I’d heard the words before.
“Just stay with us and we will make your life beautiful”.
Voices echoing. The music sounded familiar also. Was I hallucinating or was the dancing melody really coming from the Middle of the river in broad day light? The voices too. Watching the torrents on the river, fear gripped me. I hadn’t gone very far from the banks, but the depth could take double of my height, I’d wager. Everything in me wanted to scream, to turn back. I felt like the end was near. The boat was being paddled by a smallish haggard looking skinny lad. I didn’t have a problem with that when we started. The lad should know how to do his thing. Fear had drowned my enthusiasm. My lips couldn’t move, so didn’t say a thing to ease my sorrow nor retrace my steps. And we plunged further and further. It was the first time I decided to cross the River Niger by boat.
Maybe the story of the River Niger bridge I recalled brought everything alive. My Aunty had told us the story as a moonlight tale when we were just old enough to bath our stomach, how the construction work of the Niger bridge collapsed severally because the river goddess wouldn’t allow it. And each time, lives were lost. The great Nnamdi Azikiwe had a dialogue with the goddess without success. He requested and challenged the goddess to a game which paid off eventually.
“If you are so powerful, turn into a fly and enter this bottle and I will cease to bother you”, the hero of our tribe said.
The goddess was said to have turned into a house fly and flown into a bottle as Azikiwe stipulated. He quickly covered the bottle with the cock and the goddess remained there never to come out. So led to the completion of the Niger bridge. Usually I would laugh when I remember this funny heroic myth. I knew the story had never been authenticated neither did I believe it could stand as true. Though it tallies with the common tale of sacrifices to rivers before erection of bridge.
Besides the great legend Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe lived till my days. His prowess was famous in the years gone by. His contribution to the independence and unity of the country cannot be over emphasised and the building of river Niger is attributed to him as one of his achievements. This might be the smoke behind the fire of this seemingly impossible myth. The voices and the music brought ashore thoughts of a river presence. I was visibly shaking. Too scared to move my hands or feet. It wasn’t time to regret my adventurous decision to cross the Niger by boat rather of survival. I wanted to experience a glorious feel. Nothing prepared me for horror. I wish I could awake from the slumber and set it all aside like a night mare.
There had been previous ordeals too. The memory of all came rushing through my mind. Different dreams of drowning in the river and a near real experience that left me with rippling effects months after. I was seven when I went to a beautiful house under the river with a friend. I couldn’t remember how we got there. She was a unique school friend who was capable of knitting with her eyes closed. Reserved, calm and charming. A thin, dark skinned, oblong faced beauty queen whose peculiarities thrilled me. I shared my snacks with her regularly to stay close. Naturally, we (classmates) were drawn to her for her distinctive abilities we didn’t have. She wasn’t the smartest kid in class but she had a seemingly impossible touch to things that made her simply unique. We were in our fourth level in primary school then.
The amazing building was really colorful. The gist of how we suddenly got into the building, I’d never known. There were other girls of different sizes and shapes, all wearing a combination of red and black swede gown in the house. Fair and dark slender figures.
“Come on in, let’s join the dance”, my friend Calista said to me as I stood at the door way to a hall, moping, trying to figure it all out. I wasn’t a good dancer, much less the type they danced. They took Tango steps though they shook their bodies vigorously each time the beat changed.
Right there, I thought, “how long has it been since I said goodnight to my parents and laid on my bed?”
The dance ended with laughter, thunderous laughter. Introductions were made and I was introduced by my friend.
“This seems real”, I muttered to myself.
“No, it’s a dream”,I reassured myself.
“Sadness has taken over you my child. No one seems to know your cries and yearnings. We met you when you were a baby but you followed church people. Those people that will never care for you. They’ll keep compounding your problems. You have a great star and it will shine brighter from here. We will give you all you want”, the lady with the crown said to me.
“Just stay with us and we will make your life beautiful”, she added.
“Just stay with us and we will make your life beautiful”, the rest echoed.
Kolanuts were passed round as we all gathered in a circular form. Everyone collected theirs and ate gleefully. I held mine. I had always ran on parallel lines with anything that has a bitter taste. A bowl was passed round. Everyone drank from it before it got to me. I held it firmly. It looked like blood.
“Jeez”, I said, barely audibly.
