THE SECRET

PART ONE

I could clearly remember the first mysterious thing that happened to me. It was in the early hours of the day that I sneaked out of the house to the streets without the knowledge of my parents. I've been held indoors all my life, and my dad, no matter how simple and save the surroundings would be, he would never let me out of the house more-or-less of playing with my mates unlike my younger ones.

I was about thirteen years old as at then with lots of interest to play with other kids on the streets. I've always admired the manner at which they played hide-and-seek games, mound an hollow hole by placing their foots on the ground and cover them with wet sandy soil, then go out to the field to hunt for butterflies or grasshoppers. The manner at which they played all this things was what I was seriously hungry for. I was eager to play like them, feel among them, running around the street. I was held indoors like a criminal being secured by my mother who happens to be the prison warder or supervisor for me not to escape from the prison.

Though my parents had a traditional relationship themselves. My father worked to support the family and my mother. I stayed at home all day except on market days, market days would have been my freedom days but the days were always ruined by my mother who always took me along with her to the market while my siblings plays around the house.

On that faithful day, I walked a respectful distance away from my compound to the street to join other children playing happily in an old primary school field at the bank of a river. The kids were surprised and afraid to play with me at first because I have never been in their midst before, neither do I have a close relationship with any of them. I was welcomed and accepted after I relieved them with a hand of friendship. And without delay we started running round the school field, throwing kites and chasing after butterflies. That was the first time in my life that I felt like a kid that I was as at then. I was extremely overwhelmed and pleased with myself. I laughed uncontrollably to their actions, the manner at which they dived to catch butterflies and grasshoppers.

After we had caught much more than enough butterflies and grasshoppers we finally went and settled at the back of one of the classrooms very close to the river bank where we could find moist sandy soil to make a mound that would house the insects. I was a very skillful and rapid learner. I expertly made two neat mound where I caged five grasshoppers and two butterflies caught for me by one of the three boys in our midst. When the game became bored for us we moved a little closer to the flowing water and stood at the very edge of it.

The morning sun had already risen, shining its light brightly to the earth through the grey sky. The river water was brownish in color, containing hell lots of dirt, rags, tree branches, empty plastic rubbers flowing downstream from uphill. I was amazingly impressed and happy with the sound produced by the movement of the water as it flows. The ways at which the moving particles rotates and gallops at a point where there might be a hindrance gives me nothing but joy, leaving a ceaseless smile on my tiny face.

I was still standing deriving my joy when suddenly, I glanced through the quiet dark area of the river where there were lots of giant trees shading the water. Just as I was still studying the area, a light suddenly flickered beneath the swinging tree limbs, and the pale beams of light made the other end appeared. And then the light grew weak, the other end went from yellow to grey and vanished all together as if the trees had swallowed it up, or rather as if it has all been subtracted from the dark.

Just then I felt dizzy and saw a shining bright light at the center of the river downstream

"Look at that shinning bright light" I said to the other kids pointing downstream.

"Where is the light" one of my mates asked timidly.

"Over there" I said.

They all looked towards the direction but I was disappointed when they all said they can see nothing of such nature at all.

"There is nothing there" they all said.

I snapped and maintained my stance for the guilt of being pronounce a liar. "You are all blind" I said to them angrily.

I looked heavenwards having a thought that the light came through the grey sky but I saw no ray of sunlight. Suddenly, I felt a force around and something died inside of me. Vroom! A hand slapped my face. I covered my face with my little palms as my mates tried to help me, splashing water into my face.

When next I opened my eyes, like a sweep I saw something in a form of a mannequin standing right in front of me. My vision was still unclear, I haven't regained fully back my sight. I thought it was one of my mates and my eyes has deceived me. I blinked my eyes twice and still saw the standing image before me. At my very eyes the image started possessing another form, slowly it took a total transformation. A very young beautiful woman was what I was now seeing. Her eyes were shinning with a magnificent beauty and her skin was nothing to compare with. Her hair was gloaming and her forehead moist. She was just smiling at me, and suddenly she stretched out her hand towards me and I glanced down to her feet. It wasn't the shape of that of a human being. From her waist downwards was scales of fish and a fin at the extreme end. I was gripped with fear and when she noticed that I wanted to scream, at my very eyes she vanished into the thin air. At that instance I knew the event wasn't natural. What I felt and what I saw, the occurrence and the nature.

For a moment I couldn't speak nor move an inch. I stood mute like a statue as my mates gathered round me sympathizing for face not knowing the extraordinary occurrence that has transpired within such a short time. When I attempted making a move I lost consciousness and fell face-ward into the water. Four of my mates rushed to drag me out while others bolted away in fear. Two running straight to my house. My parents had already started conducting a thorough search for me. They were already on the street as at the time the girls arrived at the house trembling.

