SOME PROFOUND births tend to be the result of foolish events. Mbare’s was one of such births, Adudu being the fool in question. It was one of those nights where even the air was latent with careless abandon, where a man would be tempted to see the bottom of his gourd over and over again. 

Adudu soon lost count of how many times he emptied his palm wine gourd sinto his bulging stomach. Soon his eyes fell on a figure outside the drinking hut. No one in Asiga would ever mistake Ene’s figure for someone else’s. 

The curves were obvious even half hidden in the shadows as they were, their fullness and fleshiness apparent under the waning firelight like a fresh fruit begging to be plucked. Adudu smiled and belched as only a drunken hunter would and he pushed himself off his low bench, falling back more times than he rose.

‘Ene,’ he slurred as he staggered over. ‘Even Nda’s fullness doesn’t rival those mounds you carry.’ A stray finger poked one of her ample bosom. 

Ene slapped his hand away, kissing her teeth and shuffling further away, her hips swinging like hanging oranges. Adudu followed, the swishing palm wine in his belly responding to Ene’s rhythm.

‘Where are you going, Ene?’ He placed a hand on her shoulder, more for his stability than to stop her; ‘Won’t you spare me even a few moments this night?’

‘Adudu, go away,’ she said brushing his hand off her shoulder. ‘Leave me alone. Go and bathe in the stream and wash off that terrible smell of old wine.’

‘Ah, Ene,’ he pulled up beside her, pressing himself into her backside. His arousal could be felt even through the thick layers that formed her skirt. ‘That was not what you said after the last harvest in the bush behind my hut.’

‘Maybe after next harvest you might persuade me differently, Adudu, but not tonight, your smell rivals that of a latrine pit. Adudu,I have errands to run so go chase some other unfortunate person.’

Maybe it was the palm wine swirling around in his brain, maybe it was the bulge in his groin, whatever it was, a sudden force motivated Adudu to throw himself upon Ene, wrapping his limbs around her fleshiness.

‘Ah, Ene, come and let me warm you this night.’

Ene yelped, struggling against the drunken embrace.

‘Get away from me, Adudu!’ She screamed and pushed the drunk off her before running off in the opposite direction, moving as fast as her softly rounded limbs would allow.

Adudu rolled in the sand, laughing and pointing at Ene’s retreating figure.

‘Run O! We will see who would run away from whom in the coming harvest.’

Distractedly, his hand fell to his groin, carelessly slipping beneath his loincloth. ‘See? See what you’ve done with that body of yours.’ 

Before long his hand had established a rhythm accompanied by drunken grunts that faded into the night. Adudu in a fit of excitement jumped to his feet, increasing the rhythm of his hand and with a loud trembling snort spurted his seed unto the earth.

‘Ahhhh,’ he sighed. ‘That’s for you, Mba, if Ene won’t take my seed, surely you who takes in all seed shall accept mine.’

He laughed drunkenly, brushing loose soil over the white stain on the ground before pouring a bit of his palm wine upon it and staggering off into the night, leaving only the dark and gloom to witness his seeds sprout roots within Mba, the earth. Roots that would in years to come, taking its time like most mighty trees did, grow into a towering tree, rich in color and beauty. 

Like many profound births, Mbare’s birth was unwitnessed. Its splendor and beauty were unseen and unheard. The bark of the tree did not part for him to emerge like a limb, nor did its fruits swell into the size of a man. Mbare was birthed like a tuber just beneath the tree roots, Mba’s womb cracking and bulging to yield her son’s bulk out into the open. He did not come out a child, confused and crying to suckle. Mbare emerged fully grown…

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Eugene Odogwu is a graphic artist, African fantasy writer and illustrator. He lives in Lagos and is currently working on a collection of short stories.