Adesewa's Snake

As I gazed down at the disheveled path beneath me, my eyes widened.

A slender, patterned trail curved across the path. A snake trail.

But it wasn’t just any snake trail.

Looking at the thickness and length of the print, I knew from the stories I had been told.

It was a Euka Snake. Descendent of the snake-shifting people.

When I was younger, my nne nne always told me to embrace the ground I walk on, for its very roots hold the magic that made me.

When the beauty of my culture glittered around me, I was taught to believe her solemn, wise words.

I learned to view the world through her colored lens.

I believed it, when she braided my hair, and intertwined her aged fingers with my coiled locks.

I believed it, when she brewed our herbs into my favorite soup, grown from the rich Nigerian soil in our backyard.

I believed it, when she silently sobbed holding my mother’s 26-year-old photo when she thought no one was looking.

The glass in the frame had been left silent and still on the shelf, collecting dust for 14 years.

It immortalized her cherished face, holding her in the moment forever.

My nne nne said I looked like her. Unlike everything else, I’ve never believed it.

When I look in the mirror, what's reflected back at me isn’t the earth’s magic. Nor is it my mother’s face.

Among my radiant brown skin, and child-like eyes, is a burdensome scar.

It runs from the peak of my forehead, between my eyes, down to the bottom of my cheek.

A curse I wore while my mother gave birth to me and died shortly after.

“Ade, the wound is where light enters,” my nne nne would whisper as she kissed my scar. 

The bliss would always fade after my father, John, would avoid eye contact with me. Like I was molded incorrectly, or a disease to be cautious of.

He usually spoke in distant, rapid sentences. Quickly, he would exit the room we once shared.

My father and I never spoke. We might as well have been strangers.

Despite his deep Nigerian roots, his parents gave him an English name. They hoped he would leave our village in search of a better life—and more money.

When they both came down with a deadly, terminal illness, he was forced to put his dreams aside.

Well, he never put them back in front of him.

He wasn’t the only one who avoided me. People believed I was cursed.

In my village, the myth of spirits and magic were as real as climate change. Naturally, kids at my school whispered and hid their giggles when I sat next to them.

“Show your cursed face elsewhere, Adesewa!”

“You don’t belong here, spawn of the devil!”

“Split-face! Split-face! Split-face!”

My classmates would hiss and spit at me. They shoved me to the dirt, everyday for as long as I can remember.

Coming home with bruises on my arms and legs was a part of my routine.

How could I believe that I was made of magic? Me, Adesewa Effiong.

“Adesewa” means “crown of beauty.” My name originates from Yoruba, a native language within Nigerian culture.

How could I live up to the story my name tells?

I ran through the overgrown path. It was the one I normally took home to avoid people on the streets.

“Nne Nne! You won’t believe it! Guess what, guess what!” I hollered throughout the house, nearly breaking down the front door.

The aroma of her sweet mango Ogbono soup wafted through the air. My grandmother was swaying at the kitchen stove, stirring her love into the pot.

“What Ade? Something exciting at school?”

She focused on the soup, not turning her head towards me.

“No, Nne Nne! Even better. You remember the ancient legends about the snake people? Euka Snakes?” I chirped, unable to hide my excitement.

“Hmm. Of course,” she replied, mindlessly.

“Well, I think we have one in our village. It’s real! The farms will finally begin sprouting more fruits. Our village can finally eat again, if it is true.”

She paused and turned her head in my direction. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes were wide with shock.

“Oh! The Euka spirit? In our village? Ade, you know you aren’t supposed to discover it. Let it be, that is how it blesses our lands.”

She turned back to her bubbling soup.

“Nne Nne, don’t you know what this means for me? The snake spirit is the sign of a god.

"If I can find it, perhaps people on the sidewalks won’t cross the street. I would find glory, Nne Nne. Our family would be worshiped!” I pleaded desperately.

Nne Nne only continued stirring.

“No, Ade. Leave the snake. Che-che, don’t anger the snake. It’s not good luck.”

“Urrggh!” I pouted and stumbled back into my room, slamming the door as I passed.

