Where Women are Kings (25 page)

Bishop sat back in his chair. His eyes were filled with pity. ‘Madam, let us look at the facts: this child is inside you when bad things begin to happen. Your husband dies in the street. A young man and run over? These things don’t happen for no reason, and you, as a Nigerian woman, understand that, of course. And this red car follows you and you become quite unwell. And other bad – or worse – things, as well?’

I closed my eyes, Elijah, but the men were behind them, waiting. I snapped them open quickly.

‘Madam, you should know that luck like this arises from some force greater than we know, than we can understand. Have you forgotten yourself – where you come from and what you believe?’

I held you so tightly, Elijah. I had seen cases in Nigeria where the child was denounced as a witch. I had seen
End of the Wicked
. Who hadn’t? I had seen true witches in Nigeria and the way they took possession of a child’s body until they were exorcised. I knew that the pastors who dealt with witchcraft had the biggest following and the most full church. I had seen. I hadn’t forgotten, but I didn’t want to believe it.

‘This baby needs our help and protection. This child needs saving from the evil that is residing inside him! As his mother, you have that duty, and, as his Bishop, so do I. In fact, as a Bishop with a long history of service, I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve seen the level of wickedness that is contained within your poor son …’

I began to sob loudly. The Bishop had to be right!
Everything fell into place – otherwise, what sense did the world make? You were in danger, Elijah! You were full of the bad man. God, in his anger, had turned his gaze from us and let the devil in, and he’d filled you with wizard, I was sure of it. That must have happened, for only the devil would make me hurt like that. My little love, who I loved more than life itself. Your life was in danger.

Elijah, these things must seem strange to you – how us Nigerians believe so strongly that bad things happen as a result of spiritual attack. Growing up as you are in England, these things are so foreign and will not make much sense. But you should know how frightened I was. How terrified that you would be harmed. How much I loved and wanted to protect you.

‘Don’t worry for that, sister. I am an expert in delivering children from evil. In Akwa Ibom State, I acted as Bishop and cured over a hundred witches and wizards, drove them from their bodies. Now, don’t cry; this situation is easier in England. We have access to the very best equipment, medicine. The evil wizard is sitting inside your baby’s brain and I can get to him with the strength of God. Now, I cannot promise it will be easy, but the path to enlightenment is never easy. And Jesus will save us from all evil. I will save this child and drive the wizard out. He will be safe with me. The most important thing is that you tell nobody. These English do not understand God as we do. They do not believe in the devil. And, worse, I hear that they take children – African children – and experiment on them, or give them to barren white couples, or Madonna. No, I will help you. I will save your child.’

How I cried. It felt as if someone had taken a knife and pushed it inside my stomach and was turning it slowly around. But, after the pain, the Bishop was still there with
kindness in his eyes. And suddenly I felt as if there might be hope after all. If you were sick, then maybe he could help. I trusted him with my life, Elijah, and I even trusted him with yours. I thought of the badness that was happening to us, the voices in my head. I would have done anything that made me a good mother to you. Anything.

‘Can you help us?’

‘Of course. I won’t even charge the usual rate for a sister like yourself. I will only charge the minimum price for exorcism. It would not be fitting to take money from a sister. In this instance, there is no way I am taking more than a hundred. Not even if I have to go short this month. The church roof, God willing, will not fall down and the choir will not mind missing a few meals. Those children I support in the churches back home will not mind missing a few days’ worth of food. No. You, sister – you get the back-home price.’

I stood, suddenly. ‘I do not have a hundred pounds. It is impossible.’

