The Witness of Usehjiki

Chapter one

500 years ago

_____

Together, the four chiefs stood in the dark cave, lit only by a single, dim lamp. As unusual as it was to have them all in the same room, at the same time, they were more worried about the door before them.

The door was big, thick and round, with two horizontal, metal planks going across the vertical planks. There were four keys in the four key slots on the top, vertical plank. It travelled into the ground where the foundations of a cage sat. When it was built, they'd had to take into consideration the strength of the being they were imprisoning. A simple crack in the foundation and they'd all be dead.

The air was wrought with desperation and guilt, oozing from the occupants of the cave as they fidgeted amongst themselves, eyes trailing from the door to the ceiling and down to the floor. The cave was newly dug. And yet, it stank of rotten fruit and forgotten bodies, even though none of those things were present. It was too young to be flowered or bear tree roots and it didn't have any jetting rocks to offer it some character.

It was just a bare, brown room, surrounded by nothing but bare, brown sand; definitely not one of the many, beautiful ones nature had provided for the chiefs had been too ashamed to sully nature that way.

No.

This was their sin. Their shame. And even though every single scrape of sand had brought with it the foul smell of death and decay in a place that such a smell should never have been, the chiefs had kept at it, digging and building at night, scared to delegate the job of the cave's creation to their people lest too many questions arise.

"O muha nno eyi Oseki?" Usop asked in Jiki. Are we sure about this, Oseki? He shifted from the door with his machete in his hand. It was hard for anything to scare a man like Usop. Even though he was the youngest and newest chief in the gathering, he had seen war. He'd fought for boundaries before he was called back to lead his people. Spending the passed few months among farmers and builders, he'd learned that nothing they did could scare him.

Usop was built like a hut and tall enough that he had to bend to be inside, most times. He had no use for his hair, so his skull often shone when he was underneath the sun. Like his people in Usobo, Usop wore nothing on his body. His black, clans mark stood proudly on his chest, the only covering he'd ever afforded himself. But for the rest of his body, he'd always kept it stark as the day he was born into the world.

"O tene dung." We can't stop now. Oseki wiped sweat from his brow with the neck of his ojebi. He, unlike the man who'd just spoken to him, was dressed in sleeveless, woven strings that covered his neck to his knees, hiding his green, clans mark that distinguished him from the other chiefs in the room.

Oseki's years were numbered. He'd ruled for decades, and his successor was already prepping for ascension. His grey hair was sign of a job well done and Oseki would be damned if he left this earth without ensuring a better future for his children and his people. If he had to sully his hands this way, he was ready to make that sacrifice.

They'd been warned. Their actions would have consequences. Oseki didn't care, and judging from the conviction of his fellow chiefs, none of them did either. This was a small price to pay if it ensured that Usehjiki would live on and that the four clans would go unrivaled for many more centuries.

Oseki also had a machete in his hand. However, if he was being honest, he doubted that the machete would do much good if the cage didn't hold.

"What if..." Izeh began, as she brandished her machete, as well. "What if we were wrong?"

Izeh, much like Usop, wasn't wearing any clothes. Both chiefs ruled over neighboring clans with various overlapping practices, example of which was the triviality of modesty. She stood about a head shorter than Usop, even with the mountain of thick, afro locs atop her head. Like Usop, she didn't have any shame in her state and wore her own white, clans mark on her chest, with just as much pride.

However, unlike Usop, Izeh was covered in white tattoos, lining her neck, chest, her hips and all the way down to her legs. Most of the tattoos were made from temporary paint that washed off every time she went into a stream. But the rest were carved into her skin, stories of her past, tales of her clan's history.

"What if it doesn't work?" Izeh asked, looking to Oseki for answers, much like Usop had done.

Oseki didn't understand why they thought he'd have more information than they did. They'd all agreed on this together. They'd all consulted their gods and reported a consensus. They'd all been present at every gathering and come to the same moment, from the same conclusions. He didn't understand why they thought he'd somehow know more than they did.

"Stop asking stupid questions," Elheji said angrily, as her hands tightened around her long, metal staff. "It's going to work."

