CURSED DESIRES 3
The face we saw looked familiar. Could this be luck running to us with a wide embrace? I was driving. Uche asked me to pull up and I did. The passerbys kept admiring the black Venza. It wasn’t long before people began to familiarize with us. But we hadn’t come for them.
We went after the woman who appeared to be in her late thirties. Our hearts hammered heavily in our throats. It couldn’t have been a mistaken identity. The woman looked withdrawn from the lots of life. She was worn-out by hardship and child labour. I never imagined joy could be downgraded to what I was seeing.
We called after her and she regarded us. She fixed a searching look at us like one gazing into the depths of the wind. She held onto the big cellophane tight. The contents must be of great essence. Uche tried to wear a friendly face. He looked somewhat funny as he tried to identify with his past signatory grin. She rather looked at him as if he was something from the zoo. I almost peeled my fingers off as I tried to be stable enough.
We’ve never been so embarrassed as we were when she told us she wasn’t the joy we were looking for. We tried introducing ourselves but she roiled her head. She said it hadn’t been more than ten years she was married into the village.
We disappointedly turned away. Uche offered her some money but she wouldn’t take it out of womanly pride. My friend had suddenly turned a good Samaritan ever since we entered the village. What a life! Even a wolf could turn a sheep when it’s in dire need of prey.
I had to tell him that if he threw money around at that rate, we could turn village boys in a couple of days. That suddenly reminded me of our days back then in the village. We always watched the so-called city boys who returned home for Christmas and other festivities, showing off with their little savings. When the jingles finally ousted, they went broke and began to hustle up their transport fares back to the city where a fresh start awaited them.
The broad sun but our heads. We had to get into the car and beat it. We resolved to get home first and properly unite with Uche’s people for an easy going. His father had grown very old and had become more subjective to his ancestors.
When we got home, a few of the family members who’d gotten a wind of our visit already sat under the ancestral mango tree. The same tree under which we’d sat fifteen years ago with Joy and her parents. People wore happy faces as we approached but we weren’t as glad as them.
We spent an ample time to exchange pleasantries before we presented our wine.
It was around 7pm when the Pauls had separated from the Barnabases, that we finally unveiled to Uche’s people the reason for the August visit. The words were hard to come of my friend’s mouth. His aged father made matters worse with his interrogative exclamations. Words and statements resounded alike.
However, it was from the ex-councilor that we heard about the death of Joy’s parents about six years past. They weren’t people of much significance but their deaths made rounds in the entire village. Joy’s father had been a group of local terrorists who mistook him for an officer. The poor man had trespassed their hideout wielding his rifle. He’d been warned to quit his hunt career but aged people would always have their ways. Their home was close to the forest, so Joy’s mother upon hearing the strange gunshots made irrational movements into the forest and met her death as well.
Their cruel and sudden deaths had drawn up attention. That was the last time Joy had been seen.
I was so curious that I asked about Joy’s child. Uche’s parents went silent. They both studied my face quietly…
Victor SN Okeworo
