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While mama cried and dabbed off with her favourite Paisley-patterned handkerchief, I wanted to yank at her and tell her about the times Nene ran her fingers into her genitalia and some nights called me into the storeroom to fondle my nipples and plunged an object into my genitalia but I remembered the ecstasy I felt those nights and I could not come to tell my mother. But I wanted to tell mama that a creature dragged Nene through the storeroom window when Nene's moans were at a crescendo but it sounded too incredible to mention. The police would send me off to a psychiatrist and mama would be disgusted at me for the remaining days of my life. I remember telling the officer with a goatee and a lewd smile to check the cesspit area for Nene was a clumsy stepper who may have been dancing to one of her jejune secular hums while she did her night chores around the house. The officer smirked and called me "onyeoma" as he sauntered to the backyard. But I knew it came from the cesspits. It was not the storied "Edi abali" or the dreaded "Eke", it was something different that I had seen and I was certain I had never seen it before. Nene had tried to scream as she was dragged into the cesspit but there were no screams. Her mouth just made the funny movements of a mime's and she disappeared.
As I stood with mouth agape, the creature had turned back to look at me and it reeked of festered faeces; the one smell of the neighbourhood that prompted me to study hard and live in a skyscraper away from the slum areas devoid of the slavish stench of poverty and pains.