The nights were for roasted corn and ube, it was a snack we loved preparing. The children would sit close to the fireplace in the kitchen and toss the corn into the fire and talk idly as we waited for the corn to roast. We would talk about the silly faces of our strict teachers in school and boast about how big our toys were, of course to some of our cousins that were bred there in the village. They would also boast about how fast they could run from the terrifying village masquerades that occasionally graced the market square, they spoke in awe of their long whips and grotesque looks, they spread rumors of their supposed supernatural powers and constant hunger for sacrifices.
I remember being chased by a masquerade on more than two occasions. The first I could remember was when I was riding a bicycle on the empty street in from of my home, then this ugly-looking masquerade appeared from behind me with loud shouts, I abandoned the bicycle and ran like a rabid dog as he chased after me until I entered a neighbors compound to seek safety.
The village masquerades are symbols of the long-standing culture and superstitious beliefs held by the Igbo people, they were a conduit to converse with the spirit of ancestors long gone, one whose names have been lost to time and legends. The wearers of these grotesque costumes were said to be possessed by dead spirits once in a while, especially during festivals, they would engage in strange dancing and outbursts of merciless whipping as if executing the judgment of hungry spirits.
We refrained from engaging too much with these beings for we were Christians, the church frowned upon engaging in superstition or encouraging the belief in it. This did not mean the church didn’t have its own intriguing rituals.
998 Comments