Mamiwata Mask by
Isaac Kingsley and Oladejo Oluwaseun
Colors:
Black: Oladejo
Brown: Kingsley.
“Satan has entered this house”, Ifeoluwa heard her mother say the day Chioma brought an Ibibio Mamiwata mask into the house in a glass transparent box. Ifeoluwa was not amused at the bitterness that sipped out in her mother’s voice when she said it or the way her face looked like someone chewing a Bitter leaf, she was surprised instead at her reply:
Mama, it’s just a mask.
She remembered how her mother had stared at her for seconds, fear plastered on her face. It was as though she had become the Satan her mother was speaking of.
But that was months ago, now Chioma had died and her family came under a dark cloud. Earlier today, Ifeoluwa woke to screams from her mother’s room, when she got to the parlor she saw her struggling with a policeman.
“ Take her away! ” Chief Koko, Ifeoluwa’s father shouted.
“ Ifeoluwa, why are you standing there? They are taking me away oo “ her mother said, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ifeoluwa stood still instead, the only part of her body that was active was her mind and it was not with her mother, it was with the diary Chioma left in her care.
A day before Chioma died, she sent her a message telling her that all she needed to know about her art process was in a guide in her drawer and she could use the Ibibio Mamiwata mask for the video she was creating on African art. Then the next day, Chioma was dead. Ifeoluwa found Chioma in her room, she was seated on the floor, her back against the bed. It was as though she was asleep, except that her eyes were frozen in a wild stare. There was no trace of blood or wound.
When the policemen had left with her mother and father, she returned to her room and brought out a box. In it was Chioma’s diary and the box housing the Mamiwata mask. Back then she wondered why Chioma lied that it was a guide. She had decided not to read it until she was ready to see what Chioma stored in her diary. Now she was ready.
Ifeoluwa sat down on her bed to read the diary. When she opened it, she was amazed that most of the pages save for a few ones. Perhaps those parts were things that Chioma wanted to keep away?
She decided to read the few pages left, Chioma had trusted her with her diary, and she wouldn’t betray that trust.
Ifeoluwa rested her back against a pillow and started reading.
Chioma’s Diary.
When I meet Chief Koko in Uyo for a friend’s birthday party, he does not strike me as attractive. Though I am not particularly drawn to beauty, his short stature and paunchy belly make me think of him as a cattle exhibit. The way he introduces himself makes me despise him more. His eyes dance from my chest to my toes as he extends his pudgy black hands, still staring fixedly at my knee from my slim gown, and licks his lips lasciviously, as if he is going to devour my body with his mouth. But there is something about him that sends my mind racing as I scroll down the screen of my phone after receiving his message.
“Save my name as William”I read with indifference, probably because he does not refer to himself as Chief Koko, which I discovered months later.
I am sewing the lady piece of a costume for an Atilogwu group when he sends me a Whatsapp message the next day.
“Hi it’s Williams, the man you met at the birthday party”
I read the message and was about to block his contact when I noticed something in his profile picture. I click my phone again, and I see his picture. His bronze skin is pure, and his beard is perfectly carved, but his hairline is receding.
Earlier that month, I promised to stay away from distractions. Of course, I have decided not to enter into serious relationships; previous ones have shown me there. A three-month fling with this man will not hurt him, so I reply:
“Hello, how are you doing?’
He responds almost immediately, “This is Williams from the birthday party yesterday.”
“I know,” I reply as I go offline.
I do not know if I will return to a long, heartfelt message of love that will lead us both into romantic relationships that should not have happened.
“He is not that bad,” I think as I roll on the bed, envisioning curling into balls on his broad chest.
***
Ifeoluwa sighed. This was the beginning of Chioma’s troubles and she couldn’t blame her. This was probably the way the other wives came into her father’s life. Her father wasn’t polygamous when he married her father. Ifeoluwa could remember that they lived in a three-room apartment in Ore when she was small. Her father was working as a teacher in a government school two towns away and he would come home on weekends.
At nights when her father was away, Ifeoluwa would kneel with her mother beside her bed and watch her squeeze her eyes shut in prayer. Provide a good job for my husband Lord, make us happy, give us a son, she would say and Ifeoluwa would say amen, even when she couldn’t understand why her mother wanted a male child. The other prayer, however, she understood perfectly while her mother prayed it almost every day. They were poor.
Years later, her father got a government contract through her maternal uncle. At last, she believed they would be happy. But she was wrong.
“ I need a son that can carry my name, your place in this house is forever as the first wife”, her father said the day he brought Iya Ibeji to the house one cold evening.
All her mother could say with tears streaming down her eyes was: After all I did for you, how you repay me? My God will punish you “
And indeed, her father was punished, none of his wives conceived a male child.
***
Chief Koko collects my abstract painting, Lucid Madness. I believe this is one of the ways to win my heart. But when he invites me to his office, I am astonished by the artwork there. He is indeed a collector. For the first time, I feel tempted to settle down.
