You must not bathe this child for 15 years. If you do, something
terrible will happen. But if you don’t, the child will become yours
forever.”
“I will never bathe her. I promise. I promise. Thank you. Thank you.-..”
That was the promise she made. But as the child grew, problems grew with her.
Children her age began to run away from her. Villagers covered their
noses whenever she passed. They mocked her because she had not bathed
for years and smelled very bad.
Each time she came home crying and begged her mother, Aduke, to bathe
her, Aduke would hold her tightly and lie to her. She would say, “It is
not normal for a human being to bathe.” She would tell her that the
people she saw bathing would die quickly, “But if you do not bathe, you
will live long.”
Aduke would also lie and tell her that she herself had never bathed since she was born.
But the truth was different.
Whenever Aduke wanted to bathe, she would hide where her child could
not see her. She would quickly pour water over her body in secret.
Everything continued like this until the day everything changed.
One night, the child saw her mother bathing secretly. Her heart
broke. The lies, the shame, the pain. So the following day, without
telling anyone, the child carried soap and a sponge. She went deep into
the forest, and what happened next was very, very shocking.
Aduke sat alone in the forest crying.
Why?
She had married five husbands. Each time, no child came, and this
always made her husbands send her away. The villagers mocked her. They
called her a witch. The shame broke her completely.
With nowhere left to go, Aduke chose the forest.
That day, as she gathered wood to build a small hut in the forest,
she unknowingly picked up a strange stick called Kuduku. This stick was a
strange spirit. She packed it together with the other sticks she had
gathered.
That night, inside the small hut she built, she cried.
“God, even one child. Just one.”
She didn’t know something terrible was listening to her.
The stick heard everything.
The following morning, as Aduke woke up and stepped outside her hut, she froze.
Right in front of her stood a strange tree that had not been there
before. The tree looked fresh, almost alive, and on one of its branches
there was something.
It was a baby.
A small baby wrapped carefully in green leaves.
Aduke’s heart almost stopped. She slowly moved closer. The baby was alive, breathing, quiet.
Suddenly, the tree began to shake violently before her eyes. Then something unbelievable happened.
An old woman came out of the tree.
The old woman’s body looked thin and dry, almost like wood. She looked like part of the forest itself.
Aduke was shaking with fear.
The old woman spoke.
“My name is Kuduku. I heard your cry last night,” she said in a dry,
deep voice. “You asked God for a child. I will give you this child,” the
old woman continued, “but on one condition.”
Aduke swallowed hard.
“You must not bathe this child for 15 years, not even once. If you
obey, and after 15 years you still do not bathe her, she will be yours
forever. But if you bathe her before the 15 years are complete, a very
terrible thing will happen.”
The forest became silent.
Aduke did not even think twice. Real joy filled her heart. Real joy,
the kind she had never felt before. But the joy also came with fear in
her heart.
“I will obey,” she said quickly.
She rushed and carried the baby from the tree. The baby felt warm in
her arms. But as she turned to ask the old woman what terrible thing
would happen if she disobeyed, the old woman vanished.
It was as if no one had come out of the tree at all.
Aduke stood there shocked, but her happiness was greater than her fear.
She finally had a child.
Aduke returned to her village with the baby. She focused on taking
care of her child. She never allowed water to touch the baby’s body.
Days turned into months, months turned into years.
The baby grew into a young girl, and Aduke named her Abseed.
But deep in Aduke’s heart, the warning of the spirit still echoed:
Fifteen years. Not even once. Or something terrible would happen.
And now, because Abseed had never bathed for years, her body began to
smell badly. The smell was strong. Whenever she walked into the
village, people would quickly cover their noses. Some would turn their
faces away. Some would whisper. Some would laugh openly.
The children her age were the worst.
“Dirty girl,” they would shout. “Why don’t you bathe? You smell like a dead animal.”
They would run away from her, holding their noses and laughing.
Abseed would pretend to be strong, but when she got home, she would break down in tears.
She would cry to Aduke, “Mama, why can’t I bathe like other children? Why am I different?”
Aduke’s heart would tremble, but she would hide her fear.
“You must not mind them,” Aduke would lie and say firmly. “It is a
taboo for humans to bathe. If you bathe, you will die very soon, but if
you don’t, you will live long.”
Those words planted fear inside Abseed’s heart.
Then Aduke would add, “Have you ever seen me bathe before? Since I was born, I have never bathed.”
Meanwhile, Aduke bathed secretly, but she did not let her child know.
Every day, the shame grew heavier.
As the villagers mocked her more, Abseed tried to endure it, and slowly, a dangerous curiosity began to grow inside her heart.
What would really happen if I bathed?
As Abseed turned 14 years old, a very powerful and mysterious force
entered her body. It was not ordinary, and from that day, Abseed could
do what no other person in the village could do.
One day, a man in the village became very sick. His body was weak.
His family had taken him to different herbalists. They tried many roots
and many mixtures, but nothing worked. He was almost dying.
Then the spirit inside Abseed told her to visit the man’s hut.
Some people laughed.
“The smelly girl.”
They all covered their noses.
Abseed simply walked to a small bush around the man’s house and
plucked a common leaf, the same leaf the man’s wife used every day to
cook soup, a leaf nobody respected.
