the look in his eyes stopped Uloma’s pacing. 

“Why? Do you also think I am being obstinate and childish and foolish?” 

Uloma retorted. She was not here to play games. 

“Oh, I see. Ah, did she say all that to you?" 

Emenike nodded, his contrasting white afro nodding along. 

“Mhm.” 

Uloma answered, plopping down like a deflated pillow on one of his only books and unoccupied chairs. 

“You are stubborn and obstinate.” 

Emenike started. He raised his palm when Uloma started, as if she had a comeback for this. 

“Just calm down for a second, you are not here to ask my permission, you are here because I am one of the only beings in this realm who does not view humans as a volatile experiment by the cosmos. You are here because you think that if anyone can help you be born human, I can.” 

~ 

Uloma found herself thinking about that day in Emenike’s study, all those years ago; it felt now like only yesterday. Well, today she was walking down a dark corridor to a, maybe, confrontation with a being that was just as powerful as Emenike, but not quite as understanding.  

The dark corridor she was walking through smelled of earth and herbs, one of the only places in this realm that held scent. Uloma was walking into what the human realm would call a shrine, but it was the only place her mother could be summoned. 

Her feet rebounded against the dark earth in the long, dark corridor, leaving prints in its wake. She felt like her heart was now living in her mouth as she walked. The herbs, which gave off a strong scent, grew scattered about the small, long corridor. They at least were soothing, Uloma told herself, reminding her lungs that the spirit world or not, it still had a duty to her. 'Breathe,' she reminded it.

Uloma looked down at her bare feet, illuminated by the small light that the corridor permitted. She had put even more effort into her appearance today, she thought, sighing. The sole of her feet was painted black, and a black line ran up her upper feet, stopping just where the rest of her legs started. The same line ran up her hands and lower stomach to her midriff. On her arms and her temple ran a spiral design that accentuated her upper-class birth. She even smelled of herbs, which in this realm was hard to come by, but herbs were her mother’s thing, and she would do anything to impress her mother. This thought was not comforting either. Nothing today was comforting. Not even the feel of her favorite beads around her neck or the beads wrapped around her hair. The truth was, she was not looking forward to a meeting with her mother. Her mother was the most powerful being in this realm, where omnipotent beings inhabit, and by default, she was their head god. This made her too powerful an entity to offend. And Uloma could not shake the feeling that she had somehow crossed her mother. Uloma bit nervously on her lower lip, her hand playing with the bead around her neck as she walked. ‘Okay,’ she admitted to herself. If she was being truthful, it wasn't just a feeling. She continued biting down anxiously on her black-painted lower lip as she trod on.

She had indeed actually offended her mother. 

~ 

The woman sitting in front of them watched them with white, unseeing pupils.  

“Because she cannot see evil.” 

Abali had told Uloma before they even went in to see the woman. It was as if her friends were afraid that Uloma would ‘Uloma' the meeting, which was a real thing that her friends had a right to fear. They could not believe how little she knew about her realm, but Uloma insisted against the unfairness. They were omniscient beings, and Uloma wasn’t, not really. She could not know everything. For them, there is nothing that they do not know; they may forget it, but they know everything. Knowledge filters through to them. Sometimes they were very forgetful of her inability. For creatures who were supposed to keep the balance of reality, they weren’t the smartest. 

“She is thinking that we are not very smart again.” 

Ekama said, eyeing Uloma up and down. 

“What? Not at all, oh.” 

Uloma lied. Ekama rolled her eyes and swapped Uloma on her shoulder. Uloma protested, but Ekama looked at her like she deserved even worse. 

“Uloma, you have to focus, please. You cannot say something that can get you on her bad side. Nne-Nne is not a being that you want to offend.” 

Abali scolded, petting the head of the tiny white-faced owl on his shoulder. 

“Oh. I am all ears. So, you were saying that her eyes cannot see evil, so she is blind.” 

