1845,

Africa.

*** Elias...

Dear Elias,

I hope you are living well with yourself during this your act of rebellion and don't you dare argue with that conclusion. Pray tell if those savages are treating you well, for I swear your mother would march into that tropic of filth and I will drag you out myself.

It would very much please my soul if you came back to me, my dear. I want you to always remember that if your father is the problem, I could very well keep him in check. Please, my son, my plea remains for you to end my heart ache and come back to me.

With that, I can only hope that your experience with the reverend in that God forsaken land is terrible enough to send you back to the people who care for you dearly.

Yours beloved,

Mother.

I burst into laughter even before I'm done with the letter. From the corner of my eye, I notice Peter poke his head into the room, frowning at me. Still laughing, I fold the sheet and drop it into the drawer of the table.

"Something funny, Elias?" Peter finally says. I glance up at him as he comes into the room, a book in his hand.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe what my mother sent this time around." I chuckle, "She didn't hesitate to accuse me of rebellion. It was actually the first thing she pointed out." Peter joins in my laughter, moving to sit across the table from me.

"Don't you think it is time you end her misery and tell her you are going back before your birthday in a month?"

"And miss the chance of her getting a heart attack? Never." He seems horrified at first, then he notes the joke.

"You're quite heartless." I bow as I turn away from him.

"As should be." I take out a sheet of paper and pen to write back to her but as an after thought I decide not to. Besides I wish to surprise her, shock more of, I suppose. "Are we still visiting the chief?" I glance up as I return the sheet and pen to find him still thinking it over.

"Depends. I'll check with the translators to see if they have the time." I frown.

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"Hm, you had me believe you were learnt of their language by now." He eyes me under a mirthful smile.

"I am...mildly. I only need them for certainty." I shrug.

"I shall prepare then." I leave the study-or at least what is supposed to be the study-to the room I took for mine. There I change my trousers to a brown pair, a fresh shirt and neck cloth and a matching waistcoat. Seeing as the weather here is quite hot, I decide to leave behind my coat. I leave the room to rejoin Peter.

"Are you ready, Reverend?" I ask, peeking into the study. Peter lowers the glass he had been reading with and stands.

"Of course. Shall we?" I stand aside for him to come out into the hall then we walk out of the house. As always, there are the natives waiting around the short wooden fence built around the house, the two interpreters trying vainly to shoo them away.

"Good evening." Peter greets as they turn to us, "Thank you again for agreeing to go with us so promptly."

"It is no problem, sir." says Obiora, one of the interpreters.

"So would you be leading the way to the chief's home?" I ask. Obiora glances at Onyeka, the other interpreter and they exchange some words in their native language. I cannot understand much but a very few words.

"Sa, you mean Eke, Nkwo, Orie or Afo?" Onyeka asks, turning back to me.

"Eke." Peter answers. They nod and begin to walk. I frown, I suppose we are just to follow them? I notice the watchers give way for us to pass but tag along after. "Elias, forgive me but I'm only now realizing I have nothing prepared to celebrate you before your return home." I scoff.

"Surely that's unnecessary."

"Oh, but it is, you are turning such a pivotal age-"

"I wouldn't say twenty-five is a pivotal age, Reverend."

"Maybe not generally, but when you are specifically concerned, it is. You may have arrived here a carefree bachelor but when you return, you shall be a married man, taking over your father's estates and business." A sour taste sits on my tongue. I swallow.

"Right."

"Yes. I wonder if there is still time to ask the chief to arrange a dance for you this upcoming moon festival-"

"You are joking."

"I'm terrible at jokes-"

"My point exactly." He laughs.

"I can take a hint, I won't ask the chief." A moment of silence passes.

"Thank you. As horrifying as the idea was I do appreciate the gesture." He scoffs.

"Remind me to stop trying to be nice to you." I chuckle.

I note when we come into the village for we begin to see huts and mud houses. Some compounds, I noticed, would have a mud house in the middle, then be surrounded by much smaller huts, those I hear are settlements owned by men with multiple wives. A fact that is still unclear to me.

Before long we arrive at the market where Peter leaves me with one of the interpreters to pay a visit to the chief. I move aside to settle beside a rice stand, leaning against a tree, cloaked by the sun that had almost set.

I always like hearing the market women gossip, their curses, backstabbing, yelling were quite refreshing, even if it was from the intepreter's mouth. I like hearing their stories when it came to matters of the so-called Evil Forest where I believe they dump bodies unbefitting of a proper and respectable burial. Listening to them, strangely, feels like going to the theatre back home, if I closed my eyes I could almost watch their stories being acted out. I gesture for Onyeka to come a bit closer.