Dame En Rouge

 The History

What do you do in the still of the night when you are driving down a lonely road and hear the sound that sends jitters down your spine? The koi koi thud of a red-bottomed Louboutin shoe pounding the granite was followed by a shrill voice asking if you had seen the missing pair. It was a tale as old as the town; different variations of the story had been told from the first settlers to the ones who lived in Akwakuma presently.  

Some people claimed she was a beautiful, fashionable secondary school teacher who refused the advances of the principal of her school and swore to expose him but was found dead before she could find the nearest newsroom.  Since then, she lurked in the hallways of dormitories and classrooms, scaring students with her presence and that peculiar sound. 

Others said her name was Aku, and she had been a socialite mistreated by her wealthy husband. He hit her so badly that she went off the radar for a long time to nurse the wounds he inflicted on her. He planned to take a second wife when her beauty started waning, but Aku stood her ground and swore that it would be over her dead body, and in a morbid twist, it was. Fresh flowers were placed on her white coffin when he finally pushed her down from the house after they had gone to an event. She died in a figure-hugging red gown and designer red shoes to match. She had screamed, and by the time police arrived,  every bone in her body was broken and her organs squished to goo. In the typical way of scratch my back and I scratch yours, the Nigerian police were settled, and they ruled the death as suicide because of her mental incapacities in the marriage.

 It was alleged that Aku never crossed over to the other side— ani ndi mmuo, a cold place where you brought your baskets of fire to keep you warm. The gatekeeper refused her passage because her fire wasn’t enough, and her soul was shattered to pieces. Since she had died a painful, unnatural death at the hands of the man she loved so dearly, she would not cross over until her soul was complete. 

Another faction said she was a materialistic woman who clung to the niceties of life long after she was gone, refusing to believe that she was dead. Her husband had taken a younger, beautiful woman as a wife. She was floating in the Sunken Place, tethered by the task of finding her shoe in the land of the living. 

In the big city of Akwakuma, Dame En Rouge, or the Lady in Red, was a metaphor for women scorned and cast aside. She took the form of a fine woman till you lay with her, and only then would you see her true nature. Like a horseman, she showed up at a place of great suffering where a woman passed through heartbreak, serving as a harbinger for justice. The last thing the victim remembered was a smashed face and a mouth filled with blood asking: 

“I huru akpukpo ukwu m? Have you seen my shoe?”

The Present

Nnenna was cradled in bed, surrounded by white sheets, as she remembered that rainy Friday evening when she had gone to surprise him at his World Bank Estate residence. She knocked on the door, and when she didn’t get a reply, she used her spare key to open it, only to see him entangled with another woman on the bed she slept in with him. 

She stood there for a few minutes, her feet glued to the floor, before shouting, “Emeka!” That was when he turned and saw her. She rushed out in the rain without looking back as he followed her, calling her name. She walked in the rain without her umbrella, the tiny drops bouncing on her body and onto the ground. She kept replaying the scene in her head — the moans, the clothes on the ground, and the flashes of ecstasy on her boyfriend’s face. She cried because no one could see the tears under the rain. 

She knew he was trouble when he walked up to her in the club and introduced himself. His confidence wore on him like thick perfume, and his smile revealed the two dimples that complemented his perfect row of teeth. She knew he wouldn’t be for her alone, and somehow, she would have to share him with other women. But she had tried blinding him to the glamour of D-cupped, finer women with the perfect curves and weaves. 

She learned how to make his pancakes less dry and how not to make his tea chalky. She spent most of her time on the treadmill to be like the girls he left salacious comments under their Instagram posts, all for him to break her heart into pieces. 

She followed them to the house, watched them sleep in the bed she once shared with him, and watched ‘her’ wear his oversized shirts and fry eggs and tomatoes in the morning. She was crazy, and all she wanted was revenge.  She mourned this loss, her hair loose in messy cornrows, her tea cold, her fridge filled with rotten fruit, and her ashtray laden with ganja butts. Her phone’s battery was dead after several missed calls from family and friends concerned for her well-being. When she did pick, all she could say was that she was fine; she was eating her veggies, drinking her supplements, popping pills in Ibiza, and soaking up the beautiful sun somewhere on the beach.  

But she wasn’t fine. She cried in her pillows, cried in her sleep, and sobbed in her dreams. Now, she sat up in bed, staring into the empty space before standing up and walking into her bathroom with robotic legs. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, observed the heavy eye bags and bloated face from crying, and laughed aloud like a hyena. 

“Koi Koi, Koi Koi, Koi, Koi Koi,” she repeated several times, knocked on the mirror, and laughed loudly again like someone going insane. She paused slightly as the sound reverberated through the house, wondering if that otherworldly voice came from her. 

