Part One: The Warning
In the quiet village of Ikot Okuere, where the air carried the scent of roasted corn and ancestral incense, the people still feared the spirits — especially Ekpo Nkaowo, the one who judged marital betrayal. It wasn’t just folklore. It was law. Unwritten, but enforced by forces no court could tame.
Ekaette was the kind of woman who turned heads without trying. Her beauty was effortless, her laughter contagious, and her salon — Ekaette’s Touch — was the heartbeat of the village’s gossip circuit. But behind the powder and polish was a woman bruised by marriage.
Her husband, Etim, was once the village’s golden boy. He had returned from Port Harcourt with money, swagger, and a car that made the church choir pause mid-hymn. He married Ekaette in a ceremony that swallowed half the village’s palm wine reserves. But the wine soured quickly.
Etim was charming in public, cruel in private. He insulted her in whispers, then in shouts. He slapped her once, then twice, then stopped counting. He cheated with reckless abandon, bringing shame to their doorstep like a parcel he refused to return.
Ekaette endured it all. She prayed. She fasted. She spoke to the pastor. She spoke to her pillow. But the bruises didn’t fade, and the silence grew heavier.
Then one day, she stopped enduring.
—
The Glow
It started with lipstick. Red. Bold. The kind that said, I’m done hiding. Then came the new hairstyle. Then the laughter. Then the late nights.
Daniel, a tukay rider and proud son of the soil, noticed the change. He had grown up with Ekaette. He knew her spirit. He knew her pain. And he knew the danger.
He parked his tukay outside her salon one evening, the December harmattan brushing his cheeks. She was sweeping the front, her hips swaying to a song only she could hear.
“Eka,” he called. “You dey glow o.”
She smiled. “Daniel, I’m just living.”
He stepped down. “Living is good. But be careful how you live. You know our tradition.”
She rolled her eyes. “Daniel, please. Christianity has taken over. I’m covered.”
He leaned closer. “You’re joking. If you intend to cheat on your husband, you’re not covered. Not here. Not in Ikot Okuere. Ekpo Nkaowo doesn’t care about hashtags.”
She laughed. “Etim cheats every day. I’m just returning the energy.”
Daniel’s face darkened. “Energy is not tradition. You don’t fight fire with fire when the ancestors are watching.”
She waved him off. “I’m fine, Daniel. I’m not doing anything wrong.”
But Daniel knew. The glow wasn’t just makeup. It was rebellion. And rebellion had a price.
—
The Rumors
Weeks passed. Ekaette’s glow grew brighter. Her salon buzzed with customers and whispers.
“She’s seeing that man from Eket.”
“She entered a Lexus last week.”
“She’s not wearing her wedding ring.”
Daniel heard it all. He didn’t judge. But he worried.
Then came the news: Etim was sick. Very sick.
It started with headaches. Then weakness. Then vomiting. The hospital couldn’t explain it. The pastor prayed. The herbalist tried. Nothing worked.
Daniel returned from his daily tukay hustle and branched Ekaette’s salon. She was painting a customer’s nails, humming.
He waited. When she was done, he spoke.
“I heard Etim is sick.”
She nodded. “He called for peace. I’ve been cooking for him. Sleeping beside him.”
Daniel’s heart sank. “You didn’t go for cleansing?”
She frowned. “Cleansing? For what?”
He stepped back. “Ekaette, you’ve broken the code. You can’t return to a man you’ve betrayed without cleansing. You’ve invited Ekpo Nkaowo into your home.”
She laughed. “Daniel, you and your village stories.”
But Daniel didn’t laugh. He knew the stories weren’t just stories. They were warnings.
—
The Cliffhanger
A week later, Etim died.
The village mourned. But mourning turned to murmurs. His family went for consultation. The oracle spoke.
“He died by Ekpo Nkaowo. His wife broke the sacred bond.”
All fingers pointed at Ekaette.
Daniel’s phone buzzed. Over 100 missed calls.
She was looking for a lawyer.
But Daniel knew — this wasn’t a case for lawyers.
This was a case for the ancestors.
—
👉 Part Two 👉👉👉👉 Hon. Daniel’s Stories
