Yefon: The Red Necklace (16 page)

Yenla being whiter than the rest of us earned her the nickname
Kimbang
earlier on, but that was it. It didn’t make her different to me. Her ever-dilating pupils that never stopped moving left and right didn’t scare me. It was normal. Her numerous pinkish-brown freckles like small flakes didn’t bother me either. It was normal. She was my sister and didn’t need any fixing.

Yes, she was very sickly when we were children and most times boring but that wasn’t enough to make a person a plague. What did people really fear?

Ma used to refuse to serve Yenla fish, or
ce’h ye yumir
, and when I asked why, she would tell me to shut up, but even then it was normal because Ma snapped at me for everything.

One day I gave Yenla some of my
ce’h
, and about two weeks later, the freckles on her face had grown into the size of corn, and I was terribly afraid. That was the first time I saw Yenla as a different person other than my sister—the kimbang who couldn’t eat fish lest the gods unveil their wrath.

One day, Yenla and I were waiting in line to carry water at the water point in Shisong and most of the children shifted when we approached them. It wasn’t unusual and I was about to say something to Yenla about one of the girls who looked like a
kan
, or monkey, when she walked up to us to ask whether the “plague” was contagious.

“What plague?” I asked, completely oblivious.

“The plague, na,” she said pointing at Yenla with her mouth. It was only when Yenla began to cry that I realized that the girl had been referring to her skin pigment.

My chest began to warm up, and a huge pang of revulsion
came over me, and I felt the floor beneath my feet harden.

“Yes, baboon face! Monkey! It is, and you just caught it. Tomorrow morning when you wake up, you will have it.”

The girl let out a high pitch shriek that sounded like a sneeze and ran off crying, and screaming that she didn’t want to be a
ntov
.

I waited a few beats before sitting next to my sister, unsure of what to say. I had no words, so I put my hand over the brown blanket covering her shoulder which she wore all the time.

Similar events occurred over time and I became more and more aware that albinism was feared and insulted, and it hurt me severely when my sister never stood up for herself. Instead, she shrunk and shrunk until her personality was the size of a bean pod and even speaking became a problem. She stuttered so much that it sounded like an earthquake when she opened her mouth to speak.

I asked Kadoh if it was true when people said Yenla’s skin color was a punishment for Pa or Ma’s sins. Kadoh said it was not and I believed her.

“She was conceived at the time of the month when Ma was seeing her monthly visitor.”

“What visitor?” Kadoh laughed heartily. “You ask too many questions. The one that visits you every month”

My
sha
η
g
was about to choke me one day with its hot intensity when Yenla and I walked past two men who were completely dressed in black casual clothes.

They called us over and something told me not to go. My
sha
η
g
had never irritated me as much as it did then, so I took it off. Breathing deeply, I exhaled as the hotness in my chest was replaced by cool air.

“We are looking for directions,” they said with an accent that sounded vaguely like the Nigerians in the market square.

“Let’s help them,” Yenla said, but I held her back.

“We don’t know the road,” I replied and I pulled her hand towards me. That should have been it, but the men followed us as we walked. If we quickened our pace, they quickened their pace. If we slowed down, they did too. Then we began to run and the men followed us until we arrived at our compound shouting.

Luckily, my brothers were home and they caught the men.
When beaten, they confessed that Yenla’s hands and legs would sell for a fortune on the coast. A crazy chill drove down my spine, and I realized that my
sha
η
g
had been trying to communicate with me, and I swore never to take it off again.

After that, Yenla was very sick with chest pain, dizziness, and fainting spells. There was always a healer in our house, and I watched painstakingly as a healer with a calabash tried to draw the color out from her body.

“So, Yenla would become dark?” I asked Kadoh as we watched, arms crossed, our heads travelling around like vultures to get a better view.

“Yes,” Kadoh replied. Today, she wasn’t wearing a mask, but it seemed like she had cut all the leaves in the forest and put them on her head.

“Dark? Like me?” I asked again.