My dad's alligator ears drew back his attention and he slowed his pace giving a reasonable distance between him and my mom. He must have heard the noise from the direction of our house as neighbor's murmured like barbarians in the compound. He mute and set his ears properly to clarify himself.

"What's the matter" my mom asked speedily.

"I think we should go back to the house, there must be some sort of gathering in my compound" he said.

"Itunu had collapsed in the river" the girls muttered trembling.

"Which river and who the hell took her to the river" my dad yelled at the girls.

"This is not the right time for questioning" one of the sympathizers suggested.

"Yes this is not the right time for that" others affirmed.

I regained consciousness about two hours later, but during the period of my unconsciousness a lot of strange things transpired in the other realm. I was taken to a certain place, and the place I don't know. I can't tell and I can't remember but I knew I was somewhere entirely different from the real world. The place was a very nice place with nice people around treating me like a princess.

This occurrence made me to flash back when I was very little, I was about six to seven years old then when I began seeing strange things. It happened one day when my mom sent me to get her a bowl of water from the inner water pot. Quickly I ran in but surprisingly when I got to the water pot, I was seeing something entirely different on it. The top of the water was having an image of a woman which I couldn't recognize, she was just smiling at me. I swiftly deepen the bowl inside the water and fetched a portion out. This same scenario happened countless times and I couldn't tell anyone about it, instead I always stayed away from the inner room when no one was around. This same woman was the one I just encounter with. Who she was I don't know.

After the incident, my dad cautioned me not to ever repeat such act again, most especially going close to a river was forbidden, and I promised to be of a good behavior. As for the punishment, my dad decided to be locking my door from outside for me not to be gaining access to the compound before he wakes.

I obeyed the words of my dad and work with the instructions of my mom, but what saddens my heart always was that I was the only child in the house being treated as such. Not like my other siblings who have freedom to go anywhere freely. Though in the other way, I remain the only child who was always provided for all I ever wanted and desired without any hesitation from my both parents, unlike my siblings who needed to cry into their ear drums, nag ceaselessly, sing their needs to my parents ears before they would be catered for. I was just an exception in my household. I live all my life in fullest, getting all my wants at one request. The only thing I was being denied by my dad was taking me along with my siblings to the beach. Whenever I asked or requested to be taken along to the beach, all what his response would be was "Don't worry yourself about going to the beach, I will take you to other better fun places than the beach" though he always fulfilled his promises by taking me to other city centers where I derived fun.

Shortly later, after the incident we moved from our village to our new house in the city. I was clocking the age of fifteen as at then. I have started becoming a grown up girl. I grew rapidly, faster than my age. The size of my breasts has given me a deceptive look of a girl at her late eighteen which attracted boys to me for sexual desires.

On my own side also, I have begun to develop urge for boys, but the cage I was in then can never let my urge be satisfied. Then suddenly an opportunity propped up. My dad came up with an idea of sending me to a boarding school of both sex. I was the happiest person alive that day, I can't wait for the day my dad will finally get me registered for the school.

It was on a Monday morning of September, after the September rain had left the sky grey and the ground well swept by the water runoff. All I was doing in the car was nothing rather than smiling. I was excessively overwhelmed and filled with joy which I could not contain.

We entered the principal's office and he motioned for my dad to have a sit on an empty chair across his desk while I was kept standing. Though I was a bit pissed off, unease and felt embarrassed to be kept standing while there are other empty chairs yet to be occupied.

"Is this not an act of wickedness?" I thought within myself.

But nevertheless, that doesn't kill or have anything to do with the inner joy in me, by the way I wouldn't be receiving classes in the principal's office.

The principal, Mr. Tijani was a bald headed man, ebony in complexion with one parallel tribal mark running at both cheeks from the lower eyelids and ended at the upper lips region, just an inch away from the nostrils. He was a lover of grammar and idiomatic expression. Though he speaks with a calm voice contrary to his scary or fierce look.

After the necessary pleasantries, they swung to the business of the day. As for my dad no amount was too much for him to pay for my education, and as for my mom, no man was worthy of her daughter

Finally, I was registered into JSS 3. My first term in the school was so bored because I was still subjected to indoor life which most of my hostel mates complained so much about

"She's still daddy's pet" they always say mockingly to me.

My performance at that term was average. I was average in almost all subjects except arithmetic and English language which nature cheated me in that aspect. I was a very slow learner, very slow in assimilating things to do with big words or grammars, but notwithstanding, I wasn't that poor as you might think.

To me as at then, my second term was the most eventful term ever in that school. Not only in the school but in my life as a whole. I made a lot of friends, four close friends from the same hostel and about five to six in other hostels.

