1

I am dirt in the sand,
Given breath –
To find regard,
Encouraged to flaunt my face,
In the faces of others, yet –
To give respect,
And let be;
Stand to my side in empty space,
Free of all my trappings,
Unencumbered by my prejudices,
Occupied only by who you are….

Adaure and Agbomma were stripped of their clothing and made to walk n.aked along the busy dirt track of the village square. Their bodies, covered in layers of sweat and dust, glistened in the early morning sun. Bouncy breasts and buttock cheeks jiggled as anonymous hands groped and smacked them lewdly. It was extremely intrusive and humiliating but the girls were determined not to flinch; they kept their heads up, shoulders square– desperate to mask their embarrassment, even as they stood exposed in public shame.

“Aru! Aru!” the villagers chanted, clapping their hands and spitting disparagingly at the girls, “Abomination!”

The agitated villagers were relentless as they pressed them on. Women made savage hooting noises and disheveled the girls’ braided hair, eager to transform their offensive youthful beauty into a more deserving ugliness. Old men conveyed the curses of the gods with prodigious conviction, certain that their grey hairs permitted them to bestow grave tidings on the wicked. Teenage boys leered insultingly and whipped out their tumescent privates inviting the girls in the most vulgar fashion to bed them. And children skipped along, giggling at the spectacle; they threw odd items – sticks, stones and rotten food, thrilled when they occasionally hit their mark.

As the procession advanced towards the Igwe’s palace, the crowd grew thicker. Not everyone seemed to know what had happened but most were keen to join in the castigation just the same, trusting in the judgement of their peers.

“Is that not Adaure, Mazi Obiakor’s daughter?” someone asked in expression of concern

“Yes, it is. She has brought shame to a good man’s house” another replied.

“What exactly did she do?”

“I do not know exactly but Mazi Obiakor is a very wealthy merchant, he owns several stalls at the market. Just the other day, my wife purchased a wrapper with the most beautiful prints I have seen in this village; he has the rarest finery! And an eye for good things. He has a good heart as well. Twice every week, he invites all the widows in this village to supper and he gives alms to the beggars in the square every single day. Such a man does not deserve this kind of ridicule. May the gods forbid evil”

“May the gods forbid evil indeed” was the customary response, “Is she not supposed to be wed to the Igwe’s son today?”

“Indeed, she is. Obviously, that ceremony will no longer hold. The poor young man! See how she walks with impunity? Strutting along as if it is nothing. They do not even seem remorseful for their actions! ……Push them to the ground! Beat them!” he yelled at the crowd.

“And the other girl……..who is she?”

“That is her partner in crime” he uttered in sage reply, “They will suffer the consequences together”

“That is Agbomma, Adaure’s maid” a dark hefty fellow offered as he joined the conversation. “She is the daughter of late Mazi Adibe. Her mother is Uzoaku, the woman who sells nku in the market – the one with the wandering eye”

“She has a wandering eye? Do you mean she has illicit relations with other men in this village?”

“No. she is a pious woman. I meant that one of her eye balls always seems to lose interest before the other. Whenever she looks at anything, it wanders off to explore other things”

“You seem well informed. Can you tell us what happened?”

“Well, Nnedimma……..you know Nnedimma? She is the daughter of Mazi Ikenga and in Adaure’s age group……..she woke her mother this morning and told her that she had witnessed a serious abomination at the Obiakor compound. Just listen! She had been by Mazi Obiakor’s place to wish her friend well for the impending marriage ceremony which would take place today. That is what she said. But I know that that is not why she went to Mazi Obiakor’s compound. Everybody in Umuochichi knows that Nnedimma has been jealous of Adaure all her life. Adaure has always defeated Nnedimma in all the beauty competitions. But is it Adaure’s fault that Nnedimma does not know how to smile? Smiling is very important. Every woman should know how to smile. Can you imagine coming home after a hard day’s work to be greeted by a wife that squeezes her face like stockfish? But if her face is open like sunshine, all your body ache will dissipate immediately! So teach your daughters, let them know the importance ……..anyway, as I was saying………Nnedimma is very jealous. She is especially peeved about Adaure’s betrothal to the Igwe’s son. She wants Ikemba for herself. This is why, I believe, she went to the compound last night. I am sure she went to poison Adaure”

“So what happened at Mazi Obiakor’s place?”

“Well Nnedimma did not poison Adaure, as you can see. But she might as well have, because after what Adaure did she would be very lucky to escape judgement. The gods have answered Nnedimma’s prayers in a different way. She may yet become our next Queen”

“What did Adaure do?”

“Well, as Nnedimma got to the compound to carry out her evil intentions, she saw Adaure and Agbomma together!”

“Together? What do you mean? What were they doing?”

“My brother, you are not a child. They were committing atrocious acts. Lying together n.aked! Touching each other like a man would touch a woman. handling each other’s breasts!”

