TALES OF THE STRANGE IKUKU(STRONG WIND).

PHOTO CREDIT: PINTEREST.

EDITED BY: THEUNUSUAL _WRITER.

This novella is non-fictitious except for the location Aguleri and the country Nigeria.

 SEPTEMBER,2022.

Thirty-nine-year-old Amaka Nwani is dark-skinned, huge, and beautiful, with large bulging statement eyes. She looked just like her father, Pa. Nwani, and one couldn’t help but marvel at the striking resemblance. She had a burgundy Toyota Corrolla, lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Gwarinpa, Abuja, and had a stable, well-paying job. Quite successful, I must say, but the icing on the cake, as you know—marriage was missing, and at 39,Amaka wasn’t yet ready for anything. She had successfully pursued all her suitors away, and at thirty-nine, she was getting little to no male attention.

But anyway, she’s still my favourite person.

She slumped on the bed as she kicked off her heels, staring at the clock that read 7:30 p.m. She sighed in tiredness. Her boss had given her extra work at the office, and although the job was getting stressful by the day, it was paying the bills with extra change, so she couldn’t complain.

Living all alone for more than 20 years has been quite stressful for Amaka. No family, no friends, and inasmuch as she acted like it didn’t matter, she was grieving somewhere, wondering why her life turned out the way it did. She wasn’t a loner; I mean, she had friends, but they were all married off with kids, and they were busy with their families, and she didn’t really like having them around or attending their monthly girls night out because the pressure was always so much. Evelyn would go on and on and on ranting about how sweet her husband has been and how much her little daughter Kamara was growing by the day; Kemi, with her thick Yoruba accent laced with "phonetics,” would talk about how her twins were so close knitted and how identical they looked; Kevwe would talk about how much her husband spoils her and her kids with plenty of "owo,” and Amara would be speechless, her head blank. She had nothing to say, and even if she did, they were way past her level and would laugh so hard. But she wondered if marriage, family, and motherhood were as blissful as her friends painted them; she wondered if there were still good, faithful men out there like Kevwe’s husband; and every night she dreamt about her prince charming, she saw herself wearing Cinderella’s ball gown walking down the aisle.

But then.

"Hello, maami kedu?”. She said as she held her phone between her necks while she quietly dished jollof rice.

“Nnem!”. Her mother said it cheerfully. “Odinma”.

“I knew you wouldn’t be sleeping, so I decided to call to check up on you. It’s been days”.

"Yes, you just forgot about me”.

“No maami I didn't; it just worked. I hardly even have time for myself.”.

“Workaholic! Take it easy.".

“Yes maami”.

“Ehen Nnem, is that a man's voice I hear in the background?”.

"No, maami, it's the TV”. “Is that so?”. Amaka rolled her eyes. Maami was about to delve into the disturbing topic. “Ehhn Maami, I want to get a few things done now; I'll call you tomorrow." She said it dismissively. “ Ehem…wait! When are you coming to see me? It’s been such a long time”. "Yes, Maami, I have been thinking about coming to Aguleri, but I don’t know when”. Amaka said she was taking a spoonful of hot jollof rice. “That’s good. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.". “Me too, mama. Have a good night”.

“You too, Nnem, God bless you”. Amaka quickly hung up as she focused on her food.

Amaka arranged a few clothes and toiletries in a small travel box. She had taken a one-month sick leave from work, and she was travelling to Aguleri to surprise maami. She really needed the break and some well-cooked home food.

