Written piece
Mmanwu/Spirit
Henrietta Lehi
Nigeria
About this piece
In pre-colonial Nigeria, masquerades served as the justice system, as they were believed to be the gods coming to interact with us. This piece sets an ancient masquerade beside a modern evil, from a lens that rejects the most likely reality of such a meeting.
At the same time that mmanwu crawled out of the anthill, the ones for whom fear was oxygen mounted their bikes and rode on the late afternoon breeze towards us.
The sun was a brilliant gold lady, turning everything she touched the same shade of gold as her.
Everyone was silent as mmanwu walked into our midst. Eyes fell to the ground in unsolicited reverence, goosebumps ran up and down arms, and necks protested against the doubled weight of the heads they carried.
Blind belief had long since replaced enlightened arrogance, as that one had proven to be a useless shield against the evil that walked around brazenly in broad daylight. So, we'd reached for the threads of a belief that had been severed for generations, but had mercifully lingered in the dark. In that moment, what was real was man, his gods, and the sun that bore witness.
The hush was only broken by the chorus of motorcycle engines, and a frightened "dem don come ooo" that someone yelled out like we were not all watching them roll down the hill. Masked faces and mismatched camouflage that looked as out-of-place on them as penguins in Lekki.
Legs scattered in the opposite direction. My legs moved too, mostly without my consent. And when I looked back, I saw the gods stand tall and proud in judgement of evil. Mmanwu did not run.