He kept tearing after the men and they kept fleeing. Then he went into the bar. The women scattered as he approached. He re-emerged with a calabash of palm-wine belongingtohisadversaries.Hedranksteadily whilekeepinganeyeonthemen.

‘So you won’t come?’ the spirit asked me.‘No.’‘What about your promises?’‘What promises?’‘They will be angry.’‘So what?’‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ the spirit said.

‘About what?’

‘Remember that I have only three heads. After I have failed, your companions will send the spirit with four heads.’

Oneof thewomen jumped on Dad whilehewas gulpingdown thelast of thepalmwine. Then they all jumped on him and they called the men to come and finish him off. Dad struggled. The calabash broke. A woman cried out. The men approached cautiously.

‘And after that they will send the spirit with five heads.’

Dad shook off the women. They fell from him. One of them managed to snatch away his feared weapon of nails and ran off with it.

‘And when it gets to theturn of theseven-headed spirit nothingwillbeableto save you.’

The men approached Dad more confidently. The women began to throw stones at him.

‘And if you somehow escape from the seven-headed spirit your companions will come themselves.’

They stoned Dad and caught him on the head. He stoned them back. But the men joined in and soon stones flew at him from many places in the darkness.

‘Prostitutes! Yam-breasted women of hell!’ Dad bellowed. They began to stone me too. Dad picked up Madame Koto’s fallen signboard and used it as a shield. We edged backwards into the bar. When we were inside we locked the front door. The spirit came in through the shut door and pestered me to follow him. Dad piled up benches to keep the door securely shut. The spirit followed me everywhere, reminded me of promises that were not his business, pleading, threatening, with a head in front of me allthetime, andanotherheadtalkingalwaysintomy ear.Thethugsstonedthedoor.I heard them run round to the back. Dad blew out all the lights. The men didn’t have the courage to come into the darkness. The spirit, luminous, its eyes blazing, wandered around in the darkness as if it had lost its sense of direction. Dad cursed. He said he was bleeding. The mosquitoes fed on us. We tried to remain still. I had no idea what would happen next. The spirit, slightly crazy, wandered about the bar, and went outside through one of the walls. Thunder boomed above. The spirit came rushing back in. Lightning cracked. The spirit, confused, staggered and turned in all directions. The rain began falling again. We heard someone creeping in through the back door. Dad threw something. A man screamed and ran out. There was a long silence. Then we heard the loud voice of Madame Koto at the front. She banged on the door. The thugs bolted to the backyard. The prostitutes rushed into the bar and lit the lamps and hurriedly ordered the place and took the benches away from behind the front door. The spirit came and sat next to me. The prostitutes opened the door and made excuses for it being shut, saying something about the ferocity of the rain, and Madame Koto, drenched, her face thunderous with rage, stepped into the bar. She shook herself like a great feathered bird and sent sprays of water everywhere. Dad sat still, blood dripping from his forehead on to the table. The spirit’s blue head watched the blood with radiant fascination. Madame Koto stared at us. She said nothing. It was clear she was making up her mind about us in some way. She went slowly up the bar. The spirit got up and followed her. The prostitutes cowered against the walls, faces pressed into the shadows. Dad stood up and said:

‘Madame Koto!’

She stopped walking. Water dripped from the bottom of her wrapper. The spirit went right through her. She shivered.

‘Madame Koto, your friends nearly killed me two days ago. I saw them here today. They fought me and stoned me. Your women stoned me as well. What are you going to do about it?’

She said nothing. She went on towards the counter. She walked through the spirit.

‘You are a wicked woman, a witch,’ Dad said in an even tone of voice. ‘And, because you don’t care about human beings terrible things will happen to you. Me and my son will never set foot here again.’

Madame Koto turned to look at Dad. She seemed surprised, but not curious, at the verbal attack. She looked at me. Her eyes could have turned me to wood. I think she became our enemy from that moment. She carried on walking. She disappeared into the backyard. Dad finished his drink, took me by the hand, and led me outside.

The thugs were gone. The rain poured on us and we didn’t notice. The forest was one watery darkness. The street had become a pond. The gutters overflowed. As we went the solid earth turned to mud and we waded through the slush that reached up to my knees. Dad said nothing. The steady falling of the rain silenced all human voices. The sky was very dark. As we neared home Dad said, chuckling:

‘We showed them pepper, didn’t we?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s how to be a man.’

‘How?’

‘When people fight you, toughen up, study them, wait for the right time, and then fight them back. Fight them like a madman, like a wizard. Then they will respect you.’

Iwasshiveringnow.My teethchattered.Dadstrodeonaheadofme.Therainran down my back.

When we got home there was a candle lit, there was the smell of a new pot of soup, the room had been cleaned, it was warm, the door was open, but Mum wasn’t in. Dad changed into his towel and went and had a bath. When he came back I went and had one.By thetimeIgotbackMumwassittingonthebed.Onthetablewasagreat bowlof steamingpeppersoup. Mumlooked fresh but lean. Shehad powder on her face and her eyes were bright. When I came in, my little towel wrapped round my waist, Mum smiled. ‘So you and your father havebeen fightingeverybody, eh?’ I went over and sat on her lap. ‘Did they stone you too?’ ‘Yes, but I dodged.’ Dad laughed. Mum rubbed oil over me. I combed my hair, and dressed. I fell asleep in Mum’s arms. Then I woke up suddenly. The light was different. There was a mosquito coil burning. ‘Have some peppersoup,’ Mum said.

I was now on the bed. I got up and finished what was left of the soup. It was hot and it made my mouth and head come alive. My eyes burned. Dad was on his three- legged chair. ‘I saw a spirit today,’ I said. They both sat up. ‘What spirit?’ ‘With three heads.’ ‘Where?’ ‘In Madame Koto’s bar.’ ‘When?’ ‘When we were fighting.’ Dad looked at me dubiously. Then slowly he sat back. ‘What was it like?’ ‘It had three heads.’ ‘What did it say?’ ‘That I should follow it.’ ‘Where?’ ‘Where I came from.’ They both fell silent. Dad shut his eyes, rocked skilfully on the chair, and then he opened one eye and regarded me.

‘It’s time for you to sleep.’ I said nothing. ‘So they would have killed me and all you would have told people is that you saw a spirit, eh?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘Go to sleep.’

I began to spread my mat.

‘Sleep on the bed.’

I climbed on to the bed. Mum cleared the table and spread the mat.

‘If a spirit calls you,’ Mum said, ‘don’t go, you hear? Think of us. Think of your father who suffers every day to feed us. And think of me who carried you in my womb for more than nine months and who walks all the streets because of you.’

‘Yes, think of us,’ Dad added. I nodded.

‘And’, Dad said, sternly, ‘from now on Madame Koto is our enemy. Azaro, if I see you go thereagain, I willflogyou and put pepper in your eyes, you hear?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘She is a witch, a wicked woman. That’s why she has no children.’

‘But she is pregnant,’ I said.

‘How do you know?’

‘Someone said so.’

‘Shut up. And don’t listen to what people say. Is she pregnant for you?’

‘No.’

‘Thenshutup anddon’tanswermebackwhenI’mtalkingtoyou.’