The Curse of Ogamba

Two days later, a hush settled over Ogamba. The sky turned an ominous gray near dusk, a sign of approaching storms. Drums pounded from the center of the village, signaling an elders' gathering. Through the hut's thin walls, Fanta caught stray snippets:

"She's old enough to face consequences."

"We can't let her devilish reading continue."

"Mojono insists we cannot wait until the next harvest. We must do something now."

Anayara's face was pale, her eyes rimmed with tears. She tried to keep Fanta calm, bundling a spare cloth and some water for her to hold, as if preparing for a sudden flight. Okongo wasn't there—he'd left hours earlier, no doubt hearing the calls for a gathering. He wouldn't intervene for Fanta's sake, that much was clear.

As night fell, the drumbeats grew more frantic, the chants drifting through the dusty air. Fanta felt as though she was a deer, cornered, waiting for the hunters' final approach. If they decided on banishment—or something worse—no one would stop them. Anayara might plead, but it was likely in vain. She was but one voice against a mass of terrified villagers.

In the dim lamplight, Fanta pressed her mother's trembling hands, tears stinging her eyes. She recalled the lines from her favorite English text: "Sometimes, to save oneself, one must leave everything behind." The words resonated now, sinking into her chest. Could she truly leave if it came to that?

Outside, she heard a hush, then a single cry: "Where is she?" The vow in that tone shook Fanta to her core. She could almost picture Mojono's eyes, triumphant, urging the elders to do what was "necessary" to protect Ogamba from the cursed girl.

Anayara turned to Fanta, voice quavering, "You might need to run. If they come tonight, go… run to the forest's edge. I'd rather lose you to the unknown than see them harm you."

Fanta's heart wrenched. She didn't want to leave her mother. But the terror radiating from the drumming told her the villagers had reached a breaking point. She stared at her worn reading bag in the corner, stuffed with a dictionary and a small Bible. The notion that she might be forced to flee, leaving behind the only home she'd known, weighed heavily. And yet, the hostility in the air made staying impossible.

At midnight, the drumming ceased. A tense silence replaced it, more frightening than any commotion. Fanta heard footsteps near the hut. Harsh whispers:

"Mojono was right. We can't wait. The curse must be lifted."

 "Wake the men. We act tonight if needed."

She pressed her ear to the hut's thin door, heart in her throat. She wanted to gather a few belongings, but her body felt paralyzed by fear.

A flicker of lamplight seeped through the cracks, and she heard Mojono's raspy voice hiss: "The time to remove the curse is near." Her blood ran cold. She clutched her mother's hand, tears brimming. The meaning was unmistakable. They were coming for her, or they soon would.