AMADIOHA - FICTION

The sky grumbled and suddenly, there was a cover of thick dark clouds; as if the heavenly pots had been brewing some broth of wrath of some sort.

I felt a stinging unease as my eyes fell from the thickening clouds to the lady who had her neck in a fast-tightening noose: The flesh of her neck was beginning to swell around the knot, and veins popped up on her forehead.

It was in the moment she screamed "may Amadioha have your heads" that the sky started roiling.

I looked up now, lightening had begun to sear the clouds that had gathered. Looked down again, to the woman, tears and mucus dripping down her lips to her chin to her half-bare chest. Her face, livid now, and swollen.

I heard she had been accused of practicing witchcraft - 'Hey! Amusu!' I heard a scraggy looking fellow scream.

'Gbuo nie!' - Kill her - one hunched-up, cane wielding old lady interjected.

Suddenly, there was raucous chanting: kill her! hang her! hang her!

I stood there, wanting to move, wanting to say something but the sheer size of the crowd halted any progress.

I couldn't fathom how a young lady this svelte and so pretty could be a witch. Unacceptable by me. I knew this was just prejudice at work, total ignorance.

Just as I was reeling through my thoughts, some boy beside me, who claimed he had been there when it all began started to narrate how the lady, who was a renowned herbalist, who was so revered because of her prowess in knowing the right herbal mix for whatever problem; how fellow herbalist in all of Ebununze kingdom were envious of her because her potions were preferred even by people from the neighboring kingdoms; how she had sold a potion to a peasant who had
promised to pay in installments.

He went on to say that the peasant had refused to pay what was remaining of the debt he owed and had ran out of his hut screaming "come and help me o! People of Ebununze kingdom, come to my rescue o, this witch is after my life. Shes an Amusu, she has killed many and now she has come for me."

The boy who told the story went on to state how all the mix-up had been a set up by the lady-herbalist's rivals who wanted her dead and buried for being so revered and powerful. He also said the herbalists had gone on to plant body parts of children they had kidnapped and killed in the lady-herbalist's hut after she had left to confront the peasant for the debt he owed.

They used it as evidence to prove that surely, she did practice the craft. They needed to convince the people. So, when the rantings from the peasant started, they were the first to drag the lady-herbalist to her hut, along with the crowd. They searched and found the body parts, and that nailed her - they thought - for good.

And, just like that, like a flash, within seconds, she had been surrounded, bundled and tied up in a noose, left to hang. Sweat dripping, noose fastening; the noose had been tied from the branch of an old iroko tree that had pieces of red, yellow and black garments tied around its trunk. Legend has it that the tree has been around for the past two hundred and fifty years, ancestors had conducted unsightly rituals at the foot of this great tree.

The log she stood on had been carefully placed on a portion of the earth which was quick sand, and the log was slowly sinking.

The sky grumbled again, lightening seared the thick cloud once more. I flinched. Everyone did in accordance.

I looked at the lady again, and moved in, tearing through the crowd and busted out right in front of them.

I was about to open my mouth in protest when the lightening which was usually tearing through the clouds, struck a zigzag blow on the ground, right behind me. I felt the heat. I squinted and crouched in fright, as did everyone. I thought I had been hit.

There was a gasp in unison as the crowd that had gathered to watch this execution rose from their haunches, gently, their eyes stayed fixed behind me, befuddled at something. I turned slowly to where their gaze was and could not believe my eyes.

I jolted and scurried straight back to where I had come from, stood right behind the crowd and watched on in amazement.

I heard murmurs: 'Nne, okwa amadioha' - mama, its amadioha, a young girl was talking to her mother.

There was brouhaha, scuttling here and scampering there: the crowd dispersed quicker than it had gathered. I stood there, empty, void of wit. Fear gripped me, my eyes opened wide, I was trembling.

The entity that seemed to have landed with the last lightening stood there, half naked, except for a ragged draping tied over his crotch. He stood, legs ajar, body flaming, hot red flame. Skin was a blood red and callous-looking. Its eye sockets were empty, an abyssal hollow, but flamed an even redder, fiery flame. A body well sculpted with finely cut muscles: thigh muscles the size of a full tuber of yam looked taut on his legs. Biceps, triceps, stomach and chest muscles looked turgid. He was a man mountain. And he kept a steady and a rather angry-looking grin to reveal a set of razor-sharp zigzag dentition.

In his hands were two small axes; the flame on the axes were different. It flamed white, the color of lightening.

He, or was it It, stood there, like a god of some sort, gaze fixed on me. Then it moved its head, eyes away from me, looking beside me; I had not noticed that every one had scampered, leaving just me and the peasant who had accused the lady of the practice of witchcraft.

In a swift move, the entity stretched both axes towards the peasant and a strike of lightening descended on the peasant, flinging him yards across the open space left by the fleeing crowd.

The man writhed a little bit and stopped. He lay there, still, empty of life; in that instant, I had no doubt, anymore, whatsoever, that Amadioha - the god of thunder, whom I only heard of in folk tales - had heard the lady-herbalist's cry and came alive, and descended upon us.

In the same swift motion, It sent a bolt to the noose around her neck and it broke free. The lady-herbalist fell, thud!, on the hard ground, barely dodging the portion of quick sand. She picked herself up and hurried away, screaming "THANK YOU AMADIOHA, THANK YOU!"

It turned on me, drove a hard, biting stare with its hollow eye sockets through my eyes, and said, "you're clean. You may go." His voice thundered, and the ground shook. "I shall seek out the rest of them. Justice has come." It said.

Suddenly, haze clouded my vision, the ground was moving, I could barely breathe. Then the ground was nearing my face. I swooned.

I cannot say, for sure, how long I had been asleep, but I was grateful I didn't wake up in Ebununze kingdom, where a series of event brought Amadioha to life.

I could deduce that from the empty bags of dextrose-saline drip that hung on the stand, and the one bag that still had content trickling into my vein, the fever had made me convulse and knocked me out for hours.

I opened my eyes to see a face that looked like the lady-herbalist in my dream - it was the nurse, and she asked how I was feeling.

She dabbed my forehead and let out a sigh before she said that my fever had finally broken.

Malaria is a bad thing.