Elheji was the most covered chief in the room. Hailing from Elhiji, the sandy, hot north of Usehjiki, Elheji had on a stringy frock similar to the one Oseki was wearing. But above that, she had one a shawl that was draped around her neck and shoulders. Usually, she would have it over her head, while the rest of her body hid behind more protective clothing that was meant to keep her people safe from the strenuous terrain of Elhiji.

But ever since she'd been spending her days digging up the cave, she'd taken to wearing less clothing. And even her less clothing was more than anything Izeh or Usop would ever wear in their entire lifetime.

KPO!

They all jumped back as the door, the cage and walls of the cave shook.

"Are you sure that cage will hold?" Izeh asked Usop.

"As surely as the sun sets," Usop said. "Now, the question is if I want it to hold at all."

"Two of you should stop this nonsense," Elheji said.

Oseki walked past them till he was standing in front of the door. As he got within four feet of the door, the knocking became more insistent, gradually rising till the ground beneath their feet quaked from the impact. The banging got so loud that the other chiefs had to cover their ears. A wind blew past, lifting the loose fabric on Elheji as she dropped her staff to keep herself covered.

But Oseki persisted, putting one leg in front of the other till he got to the door. As he placed one hand on the door, the knocking ceased. Breathing heavily, Oseki steadied himself against the door. The hard part was over, he reminded himself. The hard part was done.

He felt around the door till he found the first key. He pulled it out and went searching for the second. And the third. At last, as he pulled out the fourth key, the knocking began again. Softer, this time. Accompanied by whispered sobs coming from beyond the door.

"I'm so sorry," Oseki said to the door before he turned away. He walked back to the others and held out the keys for each of them to take.

Hesitating, the other three stared down at Oseki's hand with apprehension.

"Are we doing this?" Oseki asked.

"There's no turning back now," Elheji said grabbing her own key from his hand as turned away from them and Oseki heard the sound of her coverings as the rustled about. Seconds later, she hissed and whimpered in the dark, dropping to her knees as she tried to control her sobs.

"Are you alright?" Usop asked, reaching for her but she held up a had to keep him at bay.

"Do I deserve this key if I can't even bare this little pain?" she asked.

As her words sank in, Usop grabbed his own key from Oseki. Without turning away to hide, he placed the key on his chest, just above his clans mark and clamped his lips together as the key sank into his skin. His hand quivered over the key, itching to pull it out as it forced its way in until it settled in, snugly, like another tattoo.

"Are you ready?" Oseki asked Izeh, placing her key in her hand as they both went together. He chose his right shoulder, watching Izeh flinch as her key sunk into her neck.

"I guess its done, then," Elheji said, getting to her feet. "Its over?"

"Its just begun," Usop said.

"Remember the rules," Oseki said, rubbing his skin around the key. "We can't lose sight of what's important."

"Don't lecture me, Oseki," Elheji said, wrapping her shawl around her head. "I'm not a child."

"No sexual activity," Oseki reiterated, pushing past Elheji and her hard demeanor. "I mean it. One of you fails and we all fail."

"We've heard you," Izeh said.

"Not even the people you're already bound to. No men, no women. No one. Your key will unbind from you if you-"

"If we are intimate with anyone," Elheji said, walking out of the cave. "You've said it a million times already."

"O mi nuoh," Izeh said. We will see again. Sparing Usop and Oseki one last look, she followed Elheji out of the room.

Oseki waited for Usop to move but Usop remained.

"We will pay for this, one day."

"But not today," Oseki replied.

Usop nodded and dropped his machete.

"You know what you have to do?" Oseki asked.

"I'm the one who built this place," Usop hissed.

Oseki knelt and dropped his head on the ground to pay his last respects. When he got up, he picked up his key and left.

Outside, he waited. It wasn't as if he didn't trust Usop to do what needed to be done. Usop couldn't even open the door with only one key if he wanted to. But Oseki waited anyway.

Standing outside, he could see the mounds of sand in the moonlight. Digging up a cave to bury a large, human-sized cage had given them heaps and heaps of sand, above ground. It didn't matter, anymore. Because when Usop hit the first pillar in the cave, a heap of sand crumpled and flattened into the ground.

