Night settled over the Okhizu compound like a heavy cloth pulled over a grieving face.
From beyond the compound walls came the last sounds of the Ege festival,the distant beating of the ema drums, the occasional burst of drunken laughter, and the shuffle of tired feet along the narrow village paths. One by one, the voices faded into the night until only the crickets and the restless wind remained.
The celebration was over.
The smiles they had worn before the villagers were no longer necessary.
Inside the compound, the real life of the Okhizu family continued.
While everyone else retired to their rooms, Osaro was sent behind the kitchen hut.
The festival pots were waiting for her.
There were more than a dozen of them, large black iron pots that had been used to cook enough food for the entire compound and the guests who had come for the celebration. Their surfaces were thick with soot, hardened palm oil and burnt grains of rice. Some of the dirt had become so stubborn that even scratching it with a knife would barely remove it.
Auntie stood over them with her hands on her waist.
The flame of the kerosene lamp in her hand flickered against her face, throwing deep shadows across her cheeks.
"Look at all of them," she said. "You see these pots?"
Osaro lowered her eyes.
"Yes, ma."
"Every single one must be clean before cockcrow."
Osaro swallowed.
Auntie took a step closer.
"And don't think because you are sick you can use it as an excuse. If I come here in the morning and see even one pot still black with soot, I will tell your husband."
Osaro's fingers tightened around the edge of her wrapper.
"You know how he handles a woman who disobeys him."
The words were enough.
Osaro did not need to ask what she meant.
"I will wash them, ma," she whispered.
"What did you say?"
"I said I will wash them."
"Good. Then stop standing there and start."
Auntie turned and walked away.
Her slippers slapped against the hard earth until she reached the doorway of her room. She pushed the door open, stepped inside and slammed it behind her.
The sound made Osaro flinch.
She remained standing for a moment.
Then her knees gave way.
She sank onto the damp earth.
The cold immediately entered her thin wrapper. She shivered and rubbed her arms before reaching for the coconut husk beside the first pot.
Her fingers were already swollen.
There were small cuts across her palms, some still red from the work she had done earlier that day.
She dipped the husk into the bowl of wood ash.
Then she began.
Scrape.
Scrape.
Scrape.
The sound of the husk against the iron seemed unbearably loud in the quiet compound.
Osaro gritted her teeth.
She pushed harder.
Pain shot through her ribs.
She stopped and pressed one hand against her side, breathing slowly through her mouth.
The beating she had received that morning had left her body aching everywhere. Her cheek still burned where her husband had struck her, and every deep breath seemed to pull at something bruised inside her chest.
She looked at the pot before her.
Then at the others.
So many.
Her eyes filled.
A tear slipped down her cheek, leaving a clean line through the soot on her skin.
"Why me, God?"
The words barely escaped her lips.
She looked up at the dark sky.
"What did I do?"
Her voice cracked.
"Is this what my life will be now?"
She lowered her head.
"I am only eighteen."
The words came out as a whisper.
"Eighteen years old."
She stared at her hands.
"They have already made me feel old."
A faint rustling came from behind the cassava plants.
Osaro froze.
Her hand stopped moving.
"Who is there?"
There was no answer.
She looked toward the darkness.
"Who is that?"
A figure slowly stepped out from behind the plants.
"Oge."
Osaro released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.
Oge glanced around before hurrying toward her.
"Keep your voice down," she whispered.
She carried a small clay bowl wrapped in a piece of cloth.
"What are you doing here?" Osaro asked, panic returning to her voice. "If your brother sees you"
"He won't."
"And your aunt?"
Oge looked toward the main house.
"Everybody is inside."
She knelt beside Osaro and opened the cloth.
Inside was a small bowl of warm, watery porridge.
"I brought this for you."
Osaro shook her head.
"I don't want it."
"Oya, take small."
"Oge, I cannot."
"You have not eaten since morning."
"I don't feel hungry."
"You don't have to feel hungry. Just eat something."
Osaro stared at the bowl.
