CW: kidnapping and abduction, privacy invasion, abuse..
This story was inspired by my visit to Anambra State in 2018 for my compulsory National Youth Service Corps program.
Before we left camp, we were informed about the dos and donts for living in our respective communities, considering we were strangers. Happenings that we newcomers saw as strange should not be enough reason to contravene the laws of the land.
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If you visit the forest as a tourist or just a recluse seeking a few days’ vacation, hold tight to the stories you have heard about ghosts wandering the vast forest crowded with shrubs, brambles, and elephant’s leaves in their full regalia. Be vigilant enough not to fall for the waving leaves welcoming you in a revered style, and the iridescent petals waiting to ensorcel you into a trance.
When the day goes dim, and the clouds are painted in violet hues splashed in the faded-blue sky, be careful how you tread. Under a canopy of baobab trees producing an umbra akin to an ancient demon with multiple limbs, smoke wafts into the air. A half-smoked cigar hangs askew in the air, and ash falls from its ember. No matter how closely you look and squint, wondering how the law of gravity is being violated, a clear image won’t appear. The ghost occupying this space doesn’t take delight in humans, unless you hand him a full pack of cigars to reveal himself.
When the sun sets, stay clear of the sturdy iroko trees to avoid the group of ghost teenagers who come out to play. Most of them are bullies; boys with ruddy hair, dreadlocks, and mohawks wearing grim faces. The girls among them have forked tongues which they use to taunt people like you. Inside the cavity of the tree is a clay pot containing rattlesnakes fighting for a spot in the tight space. There’s a bunch of leeches, stealthy enough to grip your foot and drink you dry. A swarm of bees can launch an assault on you. For reasons, they feel you are there to kill their queen. Run. Don’t look back.
While you are taking pictures near an earthfast, be mindful of shutter clicks. The ghost kids who are shy do not want to be in a portrait when your collection goes up for grabs in an auction. These ghosts are not as malevolent as the brutes who attack you for no reason. But they can shake the trees, convince red ants of your avaricious desire to steal their mangoes. The trees too can growl when you relax on them to take a better picture. Do not wait to cogitate on these eerie happenings. You are not welcomed here either. Walk away.
The stomach rumbling threatening to expunge your innards makes you queasy and sweaty. Beside a plant, you yank down your pants to take a shit. Flies buzz around you, vexed at your audacity. These are not just flies, but ghost babies. At their calls, their mother, a genial woman, approaches with the speed of light. She sees you doing your business. Little did you know you have just polluted her kitchen. Oops! And because she is benevolent, she wants you to come into the tree where she lives where you can clean up properly. Listen very carefully, don’t give in to her request no matter how harmless and alluring it seems. She desires a hybrid, one who will be an autocratic leader in the forest. After she births a child for you, you will be enchanted by her spells, cooked in a broth for her children’s immortality. Don’t say a word to her, cover your eyes and head towards the left.
At night when the dark becomes lionized, switch off any meager source of light. Pariah dogs come out to frolic. Some are one-eyed, limping. Others are rabid, tigerish and belligerent. You are food to them. Your healthy bones will replace their lost limbs. The clean blood running in your veins will sponge out the virus gnawing their white blood cells. They will come. Remain calm. They cannot see you unless you move. Their growling will raise spiked goosepimples on your skin. After they have gone, sleep with one eye open.
Your adventure will not be complete if you don’t visit the silvery waterfalls riveting all who set their gaze upon it. Do not plunge into it. Neither should you permit the murmuring foamy water to touch your feet or be serenaded by the soothing melodies pirouetting afloat the water. Promiscuous ghost wives are bathing in it, naked. Once you sink into the comfort of their voluptuousness, you are doomed. A slave in their pleasure court.
Satisfied with your stay in the forest, be ready to leave. Do not take anything belonging to the forest. The owners will haunt, control and inhabit you. And if you lose an item there, don’t go look for it.
When you arrive home, and you are asked about your trip, smile with all your teeth on display, say you had fun. Say the denizens of the forest are good folks. These words are the gate-pass for when next you decide to return to the forest. Tell the tale when the night has overshadowed the day, in front of the dancing flames with crickets chirping from their hideout. The images you paint will stick to you like ticks. Some of these images will make your heart cower, making you conceal yourself in a duvet, hoping the unseen dark forces will not get to you.
One last thing—bring another person along during your next camping. Make the ghosts jealous. Perhaps they will like you for bringing them a play thing.