“Aguleri! Aguleri!”. The bus conductor chanted, hitting the bus aggressively, and for some reason, Amaka winced in disgust because that was her worst part of travelling. She could perceive the odour from the conductor's mouth from where she stood. He probably woke up and dashed out of the house with the same clothing and a worse stench. She wondered if they could be any better. I mean, conductors don’t all have to be Agberos. But anyway. She climbed into an almost clean bus and took her seat at her favourite spot, the last seat close to the window. She plugged in her ear piece and shut everybody out, but she couldn’t help but wince again at the foul odour coming from different armpits. Passengers were chatting so loudly about so many topics, from the bad government to the impotent man from Bayelsa whose wife ran away when she found out to Buhari’s constant sick leave to the increase in fuel prices and the outrageous cost of living in Nigeria. It was a problem everyone shared and the only thing that made everyone alike. We all understood. Amaka rolled her eyes at a young man of about 30 who insisted that he should be given the opportunity to rule Nigeria, and they all laughed. He was probably a school dropout and didn’t have any idea what democracy was all about.

“Gala! Gala!”

“Chilled coke!” “Bole! “

“Chilled water”.

“Plantain chips”.

“Bread”.

The hawkers chanted as they rushed at the vehicles. Amaka stretched out her arm to buy plantains, sprite, and a big loaf of bread as the bus kept moving. They were almost close to Aguleri.

On getting to Aguleri, Amaka stopped a taxi and went off to her family house. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t tensed; she didn’t care about whatever it was that always gripped her heart whenever she was to come home. She felt like home finally felt like home to her.

“Nnem!”. Maami screamed as soon as she saw her. “Maami”. Amaka said. They enveloped themselves in a tight embrace, squeezing and bonding all the memories together.

The house had really changed, although not badly. But it now had a blue, broken old bucket situated at the verandah to guage the water that dropped down from the leaking roof whenever rain fell. It was still as tidy as always, and Papa’s wooden reclining chair still maintained its position. Amaka smiled so widely. She missed Papa, but she was glad he was in a better place. She smiled because he hadn’t died mysteriously, nor had he been sick. He had died in his sleep, and the elders came to the conclusion that his chi had come to take him home, and more than anyone else, Amaka believed. He had done well.

Amaka was the second child among the three other children. Ugonna and Sylvia were abroad, and Uche was trying to find his feet in Port Harcourt. They had all grown up together with adequate love and care from Maami and Papa, but Amaka and Sylvia turned out to be the only sane ones. The rest were gallivanting, feeding from hand to mouth. Ugonna was all about the women and money; Uche had given himself to drugs and fraud.

“Freshen up, Nnem; let me tell Rishika to pound the yam. I made ofe onugbu with plenty of goat meat and fish. Little did I know you would be coming”. Amaka smiled widely. She quickly dashed into the bathroom, took a quick shower, changed her clothing, and was out. Rishika had been their help for over six years, and although she never lived there, she had gradually become a member of the family. Despite the presence of help, Maami always insisted on doing the cooking. “She is a help after all," Maami would say.

“Nnem! You are so huge now; you are enjoying Abuja money. Look at how you are glowing”. Maami laughed, and Amaka smiled. As Amaka chewed on the goat meat in silence, she noticed a little boy seated on the old brown couch in the sitting room. He looked so withdrawn and empty. He should be about eight years old. And there was something striking about him. He looked like the younger version of Pa Nwani.

"Maami, who is that?”. She asked curiously.

“That is Ugonna’s son, Nwulu. Maami said. “Ugonna? Ugonna has a son?”. Amaka asked in shock, and once again she felt she had been neglected again. No one told her about anything; even when Papa died, they called to tell her a few days later. They somehow felt she had the best life and didn’t have time for anyone, but that wasn’t true. Amaka nodded her head as she continued eating. She listened to Mama go on and on about how he impregnated a 19-year-old village girl, and unfortunately, she had died during childbirth. Amaka suddenly took a liking for the little boy. She continued eating and went to lay down shortly after.

Maami and Amaka sat in the verandah, gisting and gisting about life and how much Aguleri had transformed. Maami told her all about the new pastor and his wife, who had just been transferred to their church; she told her about Ebuka, Sylvia’s stubborn son. Maami had a lot to say, and Amaka, in amusement, watched the strong old woman talk, talk, talk, and talk. They watched Nwulu and some other children play, after which they retired to bed.

