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King-of-Scabies Our people say a hyena does not eat its young, irrespective of hunger or greed, but this story is about a people who, like lions, feed on their kind. A long time ago, in a village about eight days’ trek from here, there lived a people who ate human flesh. This village looked like any other with its hills, valleys, rivers, thatched roofs, and compounds. The one thing out of the ordinary was a big house at the center of the village. It is said that victims who had been hunted and captured were killed and consumed in that house. The men took turns to go in search of their prey. They’d carry the victim in their bendjob1 all the way back to the house at the center of the village. The man would then go to the palace and inform the king of his successful hunt. The king would immediately beat the drum dum dum dum dum, calling all the men, gwudum gwudum gwudum gwudum to congregate for the feast. Dead-Father-of-Mine! I tell you, if the king had to play the drum himself then this village surely must have been cursed. One day, one of these cannibals went to a village far, far away and abducted a young girl. She was an only daughter. The child had been left at home while her parents went to the farm. The man put the little girl in his bendjob and left for his village. That evening, the child’s parents came back from the farm and looked for their daughter everywhere in the village 150 1 Literally, that which is carried on the back; a bag that is carried on the back; a backpack. You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. and the surrounding communities. They searched every compound , they searched the hills, they searched the forests, but their efforts yielded nothing. There was no sign of the girl anywhere. As the days passed and the season began to fade, the village slowly lost any hope of finding the girl. They concluded that she might have been attacked by a wild animal and was probably dead. They poured libations and proceeded with the death celebrations. But something strange happened a few days after these celebrations . As you know, there is nothing as hollow as the silence of death that engulfs the bereaved when the community leaves right after the final death rituals have been performed. Some neighbors of the grieving mother decided to ask her to go farming with them. They were going to make beds for planting sweet yams and achu-cocoyams. “You need to get out of the house,” the woman’s neighbors insisted. “Leaving the house will ease your pain,” they cajoled. The grieving mother agreed and they all left for the farm far, far away from the village. One good thing, the farm was located close to the main path used by the many villagers who farmed in that area. The grieving mother was certain to see many of the people who had condoled with her not so long ago. It so happened that the man who had stolen the child used that same path while they were working. He greeted the women, “My mothers, I commend your work.” “Eeh loo,” they greeted in unison. “I am very hungry. Would you please give me some food? I will eat it, give some to my bag, and it will sing for you,” the man said. The woman who had lost her child hurried to a bed below the farm and harvested some cocoyams. She carried the cocoyams to one of the huge rectangular beds that the women had made that morning by piling large amounts of grass and twigs into big heaps and covering them with mounds of soil. Each King-of-Scabies / 151 You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. bed had two open ends where they lit a fire to slowly burn the grass as they worked all day long. The woman moved closer to the beds, carefully examined the openings for the best spot to roast the cocoyams. She picked...

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