“Go ahead and drink, it’s tasty”, Calista assured me.
At that moment, I saw my rosary hanging in front of me. I didn’t know how it got there. I remembered hanging it by my bedside before I laid down to sleep.
Then I felt a splash of water on me.
“Jesus!”, I screamed and woke up. Mommy had been the one sprinkling holy water (blessed in church) on me. It must have been a dream I concluded. I had rashes the next morning and was sick the months that followed.
I thought about this incidents for many years. Whatever happened then remained a mystery. Yes there are stories of initiation of people to cultic worlds via edibles.
Could that be the reason behind my near real experience? I’d never know.
Then I heard the voices again! It drew me out of the memory lane. The boat was still rowing. The voices sounded closer. We were getting to the middle of the river, between Anambra and Delta state. The music had become louder. The lad seemed to be enjoying himself.
“What is happening to me? Will I make it through?” I thought.
My head was aching seriously. A little further, I felt a sudden presence. Goose bumps covered me. I shut my eyes. I could hear the lad chanting something I didn’t understand.
“Let us help you drown your sorrows and your star will shine forth”, I heard in whisper.
I couldn’t work my eyes to open lest I see a figure of the presence I feel. I felt a whirlwind around me and blanked out.
When I opened my eyes, I was at the bank of the river with a crowd around me but the river presence had gone.
I knew right then that I’ll never take that path again. My ideas of adventure with boats died that day. For river Niger, for any other river.
Rivers and water bodies had always been my fondest places. They have a natural feel that gladdens my heart. A safe distance at the bank of a river will be all I can handle from now.
My was body filled with sand, I figured I had been dragged out of the boat to the position I was. The look of relief most people in the crowd wore told me they thought I was dead. I simply retrieved my writing pad from my bag and wrote:
The river presence that so seeks me out,
What desire burns in you for me?
If in me so dwells a star,
The sky and earth shall know the light
Why have stolen the peace of the river
The beauty that should be for all
You sap joy in those you can hewn
And flood yourself with their pains
A baby, I was above you
An adult, my shoes you can’t touch
To steal the star in me you came,
But like in all, you’re no more a spider
Cause you’re only a river presenceI’d heard the words before.
“Just stay with us and we will make your life beautiful”.
Voices echoing. The music sounded familiar also. Was I hallucinating or was the dancing melody really coming from the Middle of the river in broad day light? The voices too. Watching the torrents on the river, fear gripped me. I hadn’t gone very far from the banks, but the depth could take double of my height, I’d wager. Everything in me wanted to scream, to turn back. I felt like the end was near. The boat was being paddled by a smallish haggard looking skinny lad. I didn’t have a problem with that when we started. The lad should know how to do his thing. Fear had drowned my enthusiasm. My lips couldn’t move, so didn’t say a thing to ease my sorrow nor retrace my steps. And we plunged further and further. It was the first time I decided to cross the River Niger by boat.
Maybe the story of the River Niger bridge I recalled brought everything alive. My Aunty had told us the story as a moonlight tale when we were just old enough to bath our stomach, how the construction work of the Niger bridge collapsed severally because the river goddess wouldn’t allow it. And each time, lives were lost. The great Nnamdi Azikiwe had a dialogue with the goddess without success. He requested and challenged the goddess to a game which paid off eventually.
“If you are so powerful, turn into a fly and enter this bottle and I will cease to bother you”, the hero of our tribe said.
The goddess was said to have turned into a house fly and flown into a bottle as Azikiwe stipulated. He quickly covered the bottle with the cock and the goddess remained there never to come out. So led to the completion of the Niger bridge.
Usually I would laugh when I remember this funny heroic myth. I knew the story had never been authenticated neither did I believe it could stand as true. Though it tallies with the common tale of sacrifices to rivers before erection of bridge.
Besides the great legend Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe lived till my days. His prowess was famous in the years gone by. His contribution to the independence and unity of the country cannot be over emphasised and the building of river Niger is attributed to him as one of his achievements. This might be the smoke behind the fire of this seemingly impossible myth.
The voices and the music brought ashore thoughts of a river presence. I was visibly shaking. Too scared to move my hands or feet. It wasn’t time to regret my adventurous decision to cross the Niger by boat rather of survival. I wanted to experience a glorious feel. Nothing prepared me for horror. I wish I could awake from the slumber and set it all aside like a night mare.
