For ten years, the bronze statue stood in front of my village school. It was a statue of a woman carrying a calabash on her head. Her face was always looking at the road.
Every child in the school was afraid of it. They said at night, the statue walks.
I did not believe it. Until that night.
It was raining and I had to return to school to pick my book. The school was dark, everywhere quiet. As I passed the statue, I heard something. Kpok... kpok... like metal footsteps.
I turned. The statue was not on its platform anymore.
I froze. My heart beat fast. There she was, standing under the mango tree, her bronze body shining under the moonlight. She was looking at me.
Then she spoke. Her voice sounded like two metals rubbing.
"You are the first child to greet me in ten years," she said.
I could not talk. My mouth was shaking.
"Everyone passes, nobody says hello. They think I am just bronze," she continued. "But I was once a woman like you. I fetched water for this village until my legs could no longer carry me. The elders turned me to bronze so I would never leave."
She smiled, and her bronze lips cracked a little.
"I am tired of standing. Just for one night, I want to sit."
So I brought out a small stool from the classroom and she sat down. A heavy bronze woman sitting on a small stool. For one hour, we sat together in the rain. She told me about the old village, when there was no school, only river.
When the rain stopped, she stood up.
"Thank you," she said, and walked back to her platform. She climbed and became still again.
In the morning, I came back. The statue was there as usual. But this time, her position had changed. She was no longer looking at the road. She was looking towards the classroom.
Towards me.
No one else noticed. But I knew.
And since then, every morning, I say "Good morning Ma" when I pass.
IMAGE SOURCE AI