I watch my elder brother and his dance troupe dress up for the coronation of our new king, at the backyard of our compound.
Same as last year, he will be playing ‘iden’, the dreaded masquerade that young girls and pregnant women are warned not to set eyes upon unless they intended to give birth to a monster that looked like ‘iden’.
‘I want to watch you perform, Brother.’ I intimate my brother as I hand him a big cup of water.
‘No way!’, interjects Ukeme, one of the drummers of the troupe who is busy tying the strings of cowry beads around my brothers waist and ankles.
‘You should know by now that it is an abomination for you to come out and watch me because…’
‘…when I marry and get pregnant I will bear a child as ugly as ‘iden’!’, I complete the statement for him.
‘Exactly! And I don’t want to have an ugly nephew or niece, please.’
‘Please, brother! I am grown up now to know that it is plain superstition. It is just a ploy to make us girls stay at home and cook for all you lazy men of this village. As for me, I will come out and watch your performance.’
‘And if I see you, I will pursue you and flog you seriously for being such a naughty girl.’, my brother promises me sternly.
Thirty minutes later the sound of drums can be heard from every corner of the village as the several cultural dance troupes begin their march to the village square. From my backyard I watch as ‘iden’ and his gang of drummers, dancers and flutists charge themselves us with war songs and local hot drink, kai-kai.
Brandishing cutlasses, horsewhips and other menacing paraphernalia of their trade the group of 15 young men file out through the door leading out to the back of our compound. The cacophony of shouts, chants and drumbeats from the exiting army add to the confusion that has already enveloped the atmosphere.
‘Mama!’, I call out to my mother. ‘I want go to Imelda’s house to do my assignments.’ With much hesitation she grants me permission to go out and reminds me of the curse if I veer off to watch the forbidden jamboree.
I soon meander through the bushes behind our house and join a company of several boys and girls who have all sneaked out from their houses to watch the performances. I spend the next 3 hours or so trailing the various dance troupes with the other children.
Intermittently we are chased by the respective masquerades we encounter on various routes. The whole game of chase, stop and run keeps us beckoning to the masquerades and their entourage to pursue us.
‘Ndy, why do you come out to watch play for men? Do you want to born a monster?’ asks Udeme, one of the boys in my group of adventurers.
‘What is your business? Are you the only one that wants to see all the masquerades?’
‘Better go home or else I will call ‘iden’ for you.’
I laugh at him.
‘Go ahead.’
Just then as if in response to its name my brother’s alter ego appears with its dance troupe behind us and we all make for he run, scattering in several directions.
I run into the bush and hide behind an anthill from where I peep to view my surroundings.
A hot, stinging pain shoots from my back. I fall to the ground and turn around just in time to see ‘iden’ raise a horsewhip to flog me again.
‘Brother, please….’
Recognising me, Brother pauses and looks around before pointing a finger at me.
‘You stubborn girl! Now, go home!’
I scamper through the bushes towards home.
