The Ritual – Short Story

It happened last night.

The sky wasn’t pale and pitch black like the movies paint them to be on days like that. Men and spirits went about their businesses as usual. One could hear horns honking and engines revving in the distance.

The electricity company had graced us with light. My family settled quietly in the parlour enjoying a TV series. Music played softly from the neighbour’s house. Asa’s calm voice serenaded our compound while I busied myself alone at the back of the house. I went through with the ritual. I was scared, not because it was my first time but because of the crazy stories I’ve heard.

Many of my colleagues said that the ritual could be sabotaged in a way the results would be ludicrous but I never really imagined that it could get this serious till this morning. I am not the bravest one in my family but I probably am the most desperate and this has fuelled my courage to proceed with the process each time.

It’s 12noon right now. I’ve been incapacitated since I was roused from sleep by my sister. She looked at me, surprise, pity and mischief clearly displayed on her face at once like wares on a hawker’s head.

At first, I thought I was still dancing with sleep so I didn’t understand the look on her face. On a second thought, I figured she just didn’t have any thing to say till I thought of going out.

The ritual was necessary for the odds and ends I planned to do today. You see, in times past, it endued me with a special power, one that reeled in the attention of certain important persons. The ritual is one of the things I do to get the honeys drooling and willing. The male folks? Surely, they would die from envy, their corpses a deep shade of green. At least, that has been the case for the past three years since I was initiated into this cult of unrivalled elegance.

I’ve always seen myself as the ladykiller, albeit, at a great price. This is just one of the benefits of belonging to this brotherhood. The ritual is usually painful and messy, risky too. But in business, the higher the risk, the higher the gain, right?

I’m still very astounded at the result. I knew the new mix would be effective but not this effective. Right now, I cannot move. I cannot meet up with my appointments.

The thing is, I went an extra mile this time. I asked that an overly generous amount of the concotion be used for me. Now, I’m handicapped. I’m bald now, clean shaven.

My round skull is shinning like my father’s shoes after being handled by the skillful hands of Sanni, the cobbler. Now I look like our gateman after a visit from the Hausa barbers..

I guess I should come clean.
You see, something happens when you mix a strong hair relaxer with salt, methylated spirit, hair gel, olive oil and a pinch of nkatie. What happens is that you become a new creature.

It happened last night while I was relaxing my hair for Christmas to give it that oomph.
It happened last night and now, I’m looking at my precious hair on the bed…