Emeka had turned her into a mad woman. They say, ‘Don’t trust Lagos boys,’ and she had kept her heart in his hands, hoping she could change him and that he would meet her at the other end of the aisle. This man had led her to this point, in front of this mirror, reciting the spell she had learned as a child that was used to call a lady spirit that could haunt your philandering boyfriend, the antithesis of side chicks. A folklore used as a cautionary tale to children who would be warned that if they behaved badly, Lady Koi Koi would come for their souls at night. 

She bent her head and poured cold water over her hair, watching the water flow to the sink as the water touched her head. It was so hot that it felt like sitting on a stove. Once, she had long hair she had maintained with relaxers and texturisers but had chopped off a great deal of hair trying to transition to natural hair because Emeka had praised the dark hair of one of his colleagues on the day she paid him a visit with his lunch. 

The cold water soaked her scalp, giving her the feeling of baptism, and for a while, she thought she was saved. She slowly lifted her head, tilting it to the side as the water bounced onto the ground. She put on Omah Lay, creating a playlist of depressing songs on her phone to match the colour of her house, and staggered over to the couch to kick empty glasses of creamy rum and pour herself some from a half-empty bottle. She swallowed it, relishing the sweetness on her tongue and the slow burn as it travelled down her throat. 

Then, she slept off.

She had a strange dream, one of those drunken hazes where she thought she was under the influence. She stood in a wasteland, caught in a cyclone as a great wind spun around her, raising dead leaves and dust. When the sand settled, she noticed a figure strutting towards her unevenly, walking with an old red heel on one foot and her toes on the other. Her eyes bulged out in horror as she realised who it was. 

It was real. She confirmed it as she woke up with a start, reached for her torch, and flashed it across her dirty apartment. The figure sat in the chair — it was dark-skinned, head bowed with dirty brown hair. She tried pointing the light at the figure, but it couldn’t overcome the darkness surrounding her. Goosebumps appeared on her skin as her heart beat faster, and she wanted to scream. 

“Nnenna, you called me,” the figure said in a feminine voice. She spread her thin, dried lips to growl. 

“Yes,” Nnenna stammered. How did the figure know her name? 

“Many have tried to call me, but I don’t answer except in great suffering. I heard your voice from far away, and I was touched. Who is it?” she enquired. 

“Emeka,” 

Her lips spread, and Nnenna noticed the lines in the corners. 

“Did he hit you?” she asked. 

Nnenna nodded in acknowledgement as tears snaked down her eyes, tasting salty on her tongue. 

Lady Koi Koi stood up and advanced towards Nnenna.  

Nnenna froze in shock. The atmosphere was thick with death. Lady Koi Koi placed her hand on Nnenna’s chin.  

“What do you want, mercy or no mercy, dead or alive?” she asked. 

Nnenna thought about it. Though she hated Emeka for what he had done, it wasn’t her intention to see him dead.  The flashes of the torture she endured flashed through her mind, and she said, “No mercy.” 

Lady Koi Koi took one last look around, used her thumb to make an incision mark across her neck, and disappeared into thin air, the empty packets of biscuits scattered all around the room. 

Nnenna sat upright for a long time on her bed, looking into the darkness and wondering what she had just summoned from the land of the dead. 

•••

The streets of Akwakuma were buzzing with life as late as eleven that night, littered with ladies of the evening, hanging around in the shadows and under the bright lights, negotiating the night’s wages. One could select from different types of bodies, wigs, and clothes. It was a marketplace, an intersection of the good, bad, and dirty, and filled with sex peddlers and horny hagglers. On this street, sex was the major export and men from far and near came for an exchange. 

Once in a while, a car would stop by and snatch one or two of them after the lady had leaned in and told him her price. The clubs that lined MCC road had loud music blaring from the speakers, strippers giving a tease with money hanging from the coffers of their lingerie, and testosterone-driven men pouring expensive wine on them. Bottlegirls lit the place with candles and fireworks adorning their most costly drinks. 

He got out of his car and entered one of these clubs boldly written, 

ORANGE GROOVE

He walked to the bartender and asked for a strong drink. The bartender was a tall and slender woman with a pretty smile. She brought out some bottles, measured the drink, and poured it into a glass cup before passing it to him. Then, she watched him gulp everything in seconds. 

“You look tired,” she said.  

“Yes, I am exhausted. I have had a rough week. My girlfriend broke up with me, and I got suspended from work.” 

“So sorry about that,” the bartender said, shaking up another bottle to give him a shot. She knew she wasn’t supposed to ask too many questions, but the man in front of her had a lot to share. 

“Why did she leave?”

“She thought she could change me,” He laughed. “I am a man with needs. She can’t expect me to stay with her for a long time. I went for a long time without getting caught, but my luck ran out.”

“Hmm,” The bartender added lime water. 

