Lara lay-sprawling on the ground till daylight came, she remained fixed to her position too weak to move. She was surprised she survived the night.
She felt her belly; the contractions on her pelvis had stopped. Maybe her baby is dead-she thought.
“God forbid” she thought aloud.
She won’t go through all this troubles in vain.
With difficulty, she sat up to survey her surroundings.
She was sitting in what looked like a small farm, behind a house.
She held her breathe; was she back to square one?
She saw a young boy walk out of the house to empty his bowels. She shuffled behind some cassava plants…
The shuffling sound got the boy’s attention, he looked around, walked towards the farm.
“Who be you?” he asked angrily.
Lara kept her eyes fastened on his, too scared to speak.
“I say who you be?” he asked again.
Lara kept mute, what would she tell him.
Her abdomen contracted painfully, she let out a shrill
The boy looked scared. He ran towards the house.
“Maami…maami…come and see o, one woman like that.” he shouted as he ran.
“Obinrin-woman? What is she doing there? Ehn?” a fat woman ran out of the house.
“Who be you?” she asked bending to peer at Lara.
Lara couldn’t reply, she kept pointing at her abdomen as she writhed in pains.
The woman got the message.
“Jide! Jide o! Go and call your father.” She shouted at her son
“Yee! Mo ku o!” Lara screamed as she battled.
“So you be yoruba?” the woman asked quietly.
“My waist! My legs…my….yeee!” Lara screamed. She was in labour.
The woman’s husband came out, and they both helped Lara into the house.
Tony gazed at their mini-garden from his bedroom window. Another day without any news from Lara.
He’s been having nightmares lately, everything was filed with bad omen.
“I wonder why that girl is so ill-lucked.” He said aloud.
He hoped to see her alive.
Some noise coming from the parlor jolted him back to reality. Some people were quarrelling.
“So after all your son did to my friend, he still had to use her for rituals!” Deji screamed
“Useless Igbo people! Weere! Awon Olori buruku!” Funke clapped her hands.
“Mum? What’s going on here?” Tony asked his mother.
“These people just came in and…” Amara tried to explain.
“Useless impotent idiot!” Deji spat at him.
“Produce my friend for me oooo!”
“What’s this chaos all about? This shouldn’t be happening.” Tony tried to be calm.
“May Sango strike you down! Oshi! Who is chaos? If you know what is good for you, produce my friend o!” Deji shrilled.
“Yes o! Deji omo mi! Show this useless Igbo people that Yoruba’s are not cool!” Funke gingered her up.
“Please, for the sake of peace, you should leave now.” Tony said authoritatively.
“Leave where? I’ll show you, I grew up in Ajegunle! It seems you don’t know me wella, I’m the ‘Deji toh badt’, the female version of an agbero!” Deji demonstrated before them.
“Mum please go inside” Tony told his mother who was shedding tears.
“You are not going anywhere o! Produce Omolara o! Dead or alive, we want her now!” Deji ranted.
Tony felt his head spin, he was too weak to face such trouble. To think that Lara isn’t there to support him…
He slumped slowly to the ground.
“Tony…To…” Amara rushed to her son.
“You’ve not seen anything yet, Sango will strike you down, one by one.” Deji clapped.
“Let’s go!” she told Funke who followed her out of the house.
“Tony, are you okay?” Amara shook him.
He shook his head slowly in pains, sobbing silently. He just hoped his greatest fear won’t surface.
…to be continued…