THE DAUGHTER OF THE EVIL FOREST

CHAPTER 6: THE FOREST ARMY COMES

Nkwo Market day was supposed to be big.

It is the day everyone from three villages — Umueze, Umuoma, Umueke — brings yam, palm oil, goat, cloth to sell. Igwe sits in middle and collects tax. Children run. Women shout price.

But that Nkwo, nobody was selling.

Everyone was waiting at forest edge.

Word had spread like harmattan fire: "The witches are coming. The Evil Forest women are coming. Adaeze is bringing them."

Some men brought cutlass. Some women brought rosary. One man brought pastor from Umuoma with loud speaker that says "Holy Ghost Fire!"

Igwe sat on his chair, but his chair was shaking because his legs were shaking. He told elders, "If they are really witches, we will burn them. If they are not, we will say we knew."

Mazi Offor did not bring cutlass. He brought kola nut.

At exactly 12 noon, when sun was on top of head, forest made sound.

Not wind. Footsteps. Many.

First, Mama Ajala came out.

She was 73 years old. She was thrown into Evil Forest 23 years ago because she refused to marry Igwe's brother. Villagers thought she died and became manure.

She walked with stick, but her back was straight. Her white hair was plaited with red beads. Her cloth was forest blue but clean. She was not ghost. She was old woman who survived.

Behind her, Nneoma — half face burned — carrying basket of fresh cocoyam from forest farm. Behind Nneoma, Chinwe, with twins — two boys, six years, fat, wearing same small shirt, holding each other's hand.

Twins that were supposed to be abomination. Twins that were supposed to be thrown and left to die. Twins now alive and holding hands and saying, "Mama, many people!"

Behind Chinwe, more women. Old, young, pregnant girl now with small baby born two days ago in forest — forest baby. Woman with one leg hopping with stick but smiling.

More than fifty women. Fifty women Umueze buried alive, one by one, year by year.

And children. Twenty children. Children who should be dead.

Last, Adaeze.

She wore white now. White wrapper like priestess. Her two buns still, but with gold beads Mama Ajala gave her. In her hand, she carried her father's walking stick — Okoro's stick.

Silence in market. Even pastor's loud speaker made small hiss and died.

Mama Ajala stopped in front of Igwe.

"Igwe of Umueze," her voice was old but strong, like root breaking concrete. "You know me?"

Igwe looked. His eyes widened.

"Ajala? Ajala who... who died?"

"I did not die. You buried me alive because I said no to your brother. I said my body is not land that you share. You said I am witch. Forest said I am daughter. So who is witch? You who bury woman for saying no, or me who refused to die?"

Igwe could not answer.

One market woman screamed and ran forward — woman who threw twins ten years ago.

"My sons! My sons! Ugo! Ugochukwu! Is that you?"

Twins looked at her. They did not know her. Chinwe raised hand.

"Madam, these are my twins. Not yours. Yours died because you left them at edge. Ours survived because forest kept. But if you want, you can greet them. They like people."

Woman fell and cried, not because twins were hers, but because she realized she threw away her own blood for tradition that was lie.

Another man, Mazi Dibor, saw Nneoma with half burned face — his first wife he poured oil on because she talked back.

"Nneoma? You alive?"

"I alive. Forest healed my face small. But my heart healed bigger. I now cook for fifty women, not for one man who burns me."

One by one, village saw their sins walking.

They called them witches. They called them evil children. They called them abominations. But here they stood — farming, cooking, carrying children, alive.

Pastor who brought Holy Ghost Fire dropped his microphone. He said quietly, "My mother told me Evil Forest is evil. But this... this looks like church. Women helping women."

Adaeze stepped forward. She held her father's stick high.

"People of Umueze! You buried me alive three days ago. You said forest will kill me. Forest did not kill me. Forest crowned me. This is Mama Ajala, next to me, she will be 74 next Eke day. She was buried 23 years ago. She did not die. Tell me, how many more mothers did you bury? How many more twins did you throw?"

No one answered.

Emeka came forward with phone. He played Nkechi confession again, loud.

"I DID NOT MEAN TO KILL! THE HERB MAN GAVE ME SMALL POWDER!"

Nkechi, who was hiding behind Igwe's chair, was dragged out by market women now. Women who yesterday held her, today dragged her.

"Adaeze, what should we do to her?" Mazi Offor asked. He held kola nut but did not break it. He waited for Adaeze to decide.

This was power. Three days ago, Adaeze was tied with rope. Today, elder asks her what to do.

Adaeze looked at Nkechi. Looked at twins. Looked at forest women.

She said, "We will not bury her alive. If we bury her alive, we become what you were. We will take her to forest. Not to die. To live. She will live with us, work, farm, learn that forest is not evil. Until she understands what my father felt when she poisoned his food small small."

Nkechi screamed, "I don't want to go to Evil Forest! I don't want to be witch!"

Mama Ajala laughed, one-tooth laugh.

"You already are witch, daughter. Witch is woman who kills husband for land. Come, we will teach you how not to be witch."

Two forest women — strong ones — carried Nkechi. Not dragging like village dragged Adaeze. Carrying, like carrying child who refuses to go to school.

As they carried her towards forest edge, Nkechi shouting, Umueze people followed. Not to watch execution. To watch first time someone enters Evil Forest and does not die.

At forest edge, Adaeze stopped and turned to Igwe.

"Igwe, from today, there is no Evil Forest. From today, it is Umu Ada — Village of Daughters. Your people threw us there to die. We made village. If any man in Umueze throws twins or woman again, I will bring fifty women again. But next time, we will not come to talk. We will come to take our land back. Because forest land is also Umueze land. You forgot."

Igwe nodded fast, sweating.

"Adaeze... Priestess Adaeze... we agree. No more throwing."

Adaeze looked at children under udala tree — Chisom, Obinna, twins Ugo who were hiding behind mother leg, scared of many people.

She knelt, opened arms.

"Class?" she said.

Chisom ran first. Then Obinna. Then all twenty children from under udala tree ran to hug forest teacher.

Forest women cried. Village women cried.

Because for first time, village and forest children hugged, and there was no evil between them.

Only dust. Only tears. Only teacher in white wrapper who taught A B C to both sides.