The stream encounter

“Nneka!” Deborah screams

“We dey come, make una wait,”

“Make una comot, make we fit waka come back on time oh.”

Two young ladies walk out of red brick house with mud pots in their hands. They have mini cloths (oshuka) which is rolled up and put in between the head and pot. They walk over to a third girl sitting under the mango tree outside the house.

“Mama still never come back from market oh,” the girl called Nneka says

“We no go waste time, we na go come back sharp sharp, as water no dey my house.” The girl, that was first under the mango tree alone, says 

“Chidima you na hear wetin dem say,” Both Nneka and both girls turn to the girl who had come out with Nneka.

“Why una dey turn to me, no bi Nneka dey always pluck fruits.”

“Anyway na sharp sharp, make una dey ready when I call una.”

They all pick their pot as they had placed them on the floor during the short discussion. They sing local moonlight songs as they walk to the stream.

“Una hear about Chiamaka.”

“Wetin happen to her.”

“She don grow wing ever since whey she go Lagos, come see the dress wey she wear yesterday. Chei chineke I no know why her mama no slap am before she comot house.”

“Wetin she wear!”

“hmmm hmmm,” slapping and changing her hands as if she were washing your hands off something she says “I no even know how I fit describe am. The thing just dey show her baby milk and she come wear pants alone.”

“Tufia pa, what is the world coming to.”

“Me I hear say that Lagos na bad place oh, they say say that dem girls, dey wear nonsense and dey they do rubbish.”

“My aunty when she go Lagos go see Chinedu her pikin, she say the place worse pass Benin and Onitsha.”

“Anyways If you see Chiamaka, you na go die, that girl don kolo finish,” this is said with an air of superiority.

On reaching the stream, they all put their pots down. They turn it sideway into the stream so that the water could flow into it. They fill their pots and swim naked as they are the only people at the stream. Nneka then plucks plenty fruits which she ties in her mini iro.

Walking back seems eerie as they are the only ones on the road. On most days, there would be farmers coming from their farm, hunters going to check their traps and hunt some animals and most importantly the palm wine tapper would be coming back with gourds of palm wine at this time in the evening.

“Una no notice say na only us wey dey waka dis road.”

“Abi na only us dey stream too.”

Immediately she says this, they hear the swoosh of a cane. They all look back to see masked ones at their back. Without thinking twice about it, they start running without consideration to the pot on their head. Splat and splot, the water in the pot flies everywhere, after which, the pots themselves all land on the ground. The ladies do not pay any attention to the pots. Later they would all have to face their parent and explain they got the best pot in their respective house broken. But for now, all that matters is getting safely away from the masquerades and their canes. It is not a pretty story to tell if you are ever caught by them. They run the race of their lives to Nneka’s house as it is the closest. There they all ponder on what and how to tell their parents, of what had happened to their best pot. But it is only for a minute.

“Nneka come here.” Nneka mum could be heard and she sounds pretty pissed. They girls look at each other and go to face their first nemesis.