“HEY!!! May the gods forbid evil! What did I tell you? Did I not say they brought shame to their parents? What evil! How can two beautiful girls waste themselves like that?” his indignation was substantial “It is clear that the gods are punishing Mazi Obiakor for his evil deeds. Did I tell you how he started his business with a loan? Yes, he did! And he owed the poor fool for so long, he eventually passed away. Yes, he paid the money to the man’s widow but, I tell you, that man’s spirit is still livid. That is why evil spirits have possessed Mazi Obiakor’s daughter to lie n.aked with a fellow woman. Just look at her! Look!”

The girls made their way noiselessly through the raucous crowd, stifling whimpers that threatened to erupt in the face of the maliciousness unleashed by their kinsmen.

Agbomma fell to the floor under the insignificant weight of a rotten mango fruit. A boy had tossed it wildly and it landed squarely on her temple. She was dehydrated and thoroughly exhausted. As she lingered in the dirt collecting her strength, a woman pushed through the crowd with a basin of waste water in which she had cleaned fresh fish. The mixture comprised fish blood, scales, plankton and other barely recognizable slimy mass. She emptied the murky content over Agbomma’s head to hearty cheers of approval from the crowd. Agbomma sputtered in astonishment. Adaure pulled her up to her feet.

“Oh! They are still holding hands!” the bearer of the fishy water shouted, knocking the empty basin on Adaure’s back. The short pudgy arms could not reach the head she had been aiming for.

Adaure willed herself to steel. She did not want to waver in front of this crowd. But she was dangerously close to her breaking point. She felt immersed in a viscous liquid that caused the menacing figures to approach and retreat in slow motion. Their angry grimaces ominous as they screamed soundlessly; all she could hear was her own quickened heartbeat drumming wildly in her ears. She saw all the familiar faces. Faces that had smiled in return when she had greeted them politely in the street. People who knew her parents. People she had played with as a child. They all had their secrets and she was privy to a number of them. Mazi Okonkwo’s wife was a kleptomaniac who couldn’t keep her hands to herself whenever she visited her Father’s stalls. Ihejirika had raped Ojuigo two years ago as she was returning from the river – he was the father of her bastard son. Ihejirika’s elder brothers – Osondu and Obika – robbed neighboring villages and impressed girls with their loot which was spent too quickly. Mazi Nzelu was sleeping with his brother’s wife. None of these people were strangers. But all of their faces were now contorted with so much contempt and they looked at her as though she were a strange girl from far, far away.

She glimpsed the Igwe’s palace up ahead – less than a hundred yards – and an immediate feeling of relief engulfed her.

“It will soon be over” she whispered to her maid.

2

I am dirt in the sand,
Given breath –
To find love,
And find light,
And give love to give light,
A beacon,
An anchor,
That wards of the darkness,
Lurking ever closely,
Threatening to diminish form,
To a meaninglessness……

Agbomma had come to live at the Obiakor’s compound as a five year old when her father died. He had fallen from a palm tree and broken his neck while tapping wine on a Sunday afternoon. That was ten years ago. Since then, she had been servant and playmate to the Obiakor’s only child – the golden girl of the village who had been promised to the Igwe’s son when she was only an infant. It had been declared that Adaure would marry Ikemba on her fifteenth birthday.

But ten years of intimacy - traded secrets, baths in the river, jointly executed pranks and shared fears in the stillness of the night, had left the girls feeling so connected with each other that they believed they were each other’s soulmates. They knew it was improper to have the feelings that they had for each other, so they never talked about them. The only acknowledgement of the taboo brewing in their hearts, were the subtle gestures of generosity and sacrifice they couldn’t help making for each other. Adaure would pretend not to like a particular dress her mother had had freshly made, so that she could pass it on to Agbomma instead of waiting for it to have a tear at which point her mother would have mended it shabbily and then handed it down. She would share her meats, eggs and other special treats evenly with Agbomma and help her with every single chore. Agbomma was always quick to squash spiders and cockroaches that frightened Adaure beyond reason. She lived to allay her fears at the given opportunity.

The way they seemed to take care of each other did not go unnoticed in the tiny village. People thought it was rather endearing how “down to earth” Adaure was and how “loyal” Agbomma seemed. “These are good qualities that would make their husbands very happy” was often the conclusion. Nobody ever considered that they were not practicing for future husbands but giving to one another what each needed in that instant.

The year she would turn fifteen, Adaure grew increasingly apprehensive. She woke up most nights with a start drenched in sweat. She dreaded the moment she would become Ikemba’s wife. He was handsome and kind, and would undoubtedly make a fine husband for any girl in the village. She liked him. But she cringed at the thought of intimacy with him. That might have seemed natural as she was still a virgin, but even virgins had fantasies and Ikemba was never in hers. If she was to be doomed to a life with this man, couldn’t she indulge a fantasy for a fleeting moment that was certain not to result in an “ever after”? Happily or otherwise. These were the thoughts that tormented her nights as the time left until her birthday diminished rapidly.

This night was the last night. Tomorrow she would be fifteen. And she would be married. Touched for the first time and by a man she did not love.

The night was illuminated by a full moon and crickets performed a symphony in celebration thereof. Agbomma lay sleeping peacefully near the edge of the mat – her beautiful face aglow in the moonlight. Her body heaved rhythmically with even breathing. Adaure felt a tightening in her chest. She reached out to trace her brow lightly with an index finger.

