You want to believe him. Almost. With the way he is flailing his lanky hands here and there like the way Akeredolu, Kutiba's famous storyteller does when explaining something important. But you know Alao is a serial prankster and unrepentant liar. Don't you remember the prank he played on you last week, and that other one he played on you yesterday that made your heart miss a beat because you thought your life was done for? How could you forget so soon?

"See I'm telling you. Egbere are real & hairy too. They cry like babies, that is why they call them bush babies." 

There is no urgency in his voice. There is always one each time he is lying to you. But you hiss & wave him off. "Shut up, jare. You lie too much.”

You are seated with Keji at your favourite spot under the big mango tree before one gets to the village square, just five huts away from your house. Alao is standing and still talking to both of you. Sometimes, you wish the wind would be strong enough to blow him away.

"I thought it was just one of those stories until I saw one myself. It's short like this." Alao keeps his right hand just below  his  waist.  You  look  at  him  and  want  to  laugh. “Ugly, hairy, and wears palm fronds around the  waist." 

Finally,  you  laugh.  Of  course,  who  would  hear  this  lie  and  not  laugh?

"Did you run? What happened next?" Keji asks. 

You shake your head. So he finally falls for Alao's lies.

"I ran away. At first, I thought it was an animal until I saw it holding a mat."

You  laugh  again,  perhaps  this  is  just  a  joke. "A mat? Was it planning to sleep when you came around?" You  ask, preparing  to  release  another  guffaw  into  the  air.

"Listen, Listen," Alao  tries  to  stop  you from talking. "Those mats are their most treasured properties. The mat is made of thatch, the one we build the top of our huts with. They  go  everywhere  with  it."

You are still laughing but Alao continues his story. “I didn't know I could run like that. It was scary. But when I got home, I regretted not running away with the mat."

"Why?" Keji seems completely taken.

"Weren't you listening? The mat is their prized possession. Just like we value cowries and gold. I don't know why it’s important to them because they can do anything to get their mat back if you are in possession of it."

"Whoever believes this story is a big fool,” you say eventually.

Both Keji & Alao frown at you.

"This is not a lie, Fabiyi."

You grunt. “Wo, Alao, spare me with the long talks."

"My mother used to tell me about them too. She said her mother had seen one before. It was crying outside her hut and saying “nigbo Maami wa?”repeatedly until her husband came out and asked it to leave. He was a powerful medicine man." 

You throw Keji a questioning look. A bush baby saying, “Where is my mummy?”

You are now sure that you need new friends.“How come you never told me about them until Alao brought this up?"

Keji shrugs. “I thought it was just a story. I didn't know it was real."

You stand and smack your butts repeatedly. “Alao, there's no way I would believe this story after what happened yesterday." It is still fresh in your head. How Alao came panting to you at the farm and told you that your mother was bleeding profusely and kept mentioning your name. You dropped your hoe and ran down the path back home like a gazelle being chased by a lion only for Alao to chase after you, laughing and telling you he was only joking.  He followed you afterwards all evening begging for your forgiveness. You almost never forgave him.

"I'm not lying this time around. It happened to me yesterday night, very close to Ogodo forest where I set my trap."

"Ahh! When would you stop lying, bayii? We were together throughout yesterday evening. Besides, why would you put your trap near Ogodo forest of all places? "

"Well, I said yesterday night. It was not that late. The moon was out and I took a lamp."

"So you think I'm a child that you can deceive so easily?" You point to your chest.

Keji replies you immediately, barely letting all the words fall out of your mouth.“Ah! With how you speak, one would think you are older than Baba Aremu, the oldest man in the village. You have just witnessed fifteen Irése festivals just like us."

You squint at Keji. “Oh! I can see this is a planned work, but I won't fall for it."

"We are all in the same age group. Don't come here and act like you're older than us."

"Shhhh, you guys should listen to my story, bayii." Keji nods at him -- a substitute to 'ehen' which is to make him continue his story. A play to the pause in his standoffish exhibition of lies. “Not everyone gets to see them. In fact, I heard that if you meet the good ones and they grant you your wishes, you would live up to 200 years to enjoy the goodies they promised you."

