Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman (Excerpt)

Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman: A Historical Fiction Debut

Click image to buy autographed copy!

By – Ọgọ Akubue-Ogbata, Priceless Books (c) Oct 1st 2009;
336 page Hardcover 5.5 x 8.5; ISBN 978-0-9560142-1-4
336 page Softcover 5.0 x 8.0; ISBN 978-0-9560142-6-9

Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman – is an inspirational, albeit heart-wrenching story, of a remarkable young woman who dares to defy the odds (economically, emotionally and socially) in order to become who she is destined to be, juxtaposed with the struggles of her motherland – Nigeria/Africa (also striving to rise above her past and achieve greatness). Do they have what it takes to succeed?

Nkiru wasn’t sure if it was the screaming that woke her or Uyi’s glance which poked her on the cheek like a chicken’s beak. Her bed felt damp as she stirred, her pillow cool against her cheek, wet with patches of odourless mouth dribble. For a moment, when she opened her eyes, everything seemed hazy, lazy…

Then all of a sudden the images rushed to her face like shreds of metal streaming to a giant horseshoe magnet: walls the colour of vanilla ice-cream, smooth but for a long, thin, crack the shape of a lightning bolt – translucent button-eyed geckos stuck on the top right hand corner like bland stamps on an envelope. Faded Ribena stains on toffee coloured wool-twist carpet, strings of ants curling round slivers of sugar-coated biscuit and an unlit bulb hanging from a distant ceiling – motionless – like a corpse drooping from a noose.

It was a warm, sulky, day. The room reeked of sweat and the feeble sunlight oozed in through pristine Venetian blinds, coaxing lifeless objects to paint self-portraits on the walls. However, the shadow-art was amateurish; embellished almost: the bedpost bore semblance to a bridge, the stacks of picture books a jagged cliff, the laundry basket a dung heap… It was as if the fervent screaming caused the painter’s hand to wobble till fear was etched on every wall.

“It’s Nonso,” the bed creaked as Nkiru sat up and swung her legs off the edge, “something’s wrong, something bad has happened to her.”

Uyi backed away from the double bunk, moving slowly until his body touched his silhouette. Nkiru thought that it was almost funny the way his dreadlocked hair appeared like two raggedy floor mops bunched into one, the way the shadow was forced to move when he did – like a Siamese twin stitched to another at the hip. But she didn’t laugh because the sharp, baffled, screaming defied reason and with every tick of the clock the wall etchings appeared more monstrous.

“Nonso!” Nkiru said as she grabbed Lulu’s plastic neck, climbed down the first few rungs of the ladder and jumped fearlessly onto the floor.

“You will come with me, won’t you?” She said to Uyi even though her right foot smarted from the prick of a yellow Lego brick and panic frothed like beer in her throat.

Uyi’s large eyes were red from too much rubbing. He held out his hand and, as they walked down the dimly lit corridor, she felt the fearlessness course through his palm. Although he was only two or three inches taller than her, Nkiru felt that Uyi was so much bigger and stronger than she was, felt that nothing bad could possibly happen now that he was here.

Nkiru imagined finding Nonso in the downstairs lounge, perched on top of a mahogany table – trembling at the sight of a redneck lizard.

‘See,’ Nonso would say, ‘It’s ugly; make it go away!’

Nkiru imagined chasing the hideous lizard outdoors whereupon Nonso’s frenetic screaming reshaped into laughter, body tremors melting into shivers of relief. Nkiru saw all three of them hugging tightly, sneaking to the back garden through the kitchen door, taking turns to feed Lulu moist sand-cakes and pebble scones. She sensed the evening sun tongue-warm against their faces, mosquito music thrumming sharply in their ears, the wind thundering through the trees like foals in the fields as big, bright, butterflies floated over their heads whilst fleeting from flower to flower.

Uyi did not lead her down the stairs; rather he followed the screams which led them further and further from the landing. The louder the screaming grew, the quicker Nkiru’s heart turned to mush in her mouth.

