tears of a widow

The yelling circulated round the small sleepy settlement. Dreamy soul stirred. Men in bed who are yet to be carried away by nature's call paused. This was an ungodly hour. The other side of midnight.



'Yeah! 'The eerie sound came again echoeing.Someone coughed. A child was crying. Dozing men more awake this time stretched. Curious ones moved. No one was scared anymore. It was a routine they've witnessed times without number. Since a soul departed a week ago for the beyond. some of them, key actors, the deceased close kinsmen. As the wailing dragged on bolts locking doors cranked. For many windows. Who had just heard of Rukaye's death?



Onome heard the screams that night. The second time was right beside her window. And because she was the chief mourner whose world had suddenly fell apart, the young widow has courted insomnia. Her heartbeat increased. Widely alert this time, she didn't move.



"The witch has killed my brother" A voice ranged on agonisingly. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she struggled to rock little Akpome to sleep. Whimpering with disconsolate agitation, dishevelled and frantic and even unable to wipe her tears soaked face with her loosed cloth.



"Rukaye, see what your death has done to us" escaped from her lips barely audible, as her stifling increased and just then a loud bang rasped on the door.



"Open the door, you witch, now that you've finally eaten him. come and eat me" The voice lamented. Onome did'nt move. Someone was dragging the wailer away. A masculine voice, despite bearely sounding above the rest was trying to calm her.



"Come, God will surely judge her"

Relieved, Onome got up slowly, she turned the wick of the hurricane lamp to a low flame which faintly illuminated the cupboard beside her bed. She adjusted her wrapper properly, then tip toe towards the door. Peeping through the long creek of light that beams in from the moonlight outside, she could see the crowd struggling to keep the wailer calm.



'Don't worry, God will surely pay the wicked"

"Yes, they shall reap what they sow "another emphasized".



Crawling back into the creaky wooden bed amidst the gentle monotone of her son's snore. She laid back on bed staring absent mindedly at the barely visible bamboo sticks ceiling. With tears weiled up in her eyes, strained and body weak from forced wakefulness, she let go her thought awaiting what tomorrow might bring forth.



(FICTION)   


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