The spirit on Nkwo market road

Image source: https://pixabay.com/photos/girl-bicycle-bike-sunset-1906405/

Nweke was known as a hardworking teenager. He was very helpful to his parents, especially his father in his occupation as a petty trader, dealing on clothes. He usually carry his father's wares to the market with their bicycle, not only to the nearby daily market but, the eight-day market known as Nkwo.

Nkwo market was always crowded because it drew people from the neighbouring seven villages who came to buy or sell assorted goods ranging from farm produce, clothes and beverages.

Many people do trek to Nkwo market which was a distance of about 3 kilometers from Okpanku village. Nweke and his family had been living as immigrants in that village for a long time. As a rural area, Okpanku village was not a place you see much of cars or buses. Movement is mostly by bicycle or on foot.

There were only two commercial buses that come to Nkwo market to convey people to and fro the market.

Nweke usually carry one of his father's load of clothes to Nkwo with their bicycle while his father will carry the second load, riding on a bus.

On one particular Nkwo market, everything appeared normal. The sun rose early, making the day to look bright and beautiful. The birds came out from their sleep with songs which were mere sounds to human beings but, very likely to be meaningful and melodious to the bird folk.

It was a busy day in the market. Customers came in their numbers and sales was at its peak.

As the evening approached, father and son packed their wares in their two bags as usual.

"Go and check whether the buses are ready", the father asked the son.

Nweke immediately went to where the buses do park. Coming back he reported, "One of the buses had broken down, and out of operation. Only one is working but already fully loaded".

"It means I've to wait for its return", the father responded.

"Yes. And it has only one more run to make for the day", Nweke said.

"What do we do?" The father asked, looking in the direction of his son.

"I'll have to wait to ensure you enters the bus with the load before I take off with mine on the bicycle".

They waited for about 30 minutes before the bus came. It was a herculean task to enter the bus. The passengers were just too much. In spite of the spirited efforts put in by father and son, they couldn't secure a space in the bus.

Not knowing what else to do, Nweke decided to take one of the loads home, come back for the second, and finally come back to pick his father who was too tired and old to make the journey on foot.

With that plan, he sped off on his bike, pedalling as fast as his strength could permit. On coming back to pick the second load, he was sweating so profusely that he looked like someone drenched in the rain.

On his third trip to pick his old father, information, in form of hearsay got to him that the broken-down vehicle had been repaired and gone to carry passengers still at the market. But Nweke didn't want to leave anything to chance, he pedalled forward on his bike, determined to go for his father.

"What of if he misses the bus again?" He asked himself.

So, he pushed on as darkness was swiftly descending on the plane. At a time, he was barely seeing in the darkness because his bicycle light wasn't quite bright.

Reaching a forked road, both leading to the market, he thought of which one to follow. He chose the shorter, narrower and footpath so as to get to his father as quickly as possible.

There was a small piece of bush which was said to be a shrine long time ago, suggesting that a type of spirit lives there. Anytime people, especially children passed there, fear gripped them.

Nweke thought of that spot as he came close. "Is it true that a spirit lives there? He asked himself or, rather, no one in particular.

"Is the spirit a good or an evil one?" He asked again.

The fear in his heart made him to slow down a bit. On getting to the spot, he listened. There was neither a sound nor noise. He then applied force on his pedal with all the strength left in him, determined there was no going back for him.

Having passed the area, he looked back, seeing and hearing nothing, he concentrated on his bike.

On reaching the market, not even a single person was left. Everywhere was dark. He turned his bicycle homeward.

The repaired bus must have carried his father home. It was obvious the bus followed the tarred road.

As Nweke rode back, the thought of the shrine spot bothered him again. At that place, he looked and listened very well again. Seeing and hearing nothing, he passed the place, and made up his mind that the much talked about spirit was an imagination and creation of man's heart.

Nweke reached home to see his father already listening to his radio on the veranda.