This is the kind of man I have always imagined myself with. He is attractive, wealthy, and passionate about art. He ticks all the boxes.
Then we start going on dates; we will go to a restaurant where he will eat, drink, and talk about fashion, art, and his business. We never discuss our families. Most of the time, after dishes, we will return to my house and make love.
After two months of hot dates and pleasures, I became pregnant.
***
Ifeoluwa remembered that one of the things her father grew obsessed with when he became rich was art. He would collect paintings, mostly landscapes and abstracts. At one time, he made portraits of Iya Ibeji when she was pregnant and hung them everywhere in the house to spite her mother, then when Iya Ibeji gave birth to twins, girls, he took the portraits away and Iya Ibeji left the house to leave in another part of the town.
When Chioma came to the house, her stomach had started pushing against the middle of her clothes and Ifeoluwa was wondering why her father was overjoyed until she got the news that the gender of the child she was carrying in her body had been confirmed, he was male.
That day, Ifeoluwa sat in her mother’s room, eating cornflakes. She had tried in vain to console her mother who kept pulling at her hair and saying:
My enemies will laugh at me. Even now, Ifeoluwa couldn’t understand why she didn’t share in her mother’s pain, her words of consolation were more of duty than compassion. Then her mother said what scared her: Nobody will chase me from this house, that girl will be shamed.
Well, She is dead now, Ifeoluwa said to herself and wiped the tears clinging to her eyelids.
Then she flipped to the next page, the folded page that proceeded * it stuck out and she folded it back in place.
***
“ You’re three weeks old, Miss Chioma, “The doctor says. At first, my heart pounds with joy but then the doctor asks me if I know I have it. Have what? I ask him then he tells me the worst news of my life. I sit in his office for hours, crying with muscle, and my legs tremble as if the weight can no longer support my body as I stand up to leave. I can’t tell him. He doesn’t have to know. I know that some things are better left unsaid to survive as a human being. After all, we are all humans. So I decided to give the good news to the chief for the sake of my sanity. I am given some drugs, which I also keep away. The best way to deal with my pain is through art, and I intend to paint it away.
When I tell Chief about my pregnancy, he jumps up and embraces me tightly. He starts telling me how happy he is to be pregnant with a boy. He then tells me about his family. A wave of pain rushed through me. I feel betrayed, but I do not dwell on it. After All, he is not the only one who has been betrayed, at least on my part. It is not intentional. I do not plan it. It just happens, I guess as part of my life.
***
Ifeoluwa’s heart started to race. What did Chioma mean by her father was not the only one betrayed? Or…? That is impossible, Ifeoluwa said to herself, Chioma was not promiscuous, she was not that type of person.
They became friends even when Chioma carried the child who would probably inherit everything her father had. Ifeoluwa was drawn to her art. Chioma was painting in the garden behind Ifeoluwa’s garden when she decided to start a conversation.
Chioma was engrossed in a painting she was creating. In it, a woman was falling off a cliff with something strapped to her back.
“ Your art is great”, Ifeoluwa said.
Chioma turned slowly and smiled.
“ Good evening. Thank you. Ifeoluwa is your name, right?” Chioma asked, but Ifeoluwa wasn’t listening, she was hypnotized by the full view of the painting, strapped to the back of the woman falling off the cliff was a baby boy.
Ifeoluwa coughed. She wondered where the diary was leading her, then she flipped to check the pages left, it was one.
But then she stared at the mask in the transparent box and smiled. Chioma’s legacy would live on.
***
I have been in the house for weeks, trying to distract myself from my truth.But I can’t. I have to confront my reality. I have to face the dark side of the doctor’s report. I am HIV positive.
I know the depression I fall into will pass, but at the very least, I owe Chief an explanation. But can I? I can not find my medications again. I know he has found out. I am not sure what he is capable of.
Ifeoluwa, if you are reading this all you should know. I have decided to face my life this one time and not run away. The box where I kept the mask is more than just that; it conceals a surveillance camera. I sincerely hope I survive today.
***
Ifeoluwa covered her mouth as a scream escaped her lips. She stared at the page again to see if her eyes were playing pranks with it. She read through the pages, and her shoulder sagged.
She had never thought that a day would come when she would suspect her father or feel betrayed by someone whom she cherished.
Her head was filled with questions. Why did Chioma hide this dark part of her life away? What did her father do to her?
Ifeoluwa jumped from the bed and grabbed the box which housed the mask. There was no button on the top or its sides, she was about to drop it when she decided to check underneath.
There, she found a button. She clicked it and the base of the box fell away and a screen emerged.
She clicked “ play” and a short blurry scene unfolded:
Chioma was in a struggle with a person whose back was turned to the camera, then after a while, the attacker wrapped her face in folds of clothes. Chioma struggled, trying to free herself, but it seemed the attacker was stronger, a few seconds later she was still.
When the attacker turned to leave, a face appeared: It was Chief Koko, her father.
