"Lock the door!" Daddy thundered.
My feet scurried to the thick metal door. It was wide open and the turbulent wind outside the house seemed to hover just about it. I had time to get a quick look at the night before I slammed shut the door. There was nothing in it save the light of a single star whose light seemed only to empower further, the darkness of the empty night. Somewhere in the night, I thought I'd heard, or rather seen a face; a face like a raging beast dashing at his prey.
I bolted the door and ran back to where Daddy stood. Mummy appeared from behind the curtain with swift urgency, grotesque shadows mounting on the walls behind her. In her hands, a silver basin reflected the dull yellow fire of the candle on the television set. Smoke curled to the ceiling, urgently too, and mummy was sweating and hissing she whipped out a bottle of anointing water.
"Ikang! Come here!" Mummy barked at me. "Open your mouth!"
I obeyed. She poured the oil into the bottle cap and upturned it into my gaping mouth. I hurriedly swallowed.
"Stretch your hands!"
My hands extended mechanically. I turned quickly to look at dad. He was drawing the curtains and the living room was growing hotter.
"Hey face here!" Mummy snarled. "Oya be saying Amen". I nodded my understanding.
Mummy was mumbling words beneath her breath while I punctuated with a dutiful 'Amen'. My eyed were tightly shut now. The image of the beast I'd seen in the night swam swiftly to the surface of my mind, and then opened its mouth as if to bite. I shirked and gasped.
" Blood of Jesus! Blood of Jesus!" Mummy was whispering heavily. The first heavy drops of oil hit the ridge between my eyes and slid down my nose. I shut my eyes tighter. The next hit my chin and slipped into mouth. My eyes opened to see mummy about to splash another cap full of the oils on me. Now she was barking; "leave him alone!", "leave him alone!".
A bird's screech cut through the noisy night and daddy screamed:
" Hei! They have come oooh!!"
I faced him, disconcerted. Daddy was panicking. Why was he panicking? The rain had begun. Its spattering drops rapped incessantly on our aluminium sheets. Daddy was looking at the ceiling. His heart seemed to leap with every rap. Then the steady raps increased in speed as the rains intensified. A heavy rain was falling outside and yet, the bird's screeching still came through, clear as daylight.
Mummy and daddy were silent. I could hear their breaths; mummy was heaving slowly up and down, daddy was almost panting. Just then, the rains stopped. Daddy and mummy's breaths ceased almost as instantly. They listened and watched; like they were expecting something.
The seconds crawled and nothing happened. Suddenly, we heard a heavy banging on the door. Daddy jumped. Mummy started and pulled me roughly into the house.
"Stay here." She said as we entered my room. She shut us in and held up the hand with the bottle, battle ready. She sprinkled some on the door and on the floor. Then turned to me.
"Carry your bible now!!!"
I scrambled for it in fear, trying to remember where I kept it. The banging on the living room door stopped as I heard the door crash open. Then daddy's voice, after a loud, horrifying cry, petered to low, incomprehensible pleas. Then, after a silent pause in which it seemed no one spoke, daddy's voice was heard pleading;
"Please please, please.... Ooooohh... Please na!!"
Mummy tore open the anointed door and bundled to the living room. I heard her exclaim "Heiiii!!!" before another sudden silence ate the night. I listened; even to my heart as it did impossible things. It melted, gathered itself, leapt high, landed with an extreme force. My chest began to hurt. I could hear nondescript voices in the living room, talking in whispers. As the night quieted, their whispers grew in vehemence, and I began to make out the voices. There was dad's, when he said:
"But he has nothing to do with this mbok, eh?"
Then there was Mum's when she said:
"Oh, Abasi Mi, my boy ooooh".
But there was a third voice, considerably lower and which sounded more like a long shushing sound. The voice would speak for long stints, and mummy would heave a sigh of pain. Daddy would groan and appeal. The voice would continue again. I got tired and decided to go see for myself. I walked through the corridor, slowly and as carefully as I could. l merely wanted to see and not be seen. I kept close to the wall, picking my feet. The strange voice was still speaking. Mummy was bawling. Daddy was groaning and his exclamations frightened me. I turned into the dining room, then extended my head to let my eye catch sight of them. Daddy was kneeling on the unwashed tiles. Mummy was propped up on her elbow, her face turned to the wall as she cried. Then I saw it. But it could not be, for, upon our sofa, was a large vulture, about as tall as a sitting man, with its enormous wings spread and held mid air. Its bald head, in the candlelight, bore the smoothness of riverside pebbles and glimmered a dull yellow.
I couldn't believe it, except, I was actually seeing it. I stood looking in utter bewilderment at the impossible sight. I was scared and amazed and curious at the same time. What did a vulture want with my parents? I decided then to run to my room and hide under the bed. That was the safest place in the world, I thought. Before I could move, the vulture turned its face sharply to me and gave out a loud cry. Mummy squealed:
"Ikang!! Run back inside! Now!"
The vulture powered itself into the air,crushing the dead light bulb above in the process, and flew towards me. The candlelights flapped and spells of sharp, intermittent darkness peppered the room. I ran into my room shut the door, turned around and put my back to it as a form of barricade. I waited. It seemed the vulture had gone back. They were talking again. My father had totally abandoned English now and was beseeching in our native tongue.
"Tah!" I heard the vulture spit in vile reproach. "Did you not know the consequences when you took the oath?".
"But we didn't know it would mean you would take our son " mummy was saying hastily in Ibibio.
In a strong, steady whisper, the vulture replied:
"You came to the altar of the god of fruits, unwilling to offer your fruit?" It paused, then roared: " I will have no more of this!!"
I heard the vulture flying towards the room. I abandoned the door and made for the bed, fumbling as I tried to get under it. My body seemed now too large to enter, even though my 10 year old frame had numerous times, made use the place as a usual hideout.
The door burst open. The vulture landed its huge talons and sidled quickly towards the bed as though it knew I was there. Then mummy entered and through sweat and tears, was screaming at the vulture to take her instead. I didn't see daddy.
The vulture picked up the bed with its powerful feet and flung it aside. There I was, exposed, looking at this giant of a bird, so ugly yet so fascinating. I rose and looked up at it, suddenly no longer afraid of it. It stood looking at me, unmoving, as though it was studying me. I began to admire the glory of its features. The hard roughness of the skin on its legs; the fierce looking, steely blades that proceeded from its feet, the delicate fur of its inner body, the shiny darkness of its feathers so perfectly aligned; the magnificent rise of its neck and the callousness of its face which then, revealed a beauty I had not before seen. I walked up to it and laid a fidgety hand on a feather. It was tough, yet did not lose its feather-like softness. At that moment, I wanted it to stay.
The vulture must have been surprised for it neither stirred moved. Just then daddy rushed in with an axe and, before my eyes could blink, buried it inside the hard back of the vulture. The vulture hissed in pain and bared its ferocious beak at mum and dad, who were bumbling towards me to shield me. The vulture writhed and screamed for a while then tottered out of the room, hitting down anything in its path. At the door it turned to look at me and its eyes said that we would meet again.