When Spirit Goes to War.
My community is a small, forgotten place in the western part of Nigeria, surrounded by thick forests and dusty roads that lead nowhere in particular.
The people here are strong. Stubborn. Rooted in the old ways.
When we fight, we don't just fight with sticks and stones—we fight with the unseen.
War in my community is never just about strength. It's about spirits.
Before any battle, our warriors disappear into the forest. There, the old men—the ones who carry the secrets of our ancestors—begin their work.
They chant. They burn strange things. They mix powders and call on the gods.
Charms are tied around waists. Bodies smeared in blackened leaves. Some drink from calabashes passed down through generations.
It's said those drinks make a man untouchable.
I once heard that a man walked through fire and came out without a single burn.
I didn't see it, but no one dared to question it.
When the fight starts, it's more than fists and cutlasses.
Strange things happen.
People say our warriors disappear mid-strike, only to reappear behind their enemies. Some say arrows change direction mid-air—refusing to hit those protected by the spirits.
And then... there are the curses.
In my village, a curse can be more deadly than a blade.
The old women know the words. They spit on the ground and mutter things under their breath.
Within days, the cursed begins to fall apart.
Some wake up blind.
Others lose their minds and walk the streets like broken shadows.
These are not just stories.
I saw a man scream in the middle of the market, clawing at his own eyes until they bled.
They said he offended the wrong woman.
I saw a mother fall at the shrine, begging the gods to spare her son—just because he mocked an elder.
Here, war is fought with both hands and spirits.
And when we strike... we do not forget.
---
"Leave now, before the worst begins."
Baba Jide's voice snapped me back to reality.
I looked down at Mama. She was still lying there—unmoving, lost in her own world.
Could I really leave her behind?
The boy beside me spoke first.
"She won't survive out there."
Baba Jide's eyes held mine for a long moment. Then he sighed.
"There is a place. A safe place."
My chest tightened. "Where?"
He leaned closer.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"The forest."
---
The forest.
Even now, the name made my stomach twist.
No one went into the forest unless they had no other choice.
They said it was cursed. Home to spirits older than time.
Those who entered... rarely returned.
But what choice did I have?
Behind us, our enemies were drawing near.
Ahead of us, the unknown waited.
I turned
to the boy.
He met my eyes and nodded.
We had made our decision.
We were going into the forest.