There had been previous ordeals too. The memory of all came rushing through my mind. Different dreams of drowning in the river and a near real experience that left me with rippling effects months after. I was seven when I went to a beautiful house under the river with a friend. I couldn’t remember how we got there. She was a unique school friend who was capable of knitting with her eyes closed. Reserved, calm and charming. A thin, dark skinned, oblong faced beauty queen whose peculiarities thrilled me. I shared my snacks with her regularly to stay close. Naturally, we (classmates) were drawn to her for her distinctive abilities we didn’t have. She wasn’t the smartest kid in class but she had a seemingly impossible touch to things that made her simply unique. We were in our fourth level in primary school then.
The amazing building was really colorful. The gist of how we suddenly got into the building, I’d never known. There were other girls of different sizes and shapes, all wearing a combination of red and black swede gown in the house. Fair and dark slender figures.
“Come on in, let’s join the dance”, my friend Calista said to me as I stood at the door way to a hall, moping, trying to figure it all out. I wasn’t a good dancer, much less the type they danced. They took Tango steps though they shook their bodies vigorously each time the beat changed.
Right there, I thought, “how long has it been since I said goodnight to my parents and laid on my bed?”
The dance ended with laughter, thunderous laughter. Introductions were made and I was introduced by my friend.
“This seems real”, I muttered to myself.
“No, it’s a dream”,I reassured myself.
“Sadness has taken over you my child. No one seems to know your cries and yearnings. We met you when you were a baby but you followed church people. Those people that will never care for you. They’ll keep compounding your problems. You have a great star and it will shine brighter from here. We will give you all you want”, the lady with the crown said to me.
“Just stay with us and we will make your life beautiful”, she added.
“Just stay with us and we will make your life beautiful”, the rest echoed.
Kolanuts were passed round as we all gathered in a circular form. Everyone collected theirs and ate gleefully. I held mine. I had always ran on parallel lines with anything that has a bitter taste. A bowl was passed round. Everyone drank from it before it got to me. I held it firmly. It looked like blood.
“Jeez”, I said, barely audibly.
“Go ahead and drink, it’s tasty”, Calista assured me.
At that moment, I saw my rosary hanging in front of me. I didn’t know how it got there. I remembered hanging it by my bedside before I laid down to sleep.
Then I felt a splash of water on me.
“Jesus!”, I screamed and woke up. Mommy had been the one sprinkling holy water (blessed in church) on me. It must have been a dream I concluded. I had rashes the next morning and was sick the months that followed.
I thought about this incidents for many years. Whatever happened then remained a mystery. Yes there are stories of initiation of people to cultic worlds via edibles.
Could that be the reason behind my near real experience? I’d never know.
Then I heard the voices again! It drew me out of the memory lane. The boat was still rowing. The voices sounded closer. We were getting to the middle of the river, between Anambra and Delta state. The music had become louder. The lad seemed to be enjoying himself.
“What is happening to me? Will I make it through?” I thought.
My head was aching seriously. A little further, I felt a sudden presence. Goose bumps covered me. I shut my eyes. I could hear the lad chanting something I didn’t understand.
“Let us help you drown your sorrows and your star will shine forth”, I heard in whisper.
I couldn’t work my eyes to open lest I see a figure of the presence I feel. I felt a whirlwind around me and blanked out.
When I opened my eyes, I was at the bank of the river with a crowd around me but the river presence had gone.
I knew right then that I’ll never take that path again. My ideas of adventure with boats died that day. For river Niger, for any other river.
Rivers and water bodies had always been my fondest places. They have a natural feel that gladdens my heart. A safe distance at the bank of a river will be all I can handle from now.
My was body filled with sand, I figured I had been dragged out of the boat to the position I was. The look of relief most people in the crowd wore told me they thought I was dead. I simply retrieved my writing pad from my bag and wrote:
The river presence that so seeks me out,
What desire burns in you for me?
If in me so dwells a star,
The sky and earth shall know the light
Why have stolen the peace of the river
The beauty that should be for all
You sap joy in those you can hewn
And flood yourself with their pains
A baby, I was above you
An adult, my shoes you can’t touch
To steal the star in me you came,
But like in all, you’re no more a spider
Cause you’re only a river presence
