I watched Oyimbo, the peeled one, lying under her mosquito net from the rafter in my sacred corner. She was writing in her red book by flashlight as she did every night since she arrived in my house. I did not mind sharing my house with her until nighttime when her eyelids slid shut, her mouth inched open, and the pig came out.
As I watched her close the red book and shut off her flashlight I tensed knowing the pig would be out soon. I had not had a peaceful night since her arrival. As the god of this dwelling it was my responsibility to maintain peace. I made up my mind: I would make myself visible and visit Oyimbo tonight to ask her to please keep her pig inside when she slept.
I left my rafter and made myself into the shape of a human; a strong man of the Gourma tribe, the tribe that had inhabited this part of Africa for centuries. I climbed on top of her like a husband on a wife and waited for the pig. Her mouth opened and her breath warmed my face.
“Oyimbo,” I whispered. She turned her face away from mine but did not wake.
“Oyimbo,” I tried again. “I have something to ask of you, please.” I implored in Gourmanche, the ancient language of the Gourma tribe.
Her eyes sprang open as if she had heard her mother call her name. She slowly turned her head towards me. I watched the night of her eyes overtake the day.
“Oyimbo, we share this house.”
She searched my face and opened her mouth but her voice failed her. She shut her mouth. I saw the fear in her eyes.
“I will not harm you,” I assured her in Gourmanche.
“What do you want?” she found her voice in English, the language of the peeled ones. I understood this language but could not respond, as a tribal house god I was only permitted to speak Gourmanche.
“I want you to keep your pig inside,” I explained slowly, as if to a child.
She shook her head back and forth on the pillow, “I don’t understand.”
I snorted as loudly as possible, mimicking the night pig.
She furrowed her eyebrows and slowly shook her head.
I made the noise of a pig again.
“Pig?” she asked and shook her head again.
Clearly she did not understand my language and would not be able to silence the pig. I would have to get rid of the pig myself.
I leaned closer to her but she jerked her face away from mine, “Look, please, don’t hurt me, please!” She pinched her whole face together and stiffened her body as if preparing for a herd of charging elephants.
I could not silence the pig until she softened. While I waited for her to calm I studied her more closely. It was not just her skin that had been peeled, but her eyes and hair as well. This Oyimbo deserved her name; she was most certainly a ‘peeled one.’
Her jaw slackened so I leaned down and blew a puff of air into her ear to try and scare the pig.
“Ah!” She covered her exposed ear with her hand. “Stop it!” She rubbed her ear. She opened the eyeball closest to me and surveyed my face.
I smiled.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I am the god of this dwelling and I have come to ask you to silence your pig.” But she scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. My words were useless.
I made the sound of a pig again.
She snorted back.
I snorted louder.
“Okay, stop!” she turned back toward me. “I’m sure I’m just having a really weird dream, I -”
I planted my lips on hers. I forced her mouth open with my tongue and blew as long as I could.
“What the hell -,” she tried to speak but I blew stronger. She tried to push me away but could not. I finished blowing and sat back on my haunches. I believed the pig had left through her ears, although I had not seen it.
She did not take her eyes off mine as she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. “I hope you’re done?” she asked.
“I did not see the pig, but I am confident it is gone,” I assured her.
I left Oyimbo’s bed and swirled like the hot winds of the Sahara to free myself from the human form. I settled back onto the rafter in my sacred corner to watch Oyimbo. Her eyelids did not shut again which made me fear that I had blown away more than the pig.
The next night I watched Oyimbo under her mosquito net. She wrote for a short time and then looked up to my rafter. She closed her red book, turned off her flashlight, and lay down on her back but her eyes remained open.
Suddenly she snorted out loud, mimicking the sound of the pig, but it was not the pig.
I snorted back.
Her lips curved at the corner as she rolled onto her side. Her eyelids slid closed over her rings of sky and her mouth inched open. I braced myself, but no pig came. It had left Oyimbo.
The beam creaked under me as I settled down for a much-deserved night of peace.