Just to be careful, Oseki moved back a little as more and more heaps fell, burying the cage. Minutes later, as Usop emerged from the cave with the lamp, the last heap crumbled down till it was, once again, nothing but an unassuming piece of land.

Present day

_____

"Shhh," the woman in his lap whispered into his ear as Kuwin quivered beneath her, his hands clamped around her waist, begging for the tingling feeling of ecstasy to never end. It felt like the world around him had tipped over, pouring out in overstimulation of his senses to the point that Kuwin was sure he could hear colors and see the taste of her skin even though his eyes remained shut.

As he pulsed within her, she slowed her movements to accommodate him because, really Kuwin wasn't sure how much more he could take if she kept moving. He longed for her for as long as he knew her, watching her glowing, dark skin from the pulpit as she swayed in worship, listening to her velvety voice every time she spoke to him in that whispery manner that was sure to drive any man crazy.

He knew.

Kuwin wasn't a coward who shied away from accountability. He knew before he'd approached her. He'd been swimming in lust for months, fighting what was plain as day, knowing that one day he would fall. It was his fault and his only. He would bear that with his whole chest.

But none of that was enough to take away from the otherworldly, tremendousness of the entire experience. Even currently, as she placed delicate, feathery kisses on his face, bringing Kuwin back to consciousness, he couldn't even be bothered to muster up some shame. He'd been sworn to celibacy for all his life, but he'd taken one day... one day to see what it was. One day to experience before he died. One day to know a woman in the way he'd always wanted to.

He hadn't taken it lightly, either. Osa wasn't a woman he'd met off the street. She wasn't some crazy seductress; at whose feet he could lay the blame. She was pristine in her mannerisms and perfect in her way, always kept a safe distance, able to command respect without a single word. He'd watched her for months to the point of obsession and even though Kuwin always took every problem to God, Osa was one problem he'd kept to himself.

Kuwin Usop was a god-fearing man with a kind heart and a generous soul. At least that's what people always said about him. Even though he had a huge family and a mother who'd hated letting him leave home, Kuwin had moved out the moment he got a call from God.

The moment he'd told her, it was as if she knew he'd be gone like his relatives before him. But he couldn't stay. He had work to do. He roamed Usehjiki, sharing the word of God till he settled in Emami, a sub-state in Usobo.

Success in this endeavour hadn't been easy, but it had seemed almost immediate. Every time he settled to share, Kuwin gathered a crowd. Every time he spoke, his words were met with understanding and a need to hear more. He rose in fame and with each year, Kuwin devoured the Bible more because he needed to know more. He needed to be closer. And with a congregation growing behind him, Kuwin wanted nothing more than to be able to provide the assistance they needed.

He lived on the fifth floor of one of his apartment buildings and usually, every night, Kuwin loved to stand on his balcony and sing quiet praises.

Kuwin had chosen to do things a little differently that night, as he lay in Osa's embrace, in a blissed out haze. He had been dreading that night ever since he was old enough to understand. Even though he'd been serious about his faith for twenty years, there were moments, in between. Moments plagued with doubt and fear. Moments that followed him into his prayers and came out in dreams.

At first, he'd told himself that the night before his fortieth birthday would be a battle that he would fight, with God at his side. Whatever generational curse was something Kuwin was going to break in the name of Jesus. And yet, the closer his birthday drew, the more his faith wavered, tampering with his core and making him question everything.

He was a Christian. Surely, he wouldn't die just because there was a key buried in his chest. Even if everyone who'd ever had the key before him had died before they were forty years old, that didn't mean that the same would happen to him. He had faith. He had God on his side. Nothing could go wrong.

Except for the possibility that something could go wrong.

He'd paced up and down that lane in his mind for weeks until he'd come to realization that one of two things could happen. He could go to sleep on the eve of his birthday and not wake up the next day. Or he could go to sleep and wake up and move on like nothing happened.

He'd rationalized it all up until the moment Osa had showed up at his doorstep and the next thing Kuwin knew, he was shedding clothes like a restless fool, dropping his celibate vows at the door and allowing Osa to kiss him and lead him into his bedroom. He was going to either die or not die. What difference would it make if he lost a step for one day and indulged in a craving he'd been having for months?

