Ghosts

"Grandma, could you please leave the lantern on?"

"Ahh, my son, do you want to burn the house down around us?"

"No, Grandma. It's just...", I hesitate. It wouldn't do to admit to Grandma, who I adore, that a 13-year old boy fully due for his initiation rites was still afraid of ghosts. But somehow, in that preternatural way grannies all over the world have, she knew.

"Chijioke, are you scared of ghosts?"

"No ma!" I deny. "It's just that Kachi told me that they creep into your room through the windows and eat your shadow on the bed. She says that was what killed her brother".

"Nonsense", Grandma scoffs. "Ghosts would never do that to their family. Let me tell you a story".

"When Chukwu Okike Abiama created the world above for humans and the world below for spirits, he knew beforehand that some relationships could outlast the decay of the grave. So, he made it possible for those who had gone before to be able to visit those they had left behind".

A chill wind began and I rubbed my hands together to keep warm. But the leaves on the udara tree outside the window were not moving. Where then was the cold coming from? Grandma didn't seem to notice.

"Chijioke, have you ever been about to make a horrible decision and something you couldn't explain stopped you?" Actually, I had, and I nodded my agreement. Two weeks ago while I was picking palm nuts with Ike, I nearly stepped on a grasscutter trap that would have rend my leg to the bone. At the last moment, I felt the urge to look closely and saw the tell-tale depression of the trap. Was that a ghost that helped me? And is it just me or has the temperature dropped even further?

"Amalinze, Ikeotuonye", Grandma continued without a pause, "Chikadibia, Okeosisi, Agwoturumbe..." her voice began to quaver as it often did whenever she remembered Grandpa "...Jideofo that left me a widow these ten years, in addition to all the mighty men and courageous women who have lived and died in this clan. They watch over us. They protect us. They are always with us."

I was shivering from the unexplained cold by now. It was just like I had been dunked into our local stream early in the morning, at the height of harmattan.

[Original writing session ended here. Continuation was written days later under the influence of a different muse]

"And one day, Chijioke, I too will join the ancestors. Do not be sad when that day comes, for I will always watch over you" Grandma places a chilly hand on my right shoulder. Maybe I'm hallucinating, but I can feel another cold hand on my left shoulder.

"I will always watch over you," Grandma says as she stares into my eyes, "Just as your Grandpa always watches over you." Her eyes slide over me and fixate on the space to my left and her lips split in a beatific smile. "Jideofo dike! Obi m! Nna m agụ! Nnọọ."