“What? Will you judge me for everything men do?”

“No,” she replied, smiling as she slid the glass towards him. 

He regarded her, tracing the perfect contours of her face, down to her chest, the exposed parts of her breasts, and the first button she had forgotten to hook. 

“What is your name?” he asked. 

‘Uka.”

“Unique name. I am Emeka.” He smirked. “My night could be better.”  

“How?” she asked, feigning ignorance. 

“You could make me happy tonight.” 

She didn’t say anything. 

“What is your price?” he asked further. 

“Can you pay? Long time or short time?” She squared her shoulders and looked into his dark eyes. 

“All night, baby, and I believe everyone has a price.” 

“I want your soul,” she announced.  

He chuckled a bit before noticing that she wasn’t smiling. 

“You are joking, right?” he asked, a look of concern sweeping his face.

The bartender looked steadily at him before smiling again.

“Of course, I was pulling your legs. My shift is over. Let us go.” She beckoned on the other girl to come and take her place. 

Emeka whooped in delight as he placed his leg on the accelerator and revved towards his apartment at World Bank estate, whistling as she swayed her hips to the loud music booming from his car. They entered the house, and Uka tossed her bag on the couch. She looked through the house, the beautiful art on the wall, the vases with intricate patterns that held healthy greens, the pure white cushions, and the fragrance from the air freshener on the wall. 

“Your place is nice.” 

She smiled as she inspected everywhere and discovered his clothes cupboard, which hid some interesting items: belts, handcuffs, and whips.

“A boy never stops playing with his toys,” he remarked when she asked him.

He brought a large bottle of wine from the fridge, along with two long glasses, and poured the red liquid into them. 

“Vin Rouge Rouge, the perfect one for a lady in red!” 

They said cheers and clicked glasses before raising them​​ to their lips, her dark eyes never leaving his face. He lit a huge Ganga stick, puffing it in her face. She took it from him slowly and took a hard, slow drag. Then, after a few sips, she dropped the glass and proceeded to remove his shirt.  

“Why don’t we get down to business?” She fiddled with his shirt’s buttons.

He slowly removed her hands, biting his lower lip. 

“Wait, let us set the tune.” He got up and padded to the television. Soon, slow music played as the bulb turned mellow blue. 

“Perfect.” She dragged him by his belt to the king-size bed in the bedroom and impatiently unbuckled it, taking him in her mouth as he moaned deeply. 

When they were done, he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.  

“Omo, you are really good at this. I will double your money. Forward your account number to me.”

She said nothing but watched him closely as he got up and walked to the bathroom.  

He got to the sink and poured some water over his head. It covered his eyes, so he reached for a towel, but he couldn't find it where he dropped it and called on Uka to help him bring it. Soon, the towel was in his hands. He wiped his face and eyes with the soft towel, opening his eyes slowly. As he raised his eyes to the mirror, he was startled to discover what stared right back at him. 

“The Blood of Jesus,” he exclaimed, turning back to see Uka smiling in a soft, mocking way. 

“What is wrong, Emeka? Gini?” she quizzed, feigning shock. 

Emeka pointed at the mirror and traced the finger back at her as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes had just seen. 

“ I huru akpukpo ukwu m?” she asked. 

Have you seen my shoe?

Before he could say another word, her beautiful features slowly dissipated, revealing old, worn clothes, scanty dirty hair, and her mouth filled with blood. She used the back of her palm to land him a slap that spun him around, and he fell to the ground, grovelling in pain. 

“You go carry ashewo, abi you no go carry next time?”  

She sat on his chest and kept slapping him while asking questions he didn’t get the chance to answer. She used her head to hit his, lacerating his forehead as blood splashed everywhere. 

“Who the fuck are you? Depart from me, you daughter of Jezebel,” Emeka managed to say. 

Lady Koi Koi laughed maniacally and dragged him back to the room by his legs. She opened his cupboard and ran her hands over the props he used during his workout sessions. Her hands fell on a heavy leather belt. She whooshed it in the air and was pleased. Then, she tied his hands to the ceiling fan and flogged him until he begged for mercy. 

Suddenly, his head dropped down, and she stood up and whispered in his ears: 

“Not all girls should be brought to your home. Nnenna sends her regards, and I will be back.” 

Then, she disappeared.  

•••

Nnenna was restless. She lit a cigar, played music, and scratched her hair. She kept wondering if the dream she had was real and if her reality was now merging with her dreams. She was shocked to see a missed call, and when she returned it, it was Emeka’s weary voice. 

“Nnenna, I choro igbuzim? Do you want to kill me?” 

“Emeka, ke kwanu,” Nnenna feigned innocence. 

