“They called me a witch because they didn't know what killed your grandfather.”
My grandmother began as I gently edged my wide shoulders between her frail legs and laid my head on her lap. A half moon was high up in the sky, its silver light casting shadows around us.
I looked forward to my visits to the village because she made them memorable with her amazing stories. Tonight, she appeared particularly sad and it seemed this story wasn't going to be a fun one.
“Nne, you told me he died of natural causes,” I said, gazing at the ants on the ground marching in a straight line to their hole.
She sighed. “I said what your young ears could understand but it's deeper than that. Today, it's something a doctor would have explained in five minutes.”
I kept silent and let her talk.
“When your grandfather slumped in the village square, a few young men quickly carried him to the dibia. The crowd that remained behind watched anxiously, murmuring among themselves. A loud gasp swept through them when the dibia pronounced that my husband was dead.” She clicked her tongue and nodded, her gaze solemn and distant.
“But he was so healthy,” one man said in disbelief.
“You're right,” another agreed, shaking his head. “I shared palm wine with him at the village bar just yesterday. A man doesn't just die like that. Something must have killed him.”
“Or someone….,” another whispered.
“Our ancestors couldn't have called for his soul so soon,” an elder standing within the circle observed. “He's still young and so is his wife. They have two daughters to raise.”
“Before the sun set that day, the whispers had already found a target—me,” my grandmother said, her voice soft and hoarse. Now, I sat upright staring at her intently.
“Some claimed I had angered the spirits while most of the men insisted I had used dark powers against my husband. I was dragged before village meetings, accused without proof and publicly shamed while mourning the man I loved. Though no one could point to a single piece of evidence, suspicion clung to me for so long. And now you doctors call it brain aneursym.”
I felt a stirring in my chest and realised I was fuming. “Why didn't you leave the village, Nne?”
She laughed softly though her eyes carried wounds that never healed. “Your grandfather's legacy is right here. That was what his brothers wanted me to do but I stayed to protect and preserve the things that mattered to him.”
She gently laid my head back on her lap and in that moment, my love and respect for her grew multiple folds. The shame the village gave her lasted a lifetime but the ignorance that caused it had lasted only until knowledge finally arrived.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "so healthy".
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