My urge to have a relationship with a guy came to pass. Andrew my first boyfriend was a tall handsome guy whose chin showed sign of maturity, light skinned with soft dark hair. He was in the upper class, SS 2 then. He was a cynosure of attraction to many girls in the school including the senior class (SS 3) girls. I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world when he approached me one day when I was sitting on a creaking bench under a mango tree outside my classroom.

"Hey pretty" he said to me waving his left hand.

I raised my face and saw the handsome looking young man in his well-ironed uniform which he buttoned to the neck.

"Hi" I replied sharply as if awakened from a deep thought which was the period I was busy admiring him.

Well, I was pretty also with a well-curved hips and a figure-eight back-side.

It was like a dream to me when he approached me with words of love

"Of all the beautiful girls in the senior classes admiring you, why was I the chosen one for you? Are you sure you are not mistaking me for someone else?" I asked, looking straight into his sea-blue eyes unsteadily.

"Of course am not mistaking, you are the one that caught my heart and held it captive" he replied.

Though I was new to the game. I knew not how it's being played. All what I have been hearing from my friends was about looks and sex. How sweet sex is and how they love doing it with their boyfriends.

Well, my case was different, sex wasn't actually what I had in mind for my relationship. Sex was far from my thought. This was my first relationship with a guy and it was based purely on attraction rather than real love. I was proud of him and always bragged about his light muscles and his high cheekbones to my friends in the hostel.

Every night I talked to him on phone which my dad bought for me as a birthday gift. Though the school ruled out the use of cell phones by students living in the hostel, but that wasn't any of my concern as I always used the phone to make calls under my pillow. In some cases, on Friday nights I do sneak out of the hostel to spend the night on his bed off-hostel. Nothing always transpire between us as you might be thinking. But what I lacked then was the understanding that he wanted more from me than I was giving him.

One night, that was about two months after we started dating. I was in his room when he gripped me at my breasts, drew me closer to himself and started massaging my boots. My scrawny legs were not strong enough to kick his six-foot-one weight off me. He had my lips locked to his lips and dragged me to his bathroom. I was caught up in the realm and lured to his bait. Helplessly, I laid on his cold-tiled bathroom floor, wet and torn opened.

Andrew cautioned me not to ever reveal what happened that night to anyone. He caught me with a threat that he belonged to one of the most deadly cult group in school.

The next morning I couldn't make it back to my hostel on time, and I faced the wrath of our matron. She was disappointed in me and I heard some of my mates saying quietly that they knew I have been sneaking out of the hostel for a very long time but had no idea of where I was spending my nights.

For the first time in my life that I felt embarrassed publicly. I blamed myself for everything that has happened to me, particularly for sneaking out and spending a night with my boyfriend. I was just fifteen with little or no knowledge about sex, much less rape. Yes, of course, I have been hearing about it from my friends, how sweet it was. Inwardly I wanted to do it but not as fast as I thought. And by the way, I would have love to submit myself to whomever I wanted to offer my body to, not to be raped. I would have love to be sexed on my own submission, but there I was, a victim of rape. Well I can't reverse what had happened. The fact still remained that my first sex experience was a rape. Though I couldn't tell anyone, but I was disheartened as well as emotionally traumatized and was ashamed of myself.

After the incident I held Andrew in mind, I never talked to him until the end of the term. Whenever I saw him, I wish he should die as fast and soon as possible. I really never wanted seeing him again. But little do I know my real self. I thought I was just like other mortals who just wish, whose wish never or cease to come through. I never knew I was far different from them.

I was left in a great shock when I resumed the following term to get the news of Andrew's death. It was gathered that he was knocked down by a fast moving vehicle on his way home. The school was quiet, cold as death with the compliance of all the fowls of the air and on earth which also maintained a day silence for Andrew's death.

That night, I sat on my bed and wept bitterly with his thought running through my mind for about three weeks. My best friend, Omoyeni stood as my consolation whenever am having a thought of him. With just little time, his thoughts expired from my mind. I started afresh once again but not with a boyfriend as you might think.

A lot of strange things began happening to me. The more I grow, the more I experience it. I was in one of my friend's hostel one day, it was in the late hours of Saturday morning after all the necessary hostel wahala. My hair was loose and tattered and having a friend whose mother was a hairdresser which she had learnt it from her alongside other apprentices, I decided to offer her my head to display her talent.

I was displeased when I looked at the mirror as soon as I got home. The hairstyle has given my head another shape, something like mango to be compared with. Though the hair was well-dressed and platted, each line glittering with oiled skin, shinning under the sun, well parked backwards and bonded with a red ribbon. I stared at the mirror looking at my head having a wrong shape. I wasn't satisfied with the hairstyle, but nevertheless, I have to bear it at least for few days in order to please her.