You raise your hands in mock salutation. “All hail the greatest liar and prankster of Kutiba village. I dobale for you, Alao."

Alao’s frown deepens and ridges-like lines form contours across his forehead. “My problem with you is that you don't know when someone is serious.” 

"Like you have ever been serious. See, I have better things to do than falling for your cock and bull story." 

You wave them and walk away. Alao is still talking to Keji. You hear him say something like egbere are very mean and wicked, maybe that was why he ran away. Again you shake your head, feeling sorry for Keji.

       *                    *                *                *                *

You return home with curiosity burning through you. Maami won't lie to me about this egbere, you tell yourself. You meet her sitting outside her hut, grinding pepper on a stone slate absent-mindedly. Her eyes are heavy with expectant saltwater thrashing at the shores of her eyelids, that could overflow at any moment. You know each time she is in this mood, she has experienced another miscarriage. You try to calculate the last time your father was around. Had she been pregnant? 

You greet her and she replies you, looking up briefly. You ask her what the problem is and she tells you nothing. You know that later when the two of you are alone, sitting outside and enjoying the silence of the evening, she will tell you all that is bothering her. She calls you back when you are about to go into your room.

"Your father has taken your bags of cocoa seedlings." 

The news drops like a bombshell to your heart, but it is the condition of your mother's face that breaks your heart the most. There is an imprint of a palm on her left cheek, you can visibly see the five fingers. You have had your share so you know who the palm belongs to.

"I..." You start to say but stop yourself. You know what your father would do with the three bags of cocoa seedlings. He would sell them and go on a drinking spree, dissipating into thin air. The only proof you would know he is still alive is the news of his escapades with other women in the neighbouring villages.

"I'm sorry," your mother says almost in a whisper. 

You say nothing to her and walk into your hut. For once, you believe a word from Alao's mouth. He said egbere were mean and wicked. You know they don't live in the bush. They live within humans and one is unfortunately your father.

In the end, you forget to ask her about the egbere.

           *               *                 *               *               *

You meet your father the next morning. You had pretended to be asleep when he returned last night, his gait unsteady, his breath thick with the stench of over fermented palm wine and spewing nonsense. You are certain that he spewed vomit on your mother's mat the previous night. 

You are splitting firewood for your mother behind the hut she uses to cook when he walks towards you with his pot belly round and pointy like a calabash and a chewing stick in his mouth. He is darker than when you saw him last --- which was precisely during the harmattan season. And now the new rain is preparing to return.

"Good morning, Baami." 

He grunts and spits out. “See the way you are holding that cutlass as if you haven't eaten in two weeks. People would think that I don't feed you enough."

You grunt now, looking away. It annoys you that he is still claiming his right as a father over you. The only thing he does is to get your mother pregnant and leave immediately.

"What is that? Are you now a pig?"

You don't answer him so he walks over to you and slaps you across the face.

"Was I not talking to you? Useless child. You are as useless as your mother. How then can you explain how she leaks like a broken calabash each time a seed is growing in her stomach? Seven pregnancies and  none stayed past a month. Even a witch would at least try and bring forth one. I don't know why you are still alive."

He leaves your presence and walks into the compound now. He is shouting at the top of his voice, but you can't hear him. You can see his jaw jamming together with vigour and spittle is splashing about from his mouth and dropping on your mother, but she does not wipe it off. The only thing you hear from his mouth is ‘You are raising a useless child for me. Since your womb is too rotten to carry children, you cannot train the one the gods have given you. You are now raising a pig!' before he pushes her aside and walks into his hut.

You leave your work to comfort your mother. You wish you could stop the miscarriages despite all the rites your mother and father have performed with the herbalist saying she won't experience them again. You are talking but don't know if it makes sense or if it is what she wants to hear, but you do not stop. You keep talking. You tell her you are not a pig. You tell her everything would be fine. You tell her you would do everything to make her happy again. You are so sure about the last promise.