She squeezed the leaf carefully and pressed the juice into a small rubber container. Then she gave the liquid to the sick man.
Within moments, the man sat up. His strength returned. His breathing became normal.
He was healed instantly.
The villagers were shocked.
How could an ordinary cooking leaf heal a dying man?
From that day, fear and respect began to grow for Abseed.
Another day, a farmer was confused. He stood on his farmland talking to himself.
“Should I plant yam or maize?” he wondered. He did not know which crop would succeed or fail.
Abseed walked past him and heard him speaking.
She picked a leaf. She gently rubbed the leaf across her face.
Immediately, her eyes changed. It was as if she could see the future.
She looked at the soil and said calmly, “Plant cassava.”
The man obeyed.
Months passed. After a year, the man became very rich. The cassava business was booming in the market.
People began to talk.
Abseed was not ordinary. She had power.
Now some of the villagers respected her, but some still mocked her.
When she walked past, they still covered their noses. They still
whispered. They still laughed. They could not sit close to her because
of the smell.
Yet whenever they had problems, whenever they were confused, they ran to her.
The same people who mocked her.
The same people who laughed at her.
They needed her power.
And Abseed would sit quietly, listening to them.
But among all the villagers who mocked Abseed, one girl was different.
Her name was Lolad.
She was a little older than Abseed.
When Lolad’s friends mocked Abseed, Lolad did not mock her. Lolad
watched her. She admired her power. She wanted to be like Abseed. She
wanted people to talk about her name in the village. She wanted people
to respect her, but she did not want the dirty part. She did not want
the smell.
So one day, Lolad went to meet her mother, because her mother was a witch. She knew many secrets.
“Mama,” Lolad said, “I want to be like Abseed. I want to do magic. I want people to talk about my power.”
Her mother looked at her seriously.
“That is not possible,” she said.
“Why?” Lolad asked.
“Because Abseed is not ordinary. The reason she can do those things
is because she has never bathed. The day she bathes, her power will be
destroyed.”
Lolad’s eyes widened.
Her mother continued, “That is her secret.”
Because she was a witch, she knew everything.
From that day, Lolad made up her mind.
She started getting close to Abseed. She became her friend.
At first, their friendship was smooth. It was peaceful. They laughed
together, even when the villagers still mocked Abseed. Lolad did not
care. They talked together.
But as Abseed’s power became greater, and people kept talking about her miracles, jealousy began to grow inside Lolad’s heart.
Everywhere in the village, it was Abseed’s name.
Abseed healed this.
Abseed saw the future.
Abseed saved him.
The jealousy became too much.
Lolad wanted to destroy her power.
One day, Lolad spoke carefully.
“Abseed,” she said softly, “why can’t you just bathe? You smell. You should bathe.”
Abseed shook her head.
“I cannot bathe. If I bathe, I will die. That is what my mother told me. Even my mother does not bathe.”
Lolad quickly replied, “That is a lie.”
Abseed looked at her.
“Your mother bathes,” Lolad said. “If she does not bathe, she would smell like you.”
Abseed felt uncomfortable.
“No, that is not true,” she said.
But doubt had already entered her heart.
For the first time, she began to question everything.
After that conversation, Lolad became more serious. She needed proof.
And she started secretly monitoring Aduke.
Every day, Lolad would hide near Abseed’s house and watch quietly. She would wait patiently.
Then one night, she saw something shocking.
Aduke carried a bucket of water. She looked around carefully to make
sure nobody was watching her. Slowly, quietly, she walked away from the
house. She went deep into the bush, far from her hut.
Lolad followed from a distance, hidden behind trees, silent.
And there, in the middle of the bush, Aduke bathed.
Lolad’s eyes widened. She smiled in the darkness.
Now she had proof.
The next day, Lolad went to Abseed.
“I saw your mother yesterday,” she said boldly. “She went to bathe.”
Abseed frowned.
“That is a lie,” she replied immediately.
Lolad shook her head.
“Tonight, come with me. We will hide. I will show you.”
That night, Abseed followed Lolad quietly. They hid near the house. They waited.
After some time, Aduke carried a bucket of water again. She looked around carefully. Then she walked toward the deep bush.
Abseed followed quietly with Lolad.
And there, in the darkness, she saw it with her own eyes.
Her mother bathed.
Abseed felt something break inside her.
Anger.
Pain.
Betrayal.
She felt her mother had been punishing her for nothing. She felt her
mother had allowed the villagers to mock her for years for no reason.
Tears filled her eyes.
All the years of shame.
All the years of suffering.
The following day, Abseed made a decision.
She carried a sponge. She carried soap. She walked deep into the forest where nobody could see her.
Her heart was beating fast.
“If my mother can bathe and nothing happens,” she thought, “then nothing will happen to me.”
She fetched water from a small stream in the forest. Her hands were shaking.
Then slowly, she poured the water over her body.
She began to bathe.
The moment the water touched her skin, the sky changed.
The wind began to blow violently. The forest became dark. A loud strange sound echoed through the trees.
And something terrible started happening.
Abseed suddenly froze. Her body became stiff. She could not move her hands. She could not move her legs. She could not run.
She stood still like a statue.