‘What could the matter be?’ she thought, ‘What madness has come over Nonso? What is making her scream?’

As they approached the master bedroom, she pressed Lulu’s yellowish hair against her cheek. It felt like toothbrush bristles almost and yet the prickles offered familiar comfort, peculiar peace. When Uyi put his hand on the gold plated doorknob, she wiped her feet on the coir doormat with ‘welcome’ etched across it. When he opened the door she held her breath, expecting the worst. Still nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

The bedroom was thirty feet wide and twenty feet long. In the middle was a king sized bed with sheets the colour of salt and pillows, like small sacks of rice, all propped up against the headboard. Sprawled on the bed was a tall, slim, woman, skin so light, eyes almost green, shoulder length hair spread out like a halo of darkness around her face, mouth slightly parted to reveal the tips of her gaped front teeth. Her neck was bent at an odd angle, collar bones jutting out underneath her luscious skin, bejewelled right hand dangling to the floor as if straining from the weight of gold and diamond jewellery, manicured fingernails straddling fields of lush carpet hair… but for a purple towel wrapped around her shapely torso, her body was bare.

Before Nkiru saw the blood which seeped from the slit wrist onto the silk white rug, she knew that Nneoma was dead. It was Nneoma’s face that gave her away. It was so peaceful, so serene; the face of a sojourner who had reached a safe place and who now understood, perfectly, the many mysteries of a former life. For this reason Nkiru did not feel pity for Nneoma.

It was Nonso she pitied; Nonso who stood at the foot of the bed, clinging to the wrought iron post so hard that her knuckles threatened to slice through her flesh. Nonso who shivered as if drowning in some savage sea; who stared wide eyed at the blood as if it called out to her in a mother-tongue. Nkiru felt self-pity also and as she wrapped her arms around Nonso, soaking up the tears and mucus that streaked Nonso’s cotton blouse, she suddenly felt seasoned beyond her years… responsible for everything that would happen henceforth; accountable to all.

“Don’t cry,” She whispered against Nonso’s neck, “Don’t cry, Nonny, everything will be okay.”

Nkiru looked in the ornate mirror that hung above the dressing table as the smell of blood hovered in the air. They looked small, she and Nonso, like sand castles on a beach, like grasshoppers clasped in a child’s hand. She could hear water dripping in the ensuite shower room; she could hear the clock tick-tock. But it was only when Nonso stopped screaming that Nkiru realised that Uyi had disappeared. And as she placed Lulu in Nonso’s arms, Nkiru knew that she would never see him again.

(c) October 1st 2009

Read MORE from Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman the exciting debut literary novel.

Click Here to Buy Autographed Hardcover/Softcover copies of Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman from OgoOgbata.Com!

Buy un-autographed copies of Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman from Amazon.Com and Amazon.Co.Uk!

S.Y.N.O.P.S.I.S

Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman is the story of a privileged Nigerian girl whose life is disrupted by a series of unusual events and the loss of innocence as she knows it. Striving to survive in the wake of her country’s independence from British rule, she meets an aspiring diplomat with radical political views, a man who asks for more than she knows how to give. They embark on a love affair but can she put the past behind her or will her scandalous secret destroy everything?

Set in the politically charged colonial and post-independence Nigeria (as well as the vibrant capitals of Uganda, Sierra Leone and Britain), Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman explores the vicious cycle of violence, corruption and rejection as well as the triumph of love over fear.

Written with passion, poetry and deceptive simplicity, this is a story of womanhood (sisters and daughters, mothers and wives who metamorphose over time) juxtaposed with a nation’s fight for freedom, fall from grace and pursuit of an elusive destiny.

Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman: Buy it. Read it. Love it!

Read: Q&A interview with the author of the literary novel Egg-Larva-Pupa-Woman!

If you’d like to review this book, please send us details of your organisation (name, audience/readership size, blog/website address) and we’ll send you a copy of the book subject to availability.