        *                   *                 *               *                  *

He corners you on your way out and tells you to come with him. You have been avoiding him for days now and you are so sure he must have noticed. You follow him like a moron until he points to a stool at the back of his hut. You sit and he joins you, sitting on his stool. He faces you now.

"I have something important to discuss with you.” He pauses for a while." You are my first and only son so it is important I discuss this with you first. Because very soon, you will become a man and have a family. Let what I am about to say sink into your coconut head, sho tigbo?" 

You simply nod.

“Good. I want to take a second wife. I am getting old and soon my powers will fail me, would I then lean towards one child? Certainly not, especially since that child is you. How would I face my ancestral parents knowing full well I had failed them? That I left this world with just one child. One!" He points his index finger at your face. You duck so the finger doesn't get into your eyes. He continues. “It would be a thing of shame and disgrace which I don't want so I decided to marry another woman so she can keep my legacy and good name going. I'm not saying your mother is not a good woman oh. She walked out of our matrimonial bed with a blood-stained cloth as proof of her virginity. She has never cheated on me with another man since I married her. She prepares my meals on time and  takes care of me. Yes, but her womb is worthless so you see the need for me to marry again." 

You wait for him to finish speaking, neither cutting him off nor storming away in anger. But how dare he say such a thing about your mother? Does he even know what sacrifices mean? 

"Later on, I will discuss it with your mother.”

He is quiet and you take it as a hint that he is done talking.

"I have heard, Baami. It is a good thing you want to do."

"I know." He grunts and stands up leaving you there. 

Later, when you see him dragging two of Maami’s fattest goats from behind her hut, you know more would follow him into the land of no return now that he is planning on getting a new wife. You decide it is best you stop him. Wearing your dansiki, you hurry to Keji's house. Keji would know how best to assist you. On your way to Keji's house, you try to remember the happy days when your Baami was a successful palm oil farmer until he and your Maami began to visit different medicine men for solutions and that sucked away all his money. Those happy days when you all sit together in your Maami's hut and listen to stories from Maami after eating the night meal, before he began to seek refuge in palm wine huts, drinking away his sorrow. When he never laid his hands on you or Maami. All the memories feel like an unfinished dream to you as if someone woke you abruptly and all you want to do is to go back to sleep and continue the dream.

You prostrate, your chin almost touching the ground as you greet Keji's mother sitting outside and fixing new beads on reaching his compound. 

She looks at you and smiles. “Ah, get up my son, omo dada."

You stand while she breaks the news to you. “Keji just stepped out not too long."

You tell your thanks and walk away. You know he would be at your favourite meeting place. You didn't see him there. You resolve within yourself to go to the place you all run to when you are running away from work. He is there, but with someone else; Fadeke, the daughter of Atanda, the aso-oke weaver. Keji is holding her hand and they are both wearing silly smiles on their faces.

"Your hand smells of obé marúgbò,” he tells her.

Her smile deepens. "Yes, I made some for my Baami."

He tilts his eyebrows upwards. “And where is mine?"

She giggles. “In my stomach."

Keji takes a step forward. “Then, I would cut open your stomach and take my share."

She giggles again, taking a step  away from him. “You are not serious, Keji."

Keji takes another step towards her. "Of course, after you have..."

She doesn't wait for him to finish his statement before she dashes behind the big mango tree. You watch as he chases after her, running around in circles. Finally, he catches up with her.

You stop them by coughing loudly. They pause like an antelope caught in a limelight, their heads swivelling around towards the direction of the cough and Keji's mouth opens into the shape of a drinking pot. He quickly lets go of Fadeke's waist and walks up to you. “Fabiyi, I..."

You cut him off. “Keji, I need something to hurt someone pretty bad. Do you have the solution I seek?"

You watch as the embarrassed look on his face transforms into confusion. “Fabiyi, I'm... I'm lost here. What…I thought…"

"Keji, do you or do you not?"

