She goes to the stream to fetch water and all she can hear is, “Ọnye kọ bụ? Ọnye kọ bụ? Who is she?” She gracefully draws near to the steam. Drops her calabash pot also known as udu into the water and tries to listen to their conversation despite she doesn’t have a clue about what they are saying. They circled around a corner near the stream. The day was far gone, the noise of the night insects could be heard, mosquitos were ready to have fun, and the moon was light red staring into their faces. They began to speak in Igbo:
“Ọ makachasa mma,” Said one of them.
“Did she fall from the sky. She is indeed very beautified.” Another gentleman said
“Maybe she was sent by the gods to live amongst us.”
“From whose parent is she from?”
“She looks like one from Mazi Okonkwo’s home.”
“I heard that that family is full of mix kids.”
“hmm, amebọ, let’s go home o.” A lady from the group said
“Lol, you and this your yorubaness.”
“Abegi.” She responded
“I heard that her mother is half-caste”.
“I heard that she is from Mexico.” Another said
“How come? Isn’t her name Chidimma?
“Yes, it is. Strange enough. Biko,ka anyị na, let’s go.”
As they head home, Chidimma turns to look at them. “Aaahhh, that was close.” She sighed