“You invoked an evil spirit to torment me because we broke up. Nnenna, I know I broke your heart, but forgiveness is divine. Please, let go and let us move on.” 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”  

“I am begging you. I am almost losing because she is everywhere I go.”

“How is Onaedo?” The name felt bitter on her tongue as the events of that day flashed again like a bad dream. 

“I told you she was a one-night girl. We were not serious.” 

“So why are you calling and begging me?” 

“I took another lady home a few days ago, and since then, I have been seeing things. I am running mad.” 

Nnenna wanted to laugh out loud. She wanted to howl and shake the house to its foundations. 

“You broke my heart and moved on so easily after I gave you my all. I will not suffer this alone. I am dragging you to hell with me. This will teach you a lesson on philandering.  Not all chargers should be plugged into any socket, and not everyone who comes out at night is human. You slept with a spirit. Dibe ya oooo.” 

“Witch! Nnenna, you are a wicked witch!” 

Nnenna chuckled, amused. 

“Lagos demon! You don jam the demon wey pass you. Enjoy!” 

“Did you hear that?” He asked. “I think she is here now. Blood of Jesus, that koi koi sound.”  The line buzzed a bit before it went dead. 

Nnenna heaved a sigh of relief. For the first time, she stripped naked, went to her bath, and dipped her body in cold water. Then, she poured from the wine bottle into a short glass cup close to her and raised it in the air. 

“To his sorrows and pains, I say cheers.” 

She sank herself in the water again, and when she raised her head, she was startled to see Lady Koi Koi by her side. She had missed the sound of her shoes on the tile. 

“Nnenna, are you happy?” Lady Koi Koi asked.  

Nnenna nodded her head. She was elated to see Emeka grovelling for mercy. He had been in the clubs since their break up, grinding on sexy ladies and bedding them without caring about her. 

“Nnenna, I am very sorry about this break up. It is not you, it is me. I am not ready for any commitment right now and I hope you understand. I still love you.” 

       Those were his last words to her. 

“Finish him!” She quoted the famous Mortal Kombat line. 

Lady Koi Koi’s thin, dry lips parted again, and she vanished. 

•••

It was noon, but Emeka turned on all the lights in his apartment. He removed the flowers and held onto a pot to defend himself if he heard that sound again. His body was slick with perspiration, and his eyes darted from corner to corner. 

Koi, Koi, Koi.  

Emeka shook his head, hoping he was dreaming. He raised his hands to his ears, trying to block it away. 

It filtered in, searing his eardrums and making his head thump loudly. 

“No!” 

He ran from the sitting room to his bedroom and covered himself with his thick bed sheets but it followed him. He heard Koi Koi Koi before the sheets were pulled angrily to the ground by invisible hands. 

“Nne m oo, ” He screamed for his late mother, who was long gone, to emerge and fight for him. 

Then, he ran to the sitting room, turned on the television, and increased the volume to the loudest. Immediately, Lady Koi Koi appeared in front of him. He threw a stool at her, but it was a miss as she vanished, and the stool struck his TV screen.

He roared,  “Leave me alone! I come against you, evil spirit.”

•••

His display amused Lady Koi Koi. It seemed like fun she hadn’t had in years, a game of hide and seek. No matter where he ran, she was beside him — in the kitchen where he swung the pots and pans in the darkness and in his wardrobe where she clapped for him. She was in the air, floating on her one red shoe. 

Emeka had had enough. He screamed and tore his shirts, skipping out of the house towards the gate where he was stopped by the gateman. 

“Oga, where me I dey run to?” gateman Abdul asked him. 

Emeka just pointed in the direction of Lady Koi Koi in horror. “Tell that woman to get out of my house.”

 Abdul cleaned his eyes well to be sure he wasn’t going blind.

“Oga, me, I no dey see anybody.” 

“Are you telling me you cannot see that crazy old lady standing near my car?” 

Abdul walked towards the car, passed through Lady Koi Koi, and hit his hand on the car. 

“Oga, nobody dey here.”

Lady Koi Koi taunted Emeka as she floated towards him. “I hula akpukpo ukwu m?”  

 Emeka screamed one last time before running out of the compound onto the streets, clothes dirty and torn, and raising his hands.  

People turned to look as he passed. 

“No be this fine boy wey dey drive that Lexus 350?” they asked. 

“Yes, na.”  They agreed it was him. 

“Chai, so his village people have finally struck him with madness?” 

They shook their heads in pity and snapped fingers, hoping that such misfortune would not befall them or their loved ones. 

He ran to the marketplace, hiding from Lady Koi Koi in the stalls of people who threw things at him and chased him. 

•••

Nnenna put down her phone after scrolling through the news feed and came across the breaking story of a mad fine boy in the marketplace. She poured herself another glass of red wine. 

“To the lady in red, Dame En Rouge.”

Now, she could finally heal.