Ego had made up her mind.
She would not bring that bird anywhere near her new home. If it had indeed been sent by the gods, then the gods could decide what became of it. She would leave it beneath the sacred gmelina tree and allow it to die there if necessary.
There was no way she would knowingly carry what she now believed to be an instrument of evil into the hut Nnadozie had promised to build for her.
For now, she had no choice but to accept her brother-in-law's kindness. He was the only person willing to take her in, and after the horrors of the past few days, she deserved a warm meal, a safe roof over her head, and someone to look after her while she recovered.
That evening, Ego moved into Nnadozie's compound.
It was an impressive compound, twice the size of her father's and considerably larger than the home she had shared with Nnanna. Six sizable huts stood within it, arranged in an L-shape around a spacious central courtyard. At the entrance stood a massive Obiri, its broad structure serving as the social heart of the compound.
Behind the huts was an enormous kitchen where several women could work at the same time. One hut belonged to Nnadozie, while each of his two wives occupied a separate hut. Another was reserved for the workers who occasionally stayed overnight after working late. His parents also had a hut of their own whenever they came to visit.
Nnadozie gave Ego one of the remaining huts.
It was modest compared with the rest of the compound, but to Ego it felt almost luxurious after losing everything she owned.
Beyond the compound stretched Nnadozie's yam farm.
The farm seemed to have no end.
Rows upon rows of yam mounds stretched toward the horizon, disappearing into the distance beneath the vast green canopy of leaves. Nnadozie was among the wealthiest farmers of his age grade, harvesting more than fifteen thousand tubers of yam during a good farming season.
Unlike many men who worked their own farms with the assistance of their families, Nnadozie had turned farming into an enterprise.
He had inherited most of his father's farmland after his father died. Neither Nnanna nor their father had been particularly interested in managing such an enormous expanse of land, and Nnadozie had gradually taken control of it all.
More than thirty workers labored on his farms.
They were paid daily, either in cowries or in yam tubers, depending on what each worker preferred. During planting and harvesting seasons, the compound was always busy with people coming and going.
Ego had barely settled into her new surroundings when another event brought the entire compound alive.
Chinaza, Nnadozie's second wife, had been heavily pregnant when Ego arrived.
She had married Nnadozie two years earlier and was expecting her first child.
The following day, when the sun was directly overhead and a person's shadow fell almost beneath his feet, Chinaza went into labor.
By midday, the cry of a newborn child rang through the compound.
A boy.
The moment the baby's cry reached the courtyard, Ezinne, Chinaza's mother, burst out of the hut with a broad smile on her face.
She carried a small container of powdered white nzu.
"Umu Umudibia!" she cried. "The gods have blessed us! A bouncing baby boy!"
She flung the powder into the air and sprinkled some onto anyone who came near her.
The children screamed with excitement.
Women began singing.
Men gathered around the compound, congratulating Nnadozie and his family.
Within minutes, the compound had become a place of celebration.
Chinaza had delivered the baby with the assistance of the village midwife and two elderly women who remained inside the hut throughout the delivery. The rest of the family waited outside, praying, whispering, and anxiously listening for every sound.
When the baby finally emerged, still covered in blood and crying with the strength of his tiny lungs, the midwife immediately took charge.
She picked up a small native blade known as an Aguba.
The blade was triangular, with its base sharpened for cutting.
She positioned it close to the umbilical cord, pretending to cut.
"Do you want me to cut it here?" she asked.
"Mba! Mba! Mba!"
The women answered together.
She moved the blade slightly.
"Here?"
"Mba! Mba! Mba!"
Again, she moved it.
"Here?"
"Mba!"
The ritual continued until she reached the length considered appropriate.
Only then did the women encourage her to make the cut.
The baby's first separation from his mother was complete.
Outside the hut, another ritual was already being prepared.
The placenta was buried beneath a young palm tree.
From that moment, the tree became the child's natal tree, belonging to him in a manner no other tree did. The people believed that the prosperity and fruitfulness of the tree would reflect the fame and achievements the child would eventually attain in adulthood.
The newborn and his mother were then secluded inside the hut.
For eight days, Chinaza was not expected to perform any strenuous work. Her only responsibilities were to rest, eat, and breast-feed her baby.
Everything else was handled by the women around her.
Her mother had come for Omugwo, taking charge of the mother and child. She prepared meals, fetched whatever was needed, watched over the baby, and ensured Chinaza had enough rest.
A fresh palm frond was hung across the entrance of the hut as protection against evil spirits.
During those eight days, the compound remained unusually busy.
Women from the kindred visited regularly, carrying gifts—wrappers, food, and other necessities for the newborn.
No woman was expected to visit a new mother empty-handed.
Others took turns fetching water and firewood.
Interestingly, childbirth also had the power to erase old quarrels.
Grudges were suspended.
Petty disagreements were forgotten.
Old debts could even be forgiven.
For those few days, the arrival of a child took precedence over everything else.
Of course, peace did not necessarily last forever.
Human beings were still human beings, and whatever caused yesterday's quarrel could easily cause another tomorrow.
But for the moment, the village celebrated.
After two Eke market days had passed, Chinaza was taken through another important stage of her transition back into normal life.
It was time for the child's circumcision.
For the first time since giving birth, she left the compound.
She was escorted to the farm, where she gathered a few items required for the ceremony.
An elderly woman skilled in the practice performed the circumcision.
Chalk, kola nut, alligator pepper, and a white fowl were among the items prepared for the ritual. Through them, prayers and appeals were made to the gods and ancestors for the child's protection and prosperity.
Then, after three Eke market days had passed since the child's birth, the most anticipated ceremony arrived.
It was time to give the child his name.
Iba nwa afa.
The ceremony marked the child's formal introduction to his human kindred and the wider village.
Until then, he had been a newborn boy—a new life whose presence had been celebrated but whose identity had not yet been formally declared before the community.
Now that was about to change.
The ceremony was more than the mere choosing of a name.
It was a religious and social obligation.
The family would give thanks to the gods and ancestors for the gift of the child, ask for their protection, and pray that the boy would have a prosperous journey through life.
People gathered around the compound.
Women arrived in their finest wrappers.
Men sat together beneath the Obiri.
Children moved excitedly between the adults, eager to witness the ceremony.
Ego watched everything from a distance.
For the first time since moving into Nnadozie's compound, she found herself smiling.
The sound of the baby's laughter, the singing of the women, and the constant movement of people reminded her of the life she once had with Nnanna.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would have been like if she had been the one holding a child.
Then the thought became painful.
She looked away.
Her hand instinctively moved toward her stomach.
Nothing.
No child.
No husband.
No home.
Only memories.
She forced herself to smile again as the ceremony continued.
But somewhere beyond the compound, hidden beneath the sacred gmelina tree, the mysterious bird remained alive.
And Ego had no idea that abandoning it would not be enough to sever the connection between them.
Because whatever had brought that bird into her life had not finished with her yet.