“Yes,” she replied, distracted. The healer was dancing around Yenla, who was fast asleep. He was chanting all sorts of things, and all of us from the compound craned our necks to see how this healer would change an albino’s color to black. That kind of witchcraft seemed even hard for a woman like Kpulajey who could supposedly turn into a cat.

“Hian!
Wonders will never end!” Kpulajey said, but unfortunately Yenla’s color never changed. She now spent most of her time indoors and her health began to deteriorate. Several hush hush meetings were held on her case around the compound.

One sunny day, Kadoh and I were trying to steal
vilu
, or honey, from a
nwah
, or bee hive, a few miles away from my house. Many children were playing outside, but the bees kept their distance. I was wearing one of Kadoh’s clay masks for protection and my skin itched from heat. That was when my
sha
η
g
began to glow.

“Kadoh?”

“Shhh.”

My
sha
η
g
began to burn against my skin. “I have to go.”

“I will eat the
vilu
alone!” Kadoh shouted after me.

Some boys were roasting intestines, or
vitso
, at the side of the road and they tried to offer me some, but something more important was occurring at home, and somehow, I knew it had something to do with Yenla.

When I arrived home, I watched from over the fence as Pa put down his
kibam ke lim
, and listened attentively to someone. Pa seemed to be blinking unnecessarily. I couldn’t see the other person clearly and I ran quickly into the entrance where I saw the man emptying the contents of his drinking horn and wiping the foam of wine from his moustache before speaking.

I knew who that man was. He was the speaker for one of the most feared spirits from the Nkuv forests. His serpentine nose and steely gaze bore through my soul, penetrating my deepest darkest thoughts. I ducked, holding my sweltering
sha
η
g
to make sure it had not cracked.

He said he had made a tedious journey to say that people in Nkuv were dying, and Yenla was needed for a sacrifice to appease some spirit. My ears sharpened? What was he talking about? And here I was thinking I had problems!

“Even the oldest men of the clan knows not of its origin,” the seer said, throwing his staff on the ground.

“We consulted the wise ones and they said evil spirits of the unburied dead are hungry to harm the living if nothing is done about them.”

I saw Pa swallow spit uneasily.

“Does the palace know about this?” he asked, “Has
Nginyam
heard that you plan to use my daughter as a sacrifice?”

Nginyam
was another reverent way to address Fon Nto’, the chief of the village.

My heart ran to Yenla. I hoped for her sake that she was fast asleep. Nobody deserved to hear that her life was on the line and that she was going to be murdered.

The man looked at Pa and laughed loudly as if Pa was stupid.

“Not everything affects the palace. Some things are done for general peace. You will be a hero.”

Pa walked about frustrated, kicking sharp stones as the rest of us watched. “I have many animals. I can give you ten
bvey
s,” he offered desperately.

The lunatic began laughing again. “Whether she eats a live snake, drinks pee, or eats her own feces, she must be sacrificed, or else she will die from the anger of the gods. There is no other way.”

Pa brought out his knife. “I will kill you if you don’t leave
my house,” he said, his eyes bloodshot.

My heart was pounding. It was becoming more and more obvious to me as I grew older that Pa had a temper, and now I knew why he had left the army.

As they were speaking, it came to me what I must do. Creeping quietly so that no one would notice I was gone, I snuck into Ma’s
taav
and made for our room where Yenla sat crying in her bed.

“No no,” I said marching towards her, suddenly feeling like a warrior. “There is nothing wrong with you, Yenla!”

“Easy for you to say.”

“I said there is nothing wrong with you!” My bark surprised even me, but it silenced Yenla, and she looked at me like a puppy waiting to obey. I watched her intently, overhearing the soft sounds of her breathing and the loud argument going on outside. Pa was telling the man to get off his property, but I knew that would not be effective.

Ma’s voice was loud. She was crying.

“What would you have me do? Kill my own child?” Pa screamed from outside. I breathed deeply, silencing my mind. Those screams were too distracting, and they were scaring Yenla too.

“No!” Ma screamed. “
Maabu
!”

Yenla’s sobs became louder and her shaking more violent.