“Nnuo oh! Who dey house”. Otofu and two others chorused, and Amaka, on hearing their voices, gritted her teeth. Her crazy aunties were here, and as usual, they tied their big, long gowns, excessive makeup, and their regular gold blouse that smelled too old. They were obviously here for Maami’s goat meat and pepper soup and cheap gossip. Amaka forced a smile as they walked in.

“Good afternoon, aunties”. Amaka greeted. “Eh! Amaka? Is this you? You are so huge now, like your father”. Otofu said, laughing as she embraced her. “Which perfume do you use? You smell like my daughter, Ezinne. You know Ezinne Abi? She’s my daughter; she now lives in the city”.

Amaka suddenly wished she could disappear as her aunty kept on talking.

“Make yourself comfortable; the soup is cooking”. Maami said. Amaka gave her a parting sign as she made her way inside. “Ah? Amaka, you are going inside? No! Come and sit with your aunties. You are a grown woman now” . Amaka was protesting when Maami signalled her with her eyes.

“Ehen…”. Her other aunt began. “No ring yet?”.

“No Aunty!” Amaka said, swallowing a bowl of spittle. “I am sure there’s no man too. You are not getting any younger, eh, Amaka? Very soon, your breasts will fall, Yakata, and no man will want you. So hasten up”. “Yes aunty”. "Sochima, my daughter, your cousin has long gotten married, and she has two kids”. “Yes aunty”.  She kept on talking as Amaka glared at her tiny eyes. Otofu picked up from where she stopped. “I can hook you up with my pastor's son. He just came from abroad. I was saving him for Kachi, your cousin, but you could try your luck”. They talked till Maami brought the soup, and that was Amaka’s cue to leave. She quietly excused herself as she made her way inside. She wasn’t ready for any more questions. When was she really going to get married, and for the first time, she felt scared of growing old and lonely?

A few weeks into Amaka’s visit, she started teaching the children that came around. It was the holidays, and schools had vacated. She would start with Bible stories, move to English, and finally to math as she made them count with pebbles and bottle covers. It was an exciting experience for them as they would chant “Aunty Amaka! Aunty Amaka!”. She would bring a basket of sweet Udala, one for anybody that got a question right, and Sharp Nwulu had slowly become her favourite student, who always ended up claiming all the Udala. He wasn’t as quiet and calm as he looked, and that was exactly how Pa. Nwani was. A true definition of blood is that it is thicker than water. Amaka had overheard Maami’s sister say that he was a reincarnation of Pa. Nwani.

“Aunty Amaka I would like to be a doctor…I heard they make a lot of money”. Nwulu said and Amaka burst out laughing. Look at who was thinking about money at this age. “Look Nwulu ….Doctors are excellent people, they are life savers, but I want you to do it for love and not money, okay?" Nwulu nodded. And they went on to talk about so much other interesting stuff, from the lackadaisical English teacher at Nwulu’s school to his best friend Bethel. Ugonna’s mistake was slowly becoming Amaka’s favourite person. Amaka would never finish a meal without putting a little piece of fish into Nwulu’s mouth or sharing a can of amstel malt with him. Pouring the brown liquid into two cups and giving him the privilege of choosing the fuller cup. She wouldn’t fail to threaten the big village bully, Ukeme, with a stick whenever he tried to bully Nwulu. Amaka was literally Nwulu’s saviour whenever Maami wanted to make use of the rod. And she soon began to feel a little of what Kemi usually says about her twins. The feeling of having a young, carefree child run around the whole place, stubborn and innocent Speaking of the girls, Amaka hadn’t heard from them in a while, and she wasn’t even ready for their bantering.

“Amaka!! Amaka!”. Maami shouted from inside the house. Amaka had strolled out a little to answer her boss's call. “Maami!”. Amaka called out as she rushed into the house. She was greeted with the sight of a convulsing Nwulu and a terrified Maami, and then it hit her. An epilepsy attack. She quickly crouched down to the floor and told Maami to keep calm and get rid of every sharp object around as she tried to reassure Nwulu.

