Tunde's father was the best carver in Mushin.
Not chair, not door. He carved faces. Eyo faces, Egungun faces, masquerade faces. People came from Ikeja, from Yaba, even from Badagry to buy his carvings.
That October, Tunde came home from his secondary school in Surulere with an assignment. His CRS teacher said they should bring a picture of how other cultures scare evil spirits.
Tunde showed his father a video on his small phone. It was a TikTok video of American children carving orange pumpkins with scary faces, putting light inside. The caption said "Jack-O-Lantern - Halloween DIY".
Tunde said, "Baba, we fit carve this one? My teacher go like am. Nobody for class go bring this kind own."
Baba Tunde laughed. He was a proud carver. "Which kind small work be this? Na face? I don carve face since before you born. We no get that orange fruit, but I go use calabash."
He went to Oyingbo market, picked the biggest dry calabash. The type they use for palm wine, but this one big like human head.
He carved it exactly like the TikTok pumpkin. Two triangle eyes. Crooked nose. Big mouth with sharp teeth like Eyo masquerade. He was so happy. He said, "See, Tunde? This one go fear pass Eyo sef."
He put small rechargeable torch inside and kept it on their backyard fence to dry.
Tunde's mother did not like it.
"Baba Tunde, comot that thing for fence," she told him. "That face no good. You carve mouth too wide. You don open mouth wey no suppose open."
Baba Tunde said she was worrying too much.
That night was October 30th. Night before Halloween.
Around 2am, Tunde woke up to ease himself. Their toilet is outside, behind house. As he opened door, he saw something.
The calabash was glowing.
Not because of the torch. The light inside was different now. Brighter, orange-red, flickering like real fire, even though there was no wind.
And it was no longer on fence. It was on ground, facing their house.
Tunde thought wind blew it down. He wanted to go pick it, but something held him. The eyes. The triangle eyes carved in calabash were looking at him. Tunde swear, they moved. They followed him as he moved small.
He ran back inside and locked door. He did not ease himself again.
In the morning, he told his father. Baba Tunde went to check. The calabash was back on fence, cold, empty. No torch inside. He laughed at Tunde.
"You too dey watch too much TikTok for night."
That night, October 31st, Tunde wanted to take the calabash to school for his assignment. Baba Tunde decided to put real fire — candle — inside to make it look original.
He put candle, lit it, and whole compound lit orange. The face looked alive. The shadows it threw on wall were not normal. They were long, like people with no heads standing behind them.
Tunde's little sister, Wunmi, started crying. She said, "Daddy, the pumpkin dey call me."
They all heard it then. Soft voice, like someone speaking inside bottle.
"Who carved me... who gave me mouth..."
Baba Tunde froze. The voice was coming from calabash. Mouth was not moving, but fire was coming out of it as it spoke.
"I had no mouth before. Now I have mouth. Who will give me story to speak?"
Tunde's mother grabbed Wunmi and pulled them inside. Baba Tunde, stubborn man, carried stick to hit calabash.
"Who you be? You be toy! I carve you!"
He hit it. Gbam!
The calabash did not break. It bounced like ball and rolled. And it started laughing. That same wind-in-bottle laugh.
When it laughed, all the dogs in Mushin street started barking at once. From Odi-Olowo to Idi-Araba, all of them.
Then it rose. Just small, one foot above ground, floating. The candle inside burning brighter. The face now bigger than what Baba Tunde carved. The teeth sharper.
It floated towards Baba Tunde. Baba Tunde dropped stick and ran.
It did not chase him. It turned and looked at their house, at window where Tunde and his mother and Wunmi were watching.
And it said, with Baba Tunde's own voice this time, "I like this compound. I go stay here."
Tunde's mother is a prayer warrior. She did not run. She carried her Bible, opened door, and started shouting holy ghost fire.
"I cover this compound with blood of Jesus! You calabash spirit, go back to where you from!"
For a second, nothing happened. Then calabash shook. The fire inside started struggling, like two winds fighting inside it.
And then, Tunde's grandmother voice came from nowhere. His grandmother that died two years ago. Her voice came from inside calabash too.
"Ayodele! Ayodele! Close the mouth you opened! Some faces you no dey carve!"
Baba Tunde, shaking, took palm oil from kitchen, poured it on calabash. For Yoruba, palm oil cools angry spirits.
The fire inside made one loud PUFF and died.
The calabash dropped to ground, cracked into two. Inside was not empty. There was black ash, and many dead crickets that were not there before. And it was smelling like burnt hair.
They did not sleep that night. Baba Tunde packed all the pieces, carried them to the back of one abandoned primary school in Mushin — that school where roof don fall — and burnt them.
Tunde did not go to school the next day. He told his teacher his assignment burnt. His teacher failed him for that assignment, but Tunde did not care.
Till today, Baba Tunde has never carved any face that is not Eyo or Egungun. And he will tell anybody who asks:
"That oyibo pumpkin na toy for America. But for Lagos, if you carve face with mouth for empty head and give am light for night wey spirit dey waka, something go come use that mouth."
Some nights, when NEPA takes light and everywhere dark for Mushin, Tunde still see that orange glow from corner of their fence, even though nothing dey there.
And sometimes, he hears Wunmi talking for sleep. She dey say, "No give me mouth... no give me mouth..."
image source AI