In our community, snakes are known to hold the power of the earth. They are spirits of mother nature, almost like disciples.

Announcing the identity of the snake would be the end of my suffering.

Surely, the gods can let me have this one? I thought. After all I’ve been through, they owe me.

This was my chance.

I plunged into my solid mattress. An idea exploded in my mind.

The snake was in this village… What were the chances it was hiding in plain sight?

“How do you know?” my 6-year-old voice chimed curiously.

“How do you know what?” my Nne Nne questioned.

“You said the snake people were honored above all… How do you know… who the snake is, if the snake people don’t even remember transforming themselves?”

“Adesewa, the Euka snake is named after the magical herb that reveals its true flesh. Euka.”

“Hmm. What does it look like? Does it taste bad? If it tastes anything like eggplant, I feel sorry for them.”

“Haha, no Ade, it tastes almost like a sweet carrot. You like carrots don’t you?”

Nne Nne tugged on my sleeves as she tucked me into bed.

“And it looks like a clover, except it's purple, and has 5 cloves instead of 3.

"Actually, I think we have some in our backyard. I can show you tomorrow after breakfast.”

“YES PLEASE!” I giggled as she tickled my inner neck.

If I remember correctly, X marks the spot. I scavenged my backyard for any violet Euka plants, with 5 cloves instead of 3, just like Nne Nne said.

Only that time, I didn't have her support on this venture.

I checked my wrist. My ancient watch read 3:04 PM. Three hours?

I hadn’t anticipated searching for these plants would take so long.

My plan consisted of 4 steps:

One—Find the Euka plants. A handful should do, Nne Nne said they’re super potent.

Two—Make a broth, and extract the magic essence from the plants. In secret, of course.

Though I suppose Nne Nne won’t mind if she sees me cooking. My Father might ask questions. Knowing him, I’m not worried.

Three—Devise a list of suspects, and find a way to give the potion to them.

Four—Watch as they transform. Or not.

I believed my plan was a stroke of genius, but I’m no botanist. All the plants looked the same.

I stared down at the ground, and carefully inspected the different plants around me.

Grass, mostly. A couple weeds, and common dandelions. Several purple flowers.

This was the same place we found Euka, eight years ago.

After walking further into the forest, at last, a purple, five-leafed plant appeared. Ten others were nearby.

I turned, ready to initiate step 2, but the house was further than I imagined.

I took a step back, only for my foot to land in a wet pool.

“Ugh!” I yelped.

Glancing down, I noticed the murky water. I had disturbed surface when I stumbled into it.

As the water began to calm, the reflection of my face began to form.

I sighed, searching my face for any flaws.

Only one.

Disgusted, I shrugged it off and went on my way. I had a full schedule of things I needed to do.

Finding this snake was my top priority.

I sat with my head in my hands, eyes glazed over at the chalkboard.

Three days had passed. My broth was finished, and buried somewhere in my school bag. Still, no leads.

The teacher was talking about something I hadn’t caught. My focus was on my possible suspects.

Giggles began behind me. I paid no attention.

“Split-face,” someone whispered.

I ignored it. I didn’t want to deal with it today.

“Split-face,” they taunted again. I still ignored them.

Suddenly, I felt something wet and sticky shoot against the back of my neck.

I raised my hand to wipe at it and felt a moist ball against my fingers. I pulled it back, substance in hand.

It was a spitball.

“Gross!” I leaped out of my seat, autimatically. I was absolutely revolted by the hurtful action.

I shot a stare at Sade Nekesa and her friends behind me. They laughed at my reaction.

Sade was the wealthiest girl in my school, and undoubtedly the prettiest. Always leading a group of popular wannabes.

But weirdly enough, no one ever knew much about her. She only ever told people about her money. Over and over again. 

She thrived on my pain, but this time I wouldn’t let her see it.

The teacher stopped talking. She looked at me, standing there. 

“Adesewa! What is the meaning of this?” she shouted at me.

“Ms. Lupita, th-they j-just shot a spit—” I struggled to hold back my tears.

“Basement, now! You know there’s no standing without being asked. Disobedient children help Mr. Nonso clean.”

