Chapter 2 THE COUNCIL OF CONFUSION

By evening, the village was hotter than pepper soup in August. The elders had called an emergency meeting under the almond tree the unofficial headquarters of all matters serious, scandalous, or both.

Nana Kwabena, the village chief, sat on his carved stool with the dignity of a man who had once wrestled a palm wine tapper for disrespecting his walking stick. He looked at the assembled crowd of elders, each one armed with their opinion and a bottle of bitters.

"We have heard disturbing news," Nana said slowly. "A talking snail, they say. A prophecy, they say. Kabelɛ, is it true?"

Kabelɛ stepped forward proudly. "Nana, by the gods, it is true. I found the scrolls myself. Written in old Twi. Very authentic."

"Bring it," said Nana.

Kabelɛ ran to his bag and pulled out a crumpled paper that smelled suspiciously of dried fish and palm oil. Nana held it at arm's length.

"This one is not old Twi. It is a grocery list," said the linguist.

"Eh?"

"It says: 'One bottle shito, two garden eggs, and goat meat for stew. Signed Ama Serwaa.'"

The elders erupted.

"You have disgraced prophecy!" shouted one.

"You want us to chase snails while thieves enjoy themselves!" yelled another.

Nana Kwabena raised a hand. "Enough! Even if the prophecy is fake, the people believe it now. And what people believe... can become real trouble."

He was not wrong. The next morning, someone painted a snail on the church wall with the words "Beware: The Wind is Watching."