"You'll be fine. Okay?”. She said it in loud whispers. "It's Aunty Amaka”. She carefully placed Nwulu’s head on one of the throw pillows around. In less than 5 minutes, the seizure ended, and Amaka, with the help of Maami, placed Nwulu on the bed while she dashed out to call her doctor.

"Since it didn’t last for more than 5 minutes, there is no cause for too much alarm. Please take it easy, see a doctor, and keep a tab on him”. The doctor said “Thank you so much”. Amaka said as she hung up.

***

Die by fire ministries. Amaka read aloud as she walked into the church with her hands firmly gripping Nwulu. It was Sunday, the third Sunday Amaka had witnessed, and Maami had insisted that she come with her to church. The church environment was quite eye-sorry. Native chickens danced around, stopping at every dirt pile, and the place smelled of concentrated urine. Maami was at the front, walking as fast as her legs could carry her. She needed to go and join the women who pray at the altar. Amaka walked into the church. It was quite full. She took a seat in the middle, with Nwulu seated quietly by her side. 10 minutes later, the service started with the yellow-headed pastor shouting the opening prayer with his thick Igbo accent. Amaka was enjoying the service; she raised her hands to heaven, singing the Ibo worship song with all sincerity. Nwulu was seated, playing a random game on her phone. He didn’t have much to pray about. At least not now.

After the service, Amaka exchanged pleasantries with Maami’s friends. After which, they followed Maami home for Sunday rice. You really need to see the amount of help that went into their plates. Maami had done the magic again with her smoked fish jollof rice. Although Amaka was used to the fact that when they were younger, Maami would always have guests on Sunday and the food would never be enough, At times, she would have to cook more, but now it was different. Maami was a lot older, and she feared that she might not get to eat more than one plate. But anyways.

***

“Ikuku na bia! Ikuku na bia! The wind is coming!The wind is  coming." People were shouting and, at the same time, running into their homes. The fierce, killer wind had started blowing. Amaka had no idea what it was, but she ran outside to find Nwulu. Luckily, she found him running towards the house, and she quickly carried him.

The wind blew heavily, threatening to pull the roof off. It blasted against the windows and almost threatened to pull the house off the ground. Maami and Amaka sat on the living room floor with a candle on the wodden centre table. Nwulu was asleep on the couch. Maami started telling Amaka the story of how the strange wind came about. People would always rush in at the feel of the sharpness because once it became fiercer, it could claim lives, raising so much dust and sand and filling people’s nostrils and lungs. Maami told her the tale of the statues of survival that were sculpted at the central market. It was a commemoration of the four women who had survived the “IKUKU” attack. All though they died a few days later, they fought till the very end. The wind wiped out everyone in the market, including Maami’s bosom friend Odinaka. And the next day, Aguleri was a warehouse of deadbodies, odes, and ballads.

It happened every year, and it was that time of the year again. SEPTEMBER. What more could happen?

“Maami! I think this is all a superstitious belief. Those people might have died because of their evil deeds. You know how crafty and diabolic this market women can be. I think it's just a normal whirlwind”.

“Nnem! Its not”.

***

Amaka got up very early the next day to prepare breakfast. Bread, eggs, and tea. She was sure Nwulu would like her fried eggs, but she was shocked to find the kitchen bereft of any beverages. Just yam, vegetables, plantains, and more yam.

“Maami!”. Amaka called out as she went to Maami’s room; her head was bent over her Igbo bible. “Good morning, maam! Why are there no beverages in the kitchen?”. Amaka whined, and Maami burst into laughter as she raised her head. “All these Abuja people... which one is Bev..?" Maami said this in an attempt to pronounce the word. “Like milk, milo, and the like.".

“I don’t take all that. They will make you die early”.

