"Oh my goodness!" Emeka exclaimed, rushing forward as Mr. Ebube entered Mazi Agbu's compound. "Thank God you're here. I don't know who else to talk to!"
"What's the matter?" Mr. Ebube asked, startled by the intensity of Emeka's tone. "Adaobi brought a message from here to the school—it sounded serious. The Headmaster allowed me to rush down immediately. Where's Ugochukwu?"
"I'm frightened, sir," Emeka stammered. "Something is wrong with him. Very wrong."
At that moment, Mama Ugo appeared from the kitchen, having heard voices outside. "Teacher, welcome," she said, bowing slightly in greeting. "Let me call my husband. He's waiting for you."
She led Mr. Ebube to the backyard, where Mazi Agbu sat on a wooden stool under the guava tree, trying hard to appear calm.
"Mornin', teacher," he greeted, rising to offer a handshake. "Thank you for coming so quickly. I wouldn't have called if it wasn't serious."
He shifted on the stool, gesturing to the small stool opposite him. "I called you because of a problem—my son, Ugochukwu, suddenly fell ill this morning. He's been moved to my room, but we're planning to take him to the hospital. The problem is his friend, that boy from America. Only Ugochukwu understands him. With him down like this, what do we do with the white boy?"
Mr. Ebube sighed heavily, brushing his palm over his forehead. He had known something was coming the moment he saw Adaobi sprinting to the school with anxious eyes.
"Where's Ugochukwu now?" he asked.
"In my room," Mazi Agbu replied. "We moved him there so Emeka could rest. But we can't leave Emeka here alone. None of us understands his kind of English properly."
"And you want me to help keep Emeka until Ugochukwu is better?"
"Yes," Mazi Agbu said, not hiding the desperation in his voice. "You've interacted with him. You teach at the central school. Please, help me."
"I'll need to speak with the Headmaster first," Mr. Ebube said. "It's not the kind of decision I can make alone."
Emeka, who had been pacing the compound like a caged animal, stepped forward. "Please, sir, let me go with you—just for a short while. I can't stay here right now. Not after what I saw."
Mr. Ebube nodded.
As they walked to the village school, Emeka spoke in fragments, his voice trembling. "It was around four… maybe a little later. A scream woke me. I thought I was dreaming. But it was Ugochukwu. He was shouting in some strange language—Igbo, I guess."
"I jumped out of bed, turned on the torch we bought on our way to the school earlier in the week. What I saw, sir… I'll never forget it."
He paused, swallowing hard.
"Ugochukwu was on the ground, thrashing—his fists clenched, his chest rising and falling like he was wrestling something invisible. He was sweating like mad. His face… it was terrifying. I called his name, again and again, but he didn't hear me."
"You must have been terrified," Mr. Ebube said softly.
"I was," Emeka admitted. "I ran to his father's room. As soon as Mazi Agbu saw him, he turned pale. They moved him quickly to the master bedroom and told me to try to sleep, but how could I? I just sat in their obi until sunrise."
By the time they reached the school, the Headmaster had already been informed of the situation by another teacher. After a brief meeting, he agreed to accommodate Emeka in the quarters used by unmarried staff. It was an emergency, and Emeka had already made a positive impression on both pupils and teachers during previous visits with Ugochukwu.
"Let him stay here until things are sorted," the Headmaster said. "We'll take turns preparing his meals—my wife, your wife, and the Headmistress will see to it. And he can still give those talks he promised."
When Emeka and Mr. Ebube returned to collect his belongings, Mama Ugo met them at the entrance.
"They've taken Ugochukwu to a hospital in Onitsha," she said quietly. "Mazi said he'll send word once he has details."
Emeka nodded, relief mingled with lingering dread.
He hoped that whatever had overtaken Ugochukwu that morning was temporary—that the boy he had come to admire so deeply would recover, and that these two weeks in the village would not end in tragedy.
As he picked up his travel bag, Emeka whispered to himself, "Hold on, brother. Don't let go."