Every Christmas since I turned seven, my parents took us to the village. At first, I wasn't excited because it meant leaving behind all the fun and my friends in Lagos and going to spend Christmas in a relatively boring and lonely place. I didn't speak the language well, so making friends was hard.
But as I got older, I welcomed the idea of spending Christmas in the village. Lagos was chaotic, and I had mastered the local language and made friends. Spending Christmas in the village was a perfect way to unwind from the Lagos hustle and bustle.
The most memorable Christmas for me was the one when I was sixteen. We had just traveled to the village, and my cousins Ike and Eze were there too. I had already made friends with some local boys my age, so as soon as I arrived, we were busy with one event or another.
We were coming back from the forest where we had gone to pick guava. Ike and the other boys were teasing me because I refused to climb the tree. They called me a scaredy cat, but I argued against it even though it was true. I was terrified of heights, but I couldn't tell them that. So I said I didn't climb because I didn't want to stain my shirt.
Ike called my bluff, but I stuck to my excuse steadfastly. The conversation soon drifted to our plans for Christmas. I said I planned to go to the knockout tournament at the junction on the 27th. Kene, one of my friends, said, "Don't you know that's the day they will release Ebili?" Another friend, Kamsi, joked, "He's a chicken. He'll definitely stay at home."
I needed a rebuttal, so I said, "I don't care about Ebili. I have a bigger aura than it." This seemed to work, as some of my friends started cheering me on.! So now I have set the ball rolling my 27th activities so I could not bail especially after all I've said already. I stylishly asked my dad about ebili and he told me it a masquerade that comes every 4 years, it arrival according to him signals good harvest. I asked him if the masquerade scary and he said no that it simply passes through town without constituting much mischief. This put my mind at ease and made 27th less worry for me. I enjoyed my Christmas very well worrying less about ebili and my dare.
The day finally came for me to walk the talk. I had bought fireworks the night before, and I was ready to fulfill my promise. My plan was to walk majestically to the town junction, light half of my fireworks, and then find a place to hide in case Ebili moved funny. My cousins and some friends followed me as I walked to the junction. The town was somewhat empty, and the few people I met on the way gave me a "are you dumb" look, but I wasn't deterred. My father's words had soothed me.
I reached the junction and started lighting my fireworks. My friends stood at a safe distance to watch. I quickly tore through the first packet and opened the next. I even did some tricks, like holding the firework until the last minute, which brought some cheers from my friends. I wanted to leave, but I decided to stay a little longer to receive more admiration from my friends. I did the same trick again with the third packet, but I didn't hear any cheers. I turned around to check and saw Ebili in all its glory and horror. It had a colorful costume with a mix of red, brown, and yellow, and an ebony mask that was stained with what looked like blood. It had hollow noses and pointed ears, and it was followed by some boys dressed in red, beating drums and blowing oja.
I felt immense dread and shock at the same time. I was still bewildered, but I snapped back to my senses when I saw Ebili raise its cane towards me. I narrowly missed the first stroke and was on my heels before the next dropped. I ran like never before. I tried to lose Ebili by running into different compounds, but it seemed determined to chase me. I got tired of trying to lose it, so I decided to run home.
Home had never seemed so far away. I ran and ran, but it was nowhere in sight. Every time I looked back, Ebili got closer to me. I looked back one time and missed my steps and fell. Ebili caught up with me. I screamed "leave me" "leave me" as it got closer. I pleaded "please leave me" and even stretched out my allowance, ₦500, towards it. This seemed to work, and I calmed down. But then Ebili laughed and laughed. The laughter sounded familiar, but I was too tired to guess who had that kind of laughter. Ebili removed its mask, and it turned out to be Ekene, one of my village friends. I felt relief and embarrassment rush over me. I joined in his laughter, and he helped me up. He told me he had planned this all along. Ebili was his family's ancestral masquerade, and it was his duty to dawn it as the first son of the family. He put his mask back on and left with my ₦500 before I could even ask for it.
I used my little strength to walk back home and quickly change before my mom could see the stain on my clothes and start asking questions. I was strangely calm that evening. My relatives even asked me if I was okay. I just quietly nodded yes.
The story spread across my friend group relatively quickly. They laughed at me and even called me "Usain Slow" or "Reverse Flash." That event taught me a valuable lesson about peer pressure and bragging. That's why, to this day, you won't see me overestimating my abilities or doing dares just to please people.