“Ulo, she is not blind. She cannot see. She bled out her own eyes so that her children could be treated equally. It won't matter what kind of monster they turn out to be to the human realm if she cannot see the harm they cause.” 

Ekama explained. 

“She can turn a literal blind eye.” 

Uloma finished. The rain that was synonymous with her realm dripped down Uloma’s threaded hair as she nodded her understanding. Plucking out your own eyes, rather than using a metaphor, was what passed for a norm in her realm, Uloma thought, nodding to herself again. If you were born into it, it made sense. 

The rancid smell of overly ripe fruit pulled Uloma back to the room where her friends sat with the woman. Even the woman smelled unbearably ripe. Her house was the only place in Death's realm that had green in so many shades that it was disconcerting when paired against the usual blackness of their realm. It was evident that all three visitors found the sudden assault of color uncomfortable, by the way they kept shifting about on the small wooden stools, their eyes fixed only on each other and the strange woman in front of them, trying to avoid looking directly at the trees. 

“My children, why have you come?” 

Uloma had already been warned about this. This, being with all her other realizations in the different realms, called themselves mother of mothers, which they were in some respect, but they also thought they were the mother of all creatures. Ekama nudged Uloma, as Ekama’s beaded hair noisily drew the attention of Nne-nne. Uloma gave her a look that said she was not happy about being nudged, ‘Deal with it,’ Ekama mouthed, 'and answer her.’ 

“Em, so I met a human woman who is childless.” 

Uloma volunteered, trying and failing to avert her eyes from the babies growing in pods on the trees. They were so tiny and eerie, even for the realm of the Dead. This whole place gave you the creeps. 

“And you want me to send this woman one of my children.” 

The woman stated, a knowing grin spreading over her face, her black teeth were suddenly gleaming, and a twinkle came into her eyes, which, all things considered, should not make the woman any weirder. Still, if Uloma had thought she found her weird before, now she was downright creepy-looking, as well. 

“Mmm.” 

Uloma consented, unsure if she was even doing the right thing. This woman did not appear to be someone who wanted to do a good thing. There was so much going on with the woman that, at some point, it looked like the unformed images of babies appeared on the brown stains on her orange wrapper. Presently, the woman cackled gleefully; it didn’t do her image any favors. 

“Summon her at once.” 

She said between cackles, her eyes gleaming even more. The grin that ate her face sent shivers down Uloma’s non-existent and very metaphoric spine. She glanced at her friends sitting on both sides of her; she looked first at Abali, who nodded, and Ekama, who raised her eyebrows as if to say, ‘Do it.’ Uloma sighed; her realm was not particularly strict with rules. They treated rules like you would treat a suggestion from a nag; they were beings of darkness after all. But they were also not very keen on right and wrong or good and evil, as long as you did not cross a fellow being, you were good. This meant that she was the only one at that moment who felt uncomfortable about summoning the soul of a human without first asking for their permission.  

“What is the hesitation, child?” 

The grin was spreading even more. Uloma shivered. The woman pushed a calabash towards Uloma; her nails were so short that they were almost invisible. Uloma noticed as she accepted the calabash of water. Uloma hesitated momentarily, eyeing the woman who was now stroking the air above her knees as if a baby were there. The strange thing was that Uloma could swear she heard a yawn from the woman’s leg. Uloma wondered fleetingly if she was doing the right thing coming to this woman before she spat into the calabash. 

“Ogechi, the daughter of Chukwuma.” 

Uloma called into the calabash. The stale, ripe air started all around them and began to swell. If it smelled bad before, the smell was overpowering now. 

“Ogechi, I summon you.” 

The trees and the baby pods on them shook, and the room swelled tumultuously for a second, but everything settled back, almost immediately, like the room had not just been tilting a second before.  

A live image of a woman in her late twenties appeared inside the calabash as she slumped to the ground. The clay water pot on her head fell to the ground, breaking and spilling water all around her, even before the brown piece of cloth she had wrapped in a circle and used on her head to keep the water pot steady and balanced even reached the ground. As they watched, her live image emerged from the small calabash of water, which they were all intently staring into.  

