CHAPTER EIGHT:THE PRIESTESS BLOOD/THE river god
918 Words
18/04/2002. 2:17am.
Rain hammered the roof of the old Commandant’s quarters. Thunder rolled over Camp 5 like a warning.
Fatima Bello was 23. NYSC tag on her chest: FATIMA BELLO - BATCH 2002A. 8 months pregnant.
She stood at the window, watching the river below the old bridge. Water black. Angry. Like it knew.
Behind her, 20-year-old Danjuma Garba held baby Halima, 3 months old. His hands shook.
“You can’t go,” he whispered. “Musa said they’ll kill us both if you jump.”
Fatima turned. Eyes red but dry. “Danjuma. My mother jumped in 1978 so this camp wouldn’t sink. 3000 corpers lived because of her blood. Now the river is hungry again.”
She placed her hand on her belly. Aisha kicked inside.
“The files Musa is printing... fake certificates for politicians’ sons. ₦50 million every 2 years. But the river doesn’t want money. It wants Priestess blood. Bello blood. Every 2 years, 5 deaths. My mother was #1 in 1978. I’m #21 in 2002.”
Danjuma set baby Halima down. Held Fatima’s face. “Run with me. We’ll escape to Borno. My family has land. No one will find us.”
Fatima smiled. Touched his cheek. “You’re 20, Danjuma. I’m 23. And I’m the last Priestess. If I run, the bridge collapses in 7 days. 3000 corpers die. Including you. Including our daughters.”
She looked at Halima sleeping on the mat. Then at her belly where Aisha moved.
“I can only save one,” she whispered. “The river takes 5. But if Priestess jumps willingly, it counts as 5. Cycle resets. My girls get to live.”
From outside: boots. Shouting. Musa’s voice: “FIND HER! THE PRIESTESS CAN’T JUMP! WE NEED HER ALIVE FOR THE MONEY!”
Danjuma pulled out his tag. 2002A. DANJUMA GARBA. “Then take me too. Let me die with you.”
Fatima kissed him. Hard. Desperate. “No. You live. You raise Halima. You protect Aisha when she comes of age. You tell them I died in childbirth. It’s the only way Musa won’t hunt them.”
She pressed a USB drive into his palm. Smaller than Aisha’s. Older. “Inside: proof of first 20 deaths. Names. Dates. Keep it safe till Aisha turns 22. That’s when the cycle calls her.”
Danjuma broke down crying. “Why you? Why Bello women?”
Fatima walked to door. Opened it. Rain + wind + river sound rushed in.
“Because we made a deal in 1940,” she said. “My grandmother, Mama Bello, was Priestess of River Oya. She saved this land from flood by giving her blood. The river promised: ‘Your bloodline will protect this land forever’. But forever has a price.”
She stepped into rain. NYSC uniform soaked instantly.
Danjuma ran after her. “FATIMA!”
She turned once at the edge of old bridge. Held her belly. “Tell Aisha... tell her I heard her kick. Tell her I love her. Tell her to trust the dead, not the living.”
Then she jumped.
No scream. No splash. Just silence. Like river opened mouth and swallowed her whole.
The bridge shuddered. Then stopped shaking.
From the water, 5 faces rose. Ghost corpers from 1978. They looked at Fatima, then at Danjuma. Nodded once. Then sank.
The deal was fed.
Danjuma fell to knees on bridge. Holding baby Halima + USB drive. Rain washing tears he couldn’t cry.
Musa’s flashlight hit him 10 seconds later. Musa stared at empty river. Then at Danjuma.
He smiled. “Congratulations, Lieutenant. You’re now Commandant. And you’ll keep this secret for 20 years. Or I tell Musa’s men in Borno where your family lives.”
Danjuma said nothing. Just clutched Halima tighter.
As Musa dragged him away, Danjuma looked back at river one last time.
Bubbles rose. And for one second, Fatima’s face appeared under water. She smiled. Then pointed at Danjuma’s chest.
Where his tag was. Where Aisha’s tag would be 22 years later.
WITNESS.
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AISHA'S POV;
_Day 4 - 2:17am_
The torch light hit it and my legs forgot how to run.
Seven feet tall. Skin like wet stone. River weed dripping from its shoulders. But its neck...
Forty NYSC tags. Forty. Each one glowing faint green. I recognized two. Blessing’s tag. Halima’s tag. My sister’s tag.
It wasn’t looking at me. It was looking _through_ me. At the red thread around my wrist.
The air went cold. The river behind it started bubbling like it was boiling. A voice, not human, filled my head:
*“WITNESS #41. THE BLOOD RETURNS.”*
My mother’s voice whispered from the bridge above: “Don’t speak your name, Aisha. Don’t look at its eyes.”
But the monster opened its mouth. Inside, no teeth. Just darkness. And a small book. The same green book Musa had.
The book my mother used in 2002.
Then Sergeant Danjuma stepped between us. His uniform was wet. His eyes were red. Not from tears. From something else.
“Aisha, run,” he said. But his voice cracked.
The river god tilted its head. One tag on its neck started glowing brighter. Danjuma’s tag.
Danjuma’s jaw clenched. “You promised,” he growled at the river. “Five every two years. Not her.”
The monster lifted a stone hand. Pointed at me.
*“THE DEAL IS BROKEN. THE DAUGHTER PAYS.”*
And the water rose.
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- Writer