Her stomach was empty, but the thought of food made her throat tighten.
"I can't."
Oge's eyes filled with tears.
"Osaro..."
"I said I can't."
Oge looked at her hands.
The skin around Osaro's fingers was raw.
Some places had begun to bleed.
Oge slowly reached for the coconut husk.
"Give it to me."
Osaro immediately grabbed her wrist.
"No."
"Let me help you."
"No, Oge."
"I will wash some."
"Please."
Osaro's voice trembled.
"If they see you helping me, what will happen?"
"I don't care."
"You should care."
Osaro tightened her grip.
"She will blame you. Your brother will blame you. Please, Oge. Go back inside."
Oge stared at her.
"How can I go inside and sleep?"
She pointed at Osaro's hands.
"Look at you."
Her voice broke.
"Look at your body."
Osaro looked away.
"My brother is killing you slowly."
"Don't say that."
"It is true."
"Oge..."
"I know he is my brother," Oge whispered. "I know. But what he is doing is wrong."
Osaro's lips began to tremble.
"And everyone is watching."
That was when Osaro broke.
"Then let them finish it!"
Oge stared at her.
"Osaro"
"Let them finish what they started!"
Her voice rose, then she quickly covered her mouth, remembering the sleeping household.
Tears poured down her face.
"I am tired, Oge."
She shook her head.
"I am tired."
Oge pulled her into her arms.
"I know."
"My body hurts."
"I know."
"I don't want to wake up tomorrow."
Oge's heart broke.
"Don't say that."
"I am eighteen."
"I know."
"I should be thinking about my life. My future. Children. My own home."
Her voice became almost inaudible.
"Instead, I am here every night washing pots until my hands bleed."
Oge held her tighter.
"I am sorry."
Osaro cried against her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Oge whispered again.
For several moments, they remained that way in the darkness.
Then
Creeeak.
The main door opened.
Oge's head snapped up.
A beam of yellow lantern light spilled across the compound.
Both women froze.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden steps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Osaro's entire body went cold.
She knew those footsteps.
Her husband.
"Oge."
The word was barely a breath.
Oge looked at her.
"Go."
"What?"
"Go now."
"But"
"Please!"
Osaro pushed her toward the cassava plants.
"Go!"
Oge scrambled into the darkness, disappearing behind the banana leaves just as the man stepped into the courtyard.
He carried a kerosene lantern in one hand.
His eyes moved slowly across the compound.
The pots.
The ash.
The coconut husk.
Then Osaro.
He stopped.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Osaro lowered her head.
"You are still washing?"
His voice was calm.
That calmness frightened her more than shouting would have.
"I'm sorry, my husband."
He walked toward her.
"I gave you one simple instruction."
"I am working."
"You call this working?"
He stopped in front of her.
Osaro's eyes remained fixed on the ground.
"I have been trying."
"Trying?"
He gave a short, humourless laugh.
"Since when does trying matter?"
Osaro said nothing.
He bent down and grabbed a fistful of her hair.
She gasped.
He forced her head upward.
"Look at me when I am talking to you."
Her eyes met his.
The lantern light danced across his face.
"Tomorrow morning, I am going to the upper village for the council meeting."
Osaro's breathing became shallow.
"I will return in the evening."
His fingers tightened in her hair.
"And when I return, you will come to my room."
Osaro's eyes widened.
"Do you understand?"
She could barely speak.
"Yes, my husband."
"Good."
He released her.
Her head fell forward.
He turned and walked away.
Then he stopped at the doorway.
"And Osaro?"
She looked up.
"Don't make me ask twice."
The door closed behind him.
Silence returned.
Osaro remained on the ground.
For a long time, she did not move.
Then she slowly looked down at her hands.
They were covered in ash and blood.
She looked toward the dark sky.
There were no stars.
Only darkness.
Only silence.
And somewhere beyond the compound, the last drum of the Ege festival sounded once before disappearing completely into the night.
Osaro closed her eyes.
Tomorrow would come.
And with it, dusk.