Deep inside me, I wanted the hair loosen with immediate alacrity. I couldn't bear to stand in front of my mates, most especially the boys, having this mango shaped head. All my friends were giving the hairstyle an accolade despite my sour look which I thought they were just making me feel better as usual.

When I slept that night, something very strange happened. It all happened like a dream when I saw someone, a very beautiful middle aged woman, her body fresh and glittering as if she had just bath with nothing but Peak Milk or Red Wine, her face beautifully shaped and her eyes off-human color. The woman was sitting in the air at the position of my head. Before I could know it, she began losing my hair. Her hands contacting my skin, was soft and cold as death, very cold like an ice fish.

When she had finished losing my hair, she weaved it herself after which she swung her soft pink hair backwards, smiled at me then suddenly disappeared into the air. If I could recall properly, I won't be mistaking her for anyone else than the woman I saw at the river bank back then in the village. She was the same woman.

Waking up the following morning, I touched my head and maintained same position for a while. I removed my hand then touched to feel around the hair once again but nothing has changed. I jerk from my bed instantly, scratched my hair. It has been loosen and reweaved. I glanced at the floor and saw all the wool which served as an attachment spread and scattered all over the floor. At first, I thought it might have been the handwork of my mates because they can be mysterious some times. But again I thought that there would have been no way they would do such a thing without my knowledge. As at the morning of the incident, the memory of what happened like a dream had been erased totally from my head. I couldn't remember a thing again.

Before any questioning, I got down from my bed, picked a broom and gathered the wools altogether. All my friends were angry and mad at me that morning when they saw my hair reweaved.

"Why did you lose that your fine hair?" Omoyeni yelled.

"I loose and reweaved it overnight because I wasn't OK with the hairstyle" I lied, though I wasn't a good or skillful liar. The truth can be easily gotten from me if am interrogated. Before sunset that day, the memory of the dream came back. But in order for me not to reveal what actually happened, I took an option of apologizing to them all. I was afraid of telling them what happened for the fear of scaring them away from me.

Well, anyway, by then I was still a kid so I never took cognizant of what happened. I took it not serious. Many things I couldn't recall happened to me. All I thought then was that I was just like others. Little do I know that I was a walking accident zone for offender's bearer, not an ordinary child. I never told my parents anything neither do they also reveal anything to me so, I thought all the happenings were just normal occurrences.

When I got to senior class (SS2), I suddenly grew confidence, though the secret of my confidence was unknown to me. I became a dry fish that resist bending in the hands of all the school teachers including the principal. I was the only girl in school who wears a skirt contrary or against the school dressing code. At my age, I could throw any boy who come across my way in fight. But I never made use of that. I only defended my friends when necessary.

One day, I was sitting under a cashew tree outside my hostel when I remembered of some clothes I saw in the market. I so much admired the clothes in such a way that I couldn't wait to see the clothes in my body.

"But eight thousand naira is too expensive for those clothes" I murmured. "How on earth am I going to get that money". I knew my dad wasn't coming any time sooner, he just visited about two weeks ago.

I sat head bowed thinking of the way out when I suddenly started seeing some naira notes falling off the tree. At first I thought it was an imagination caused by my thoughts. I thought my eyes had betrayed me by making jest or mockery of me. I use my fingers to rub my eyes in order to get rid of the deception, but surprisingly opening my eyes I could still see the naira notes scattered all over the ground in sixteen different positions. Newly minted five hundred naira notes, each shining to the evening sun.

I childishly glanced around to watch if someone was coming or watching me. I don't care about the source, I reasoned not who might have spread the money from the tree top. Could it be lost money, spirit money or not? Well, all this I don't care. All I cared about was that, the next day I was going to have a new dress.

Something happened one weekend that resulted to my mates and everyone present at that moment to start suspecting me of being an extraordinary child (Ogbanje). It was around eight o'clock in the morning, the grey moon was still clearly seen at the middle of the sky. I was resisted by our matron to accompany her to her farm along with other students. Firstly, I obeyed her and stayed back in the hostel. Few moments later I became bored and needed someone to talk to. All my friends went along with her and I saw nothing bad joining them as well, so I head straight to the matron's house. Her last born was the only one present at home and was also making preparation to join her mother in the farm.

"I will love to join my mates in matron's farm so can you take me there please?" I said to her.

"Oh thank God, I've made preparation to go but needed someone to accompany me. Thank God you are here" she replied eagerly.

Without delay we both set to the farm. The farm was about a kilometer and half away from the school so it took us a long walk before we arrived.

"What are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come with us" the matron said in annoyance.

Other students were put in a mixture of range for her desperation likewise me.

"I thought I could be of help" I answered softly.