"How are you feeling?" she asked, still cradling Kuwin in her arms.

He couldn't speak. All he could do was shake his head minutely as he fought to trap every single moment of their lovemaking in his mind. If these were his final moments, Kuwin wanted to have them forever. He wanted to-

"Uh!" he groaned as sharp pain seared through his chest, burning against his skin as he rolled over, placing Osa on her back.

"What is it?" she asked.

It wasn't time. He couldn't be dying yet.

He looked at the bedside clock on the side table and the time read, 23:56. He still had time. Unless his clock was late and he was going to die anyway. Because if the ancestors wanted him dead, then he was going to die. Right? It wasn't as if there was anything he could do about the pain that was ripping through him as if determined to hurt him.

He groaned and crawled off the bed, holding his should as he felt the key moving. He wondered why. When his uncle had died, the key hadn't moved. This hadn't happened. So why?

The key shifted and stretched through his skin and popped out, falling into his hand and leaving a key-shaped wound in his chest. Holding the key, Kuwin started in stupor. What did this mean? Why had this happened?

"I'll take that," Osa said, standing over him, dressed in her tights and blouse. Kuwin fell back against the bed in shock because Osa, his sweet, innocent Osa, had a small, black gun in her hand.

"What... hmm?" he asked, still whirling from the sex and the wound and the fact that his key was acting up. He clutched the key to his chest, hating how the carpet chaffed against his naked butt.

"The key, Pastor?"

"I don't understand, what do you want with it?"

"It's useless to you," she said.

"It's been in my family for generations. I can't give it to you."

"Trust me, Pastor Kuwin, I'm doing you a favor."

"What does the key have to do with anything?"

She snatched the key away and turned to leave.

Kuwin tackled her to the ground. She could have anything she wanted. He was willing to empty his accounts for anyone, but he couldn't let her take that key. It would break his mother's heart.

So, he fought for it.

Or at least, he tried to.

Because the moment she touched the ground, she headbutted him with the back of her head, elbowed him in the stomach and rolled them both over till she was lying on top of him. While he was trying to recover, she stood and placed her foot on his neck, pointing the gun at him.

"Please listen carefully," she said. When he tried to speak, she pressed down on his neck till he struggled. "Your birthday is in a few seconds. Everyone in your family who touched this key died just before they turned forty. I can imagine that you have more important things to worry about than a useless key. Let it go. And thank your God that you're safe."

She removed her leg and ran towards the balcony, leaving Kuwin to cough his way into a sitting position. When he looked back at the balcony, she was gone. Just as he stood up to go after her, his alarm rang.

He froze, breathing heavily as everything around him waited as well. By the time a full minute passed, and nothing happened, Kuwin collapsed on the floor again, crying in confusion. He had no idea why. He didn't know what was going on. He couldn't even begin to comprehend any of it.

But what Kuwin did know was that he was forty years old, and he was, somehow, still alive.

Osekoni, Usehjiki

Osa pushed open the flap at the back of the truck and jumped out, into a wide clearing at the centre of a large forest with thick-trunked trees and bushy branches.

The clearing they were standing in was the only spot in the forest where sunlight touched the ground. Her truck was parked beside a grey truck with an uncovered back, filled with camo-coloured boxes.

She walked around the truck to the front, noting that the hole that was dug into the ground was twice the size it had been before she travelled to Izecha. It was deeper and the contraptions that had been built to keep the floor from caving in extended further in, too.

Osa took her bag out of the truck but opted to leave her jacket in there. Imatong was hot, this time of the year and she was sure the tunnel was going to prove even hotter.

"I'll call you," Osa said to the driver as the man nodded and began reversing in the clearing.

As she stepped into the tunnel, sand drifted down on her. She placed her hand over her eyes and kept going, allowing the downward slope of the ground to pull her faster.

"About time," another woman said, as soon as Osa walked into a large, round room that was brighter than the tunnel.

The room was held up by pillars that supported a big tarp, which kept the sand from falling. Bulbs hung from the ceiling, along with wires. There were three chairs scattered around the room. Two had clothes in it while one was empty. At the centre of the room was a lone, wooden table with papers and books.