‘Aha!’ Bishop jumped up and out of his chair. ‘It is impossible to keep a church running in Deptford. It is impossible for me to attract as many followers in England to listen to God’s words as I had in Nigeria. Is it impossible for me, a young village boy from Delta State, to command the following of thousands in my church? From all around the world? It is impossible for a mere human being to have God’s power in his very hands, but I do. Right here! All these things are impossible. Oh, I’m sure a woman like you manages finances well. If you cannot manage a simple thing like money, how can I – how can God – trust you to manage a baby? God needs to have trust in your abilities as a mother, otherwise he will not interfere and will simply let the devil take you. That is the simple reason a wizard has taken over your child. I’m sure you are the kind of woman that would lay
down her life for her baby. If you knew the evil in him, the devil that’s residing in his tiny body, I know you would not make such a comment. And, as you know, the good name of the church is the primary reason for my helping you. A Bishop who is able to help in such matters has the largest following. Of course, it is the Bishop’s reputation that attracts followers, and so is the most important factor, but still he must command a nominal fee, otherwise he would be a laughing stock and lose his flock as quickly as if the shepherd left the gate open and the sheepdog fell asleep! This fee is a nominal fee for you as my sister, but I must insist on it. Think of the bigger picture! By saving Elijah, by protecting your only child from evil, I will attract a larger following and, in preaching the truth of God, I will therefore save their souls too. I know I can help this child …’

‘I’m sorry, sir; I didn’t mean—’

‘Now, I am not offering this price for exorcism around the market or street; the church would be falling down in no time. If you want the medicine to help your son, it will be one hundred. Now, get out. I am a very busy man with plenty of other wizards to fight. You – you can take your chances with this evil wizard. I hope you can sleep at night, sister.’

I prayed, Elijah; how I prayed! I can’t describe the effect of the Bishop, but it must have had something to do with how much I missed Uncle Pastor. We are all a product of our past, Elijah; you know that more than anyone else. The more I prayed, the louder the voices became, and how you cried! It couldn’t be true. You couldn’t be full of wizard. I stroked your curls and looked at your body, and saw in your eyes how painful it was for you. My own heart was breaking with each cry. I told myself to carry on and treat you as normal, and maybe the wizard would leave us and find another baby
whose mother had failed, not praying enough. I knew how to look after babies. Babies needed to be carried around all the time. They didn’t like to be unwrapped or cold – it scared them. They liked to sleep with their mum, and smell their mum, and have milk from the breast of their mum whenever they wanted it. How I wanted to feed you, Elijah! And yet some fear stopped me: fear bigger than anything, the smashing of my heart inside me until I was screaming, you were screaming.

‘Stop!’ I shouted. ‘Stop! Stop!’ I imagined Bukky, who would have had her baby by then, fat and happy on her back, her baby’s open mouth getting milk from her breast. How I missed my Uncle Pastor. My baba. My family. How scared I was of what was living inside you. How terrified I was for you. How terrified I was that another loved one would die, that the bad men would return. Fear is bigger than anything else, Elijah; it grows faster than fire and kills all other feelings until it is pure and so dangerous. I’d always imagined love as the most powerful of all the emotions. But fear surpasses love, in the end, and that is what makes us so human.

*

Elijah, my love, my world.

I remember holding you underneath the window and showing you the stars. I sang songs and nursery rhymes and you looked at me with big eyes and I saw, deep inside your body, that you were there. I could help you. I smiled and gave you sips of medicine and you smiled, all gum, and it made me laugh out loud. I let you finish drinking and then we lay down together on my bed and I watched you trying to catch the moonlight in your tiny fist. You kicked your legs and blew bubbles and I tickled your tummy until you laughed yourself to sleep.

Nikki was aware of people rushing around and lights turning on, shouting, and so much blood, but everything slowed down inside her, and she was back in the past and Rosy-Ify was slipping away from life. Obi pressed something on to her with one hand and in the other was the phone and he was shouting and Elijah was standing there with a knife and he looked so far away and then he was rocking in the corner of the room, back and forth, back and forth. ‘What have you done?’ she said to Elijah and herself and Obi, and the sharp air around them, the world. ‘What have you done?’ She sensed Elijah in front of her still, a small, frightened figure, shaking, with wide, terrified eyes that had seen too much already, things that could never be unseen: a small boy, alone. Then she closed her eyes for the shortest of times and remembered a beautiful dream. Her baby was there in her arms, gold-specked eyes and soft, clean skin, alive, breathing, smiling. Alive.

*

When she awoke, they were at the hospital already, with a woman drawing patterns over her stomach. She looked at the ceiling. The paint. The light. She looked to the side of her and around the room: full of beds but empty of people, and curtains half closed around each bed, a sink next to the
wall, a yellow bin. Obi’s eyes were glued to the screen. Nikki couldn’t look. She wished he would hold her hand, but didn’t have the energy to reach out. Instead, she focused on the impossibly white bandage over her side, its edges taped down. She tried to let herself feel pain, but all she felt was numbness. Nothing.