Agbomma was a light sleeper and she awoke instantly. She stretched as her eyes started to focus “What is it? Can’t you sleep?”

“No”

She regarded Adaure pensively “It’s the wedding, isn’t it? You have a big day to look forward to tomorrow” Adaure sighed in frustration, “Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right” Agbomma assured her “Everything is already taken care of”

“And you?........are you going to be alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean – I’m going to be married” she scoffed. “Will you not miss me?”

“I will still be with you”

“It won’t be the same”, there was the feeling of foreboding again as she pictured the intrusion she would be bound to for the rest of her days.

Agbomma pretended to consider this a while “I might shed a few tears…….but I’ll live. And you will be happy and that is what matters”

“And you know that for sure…….that I will be happy?”

“Ikemba is a good man – the Igwe’s son! Don’t be so picky. You could hardly do any better”

Adaure contemplated the wisdom in saying what she would say next. “Yes I could” she said eventually.

The heaviness in her voice and the glistening in her eyes stopped Agbomma from asking the follow-up question. She already knew the answer to it. As much as she wanted to, she was convinced it was a terrible idea to go down that road, but she didn’t know how to retreat especially since her body had already begun to betray her common sense.

Adaure reached for her hand.

“Kiss me” she urged

“Ada -” she started to protest. Her mouth had gone suddenly dry.

“Just this once….please. I will be gone tomorrow and we will probably never be this close again” Agbomma still seemed to struggle with a decision “I know how you feel about me, Mma. And I know you know what I feel for you”

“If we do this………… you’re getting married tomorrow? We would only get ourselves into trouble”

“It’s worth the trouble………to me” Adaure insisted, “I am sure I would regret it forever if I didn’t at least……..” She trailed off as she searched Agbomma’s eyes

Agbomma was silent for what seemed like an aeon before she spoke, “Ada, you know I would do anything for you, I don’t care half as much for myself. But this……if anyone found out it would not have been something I did for you, it would be something I did to you. I would, of course, be stoned in the square like a lizard without the decency of a second thought, but you…….you wouldn’t get away with it either. And I would never forgive myself. Please let’s not be foolish”

“We’re young, we should be allowed to do foolish things” Ada smiled wryly.

“And lose our heads over them as well?”

“You say one thing and I hear it. But I can see your n.pples harden…….the moon is so bright…..I can feel the moist warmth of your breath on my face….and I know that you really don’t mean what you are saying” her eyes flashed with desire.

“Don’t be so evil!” Agbomma teased. “I did not say I didn’t want to, I said we’d be fools to”

“We would” Adaure agreed, dropping her tone to an intimate whisper……..almost a pur - a caress as light as the gentlest breeze - as she nudged closer “So? Let’s be fools”

Nothing had prepared her for the sensations that coursed through her body the instant that their lips slightly parted and their tongues touched – the tingling in her toes, the fluttering in her belly, the sharp tightening in her groin. The elevation of her body temperature. It was insane! A spirit took over her whole being and she instinctively knew exactly what to do – what she wanted to touch, where she wanted –needed - to be touched.

She could tell that Agbomma had been overcome by the same demon because she was no longer the timid, reluctant participant – she crushed Adaure with the urgency of her need and the weight of her body pinning her to the mat while grinding fervently against her. She tossed aside the flimsy wrapper underneath which Adaure was gloriously n.aked. She groped the heavy breasts from which dark painfully hard n.pples sprouted proudly, and covered them with her lips – one after another. She stripped quickly and covered Adaure’s body with her heated n.akedness – like touching like, skin as smooth as silk, as soft as butter, as sweet as the paw-paw fruit. And the smells of scented oils assailed her nostrils.

Adaure’s body writhed feverishly under Agbomma’s astonishing strength. She took hold of her hand and held her gaze.

“Touch me…………..here” she guided Agbomma’s hand to the spot between her major lips, off the ‘mound of Venus’. “Just rub it gently. Like this -” she reached for Agbomma’s sensitive sweet spot and massaged the area around it in circular motion, demonstrating the act for her enthusiastic student to emulate, until her breathing became erratic and she started to moan losing the presence of mind to comprehend.

Agbomma could not escape or control the sensation. She began grinding her pelvis ardently on Adaure’s fingers as she jerked with involuntary spasms. She felt a constriction in her head and her groin; there were tremors in her upper lip and extremities; fibrillation in her vagina. It was an extended sweet sensation that lasted a full minute. And then, she collapsed on top of Adaure’s body basking in the aftermath that faded, thankfully, very slowly.

Adaure held her tightly, excited by her own ability to bring Agbomma’s body to climax. It was a powerful feeling.

“Do me” she whispered breathily.

“In a minute”

A minute later, Agbomma went for it. And as Adaure exploded into a million fragments of glittering stars, she wondered how this could possibly be the last time she would allow herself feel such pleasure.

3

I am dirt in the sand,
Given breath –
To defy,
The silence that judges me,
The voices of dissent,
The arrogance that shuns me,
The ignorance that doesn’t know,
I have dared to know myself,
Show myself and grow,
In my own substance,
But they still will not see me…..