Standing by the table, a grey-haired woman smiled at Osa. Her mother, her confidant, her mana. The woman was freckled with age and a pair of glasses balanced on her nose. She stood a few inches shorter than Osa as she opened her arms wide.

Osa hugged her, breathing in the presence of the woman as she rocked them both from side to side.

"O te nu Mana," I missed you, my mother.

"O te nuoh," Mana said, running her fingers through Osa's unruly hair. "Not taking care of yourself?"

"Mana, you've been sleeping in a cave. You can't really judge me."

"Where is it?" Mana asked.

Osa smiled and dropped her bag on the table. When she took out the key and handed it over, Mana patted her on the back in pride. Since the creation of the keys, every generation of the Oseki had borne theirs with a certain amount of reluctance that Osa had somehow inherited. It was wrong for them to have the keys in the first place, but there was nothing they could about it but complain to eachother.

It wasn't until Osa's father met her mother. He'd spent months looking for a tota, a witch who studied and created totems using blood ties, spells and Jiki artifacts. She'd been the missing link to their clan's uneasiness. She'd studied the key embedded in their uncle's back. She'd researched it, broke through every barrier and tracked down the particular families in the other clans that had key bearers.

This moment, their family's success, was all down to their mother's ingenuity.

"The prodigal daughter arrives," another woman walked into the room, carrying a heavy carton. She would have been an exact replica of Osa, if it weren't for her broader shoulders and scanty ponytail. She had on a blue sweater and a pair of sweatpants that didn't match.

"Oh my god, Ifiso," Osa exclaimed, running to hug her. "How long has it been?"

"Too long," Ifiso gave Osa a loud, exaggerated kiss on the cheek. "Did you get it?"

"Is the sky blue?"

"Sometimes, it's not," Ifiso replied, eying the key in her mother's hand as she nodded at it. "Nearly lost your chance there. The pastor turned forty-two days ago."

"He was taking too long. I literally had to go to him."

"You know how key-bearers are about their celibacy," Mana said, examining the new key under a bright table light.

"How did you get yours?" Osa asked.

"I wasn't exactly his type," Ifiso replied, wagging her eyebrows.

Osa laughed.

"Oh my god."

"Had to hire someone."

"Please don't tell me you watched," Osa said, already cringing, already knowing what her creepy sister would say.

"I paid for a service."

"OH MY GOD!" Osa got up. "You know what? Beside you, everything I did was saintly in comparison."

"You broke the heart of a man of God," Toso said, entering the room. She too, looked exactly like Osa. But, just like their mother, Toso's hair was lowcut. It had short, black curls with purple highlights at the tips. "I'm pretty sure God is going to take that personally."

"Toso!" she squealed as they met halfway between them in another big hug as Osa spun her sister around in a circle.

"How was it?"

"I don't really want to talk about it," Toso said, her upper lip rising in distaste.

Osa understood how she felt. They'd had to do it, but that didn't mean any of them were comfortable with using their bodies in that way. Especially someone like Toso was sentimental about every single thing. She'd been the hardest convince when the plan had first been set in motion.

Even when they managed to get passed the idea of using their bodies in such vulgar ways, there was also the part about fooling three innocent men into falling for their traps and giving up their celibacy so that Osa and her sisters could steal their keys. It was a horrid idea. But it had to be done. If it wasn't by them then someone else would take the burden.

Toso had taken it hardest, and it turned out that she was still holding on to the indignity of it all. If Ifiso felt the same way, she wasn't letting on. Ifiso had always had the thickest skin of all of them, so it made sense that she'd coat her discomfort in creepy humour, but that didn't change the fact that some discomfort still existed.

None of them had clean hands. They'd done all kinds of things for the country and for their families. But this had been, probably, the most hideous.

"Stop crying about it," Ifiso said.

"Who's crying?" Toso asked back, hitting Ifiso on the head.

Ifiso spun around, quickly and smacked her right back. Immediately, Toso raised her hand to returned fire.

"Habo tene!" Mana hissed. Girls, stop it.

Behind their mother, Ifiso stuck her tongue out at Toso.

Mana took the case with the keys and went to the wooden door. She inserted the first key.