“Maami? How? Milk is proteinous”.

“I am not sure you are hungry yet; if you are, you won’t be here”. Maami said, and Amaka grumbled her way into the kitchen. She finally made boiled yam, plantains, and vegetable sauce garnished with smoked fish. She was about to leave the kitchen when her aunt Otofu and the others walked in with someone else—a guy. Amaka made her fist into a ball as everything in her screamed. “Not again!”.

“We don come, ooo!". Otofu spoke loudly as she took a seat on the couch. Town crier! “Good morning, aunties”. Amaka greeted the visitor, faking a smile as she waved. Maamj rushed out immediately and greeted her sisters. “What is in the kitchen?”. Otofu asked almost immediately.

“Amaka cooked!”. Maami said, smiling. “Very good! At least your husband will get to taste your food”. Otofu said, laughing softly. “We heard that you are going back to the city soon, so we decided to bring Chike here”. She added.  

Husband? Chike? This woman must be crazy.

“Go and freshen up, eh! then you’ll come and join us”. Maami said, and Amaka walked into the house sluggishly. She spent extra hours scrubbing her body as she thought of how she could be rude and nice at the same time. She eventually came out, as they all complained about how long she had stayed in the bathroom. “Sit close to your husband”. Otofu said as she smiled sheepishly. Amaka grudgingly sat close to him. He looked so local and poorly dressed for an “IJGB” (I just got back).

He should come to Abuja and see fresh “IJGB’s”.

“You smell so nice, and your skin looks good too”. Chike said it almost in a whisper. Fake accent!!!!

Amaka nodded her head in acknowledgement. Cheap British Igbo accent.

Amaka set the table, reserving the largest portion for herself and Nwulu, and as she was about to leave to get water, Otofu protested. “Ah! Amaka, this food is too small. “Sorry aunty! The food stuff was not  enough. Amaka rolled her eyes as she went into the kitchen.

“The sauce is native and rich! Good job!”. Chike nodded, and Amaka faked a smile, wishing that a piece of hot yam would get stuck in his throat.

After they were done, Otofu insisted that they exchange numbers and get to know themselves. Amaka was grateful that her aunt didn’t force Chike to put a ring on her finger. She ate together with Nwulu as they talked about "agriculture," and she promised to teach him how to plant.

***

It was around 3 p.m. in the afternoon. Amaka was fast asleep, Maami had gone for Wednesday prayers in the church, and Nwulu was outside playing when the second “IKUKU” attack happened.

“Ikuku na bia! Ikuku na bia (The wind is coming!) The wind is coming!". People were shouting, and as Nwulu was about to run into the house, he had his second epileptic attack. Everyone was running into their homes. No one stopped to look or check. Every man for himself! It was not until the wind hit the window that Amaka woke up! She dashed out of the house only to find Nwulu convulsing; the wind was so fierce that she could barely see or even step out. Fear gripped her as her hands began to shake. She didn’t want to die yet, and she didn’t want Nwulu to die.

She stood transfixed, tears rolling down her cheeks as the wind kept blowing. Fearfully hoping that the killer wind was just a superstitious belief. She hoped Maami would take shelter in the church too. Surprisingly, the wind started subsiding, and Amaka’s eyes met with the lifeless body of Nwulu. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t moving. She made an attempt to move and touch him, but his body was cold.

A sobbing Amaka raised him up from the ground and took him into the house, crying uncontrollably. Shortly after, Maami came back to see a wailing Amaka. Maami started crying too as she hugged Amaka.

“Aunty Amaka! Aunty Amaka!”. Nwulu called out, tapping her. She stood up from the bed, shocked, as she gripped him.

It was all a dream.

THE END.

Thank you so much for ready 💕

I hope you enjoyed it.

Please come back again 🥺

Please like, comment, rate and share🙏

If you are finding it difficult to leave a comment please send your thoughts to my email: asindiwendy3@gmail.com.

2023. ASINDI WENDY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.