Things began to hit rock bottom when Nkem started to notice that his mother’s health was fast deteriorating and the cracks were forming in her face. The cracks were taking a pattern that would soon announce itself to the world. She had first called it malaria but the elongated nature of the illness, coupled with the fact that she was losing weight, made Nkem and Da Amadi very worried. Something was not quite right. The first line of action for Obiageli was to resort to her spiritual mother.
‘They were always going to come for you, especially now that your son is a graduate,’ were the opening lines of her spiritual mother.
Even at a time when knowledge pervaded the environment, as far as spirituality goes, this was a turf for conformity and fewer questions. The joke had it that if you query the spiritual too often, the infinite might get angry and pour madness on you. It was the kind of fear often peddled around by those who engaged in the craft. It sold their trade and gave them the required decorum to bask in the spoils. There were little spiritual houses littered around Oboda-Akpu at the time. Many of them would pass for shanties but they wore the look and looked the part. Little pieces of red and white fabric were knotted to carefully selected stones and strategically placed on the sides of the shanties. There were half calabashes outside with one or two eggs inside. The calabashes also contained a mixture of leaves and herbs, visible enough to scare any intruder, while enticing those that seek answers, and sometimes, miracles. In a few other places, there were conspicuous banners that spoke to the mind from afar. The banners often had poor syntax on them but they were sensible enough to be understood by all and sundry.
‘Spiritual mother, please what do I do?’ Obiageli queried.
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