There was a crazy woman who used to come to Adaeze’s shop.

At first, Adaeze was kind to her. She bought her juice and cookies, and sometimes bought her food. But she became a regular visitor, and Adaeze became frustrated. This story is recorded in Amaka folk tales.

Adaeze tried everything she could to prevent the crazy woman from coming to her shop, but she was unsuccessful.

One day, Adaeze was yelling at one of her apprentices who had delivered clothes to one of her customers and hadn’t collected payment for the clothes. Suddenly, the crazy woman appeared and said,

“Adaeze, calm down and take things slowly for the sake of your condition. You’re stressing out that child in your belly.”

Adaeze didn’t even know she was pregnant. She went home and took a pregnancy test, and it came back positive. She was happy, but sad at the same time, because the crazy woman had revealed something that should have been a secret.

She wished no one would know until they saw her pregnant belly. A story recorded in Amaka folk tales.

She called her parents and told them about her pregnancy and the mysterious crazy woman.

Her mother warned her to be careful, but her father was very interested in getting every detail about her.

The next day, she returned, not to eat or do anything, but to apologize to Adaeze for announcing her pregnancy to everyone.

Again, this seemed like another wonder of the century to Adaeze, because how could a crazy woman apologize like this?

And so, she disappeared.

Days passed. Weeks. Then months. Six whole months.

She never returned.

At first, Adaeze was relieved. Then, unexpectedly, she began to miss her. Every morning, she glanced toward the corner where the woman used to stand. Her absence grew louder with each passing day. Adaeze found herself praying silently, hoping that the mysterious woman, crazy or not, was safe, wherever she was.

Adaeze’s pregnancy journey wasn’t easy. She was always sad and always crying. She suffered from excessive fatigue. She completely lost interest in activities she once enjoyed because she couldn’t concentrate on anything. Anxiety and palpitations followed.

Her doctor told her it was prenatal depression, but they were managing it for her.

She was never happy and felt terrible about herself, but she kept going.

Then one morning she arrived at her tent, and there she was, standing in front of her tent.

“Adaeze, how are you?” the crazy woman asked her.

“I’m not well. I feel terrible,” Adaeze replied, tears streaming down her cheeks. A story written in Amaka folk tales.

The crazy woman took a leaf out of her bag.

He gave it to Adaeze and said…

Part 1: The Woman and the Gift

The morning air was cool, and Adaeze arrived at her shop before the first rays of the sun reached the village. As she moved through the quiet space, she noticed the familiar silence of the early morning. The smell of fresh pastries and brewed coffee began to fill the air as the first of her apprentices arrived, a young woman named Yara. Adaeze nodded at her as she moved about, making the necessary preparations for the day. The quiet moments were rare, and she cherished them, even if only for a little while.

But she knew that silence wouldn’t last. The woman would come soon.

It had been nearly two years since the woman, the one everyone in the village called “the crazy woman,” first started visiting. At first, Adaeze had been kind—perhaps too kind. She had offered her juice, food, and shelter from the burning sun. It was the right thing to do, she reasoned. The woman looked lost and fragile. Adaeze couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She had been visiting daily, sitting in the same corner of the shop without speaking a word, just staring at the walls.

It wasn’t long before the woman started to get comfortable. She began buying small things—cookies, fruits, and the occasional drink. Each time, Adaeze noticed the same vacant stare, the same deep sadness in her eyes. But she could never bring herself to turn her away. And so the visits continued.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The woman never asked for anything extravagant. She simply sat and waited, lost in her own thoughts. Adaeze’s patience started to wear thin, though. The shop became quieter with her presence, and soon, the regular customers began to avoid the place entirely. The woman’s strange aura seemed to drive away the joy and the business that had once thrived in the space. The whispers started—whispers that Adaeze couldn’t ignore.

“Is she a witch?” one woman had asked, the question hanging in the air like a shadow.

“She’s cursed,” another had said.

But Adaeze didn’t believe in curses. She wasn’t sure what to think of the woman, but she never had the heart to push her out. She just stayed in her corner. Day in and day out, Adaeze couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman had a secret. And then, one afternoon, it all changed.

Adaeze was in the back, yelling at one of her apprentices for failing to collect payment for the clothes delivered to a customer. She had been working tirelessly, preparing for the upcoming wedding season, and everything seemed to be falling apart. Her patience had already been stretched thin, and the last straw had come in the form of an uncollected debt.