Defeated, I exited the room, tears sliding down my cheek.

I walked down the stairs, quickly swiping the water from my eyes. I breahted deeply, trying to lessen my puffy eyes and nose.

What I wanted to do was crumple to the floor and cry.

It felt like the world was raining down on me, and no one else had a curse as horrible as mine.

No one else felt my pain. Surely, no one else struggled as much as I did.

And I deserved it. My Mother paid the price for my existence. I deserved the pain that comes my way.

I stopped when I reached the bottom of the stairs, and entered the basement.

A long, hollow, snake shell was laid in front of me, almost hidden behind a stack of cleaning supplies.

Were my eyes deceiving me? A snake skin before me?

This led me to the only conclusion possible: Mr. Nonso was the snake.

My next step? To find a way to feed the broth to him.

“Hey!” Mr Nonso scowled from behind a shelf. “What are you doing down here?”

“I-I…” I fumbled with my words, and clumsily fell backwards. I knocked over a shelf of objects.

I swiftly turned around, attempting to look like I hadn’t just discovered his secret.

“Good morning Mr. Nonso… I-I’m sorry! Ms. Lupita told me to come down here… for standing up when I shouldn’t have.”

I wiped the last tear from my face.

He emerged from behind the shelf. He was a grumpy looking man, always hunched over. He wore a permanent frown on his face.

I wasn’t even sure he was capable of smiling anymore.

Mr. Nonso had deep wrinkles embedded around his eyes. They made him look like he hadn’t slept in a hundred years.

His white afro was bare in some places. It looked like he hadn’t been taking care of himself.

“Hmph.” He growled, and returned to his work on the other side of the room.

“What can I do? To help?” I asked nervously, hoping he wouldn’t snap back at me.

“You can clean the chalkboard erasers. I’m sure it's the least you could do.” He sort of mumbled at me.

His words slurred together and I barely understood the simple instructions.

I took the nearby erasers that sat waiting on the dusty table. I began to clap them together, releasing a cloud of old chalk.

I had to know more.

If I wanted to find the chance to feed him the broth, I was going to have to work harder. Despite how intimidating he was.

“Mr. Nonso, how long have you been working at this school?” I questioned.

He ignored me.

“Mr. Nonso?”

I walked closer to him, assuming he couldn’t hear me. I stood a couple feet away now.

“Mr. Nonso?”

“Listen kid! Do your job, and I'll do mine. Don’t ask me questions,” he growled at me, and I shriveled on the spot.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nonso. I was just curious. No one at school talks to me. They treat me like vermin.

"I understand if my scar… scares you too.” I stared at the floor.

He turned and looked at me. “Scares me? Hah! There is nothing frightening about it,” he mumbled.

“Yes, there is. Children cry when they look at me. And I love children.”

“Well, my brother used to have a scar like yours back in my day. That was a long time ago. Scars don’t define you. At most, it's pretty cool.”

“Cool? There is nothing cool about it. Not even my father can stand to look at me. I don’t even think you’d understand what it's like for me, respectfully.”

This time, he fully rotated his shaking body towards me.

“What's your name?” he asked, his tone slightly demanding.

“Adesewa Effiong. My nne nne calls me Ade, for short,” I replied.

“Hmm. Adesewa, you can’t judge others by how they look. As I’m sure you’re well aware. You don’t know me, and you don’t know my struggles.”

“Of course.” I focused on the tiles below me, embarrassed.

“May I ask you something, Adesewa? Do you know how often I am shunned?"

"You asked me how long I’ve worked at this school," he continued with a sneer. "I’ve been here over 50 years, and not once has anyone acknowledged my existence.

"No ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye,’ no nothing. I do not have a scar like yours, but I come from a long line of poverty.

"People like me, are rejected for something we cannot help. Our problems may differ, but our results are the same.

"How this village treats us is the same.

"And this was simply a condition of our ancestors, who were rejected and used without remorse, simply because of our dark skin color.

"So yes, I know a thing or two about your situation.”

His tone raised and lowered as his emotions fluctuated with his message.