He shakes his head. “What do you need that for?"

You sigh. “I'm sorry for the bother. This was a bad idea."

You do not wait for him to give you a reply. You turn and begin to walk away knowing they are still staring at your retreating figure.

                 *            *              *           *             *

You first heard about the werepe leaves from Alao. Now he is pointing at where you can pluck it --- a thickset bush that is dark because tall trees are covering the sunlight from entering --- but he refuses to go in with you , because he wants to go to the farm with his brothers. The place is on the way to their farm, so you are with them. He did not ask you why you needed it and you did not tell him. He seems to be in a hurry to go with his brothers. 

"Do not pluck it with your bare hands oh, else you won't be spared of its wrath." 

You wish he didn't drag his ear like that as if you are a child, but you nod and walk in. He said you won't miss it, so you don't bother if he is with you or not. Even if a person doesn't know how to dance, once you put it inside the person's water, you would see a different dancing style. You recall his words yesterday. He was laughing while you were not because you knew you wouldn't be laughing when your father would be dancing. You would leave the house and return to see how deep his skin has peeled off.

The place is almost dark, silhouetted by the tall trees flanking both sides and your front. There is long undergrowth as well, carefully positioned to throw one down but you can still see your way around and manoeuvre through from the light seeping in. It is not long before you realise that Alao has played a fast one on you again. You are on the path to the dreaded Ogodo forest. The descriptions he gave you about the werepe leaves bear no resemblance to any leaves found here. Not even one.  

You sigh and turn back to the path you came from when you hear a movement, like a footstep which you are sure didn't come from you. Fear or something worse than that crawls up your skin like soldier ants scampering out of their holes. Your eyes dart here and there like a suspended pendulum as you scan through the bushes. Then you hear it again, the scrunching of dry leaves close by. Someone or something was definitely there with you.

"Who's that?"

Fool. What if it's an animal?

You ignore the voice in your head, clear your throat, and call out the second time.

"Who's there?" 

No response. Slowly, with the conviction that it is a terrified animal, you walk over to where you heard the sound of the footsteps. 

It is behind that tree, you tell yourself.

Just then like a flash, something dashes out of the bush and you collide with it in an attempt to run away from it. You fall and stand up quickly.

What was that? The only sound you hear is that of your heart beating loudly against your ribs.

The animal or whatever it is, is standing and staring at you too, the way a zebra watches a lion trying to convince it to sign a peace treaty. It is the most hairest and shortest thing you have ever seen. Palm fronds are tied around its waist so you know it's not an animal.

Egbere!

It stares at you, then at something close to you. You trace its eyes and they fall on a hand-woven mat on the ground, almost swallowed up by the grasses. It tries to get the mat, but you are closer to the mat. You snatch it up before it reaches there.

It is saying something now furiously, then it begins to cry. All the hairs on your body are rendering a standing ovation to its crying exhibition.

Then, it stops crying and says to you, "Give me.” It is stretching its hands towards you. You try to recall if Alao ever told you they could talk. "Give me my mat."

Your grip tightens around it and you take a step backward.

"Give me, I will give you anything."

You raise your eyebrows immediately. "Anything?"

                           *                 *               *                *               *

Your compound is full of people when you return and there is no space for you to place your feet. People are scattered here and there. Some are standing while some are sitting. Their hands are either on their waists, their heads, or across their chests. Some are shaking their heads while others are crying. 

You ask one of the people standing; the short, thickset Baami Teju with his bald head glistening under the glowing sun. “What happened?"  Your heart is beating fast now.

"It's your father. He just fell this morning and died."

You didn't know your father, a wicked man, could gather people like this when he died. You look around for your mother but you can't find her. You know she is inside her hut playing her role as a wife who must mourn her husband with sympathisers gathered around her, begging her to stop crying.

You try to cry. You pinch yourself, but no tears come out. Your mother used to always joke about you not knowing how to cry, but this is different. How can you cry, when you said to that egbere moments ago before handing over the mat to it: I want my father dead before I get home?

The End.