She stood mute for a while as if admitting an uncontrollable secret. "Am sorry, am just following your parents instructions and also don't want you stressed up" she whispered calmly.

I never knew what my dad had told her or the school management about me. But it seemed that there was a secret I needed to know, as at then I was still behaving childish and still subjected to parental petting. My thoughts were far off from such suspense.

It was the time of melon harvest, we assisted her in removing the seed melon from the rotten scabs. The seed melon were taken to the river in baskets after the removal. Again she warned me to stay back to watch over the remaining melon yet to be taken.

After a long time of waiting in the farm without any sight of them or their voices I became a little scared of the large farmland so I decided to take the remaining basket ahead of them to the river for wash. I carried the basket on my head with a pad. The offensive smell gushing out of the rotten scabs irritates me beyond explanation but yet I held the basket on my head without complaining as the sour water drips down from the basket pore spaces wet and stained my dress.

My assistant was useless as it got no recommendation rather than an insult from the matron.

"Itunu, please don't allow people to call me names my parents never gave to me" she snapped as soon as she sighted me coming.

Anyway she assisted me in bringing down the load on my head and ordered for my immediate departure from that premises.

"This is a forbidden area for you" she said to my ears, but it was too late.

As I swung my head to the other end of the river watching as the water flows with ease, suddenly what I saw then beside the primary school river in my village showcased itself once again. The experience was almost the same, all what I saw then, the mannequin, the bright shining light at the middle of the river and the beautiful woman repeated itself.

Like a whisper, a voice said to my ears "Go! Go! Go and enter the water. That is your home, that's where you belong. Walk straight to the bright shining light and experience an endless world of enjoyment, fun, peace and fashion". And without hesitating I began walking towards the direction of the light centered in the middle of the river.

"Where are you going to? Come back here! Come back here!" the matron called out loudly.

I gave her no response rather focused on going. I began entering the water and felt two hands dragging my feet in.

"Catch her for me! Don't let her go!" our matron kept screaming.

At first all the students were terribly afraid. The manner at which I focused on the fixed direction got them puzzled and confused. My knees had already been swallowed inside the water when I felt a hand dragging me backwards. It was a manly hand, strong and matured. As soon as the hand touched me the two other hands dragging me inwards gave up to the outer hand by letting go of my legs. The man had ran out of his farm to my rescue when he heard our matron screaming for help.

As soon as the man drew me out of the water I regained consciousness, screamed aloud and bolted out of the premises. My mates running after me. Ever since then my mates all became afraid of me. Whenever I presents myself to join them on a particular thing or subject, they would use all their possible techniques to draw me aside. To end it all they started avoiding me.

The treatment from my mates started making me to feel like an outcast among them. It has begun occurring to me that really I wasn't an ordinary child that I have thought I was. I began sensing some extraordinary forces around me but nevertheless I still don't see all the happenings as a thing to be bothered about.

With time the memory of the incident faded off as my mates began coming closer to me once more. I was too happy to be bothered. I finally felt like the girl I used to be but what surprises me at times was the way things happens to those I had grudge with.

The ground was still warm from the afternoon sun one Tuesday evening when I was standing behind the class with my hands around my broad waist which seduces, or to say attracts men. Mr. Ekpo, a chemistry teacher entered our class with a long cane of about a meter and half long. Immediately, silence enveloped the class as he walked in waving the long cane readily. We all stood to greet him and he responded with a smile and ordered us to sit. With my hands on my waist I arched my ass backwards to sit on my chair. Mr. Ekpo viewed the class then walked straight to my desk, he walked round my desk four times, and then suddenly from behind, he landed two well measured lashes on my back.

"What have I done" I said rudely.

"Oh, so you have the guts to question me for flogging you right?" he muttered peevishly.

"But sir I haven't done anything wrong to be whipped" I stood my ground.

"So are you trying to accuse me of insanity? Flogging you for no reason" he whispered as he walked round me to peer into my frowned face with an "I don't care" expression.

For yelling at him, he ordered me to stand in front of the class in order to make jest of me.

"You bastard daughter from a shattered home lacking proper home training. You prostitute, harlot, whore, midget, good for nothing girl".

When he was saying all this I was just standing quietly looking at the disgusting old fellow. He further requested for two more canes which without time wastage one of my classmate who's my face was an abomination to ran out of the class like a missile in quest of the cane. He wouldn't have accepted any other errand with such great joy and pleasure. Mr. Ekpo bent the cane half-ellipse on his knees to verify the toughness and ensure the reliability. He gave me ten matured strokes on my buttocks accompanied with a condition of not ever entering his class again.

Of course Mr. Ekpo has asked me out on several occasions which I turned him down. He had invited me to his office countless times and to his house about eight times. I was a girl with many choices. Mr. Ekpo was a man in his late forties, married with three children living in Lagos.