It was impossible to look away from the woman. As her thick legs emerged, Uloma wondered for a second how the wrapper, wrapped around her bosom, that fell to her ankle, supported a figure like that. The smaller piece of wrapper she had tied around her stomach, to help give the larger piece of wrapper she wore the appearance of two separate clothes, only accentuated her curves. She walked with a sway that told the eyes that this body was accustomed to being called beautiful. As she stood before them, her beady, small black piercing eyes watched them back, almost curious, as if they were conscious of what was happening. The word for this woman was unarming, Uloma decided. Uloma turned to her friends for their reaction, but they appeared to be drinking in the woman. 

“Em, em.” 

Uloma cleared her throat, trying not to laugh at her friends' downright gawking. 

“Eh, eh!” 

Ekama exclaimed, her throaty voice making the sound more sexual than it should be. Uloma tried and failed to hide a laugh, so she covered it up by clearing her throat even more. Ekama eyed Uloma, her eyes twinkling. They both looked at Abali, who looked like he would die first, before he blazingly, admits to his friends that he also found the woman attractive. It set both girls off; they smirked knowingly at each other, and it was almost easy to see the teasing awaiting Abali later.  

“Why have you brought me this one?” 

All three friends snapped out of their appreciative stare, reminded of whose house they were in. The woman's beauty was so captivating that it successfully overpowered her surroundings for a glimmer of a second. She was something, Uloma smiled to herself knowingly. 

“Why have you brought this person?” 

Nne-nne’s voice had a hiss this time. She pointed her non-existent fingernail at Ogechi. Her irritation was hard to miss. 

“Eh, you said I should summon her?” 

Uloma said, confused at Nne-nne’s reaction. 

“Send them back, there is no help for them.” 

Nne-nne hissed; her annoyance was palpable. The twinkle in her eyes was gone. Her pale, unpainted lips shook as she spoke with the weight of her annoyance. 

“Nne-nine, if anyone can help her, it is you. Please, give her one of your children. I am not even asking that you give her multiple babies, just one, en? Please.” 

Uloma pleaded desperately. The spirit of Ogechi cocked her head at Uloma. Uloma would have noticed if her attention was not entirely directed at Nne-nne. Oge’s spirit looked too conscious. A hiss escaped Nne-nne's pale lips. 

“This spirit has the soul of a man. They were men in their past lives.” 

Nne-nne hissed, still pointing at Ogechi. Uloma knew what this meant; she recalled Emenike’s lecture about how human souls could take different forms while still retaining their essence. 

 
~ 

Uloma pulled herself out of the memory of Nne-nne and her visit to Emenike, her teacher in Human Realism. She had just reached the end of the corridor, and it was evident that she was dragging her feet. She had walked as slowly as she could manage. 

Uloma entered a spacious room where a live image of her mother stood in all her glory. Her white attire, for which she was known, shimmered like the sun was infatuated with it; her eyes stared back at Uloma, almost as if the image was more than a likeness. Uloma hesitated for a second. Not sure she wanted to approach her mother now that she was here. Would her mother even come to her? She had been here before and done this ritual several times over the centuries. Burning herbs into the calabash balanced between the image of her mother’s hand was second nature at this point. But today she did not want to. Uloma looked around the familiar room, carpeted with dead leaves and featuring an oak tree that stood like an umbrella in the center. Uloma wondered why she had even come; hadn’t her mother looked like she was bursting with anger the last time she was here? Uloma felt her tongue give up the desire to produce spit as her mouth went dry from the anticipation of what was to come. Breathe, she said to herself, as she bent to pull at the herb near her feet, and walked to the altar where a small fire that never went out was burning inside a small clay pot. Uloma looked up at the barely visible sky, and the tree extended its branches all over the spacious circular room, blocking out the sky. It wasn’t raining today, but it was never sunny in this realm, yet this room contrived always to look like it had its secret sun. Uloma neared the fire in the small pot when she suddenly felt a tug in her head. The tug pulled at her feet, halting Uloma’s reluctant advancement towards the fire.  

