Written by Stories That Heal

I had just moved into a new apartment in Awka. Quiet neighborhood, steady light, and the rent was suspiciously affordable. My guys warned me: “Anything cheap in Nigeria either comes with jazz or generator issues.”

They were wrong.
It came with both.

First night, I noticed my upstairs landlady walking barefoot around 2am, humming Igbo chants and sprinkling what looked like ogogoro mixed with perfume. I peeked through my window. She paused, turned toward my flat… and smiled.

The next morning, I found a plate of okpa at my door with a note:
“For my new son.”

God abeg. I no get spiritual mother o!

But hunger won the argument, and I devoured it like an orphaned goat. Mistake number one.

That was the day my life entered episode 5 of African Magic.
I started waking up at 3:33am, hearing footsteps pacing around my room. My wall clock would tick backwards. And I started dreaming of a woman in white calling me “My husband.”

One night, I confronted her.
“Aunty—sorry, Madam—what’s all this now?”

She smiled again. That creepy, Angela Nwosu-style calmness.
“Don’t be afraid. You’re special. My gods chose you.”

Ah.
That was when I knew I was renting a flat inside an episode of Nneka the Pretty Serpent.

I called my mum. She told me to sprinkle anointing oil. I sprinkled like I was seasoning jollof rice.
Did it help?
No.
The next morning I woke up with a live pigeon sitting on my chest.

I tried to move out, but the real estate agent vanished like air time on MTN. My friends refused to help. One said, “Bro, you dey enjoy o. Spiritual landlady wey dey cook for you?”

Everything came to a head one night when I brought a girl home.
As she entered, the light blinked and the tap started running by itself. My babe screamed and tried to run out, only for the door to lock by itself. The landlady entered without knocking, holding osu powder and chanting in tongues—half Igbo, half something I can’t spell.

My girl fainted. I urinated on myself.
And that was how I got initiated into celibacy.

But guess what?
Today marks one year since I moved in. I now sleep peacefully, chant my own incantations at night, and sprinkle my own perfume-ogogoro mixture every full moon.