I remained silent, letting his words hang in the air for a moment longer.

Maybe he was right.

Perhaps, I had been foolish to believe I was alone in the way I suffer. Oblivious to the fact that I am not the only one who wears scars.

But I still had a chance at escaping my problems.

I left the basement, a new plan in mind.

The smell of oats and coffee drifted out of the window. It felt like home, but a different home.

After school, I had followed Mr. Nonso home. I was hoping to find an opportunity to sneak in my broth.

His perspective was enlightening. Yes, we both struggled. But what if I could change that for both of us.

I needed to know if he was the Snake.

I approached the window of his worn down house. A heated tea cup was on the sill, cooling in the wind.

I placed a drop of my broth in it, hoping it would be quick and easy.

He returned and took the cup, drinking it as he walked away.

I hid behind the wall. I don’t think he saw me.

As I turned to watch the transformation, what I saw made me pause.

Mr. Nonso, struggling to bend his knees to sit on a bed. A young girl was lying in it. She was obviously sick.

She smiled at the sight of him. For a second, I saw him smile back. It was an expression that fit oddly on his face.

Minutes had passed. The girl had coughed several times. Each time, the cough worsened and became more violent.

His face saddened with every cough. But still, no transformation.

I was wrong. He wasn’t the snake.

He wasn’t the snake, and I had violated his home. Put something in his tea, and stalked his private moment with his granddaughter.

She was sick, and he did struggle.

I was completely wrong. I wasn’t the only one who felt cursed.

Once again, I felt defeated and began running. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I continued, crying.

I tumbled down onto the grass in the middle of the forest. My limbs relaxed and I felt at peace for a second.

My bones ached from the run, so I allowed myself to melt into the land. Slowly, I felt myself sink deeper and deeper into the ground, covering my legs, arms, and finally, my head. I completely embraced the soft warmth around me.

When I opened my eyes, I was met with darkness. Beams of buttery light glistened from a sphere in front of me.

I stood up unsteadily and walked towards the glowing orb.

With every step I took, a wave of peace passed through me. It felt like a hug from a loved one.

The glow in front of me began to twist. Distinct features formed.

It was a woman. It was my mother—Ime. She was identical to the photo in our house. I had stared at it, memorizing her face and her smile. Except, she was different. She was brighter. Her smile took up more room on her face.

I was frozen in my place. Hot tears streamed down my face, but I hadn’t noticed.

She floated gracefully over to me, arms open.

When she held me, I exhaled. Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath.

Forcefully, I hugged her back, wishing to feel every part of her, knowing I might never see her again.

My desire to take a piece of her ghostly self with me was undeniable.

“Dearest,” she spoke. Her words were silky and enchanting.

“Mother… I miss you.” I sobbed.

“I miss you, too, Ade. But there is something you must know.”

I broke away from her embrace to look at her. I studied the worried expression on her face.

“What? Why are you worried, Mother? What is it?”

“Ade, you don’t need to sacrifice something unnecessarily. There is more to you than you know.”

She gently traced her finger down my scar, and I flinched.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You already have the answer, dearest. The forest spirit is within you. Ade, you know I love you.

"You are beautiful just the way you are. You will soon see.”

“I don’t understand. Please, I don’t… Mother!”

I cried to her as she pulled away and faded into the distance.

No matter how far I ran, she just barely escaped my grasp.

I ran faster. My movements turned sluggish because of my saddened, weakening legs.

I collapsed, falling into a deeper, empty abyss.

My eyes opened again. The crickets chirped loudly.

The night breeze had become sudden and harsh. It gave me goosebumps with every violent woosh.

I guess my plan failed. I couldn’t find the snake.

Maybe Mother was right. There was no need to sacrifice all my energy on this.

Who was I to think I could one up a snake? A forest god?

I reached into my bag, hoping to quench my thirst. I pulled out the bottle of broth instead.

I hadn't realized until it sweetly touched my lips and poured down my throat.

A searing pain, and a throbbing in my bones. I tossed the broth to the ground, watching as I transformed into scaled skin with a greenish tint.

I had turned into a snake.