Wild Hearts | Flash Fiction

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It’s almost midnight. The moon is full and high in the sky. The birds are quiet. The trees are dancing to the music of the wind. Children can be heard, screaming in pleasure as adults tell them stories, folktales that has been before mankind. They make a bonfire and sit round it, holding hands, ignoring the brightness of the moon, listening to words of wisdom. Girls younger than twelve are home, sitting at their mother’s feet, picking their nails and wishing they are out with the others. Boys younger than eleven are in their father’s Obi, filling glasses with palm wine, watching their father draw lines on the ground with nzu before praying to the gods.

My jigida is tight on my waist. I just turned eighteen and this is my first and only one. There’s no occasion that calls for it to be worn but I don’t mind. I’m meeting him and I’m too happy to care.

Mama finally allowed me to. Obinna. The boy I met when I was five and his mother had come with him to our house to borrow a jar of oil from my mother. Obinna. The boy who beat up three boys for calling me ogbanje - the spirit child, because my yellow skin is different from their brown chocolate’s. Obinna. The boy whom my heart beats for.

And it’s racing again tonight, my heart. I’m finally doing what older girls do. They whisper about it on their way to the stream. They are smug-faced after each visit, peering at each other surreptitiously. They ask each other what it feels like. I still don’t know what it is, but that hardly matters. I’ll find out tonight.

The udala tree is empty when I get there. Where is he? Is he playing tricks on me again? Not this night. This night is special. Does Mama know what will happen? I never asked her. I was too excited. Obinna, yes Obinna. Where is he hiding?

“Akunna.”

I look up. There he is, sitting on the lowest branch. He hops down just then. He’s smiling, his white teeth shinning against his dark brown skin. I’ve always thought he’s too dark and too handsome. I love him more for it.

“Akunna, you came,”

I nod. The way he always say my name. It reminds me of the meaning all the time. Akunnaya – her father’s wealth.

“Do you know what’s going to happen tonight?”

I shake my head. He stares at me for a long time.

“Come.”

He takes my hand and leads me to a fallen branch. We sit on it and fall silent. My heart continues to race. For a moment I fear it will burst from my chest. I wait for him to say something, to do something. He just hold me close to his chest, his nose in my hair, breathing evenly.

“Obi,” I break the silence.

“Listen, Aku. I can’t take from you, not like the other boys. We aren’t married yet. I know our people expect this to happen since we’re already betrothed but it’s not right. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nod, wide eyed.

“I promised to show you how to skin a rabbit. Now is the time. You can show me how to knit in return.”

The night goes by. I watch him put the rabbit on the fire. I hear him say something about a knife and oil before my eyes droop.

As I walk into out compound the next morning, Mama takes one look at me and smiles.

“I’ve always known he’s the right one,” she whispers into my ears as she hugs me to her.

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_{Obi - A smaller house built apart from the main house, usually in front. Elders use it for meetings and also gather there to pray.
Nzu - a chalk of different colours dug from the ground. The white one signifies good things and used by the elders to pray to the gods.
Jigida - waist beads.
Udala - African star fruit.
Ogbanje - spirit child who’s believed to die at a certain age and come back again.}

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