I take the bundle back up to the garden, and under the torch unwrap it slow. The bones at the front lie so loose that is only when I put them together that I see they were legs. Which mean the other two were legs as well. The long, thin cage of ribs, and the longer jagged bone snaking from top to bottom, the back and the tail. The skull jut to a point and poking from it is two teeth. I don’t know what it is, and curse myself that I was digging up some pet, or some nuisance that neither Keme nor Yétúnde wanted to burn. No man’s dog ever wander into this yard, nor stray cat either, even with this being a house full of cats, and maybe this was why. But the disquiet wouldn’t leave me alone, and I curse it. Again, before my wiser self could stop me, I go back to the woods and before sunrise I dig up three more mounds. Graves. Dusk shoo away night so quiet that I didn’t notice until I finally stand up. With all of them, the swaddling cloths come loose with barely a touch.
Trust the gods. I don’t know why that stupid uttering float through my head, bothering me even though it come as a whisper. I know I am doing what I don’t want to do and where my legs taking me I don’t want to go. I could be wrong, I think. You could be wrong, say the voice that sound like me. You should go to her and let her put your mind at rest. Except the only person whose rest Yétúnde ever care for is hers. Right there the thought fly up in my head that this is because of me, that she welcome me in her house and didn’t even curse when I welcome Keme in my bed, and when his children come out of me. She is the one who stop him from being a lion, and she was the one who complain that he roam and wander, and won’t stay long enough to father his children. And yet is when he did become the lion that he turn into the father she want to him to be. But instead of being grateful, she look at me with sourness since then and take out her malcontent on the children.
But none of these bones have anything to do with me, for all of this happen before I come to this place. Somebody looking from some window bound to know. Five graves, surely a neighbor did see. Now my fear is waking up the lion, for the last time he scratch my thigh. It is the one thing I warn all the children to never do. Yet see me here, going back in the house to do it, whispering to myself, Trust the gods.
Everybody still asleep. The gods are merciful, for this morning he not with Yétúnde, but Ehede and Ndambi, on the welcome room floor. I stand a good distance from him and poke his neck with a staff. First he just roll over. I poke him harder, behind the ear, and he wake up swiping the staff so hard he nearly bring me down with it. I rush over and cover his mouth before he wake up the children.
“Come,” I say.
Outside he look at all five of them.
“I don’t know if there is more.”
Keme circle them again, stooping down to poke his finger at one. The strap give way and his finger touch bone. He pull back quick.
“By the gods, when she set her mind to it, she can be a vile woman.”
He say it like this is something he long know, but look at me like it was news.
“We must be lucky,” he say.
“Lucky?”
“Of course. That no man on this street come here looking for their dog, or pig, or whatever beast unlucky to cross her path.”
I try not to look at him when he say that, but I still catch his eye.
“Keme.”
“What?”
“You look at the last one? The dirt was kinder to that one.”
“What you mean, woman? Why you pull me out of what was a sweet sleep?”
“Look.”
“Sogolon.”
“Look.”
He walk over the last bundle and stoop down. The earth pound it flat but the white, spotty fur was still there. And some of the tail.
“Is a—”
“I know what I see,” he say. He turn to look at me again, his lips sinking and his eyes wet. He touch the bundle again, this time gentle, like something living in it.
“First I thought it just skip a generation. But this, this. Not every woman is suited, you understand? Not every woman, not every person . . . to tell the truth I surprised we have any children at all. And then you come along.”
“I didn’t come along.”
“I know. You are here, and you give birth to them, and poor Yétúnde, poor Yétúnde and her four miscarried lions—five. You have to be kinder to her, Sogolon. You and the children, especially Ndambi. Make a bond with me on this.”
“Keme. Oh, Keme.”
He stand up, still holding the bundle. “What else?”
“You didn’t see it? You’re holding him and you didn’t see it? The neck.”
“I don’t know how much desecration you think a man can stand, Sogolon. You’re starting to make me angry, digging up her shame, her guilt. You plan to gloat this over her now, is that it? We need to bury them back.”
“Stop being a fool and look.”
Instead he look at me like I am mad. Then he open the straps again, looking with an probing eye until he find it. Keme gasp. He drop the bundle, and stiffen worse than a rock. I watch his whole body tremble with terror. He try to say no, but it vanish in his mouth. He knees go weak but the wet ground cushion the fall.
“No. No. No.”
He keep saying it over and over, each one more like crying until crying is all he do. I pick up the bundle and move it away from him. I have to look again, the cub’s body demand it. For Keme’s sake I want to be wrong, even though I am sure beyond sure. I look again, willing to have him curse me as a cruel, wicked woman, for even that would be better. But the skeleton don’t deceive. In the middle of the neck, cracked bones, with a head hanging too loose even when lying flat. Anybody who ever been in a cook room, a farm, or anywhere that people keep beasts know what we looking at. Yétúnde wring the necks of her children, killing them all.
“That mute midwife know,” I say. I don’t know why that is the first thing to come from my lips, but so it go. Keme scoop up the bundles in his arms and cry over all of them. The cry turn into the loudest wail I ever did hear. Then he drop the babies. From a kneel he crouch into a squat and dig his fingers into the dirt. He snarl and growl, and snarl again.
I call his name but he past hearing. This I never see him do. Fingers and toes swell into paw and pop claw, legs shorten as they grow thick and twice as much gold and brown hair burst from head, chest, and belly. Hair rush down behind him and a tail sprout until full. Nothing of the man left in him anymore. I try to say his name, but the words don’t come, and I don’t think he would know it. A total lion this is before me, as tall as me standing, and full of fury.
“Keme, don’t—”