After Andrew, I saw all men the same, I hated having any relationship with a man. By the way even if I had to, not with a married man. My teacher, an ugly scar faced man with a large tummy that housed crates of beer, a forcefully broader nose which resulted from the excessive gushing out of cigarettes smoke like a truck exhaust. Embarrassing me in front of the whole class can't change my "No" as an answer to him. The next time he asked me out after the embarrassment my answer hadn't changed. I still maintained my "No" as an answer.

I was sad and disheartened, I felt cheated. For a second Mr. Ekpo embarrassment never escapes my thoughts throughout that week even when I had my eyes closed in sleep, I still dreamt of him.

Seven days after, his hands became suddenly swollen and his ears gushing out pus. He was referred to various hospitals for treatment without any result. All the doctors' efforts yield negative. The cause of the swollen was unknown. A week later, the situation worsen, the worms and the unpleasant smells coming out of the rotting hand became unbearable. At a point one of the doctors advised them to try the native way since the cause of the sickness wasn't revealed medically.

I was in my hostel one evening when a junior students came to fetch me for the principal.

"The principal is in quest of you" the student said.

Without any questioning I followed her gently hoping that it must have been my dad who might have brought me lots of goodies. Indeed I was happy inwardly not until the story got twisted when I got to the principal's office.

Seated in the principal's office was Mr. Ekpo and his amiable wife standing behind him.

"It's a secret matter" said Mr. Ekpo.

"Oh you mean I don't have to be involved in this?" asked the principal, a little puzzled.

"Yes sir" Mr. Ekpo said.

The smell was uncontrollable, the breeze frequently blows the offensive smell towards my direction. In just a minute, I have been fed up, dizzy and uncomfortable and I begged God to have me evacuated instantly from that premises.

Mr. Ekpo started softly like a man I have never met or known before. "Itunuoluwa Anuoluwapo Makanjuola" he called my name slowly in full.

Reading from his lips and composure right from that moment I knew the solution to his problems, am not far away from it. The gentleness in his voice even as he beats around the bush had left a helping of doubt at the very center of me and my conscience were now wrapping me around his words so tightly.

"I came here to ask for your forgiveness. I know you won't understand but your forgiveness is the only cure to my illness". He hinted.

"Sir I don't understand" I said in confusion.

"Please my dear I know I have wronged you in many ways but please find a place in your heart, a very nice and special place to forgive". He laments, going down on his knees alongside his wife.

"Please my daughter forgive him for my sake not for his sake" muttered his wife with a very soft voice. I was a little jealous of her voice though. It was unique, rare and presentable.

I was in the state of pandemonium but forgiving him was the first thing I did even without knowing what was going on. "You never offended me in anyway but since you are asking me for forgiveness who am I to say no sir" I said. "But I need to know the reason you are so desperate for me to forgive you" I added.

He began by explaining to me how he had suffered in the hands of different doctors for the sake of curing his illness but proved abortive.

"Only a fool does repeat same thing or same process and expect different results. I was meant to know after all the medical consultation that I can't be cure medically" he said.

He furthermore explained that after an advice from one of the medical professionals, they took a step of searching for a solution in a traditional way. A juju priest was consulted and he told them that the solution to his illness is as simple as ABC... Only forgiveness from whoever he might have offended was the solution to his predicament. Anything contrary to that would end him watching his own body rotting to death before his very eyes.

How they got to know that I was the offended person needed to be begged was the first question I asked and it was clarified to me by them that the person in question was his student. Knowing very well that I was the one, it was no accident that he came to me. But the juju priest warned that the secret should never be revealed or shared with anyone aside me and that was why the principal was excluded. Contradicting to the warning might mark the end of his life.

And as for the boy who volunteered by pushing his chest forward in search of the cane, he was made a victim of sacrifice. A report was gotten that he died twenty one days after the incident in an abandoned toilet in his village during a weekend visit back home. Who killed him? No one knows, not even me telling you the story. But was I supposed to know? Anyway if I was supposed to know you will get to know. But what I knew was that his death wasn't unconnected from me.

Mr. Ekpo resumed the following term healthy and strong without any trace of the sour. But whenever he sees me approaching his way he would hasten his pace or run as fast as he could like a man with an ironed starched clothes under a cloudy sky. I became his masquerade, his nightmare, his hunter. But nonetheless, a monkey who insists on seeing the Hunter's face will one day receive a bullet in its own face. Mr. Ekpo was the monkey who had insisted in seeing the Hunter's face and now he had received the bullet in his own face.

