As always, Mr. Ebube—dubbed "Computer" by the boys for his terrifying efficiency—marched into the classroom with mechanical precision. No greetings. No acknowledgment. His long fingers clutched a stack of brown notes as he headed straight to the chalkboard. Without checking if the entire class was present, he scribbled the day's topic with brisk strokes: "Agents of Denudation".
The word echoed through the room like a chant. "Denudation." Emeka mouthed it silently, catching Ugochukwu's eye. They exchanged a look—a mixture of amusement and fascination. It was the sort of word you saved to impress old classmates in letters: "We have already covered the agents of denudation," you might boast to a cousin still stuck in a dusty grammar school.
But Ugochukwu wasn't absorbing much of what "Computer" was pouring out. His mind, usually sharp and alert, wandered uneasily. The thrill of Amara's letter, which had once felt like a dream wrapped in blue stationery, had slowly turned into something heavier. The tale of Erinma—possessed by Mammy Water, sleepwalking through spiritual waters—had wedged itself into his thoughts. Why was it disturbing him so? He didn't even know this Erinma. Her school near Ogbanelu was distant, and yet the image of her crouched by a sacred stream haunted him.
Ugochukwu tried to suppress the feelings, tried to return to the geological timelines and natural agents on the chalkboard. But he couldn't. Erinma's midnight wanderings, Amara's vivid language, the cries of frightened girls—it had taken root in his mind like a seed bursting open.
His hand shot up—almost involuntarily. "Computer" was mid-flow, illustrating how wind reshapes landscapes. He ignored the hand.
Eventually, he stopped. "Yes, Ugochukwu?"
Ugochukwu stood, heart fluttering. "Sir… it's something we've been discussing in the dormitory. A student at a girls' school was said to be possessed by Mammy Water. Is… is that possible?"
"Computer" blinked. "And what has that got to do with agents of denudation?"
"We thought, sir… since you are the most knowledgeable master in the school, you might know…"
A few boys turned in surprise. Mr. Ebube was indeed respected—his lecture notes were legendary. They had been passed down like sacred scripts among students for years. A full set of "Computer's" Geography notes was considered gold—enough to guarantee at least a credit in the School Certificate exam.
"Is that why you interrupted my lesson?" Mr. Ebube's voice sharpened. "You children don't realize the opportunity you have. At your age, boys in Europe are learning how to manage estates, run cooperatives. And you? You're worrying about water spirits. That's what you call growth?"
Ugochukwu sat down in silence, chastised. "Computer" resumed his lecture, now even faster, the chalk squeaking under pressure as he tried to recover lost time.
When the bell rang for break, Ugochukwu was still reeling from embarrassment. He collected his notebook but was surprised when Mr. Ebube looked his way.
"Ugochukwu. Bring these books with you."
It was unexpected. An invitation from "Computer"? He nodded quickly, balancing the books. Mr. Ebube walked briskly, bypassing the staff room and heading toward the car park behind the Administrative Block. Ugochukwu followed, still trying to keep pace, his mind buzzing with questions.
By the staff car park, where the shadows of the neem trees fell long across the gravel, Mr. Ebube glanced around cautiously. The place was quiet. He turned sharply.
"I wanted to speak with you in private."
Ugochukwu's heartbeat quickened.
"You're an intelligent boy," Mr. Ebube said, "and many of the staff speak well of you. But... lately there's been talk."
"Talk, sir?"
"Stories. About your interests. Unusual interests. I heard you visited the Medical Officer last term regarding something that happened in your village?"
Ugochukwu nodded. "Yes, sir."
"And last term, you asked Mr. Sand something about spirits and demons?"
"Sir, that question wasn't mine. It was Karibo who brought up witches and wizards. I only asked about the Bible story of the man possessed by demons."
"Still," Mr. Ebube said, "it all adds up. People talk. They say you're... too immersed in primitive beliefs. Now you're asking about Mammy Water. Why?"
Ugochukwu hesitated. "Because I'm confused, sir. I used to believe those stories back home. But now, I want to understand what's true. Can I tell you the story?"
"Make it brief."
Ugochukwu recounted Erinma's tale—her mysterious disappearances, her unshakable denial, the discovery by the stream, the old dibia's pronouncements. He left out Amara, but the story flowed like it had lived in him all his life.
When he finished, Mr. Ebube was quiet. Then, he sighed.
"Let me tell you something, Ugochukwu. When I studied in England, the British Council placed me with a host family to help me understand their culture. The children were excited. But soon they started talking about another African who once stayed with them. They said, 'He ate wood!'"
Ugochukwu's eyes widened.
"Yes," Mr. Ebube chuckled softly. "The man used a chewing stick. But they didn't know that. They thought he was eating it like a snack. So when I used my own stick, I locked my door. Then in the bathroom, I waved a toothbrush like a sword, so they'd believe I was like them."
Ugochukwu laughed.
"You see, my boy," the teacher continued. "The Europeans didn't understand our ways. They saw our rituals, our stories, and labeled them 'pagan'. Over time, we ourselves began to believe that anything from our roots must be backward. But let me tell you—some of these beliefs, these spiritual experiences, are not uniquely African. Ancient Greeks believed in spirits. Native Americans, too. Even the Europeans have their ghosts and possessions."
"So, sir… can a spirit leave a human and enter another being?"
"I'm a geographer, not a priest or an occultist," Mr. Ebube replied firmly. "And discussing such matters openly, especially here, can be… problematic. But let's just say that some truths are not always found in science. They live in stories, in whispers, in culture."
Ugochukwu was quiet.
"Here's my advice," the teacher said, lowering his voice again. "Keep your curiosities alive. But ask the right people. Find the right spaces. In this school, use your toothbrush. Chew your stick in private. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"And don't raise such questions in class again. They'll label you. Misunderstand you. But when you're older—maybe in an independent Nigeria—perhaps these things will be discussed more freely. Perhaps, then, even a geographer might teach about the spirit world."
Ugochukwu bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir."
As he walked back across the lawn, notebook under his arm, the sun warm on his back, a strange clarity settled inside him. His mind was still a storm—but now he had a compass.