Moments later, Ego found herself back in her compound, standing before the charred remains of what had once been her home. The strange fire had consumed almost everything. The walls were blackened, the roof had collapsed, and the belongings she had spent years gathering were reduced to ashes.
Only the kitchen remained standing.
She wasted no time. Still clutching Nwanza firmly against her chest, she entered the kitchen and sat on her native stool.
For a while, she simply stared at the bird.
Then she lowered her head.
"My fathers," she began, her voice trembling, "your daughter has come before you to beg for forgiveness. I was wrong. I was foolish to abandon and maltreat your precious gift. Please, have mercy on me. Forgive me and grant my request."
She stood and raised the bird toward the heavens.
"Nwanza, I need money. I need money to rebuild the only property Nnanna left for me. I have nobody else to turn to. Please, grant my heart's desire and let my wish come to pass."
She closed her eyes.
She waited.
One minute passed.
Then another.
She waited for a sign.
A sudden wind.
A flash of light.
A voice from the spirit world.
Anything.
But nothing happened.
Seven minutes passed.
Nwanza did not move.
It did not make a sound.
It did not even defecate.
Ego slowly lowered the bird.
"Not even a dropping?" she muttered in frustration.
She sat back down.
"What could be wrong? Why isn't this working? I have followed every instruction."
She began counting the steps in her head.
She had waited for the eclipse.
She had gone to the four-way junction.
She had pounded the maize.
She had caught the Nwanza.
She had protected it.
She had waited for the full moon.
She had even brought it out at the right time.
"Yes, I wronged the gods," she admitted. "But I have acknowledged my offence and asked for forgiveness. Why then are they not answering me?"
She sat there, staring at the bird.
Then that familiar little voice returned.
What if you sing it?
Ego frowned.
Sing it?
The idea sounded ridiculous.
If singing was necessary, surely the old woman would have mentioned it.
She almost dismissed the thought.
But then another thought followed.
What harm could it do?
After all, praise was never considered an offence. Her people often said that when praises went up, blessings came down.
Ego adjusted herself on the stool and looked at Nwanza.
"Let me try."
She held the bird gently in her hands and began singing in her crooked, untrained voice.
"Nwanza oh... Nwanza!
Nwanza oh... Nwanza!
Achọrọ m ego oh... Nwanza!
Achọrọ m ego oh... Nwanza!"
Nwanza, I need money.
She repeated the words, slowly finding a rhythm.
"Nwanza oh... Nwanza!
Achọrọ m ego oh..."
She was on the third verse when something changed.
The world suddenly became silent.
Not ordinary silence.
It was the kind of silence that made the hair on her body stand.
The crackling of the fire stopped.
The sounds of insects disappeared.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Ego stopped singing.
A strange cold breeze slowly swept through the kitchen.
It was not the dry cold of harmattan.
This wind felt different.
It passed across her face and sent a shiver from the back of her neck down her spine.
She remained frozen.
Then—
Tok.
Something landed on the roof.
Another followed.
Tok... tok... tok.
Ego looked upward.
The sound increased.
It sounded as though someone was dropping small stones onto the roof.
Then suddenly—
Toktoktoktoktoktoktok!
The sound became relentless.
It was as though someone had emptied an entire bucket of stones onto the roof.
Ego sat motionless, the bird still in her hands.
The strange shower continued for several minutes.
Then, gradually, the sound began to diminish.
A handful.
Then a few.
Then one.
Tok.
Silence.
The final sound seemed to awaken Ego from whatever trance had held her.
She blinked.
Her eyes dropped toward the floor.
And she froze.
Cowries.
They were everywhere.
Hundreds upon hundreds of them were scattered across the kitchen floor, gleaming faintly in the dim light.
Ego stared at them.
For several seconds, she could not move.
Then she bent down and picked one up.
It was cold and smooth in her palm, with a porcelain-like sheen. Its shape resembled a tiny egg, with a flat underside and the narrow, slit-like opening characteristic of the shell.
She rubbed it gently between her fingers.
An Ayola.
A cowry shell used as currency among the Igbo.
Thirty could purchase a sizeable chicken.
She stared at the single shell in disbelief before looking at the hundreds scattered around her.
Then reality finally struck.
Ego dropped to her knees.
The tears came immediately.
She covered her face and began to sob.
But these were not tears of sorrow.
They were tears of joy.
After years of poverty, hardship and humiliation, her circumstances had changed in a single moment.
The gods had answered.
Ego had gone from having almost nothing to possessing more wealth than she had ever imagined possible.
That day marked the beginning of a new chapter in her life.
Within a short time, her name became synonymous with wealth.
She acquired large stretches of farmland from anyone willing to sell. And unlike other buyers, Ego rarely haggled. She paid generously—sometimes twice what the land was worth.
She understood one simple principle of commerce:
Those who pay well are served well.
She employed experienced farmers and labourers and paid them wages far higher than what other landowners offered. Consequently, the best workers in the surrounding communities sought employment on her farms.
Her wealth continued to multiply.
The compound she had once shared with Nnanna was expanded and completely rebuilt. New huts rose around the compound, more than ten of them, many of them large enough to accommodate her growing household and workers.
What had once been a modest widow's home gradually became a sprawling estate.
And Ego's name travelled far beyond her immediate kindred.
They say money rules the world.
Perhaps it always has.
Within thirteen market weeks, Ego's reputation had spread throughout Nekede. She was no longer merely the poor widow people pitied. She had become one of the wealthiest and most influential women in the area.
Yet Ego never forgot where her fortune had begun.
She attributed everything to the gods.
And so, after the rebuilding of her compound was completed, she organized an enormous celebration in their honour.
It became one of the biggest feasts Nekede had witnessed in years.
More than ten cows were slaughtered.
Dignitaries, elders, wealthy men and women, farmers, traders and people from distant communities all came.
Palm wine flowed freely.
Food was everywhere.
People ate until they could eat no more, drank until their stomachs were full, and still returned home carrying food and drink for those who had remained behind.
The size of the feast became the stuff of stories.
People compared it to the biblical account of Jesus feeding five thousand men with five loaves and two fishes.
But beneath all the celebration, one thing remained hidden from everyone except Ego.
The source of her wealth.
The little bird.
Nwanza.
And while the entire community celebrated the rise of Ego from poverty to unimaginable wealth, nobody could have guessed that the blessing she had received was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.