The morning sun has risen on a bright Wednesday, falling all objects and humans shadows diagonally to their stands, the ongoing shadows right and the incoming shadows left. I was walking beside my friend with our shadows drawn on the ground colliding with one another on the ground surface as we walked. We had covered a distance of about a kilometer away from our school to the paved access road. The road was busy, filled with cars, motorbikes and bicycles. Cars and Lorries with other mobile machines blaring their horns randomly. Children going to various schools stood by the road sides looking really beautiful in their various uniforms, the girls beautifully dressed in gowns and pinafores, and the boys in their shorts. Green, blue, white, purple, pink, yellow uniforms etc.

There was a sudden aggressive blare of a motorbike horn right behind me. Turning to look, a very hard back-hand, stiff and strong landed on my left cheek. My eyes in an instant grew huge and widen in shock. I placed my palm on the burning cheek as my eyes turned reddish. The redness of my eyes at that moment can't make any comparison with any other redness I may know. My eyes took the largeness of frog's eyes, big and watery. I stood mute for a while, my hand on my lips with a fierce look. My expression became hard like stone. My nostrils bubbling. I lowered my hands, placed them on my hips and struggled for the right words to say.

"What the hell was that" Omoyeni muttered confusedly.

"Sorry my daughter. This is how some motorcyclists behaves in this area. Am really sorry" said an old woman walking behind us.

Just then I came to realize how loud the slap was. It had echoed to the ears of many around. Instantly I looked round and saw many eyes fixed on me. Chaaaaiiii! I have been highly embarrassed, yet I said nothing. Just as the traffic lights went from red to green, people hurried along: Motorcyclists flew pass like arrows, car sped on. I walked along Omoyeni slowly still having a clear sight of the mischievous motorcyclist riding recklessly with a light skin pretty lady behind.

"You will die on that bike" I said within myself. Death was all I wished him.

Few moments later, we walked across a pedestrian bridge where we saw a little gathering of people, sympathizers having their hands on their heads and staring at a lifeless body of a young man on the ground.

"It seems there is an accident over there" said Omoyeni

"And how is that supposed to be our business?" I replied rudely.

"Common we are all human being. The victim 'God forbid' might happen to be someone we know. You never can tell".

"Not someone I may know, but someone you may know, mind your words" I pushed back her words.

Getting the report, the motorcyclist was knocked down by a fast running vehicle as he was about crossing the road. Though he crouched to avoid the hit. It was useless. The vehicle swept him off the pavement surface and had him flushed to the other end of the road. Even at this time I could still see the unfortunate man lying flat dead on the ground, his blood reddening a part of the pavement. I glanced to observe the lifeless body, of course who do you think the motorcyclist was? I think it's time for you to guess and I know you will guess right. And you have known already because of course you know who the person was.

The lady he carried on his bike was unconscious and was rushed to a nearby hospital for medical attention. Though the physical injury sustained by her wasn't severe. Only the back of her clothes was reddened by a minor injury. She regained back consciousness about half an hour later. Was she the target? Of course you all know the answer is "No". She was just unfortunate and unlucky to fall in the wrong path.

"This was the bike man that slapped you some moments ago" Omoyeni said tapping my shoulder as she speaks.

"Am not sure" I denied. I don't want anyone to know what had transpired between me and the bike man. But Omoyeni seemed not to understand because she lacked the knowledge of what was running in my mind.

"He's the one" she insisted.

I gripped her left hand and dragged her out of the uncomfortable environment. "Let's go" I shouted.

From that moment I realized that the greatest threat and fear I had in the world of the universe was myself. I wasn't sure am like other human walking around the streets in various parts of the world. A help of doubt descended on me and I began to realize that I wasn't a natural being. Again I began seeing myself as a walking accident zone. Who am I? Where really do I come from? Where do I belong? I don't know. But I have a parent who without deeper consultation I believed they are natural beings created by God.

"Wen briz blow d fowl yash go open". The day I was tagged the mysterious girl in school fell on a Friday morning. I felt uneasy inside the hostel and decided to step out. It was after the first cock-crow, the moon was still shining bright in the sky. It was the late morning moonshine when the moon was in its last quarter. The moon casts its spell over the earth so that at this last sleeping round of the morning the entire surrounding looks like a spirit land. I looked round the environment and felt the presence of someone. It might happen to be a spirit, a ghost, a mermaid or any other creature but what it was or who it was I don't know.

I glanced round to see if someone was within but I couldn't have a clear visibility because it was still dark. Suddenly I began to hear footsteps treading some dry cashew leaves which the trees middle housed a pathway to my hostel. The ground was dark and humid. I couldn't see a clear vision of who was coming. What I could only hear was sound. The sound made by the incoming creature as it trod on dry leaves. The falling leaves had formed a carpet over the night. What triggered my courage not to bolt away was unknown to me.