‘It all looks fine.’ The woman drew and pressed. ‘There’s a strong heartbeat and everything is fine. You were very lucky.’

Obi exhaled and looked at her with dry eyes.

But she didn’t exhale. Nothing was fine. Nothing would ever be fine ever again. ‘Where’s Elijah?’ she said, sitting up.

Obi didn’t answer for a moment, and simply blinked. ‘With Ricardo.’ He shook his head. ‘I just can’t believe it.’ His words sounded like they belonged to someone else, as sure of himself as he usually was.

The technician wiped her belly with hard tissue and pulled her T-shirt over the bandage.

‘What happened?’ Nikki asked.

‘You blacked out, but it was probably stress-related. Elijah had some kind of dissociation. He … He …’ Obi’s voice dropped down. ‘He tried to hurt you, Nikki. He tried to hurt you and the baby. Something must have triggered him. He wasn’t himself. I don’t know what happened. I tried to stop him.’ Obi held his breath. ‘It happened so quickly.’

She touched her side, the soreness. ‘It doesn’t feel that bad.’

He crossed then recrossed his legs, tapping his foot. ‘We accepted this risk when we said yes to Elijah. He’s had multiple carers, numerous moves, and we knew he’d been affected by physical as well as emotional abuse and neglect. And, of all the categories, neglect was the riskiest in terms of brain development, but with time new neural pathways can develop.’ Obi stopped talking and stood up. He paced back
and forth, his eyes focused on the floor. Eventually, he looked up at Nikki and sat beside her. ‘I’ve dealt with scenarios at work—’

Obi stopped talking again. His eyes were red and his lips were dry. He looked very alone, even though he was sitting right next to Nikki. She wanted to touch him, but her hand didn’t move. He tapped and twitched and rubbed his head, but he’d run out of words.

Nikki cried softly next to him.

Obi saw her looking down at her stomach and turned away. Each of his breaths was a sigh. He looked like a man who had no answers at all. The world was a completely different place.

Elijah,

By the time you were eighteen months old, I’d gone from not wanting to believe you contained a wizard, to wanting, with my whole being, to drive it out of you and save my little Elijah. Your cot was like a boat in a storm. I was so unwell, Elijah, hearing voices constantly, not sleeping, unable to eat, and I knew everything was down to that wizard destroying us. The insects were crawling around inside me.

‘The wizard is so strong in this one. Back in Akwa Ibom State, I found a wizard as strong as he. Wow! That wizard resisted so hard. I had to try a range of medicines and, you know, in Akwa Ibom these were hard to come by. But the good thing was we could use muti, and that muti is strong magic to help these wizards out. The sorcerers are so frightened of muti. When I think of Akwa Ibom, my heart becomes as round as the moon. I’m sure you know the feeling for home, sister. Let us cure this child so that his family will be proud to have him visit Nigeria. Have you noticed any bad dreams? I am sure you will be suffering bad luck and bad health with this one around.’

I nodded. My dreams were becoming terrible waking nightmares that I was living right inside. My eyes were red
and blurred and my cheek was twitching again and again, my hands shaking continuously.

‘He is full with wickedness. Now, the medicine has run out? I can’t believe the fighting of this one, staying inside the baby. It is at home in your son. It will take some very strong power to remove this wizard. Don’t worry for that, sister; I’ll help with the removal of this bad thing. Hold my hand and let us pray.’

The church was empty at night, except for a woman always in the shadows who dealt with the bookkeeping. The Bishop told me to always come at night, and on Sundays he’d preach how he was helping our most vulnerable member and exorcising the evil and powerful devil from that person. My Elijah. So it was, we were in shadows, running from the flat to the church and back to the flat. He gave me medicine at first, and told me it would cure you. And I gave you that medicine every day, despite the way it made you sick and your bowels irritated. I prayed so hard, Elijah, all the time. But the voices were stronger than ever. I felt like scratching my own face off, screaming. I could see how sick you were, how sick the evil spirit was making you. You were sick all the time, my little son. So sick that you no longer even cried.