“Perfect timing.” 

Uloma said to the empty room, then turned around and hurried out of there, the same way she had come in. She was through the corridor carpeted by herbs in record time, almost making up for double the time she took to drag herself through it on her way in. She walked off into daylight, or what passed for daylight here, and closed her eyes, thinking of Ekama. The pull in her head and leg intensified, almost as if she were a metal being cajoled by a magnet. She felt light for a second, and when she opened her eyes again, she stood surrounded by tall wild grasses.  

Seating near the lake and pulling on a fountain grass with feigned nonchalance was Ekama. Uloma had always thought that the greyness of their realm suited Ekama perfectly. Her light, fair skin connived to convince the eyes that it was a dainty, harmless creature you were looking at. When in fact, Ekama was the greyness that precedes rainfall. It was always chilly around her, but you would never guess from observing her from afar. 

“Oh, use your eyes and eat me, don’t come here, oh. Just be standing there.”   

Ekama said, still pulling at the fountain grass where she sat near the lake, her crossed long legs causing her wrapper to ride up her thighs. Uloma bounded up to her and threw herself on Ekama. The giggling of both girls could cause a ripple in the lake. Ekama tried without success to pry Uloma off her, but Uloma held on, giggling and laughing even harder for it. 

“Tah, come off me. Get off!” 

Ekama barked, shoving at Uloma in a manner that suggested she was not trying to get Uloma off herself. 

“I knew you would be here, so I came to find you.” 

Uloma said her hand across Ekama’s neck. She had her body pulled away from Ekama to observe her friend. 

“Tah. You can lie, Ulo. You that I summoned here.” 

Ekama was shaking from laughter; she made one last feeble attempt to get Uloma off her. Uloma was caught off guard as she tumbled off her friend and almost fell into the lake. Both girls giggled uncontrollably again. 

“So, you are back for good, right?” 

Ekama asked Uloma. They were both seated facing the lake. Ekama was emitting a chilliness that stirred even the grasses around them. 

“Mmhm.” 

Uloma replied, flashing a smile at her friend. 

“I have missed your insanity, small.” 

Ekama told Uloma with a chuckle. 

“But your absence was less than a day for me. So maybe I did not miss you that much, come to think of it. Because look at you, you... It was longer for you, but did you miss me?” 

Ekama asked Uloma, looking at Ulo out of the corner of her eye. 

“Even if I had a memory of this realm when I was human, I would still be grateful to be away from you.” 

Uloma joked. 

“Tah.” 

Ekama cursed at Uloma, laughing. 

“Stubborn goat. How does it feel?” 

Ekama asked in a suddenly serious tone. 

“What feel?” 

Uloma replied. 

“Dying.” 

Ekama guffawed, Uloma burst out laughing too, but she rolled her eyes as she laughed and turned to sit directly in front of Ekama. 

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? It was funny, please.” 

Ekama shoved gently at Uloma’s shoulder. 

“No, oh. Because I don’t know why you and Abali think it is a joke, seeing as my mother is Death herself.” 

“One of the most powerful personifications of Death, true. But also, you did die.” 

“Ehn.” 

Uloma replied, crinkling her nose at Ekama. 

“I was at your burial, by the way. The way that gorgeous woman Oge cried for you, her pure pain would have been enough to dilute the stream of Lost Souls.” 

Ekama was looking away from Uloma as she spoke. But she did not have to look at her friend to smell the regret reeking off her. Regret was not a familiar scent in their world. 

“He missed you.” 

Ekama continued as if she had not just poked at Uloma’s wound. 

“Who?” 

Uloma asked, already knowing the answer from the acceleration of her heartbeat. 

“Don’t play coy.” 