Right before me was a woman wearing a pair of white Iro and Buba, light skinned, beautiful to my satisfaction. She smiled at me and I gave her same in return.

"How are you doing" she said with an unnatural voice. The voice that seemed to echo in my ears like the voice of a spirit. Though I haven't heard a spirit's voice physically before but in Nollywood movies, I have heard it numberless times.

"Am doing well" I replied back slowly.

"I seeeee!" she gave a pause. "But are you really doing well and comfortable with your parents at home and here in school?" she suddenly asked consciously. I was shocked and silent to her question for a moment before I gave her a reply.

"Very comfortable" I said quickly as if awaken from a deep thought.

"That's good" she smiled at me again and became cold "My daughter I have to go now, I have to return back to where I belong before the second cock-crow" she whispered.

"But who are you?" I asked nonchalantly. She looked at me, smiled again then started walking away.

"Who are you?" I kept asking but she gave no more response. At a respectful distance she paused then turned to look at me, though I wasn't sure of who's face I saw but I could recall that the face possessed by the woman was almost my own face. Only the maturity of her face that could be noted and distinguished from mine. The face smiled at me, took a turning at once and began walking away into the cashew trees. Still I stood watching her white clothes as she was swallowed in distance.

Immediately I regained myself, fear gripped me. I became terribly afraid of myself and what had just happened. Meanwhile, my hostel mates had been listening to my conversation with the woman. Although none of them was bold or confident enough to have a look of who I was interacting with.

As I stepped back into the hostel they were all standing like statues staring at me as I walked in like another creature. At first I was confused of their reactions. Why are they all having their eyes fixed on me? Was I not the same person they use to know anymore? Why were their look different today? All these I was asking myself. I have never experienced such look on me before. I had no idea if I have done anything wrong. Or, oh they thought I have escaped to pass a night in my boyfriend's house like I use to do when I was in the junior class.

"That girl is evil" I overheard some of my mates saying

"Let's have her reported to the matron, we can't be living with such an evil girl in this hostel. One day she may get all of us killed or initiated to her evil doings" they discussed.

Though I never heard a call from the matron afterwards but there was a great distinction between the past and the present. They terribly became afraid of me and always avoid my path. Only my closest friend Omoyeni endured till the end.

It was on a Mathematics examination day when I was writing my West African Examination Council exams, as a secondary school graduating student, my dressing was an exception to others. I was on my well-ironed royal blue check uniform and a pair of black sandals with a tight short horse blonde skirt about four inches above my knees.

Shortly after the commencement of the exam, the external supervisor walked in wearing a long sad face. A No-nonsense man to be from his appearance. He possesses three black bold tribal marks at both sides of his cheeks like the whiskers of a cat. Without saying a word he looked round the hall with his frowned face then he made a request for the register, then he looked round again.

"Why is the attendance reading all present when I can see empty chairs even with my eyes closed?" he shouted at the invigilator in custody of the register.

One at a time he began calling the register again after which he walked round the hall to verify the faces through the passports.

 "Is this an examination hall or a club house, can somebody tell me where I am please?" he muttered as soon as he got to my desk, turning his frowned face to the principal who was standing at the front of the hall.

"I don't understand sir" Mr. Tijani answered, looking round the hall in confusion.

"Do you teach moral conduct and manner of dressing in this school at all? Or do your students just wear what they want to school as long as it's the same as the color of the uniform?"

"What's the matter sir?" Mr. Tijani asked in a cool voice.

"Stand-up" he ordered me "Look, is this how your students dress? In a mini skirt?" he was saying demonstrating with his hand.

"Itunu why did you wear this?" Mr. Tijani yelled at me, pretending not to know that that was how all my skirts are being sew right from my day one in the senior classes.

I had my head bowed searching for the right words to say "I.... I.... I" I stammered.

"Out! Get out!" the supervisor ordered me, pointing towards the hall exit.

With due respect I walked out of the hall, leaving all my writing materials and booklet on my desk with the hope of calling me back after a while. I sat at a corner to the hall entrance. Mr. Tijani used all his wonderful techniques to convince the barefaced man but zero was all his efforts. Mr. Tijani became worried, he confronted the man several times but all yield negative. The issue almost ended with the two grown up men in a serious quarrel.

Just few minutes before the end of the paper, the Scarface man finally ushered me in. To my principal and others, it was useless letting me in at that time. The time was limited and fast running.

The surprise I got back on my desk was uncommon. I opened my booklet one at a time, slowly and gently. My booklet had been filled with answers, clearly and neatly written with my own handwriting.

"Was this the handwork of Mr. Tijani?" I asked myself, then without any further confusion I remember who I was despite not knowing my real self. When the result was out I was the only student with A1 in mathematics.