Free Butterfly Fish by Irenosen Okojie

spirit of people.
    Once the rain passed Benin looked like a kingdom that had risen from under water and was drying itself off. Craftsman Ere had worked long hours to ensure the head was finished on time. He had joked with his wife that you could fill a large metal bowl with the amount of sweat he had produced over this task. Ere was convinced he had been watched. There was no proof of this except there was occasionally a whoosh of air that threw dust in the doorway of his workroom followed by the sound of rapid steps in the distance. When he had relayed these fears to his wife, she promptly squashed them with a lashing from her mouth, and warned him not to embarrass their family with tales based on hot air.
    When Oba Odion finally first saw the brass head, he studied it hard for so long without a word that Craftsman Ere was forced to ask, “Oba is it to your satisfaction?” The Oba touched it tentatively, as if afraid his hand would be snapped off.
    â€œIt is too much like Ogiso, as if he is standing here before me!”
    Craftsman Ere shifted his weight from one leg to the other along with his patience. “But Oba, that is what you asked me to do. I did as you instructed.”
    â€œI did as you instructed,” Oba mimicked him. “Don’t you have a mind of your own? ‘In his likeness’ does not mean I want it in his exact image.”
    Craftsman Ere gritted his teeth; a braver man would have slapped the Oba. He saw himself doing so in his head, a slap for every day he had spent producing this artefact now met with scorn. Instead he said, “Oba what would you have me do? Surely you cannot expect me to make another one?”
    â€œNo, you will not have to make another head,” Oba Odion said, but it sounded hollow, as if the words were coming from far away and not him.
    â€œBesides,” he added, “I am now sick of the sight of you Ere.”
    â€œI only did my best Oba, after all, this was what you asked for,” Craftsman Ere grumbled, feeling deeply insulted that the Oba had not complimented his skill and hard work. Stupid king! Just then a fly swept in encouraged by the heat and noise. It buzzed around perusing the Oba’s chamber as if deciding if it was good enough to languish in. It finally settled on a tiny crack in the wall that looked like it was a scar healing.
    â€œWill it be displayed with the other pieces Oba?” He watched as Oba Odion tried to kill the fly and failed. It laughed at him before rising to the ceiling for a celebratory jig.
    â€œI have not decided where it will go yet, when I have Ere you will know.”
    â€œThank you Oba.”
    â€œYou can go.”
    â€œYes Oba,” he said, bowing again on his way out.
    Oba Odion thought long and hard about what to do with the brass head. He admitted the truth to himself only, which was that Craftsman Ere had been right, the brass head had an unsettling power about it. It was a little disturbing to see it finished, as if it wouldcome to life the minute he turned his back. At night, he began to sweat thinking of the head. His heart rate increased whenever he passed it, a feeling of suffocation overtook his body. He couldn’t breathe looking at it. Oba Odion gave the brass head to Adesua and lied to her that it was in honour of their marriage, although this had never been the case by an Oba. She accepted it gratefully and when he handed it to her, it was the first time he had seen her smile in days, as if it had slipped from someone’s face and fallen onto hers. Word spread around the palace that the Oba was showing favour to his new young bride and upon hearing this the other wives seethed like boiling pots.
    Deep in a forest another body dangled from a tired tree. Dead for months, it too had sweltered in the heat. Oozing a rotten stench that stirred sated barks and crinkled the faces of leaves, stinging bush wilted and poisonous nettle shuddered, as the toes of the hanging frame