Ekama scolded. The air around them was rising. Uloma knew that it was in response to her friend’s emotions. 

“And you did not miss me? You just said that you did.” 

Uloma said, attempting to deflect. Ekama could never hide how she felt, and Uloma could see in the movement of the wind on the wild grasses that Ekama was building up to something. 

“Ulo, it was only like seven human years for me. I could live.” 

Ekama countered. Her usual dodgy dark eyes turned a light grey. 

“But him.” 

Ekama continued avoiding Uloma’s searching gaze as she spoke. 

“It was interesting at first to watch, but it started to be disturbing pretty fast. He acted like the time you were away counted. Like the human time was a law that applied to him.” 

Uloma opened her mouth to protest, but Ekama was faster; she held up her palm to Uloma in the universal sign for "stop." 

“No, I mean it.” 

Ekama said and stood up. She was radiating ions, Uloma noticed. The air around her was electric. 

“I had to do something, Ulo. You have to believe me, I did it for you.” 

Ekama continued. The pain in her eyes and voice confused Uloma, but it also sent panic down Uloma’s spine. 

“It frightened me, Ulo.” 

Ekama sounded almost as if she were pleading with Ulo. This did not help to assuage the rising panic in Ulo’s stomach. It was clawing its way up her chest. She was taking short, shallow breaths, assuring herself that whatever Ekama was building up to could not be as bad as she was imagining. This was Ekama, her best friend after all. Ekama was still talking as if she were on a mission. 

“The way he moped around as if the seconds dragged for him. It was unnatural. Abali is not a god. He is not the son of a god; he is a youngling, the realization of a young darkness of night. He has existed ever since humans learned to understand that even small things can be harmful. But he walked around like human time affected him, because of you, Uloma. Uloma, no, listen to me, you always do whatever you want, but you are like a sister to me, and you must hear the truth. You affected him, Uloma. The gods were starting to whisper, so I went to the only person who could save you from yourself.” 

Uloma’s heart stopped for a nanosecond and made as if it would drop to her stomach. This cannot be happening, her brain and heart screamed at her, protesting their betrayal. 

“My mother? You asked my mother to kill me?” 

Uloma managed to breathe out. 

“To bring you back. Ulo, you cannot die. That is realistically impossible for you.” 

Ekama replied, the wind intensifying around her. Her braid stood away from her head, floating in the air as if compelled by an invisible force. 

“But I died. I am Uchechi too! Ekama Uchechi died!” 

Uloma yelled. Her voice had a sinister tinge in it that did not sound familiar, even to her ears. 

“How could you do this to me? How could you betray me?” 

Uloma screamed, the wind carrying her voice farther than the two were aware. 

“Betray you, Uloma? Me? Is that how it is? I don’t know why I even bother with you. You are never thinking of anyone but yourself.” 

Ekama’s eyes shimmered now; they looked like their owner was in pain. She looked like she had more to say to Uloma, but shook her head angrily instead and stormed off.  

“Why did you do this?” 

Uloma muttered as she slumped down to the ground, weeping. The wind blew around her ears, but all Uloma could hear was her own heart breaking again. She did not even think she had anything left to break, yet it broke. It broke at Ekama’s betrayal. That now meant that her Oge was childless, which meant that her father was walking around the human realm like a creature half asleep. She wept for her grandmother. But also, for Uchechi, for the hugs she would probably never get again, for the loss of a love and bond that exists only between a child and her parents. Her wails were loud; they told of pain that, if physical, would incarcerate. It beckoned the nearby listener to come bear witness to something so intimate and private that it shamed the mind. Uloma beat at her chest as she wept.  

“Why?” 

She muttered over and over. She had blamed herself, hated herself even, for causing her family so much pain; now she was learning that it was not just her who was to blame. The weight of her pain could also be measured by the anger that lived within it. The hunched-over form of Uloma beat and beat at her congested chest, the pain and guilt there stifling her capacity to breathe.