“They want to cut me up like a
ngwv
∂
v
!” she cried. The fright in her voice was enough to break a lion’s heart, but someone had to be strong here and make fast decisions.

Quickly, my eyes scanned the room, and I walked about checking the windows to make sure no one was there. It was clear, and there was only one place in this world where no one would come looking for her.
Ngonnso’s mbve’
! My
mbve’
. But how would we make it there unseen? It was a good four-mile walk and Yenla was too ill to make it.

“I need you to listen to me,” I said, shaking her by the shoulders. Her skin was paler than I remembered.

“You will not die,” I reassured her.

“I am scared,” she replied.

“I know, but I am here to protect you. I will shoot anyone who comes through that door.” I said, looking under the bed to
pull out my slingshot and stone pouch. My
sha
η
g
glowed, and instinctively, I knew what to do. I stuffed the bed with pillows and jumped out through the back window to Kadoh’s mother’s
taav
where I stole some of Kadoh’s clay.

Looking around, I tiptoed back and jumped in to the room where Yenla was trembling.

“Shh,” I said.

Carefully I painted her a very dark black and green, even her red hair, and we set off for some of the tall trees behind the house where I pushed her up the tree until she was at the top.

“They will never find you here,” I smiled at her before descending.

By the time the medicine man burst into our house, Yenla was nowhere to be found. They concluded that she had run away. I heard that another albino in a small village was used for the sacrifice, but I saved my sister’s life and gained the respect of my father and sister.

When I later learnt that the disease in question was called small pox, and that these men had almost murdered my sister over something that could be cured, my
sha
η
g
glowed angrily, reminding me of the dire need for education among my people.

My parents later heard of another great mysterious medicine man called Wishbone who only wore white and meditated without speaking. His feet were painted with white chalk, and he gave Yenla a bangle made of beaten copper and shells to protect her against all evil energy.

Yenla eventually got well, and whenever I tried to talk about it, she just stood up and left. Yet, I know she knew what I wanted to ask, but I decided that maybe it was best that way. Now she was safe and sound and that was all that mattered.

-9-

A SPILL OF DEATH

The months after the
ntov
incident went past fast, and I hardly ever saw Pa. His trips to Yola had multiplied as he was trying to seal a new business deal with some Nigerian salesmen.

I was constantly in thought; pondering what part I had to play in this heroic story of
Ngonnso
that Pa had told me. I ofttimes found myself lingering at the edge of the
mbve’
when everyone was asleep, and my eyes would be glued to the wall of figures trying to figure it out.

Kadoh’s mother had taken her to their maternal village for a holiday, and so I had no one to confide in. One day I tried asking Yenla, but she left the room before I could finish what I had to say.

One weekend when Pa was sitting in front of his
taav
drinking palm wine, I snuck up behind him and asked him to take a walk with me. It was a little cold, and the wind was blowing from the west. Pa smiled and followed me.

It was evening time and many children were returning from the farm. I had just returned with my sisters not too long ago when I saw Kpulajey removing the plates that Pa had used to eat. That meant that he would spend the night in her
taav
today.

“I will ask my wives to start using your millet planting method,” Pa said pleasantly. “Your ration is always higher.”

I smiled proudly and bowed with respect. It was a man’s son who usually came up with innovations for farming methods in a compound, but Pa wasn’t uncomfortable with adopting my method.

“I wanted to ask you something,” I requested, looking around to make sure no one was listening. He nodded, indicating that I was free to continue. As I was about to ask him how I could play my part in the story, Kpulajey walked out of her hut wearing only a wrapper.

“My husband, I am waiting for you,” she purred.

Pa took one look at her, and asked me if my question was urgent. The idea of this cat woman with my dad unsettled me, so I only shrugged and told him I would ask him later.

A few weeks went by and then something significant
happened. It was around the last days of the month of August when the
saar
-harvesting season was coming to an end. We had started peeling the skins off the
saar
and drying them in the attic storage of our fireside kitchens which we locally called
lum
^*
. This process is vital to the manufacturing of millet flour which we used to cook
kiban
, the main staple food of the Nso people.