I had often wondered what I would do if I ever saw my mother again. Wish her dead or even kill her, maybe. Yell at her for abandoning me, yes. Ignore her when she asked for my forgiveness, definitely. But never have I imagined that I would be staring at her severed head in a silver bowl at Chief Ochiriozuah’s house.
I couldn’t believe it. I turned my deadliest gaze to Chief Ochiriozuah.
“Why?” My voice was strangely calm.
Shaking in terror, he told me his story. Chief Ochiriozuah was a die hard occultic ritualist. He was born into a family where poverty was their first and last name. He hated it with passion and vowed he would never be poor in his entire life. As a young man, he had hustled normally, trying his hands in different legal businesses. But none of them worked. And because he was allergic to poverty, he turned to money rituals. At first he didn’t want to do it, but desperation made him change his mind. Since then, he had never been poor.
He owned big business enterprises. Money rained like showers. He could go anywhere he wanted, have anything he wanted and take any woman he wanted. He could do and undo and nobody could do anything about it.
When he started, he was required to sacrifice the heads of virgins every year. But as his rank rose in their occultic fraternity, his requirements became easier. He could sacrifice any woman he could find. His sacrifice was due for this particular year and since what he was looking for in Sokoto was already in Shokoto, my mother’s head found itself in that silver bowl.
I saw red. “Your own don be be that.”
“Chukwuma, please…” He began to plead.
“Don’t call me!” I yelled angrily, interrupting him.
He kept pleading but I was far gone with anger. I ordered the boys to gather all those heartless ritualists. First of all, I made those ritualists to dig a very wide and deep grave for two. Then, I forced Chief Ochiriozuah to dress my mother in the best cloth available in the house and carry her to the grave. They performed a burial service for her at gun point.
“Oya, enter.” I ordered Chief Ochiriozuah.
“Erm, enter where?” He asked, trembling.
“Your head.” I replied sarcastically. “I say jump into that grave.
His eyes widened in fresh horror and he immediately got on his knees pleading and crying. But there was no pinch of sympathy in me for him. We tied him up and pushed him into the grave to lie with my mother. Then I ordered the remaining ritualists to fill the grave which they did, trembling.
When the grave was completely filled and I was sure Chief Ochiriozuah would not crawl out, I ordered his ritualist friends to be hanged at the orchard behind his house. We locked the gate and left.
Their hanging bodies were found weeks later when their families searched for them. The whole town was buzzing with the news. The Police made some investigations. Since no evidence was found, the case was dropped.
Right now, I can’t say what made me do what I did. It wasn’t like I loved my mother or I wanted to avenge her. If you ask me sef, she deserved what happened to her. After all, she abandoned me to go and enjoy Chief Ochiriozuah’s money. But then again, blood was blood. There was no way I would exist in this life with Chief Ochiriozuah after what he did. I dey craze?
So life continued jare. Funny enough, the incident gave us more respect from the people. They knew about Chief Ochiriozuah but like typical Naija style, they chose to look the other way. Try talking and your family would look for you. I even overheard one man telling his friends in a bar that Chief Ochiriozuah took his wife. And he was happy the randy man was dead.
Our reputation grew. More people came to us to treat their enemies’ fuck ups. One Mr. Amadi contracted us to deal with his wife’s lover. His wife was having an affair and had even packed out of the house to join her rich lover whom he heard had newly moved into town. Mr. Amadi may be poor but he managed to give us hundred and fifty thousand naira, his entire life’s savings, for the job.
We immediately tracked down the lover to a rented flat. We stormed into the flat. Mrs. Amadi and her lover sprung apart on the couch, shocked. They were both naked and ready for the action before we interrupted. I stared at the lover.
He was my father.
To be continued… Don’t forget to drop your comments, like and share. Merry Christmas!