"Nu paba," your father, "would have been so proud to be here. Your uncle, your elder sisters, bless their spirits." She put in the second key. "After so many years... so many generations of guilt," third key. "Can you imagine the relief when Seneseba is freed and grants us forgiveness?"

Seneseba, which meant "to see and to tell," was the witness of Usehjiki. She was said to have existed since the beginning of time, serving as a remembrance of Jiki tradition. She held a connection to Jiki soil that no other person in Jiki history could trace. It was incredibly unfortunate that she'd ended up in an Osekoni tunnel, but at the time, the chiefs if Usehjiki had thought it pertinent.

After decades of talking about it, they were finally doing it. It was here. They were right at the door of freedom and forgiveness.

Osa moved closer to get a better look as Mana placed the last key in its hole.

"Stand up and come closer, girls. Show some respect."

Toso and Ifiso rushed to Osa's side as Mana turned the keys, one after the other. The door clicked and then burst open by an inch as a gust of wind gushed out of the room within. Toso squeezed Osa's hand, so Osa squeezed Ifiso's hand in anticipation.

Mana picked a torchlight from the floor and pushed the door open as it creaked and squeaked, pouring some more sand on top of Mana. When the door opened, it revealed a tiny, wooden cubicle with effigies drawn on the wall. On the floor, directly opposite the door, lay the remains and bones of what, must have been a person, at some point in history.

Osa frowned.

"Is that... Mana, is that her?" Osa asked.

"Is she supposed to be like that?" Ifiso asked.

Before Mana could reply, she was pulled into the room. The women screamed but Osa held her sisters back as they watched their mother's body begin to twist and turn and tear apart while their mother wailed in pain.

Toso cried and held on to Osa till their mother was torn to shreds and her flesh began to arrange itself, melding with the bones and remains that had been on the floor.

As everything around them settled, a young, naked woman stood before them, her body was covered in dust and specks of dried blood and her hair was a dishevelled mess of kinks.

"Nu midi o muha," the woman said in a scratchy voice. I recognise your blood. "Oseki o gbo midi." The blood of my enemy, Oseki.

Osa moved her sisters further away from Seneseba as the woman's eyes tracked their movements. Their mother was gone. It was Osa's job to keep them safe. Out of every possible outcome, Osa hadn't seen this coming. All the other families betrayed the witness. They put her in a tomb. But Oseki freed her. She was supposed to be an ally. How could she just kill Mana without thought?

"O dung gbo." Osa said, covering her sisters from the woman. We are not your enemy.

"Egong mana?" Ifiso asked. Where is our mother? Ifiso picked up the can of kerosene by the table.

The woman eyed the can of kerosene. Almost as if she knew what it was. She approached Ifiso with vengeance, Osa blocked her path. With one slap, the woman sent Osa flying across the tunnel and into the wall.

"Toso, get the matches!" Ifiso said in English and the woman stopped, confused by Ifiso's words.

Toso grabbed the box of matches on the small stool, just as Ifiso opened the can and poured the kerosene. Toso lit a stick and tossed it at the woman who screamed as her skin lighted on fire.

Screaming in agony, she trashed around the room, spreading the fire to Mana's books and scrolls as the place began to burn up.

Toso and Ifiso, each, grabbed an arm of Osa as they carried her out of the tunnel.

"What the hell was that?" Toso cried, placing Osa at the back of Ifiso's truck as Ifiso got into the driver's seat and reversed out of the clearing.

"I'm..." Osa began. "I'm alright." Osa sat up. Toso shifted back from her. Osa checked her back pocket for her phone but the screen was cracked. It had broken when she fell. "Do any of you have Dr. Mowung's number?"

"What for?" Ifiso asked, looking back at them in the rear-view mirror.

"Mana said we should find him if something goes wrong."

"Something has... everything has gone wrong," Toso said, still crying. "She killed Mana. After everything we went through to release her from that place, she just..."

Osa held her sister in her arms as Toso sobbed. Osa watched Ifiso in the mirror, noting the angry set to her sister's eyes. The frustration and the struggle not to break down and cry like Toso was doing. Toso was the youngest. She could afford that luxury. But not Osa. And definitely not Ifiso.