“You can’t just leave people’s accounts hanging like that, Yara!” she shouted, frustrated.

But in the middle of her tirade, a voice broke through her anger.

“Adaeze, calm down,” the woman said softly from the corner of the shop, her voice soothing yet insistent. “Take things slowly for the sake of your condition. You’re stressing out that child in your belly.”

The words hit Adaeze like a cold wave, freezing her in place. Her heart stopped for a moment. She turned slowly, blinking in disbelief, as she processed what the woman had said.

Her condition? What did she mean by that?

Adaeze stared at the woman, stunned. She hadn’t even known. How could the woman have known? She had no signs of pregnancy—no missed periods, no morning sickness—yet here this strange, eerie figure stood, speaking as though she knew everything.

“How… how did you…?” Adaeze stammered, her voice faltering.

The woman said nothing more, only giving a small, almost imperceptible smile. She stood up, her worn clothes swaying with her gentle movements, and slowly walked out of the shop. No more words. No more lingering glances. Just silence.

Adaeze stood frozen for a long time, staring at the place where the woman had been. Her mind raced. She was pregnant? No. That couldn’t be right. She didn’t even feel any different.

The woman’s words had planted a seed of doubt that quickly turned into confusion. Adaeze could hardly think straight as she stumbled home, her legs shaky, her thoughts a whirlwind. When she arrived at her small house, she barely made it to the bathroom before she found herself holding a pregnancy test in her trembling hands.

She waited for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the little window, her breath held tight in her chest. And then, slowly, it appeared. The blue line.

Her heart beat faster. She was pregnant. The crazy woman was right. How had she known?

She sat down on the cold bathroom floor, the test still in her hand, her mind racing with a mix of emotions. She was happy, but also confused and scared. The timing felt all wrong, and yet she couldn’t deny the small sense of relief that had come with the news.

But then, the sadness crept in.

Later that evening, Adaeze called her parents. Her mother was quick to caution her, urging her to be careful and to not tell anyone about the pregnancy just yet. Her father, on the other hand, seemed far too interested in every little detail. He asked about the father, about the mysterious woman who had revealed her pregnancy, and about everything in between.

The conversation left her unsettled. The excitement she had hoped to feel was slowly turning into anxiety. She hadn’t planned for this. No, this wasn’t part of the plan. She had barely begun to settle into the idea of her life before everything had been flipped upside down by the woman’s strange, prophetic words.

The next day, Adaeze returned to her shop, expecting the woman to be gone. She never thought the crazy woman would come back. But to her surprise, the woman appeared again. She didn’t come for food or drink this time. She came to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low, her eyes cast down. “I shouldn’t have told anyone. I’ve made it worse. Please forgive me.”

Adaeze blinked, still struggling to understand the gravity of the situation. How could a woman so mysterious, so unpredictable, apologize in such a way? It felt like a wonder, a thing too strange to be true.

“Why are you apologizing?” Adaeze asked softly, her voice trembling. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But the woman just smiled faintly, shook her head, and walked away without another word. And just like that, she vanished from Adaeze’s life, leaving nothing behind but confusion and uncertainty.

Part 2: The Silence That Followed

Days slipped into weeks, and the months passed as quietly as the seasons. Adaeze’s pregnancy, once a source of excitement and hope, now felt like a constant weight pressing down on her chest. The glow she had once expected never came. Instead, she found herself lost in a fog of exhaustion, sadness, and confusion. Every morning, when she woke, her body felt heavier than the day before, the physical toll of carrying life intertwining with the emotional burden that had settled deep within her.

The shop, which once thrived with activity and energy, now felt like a prison. Adaeze had long since stopped worrying about customers, the usual stream of regulars who would come in for small purchases, or even the day-to-day workings of the business. It was as if everything around her had lost its vibrancy. The colors of the fabrics she sold, the laughter that used to fill the air when her apprentices chatted among themselves, all seemed muted. The empty space she had once filled with purpose was now consumed by a heavy silence, only broken by the occasional whisper from the village gossip or the soft chime of the bell as customers came and went.

But there was something else. It wasn’t just the isolation of the shop. It was the absence of the woman—the one who had shown up all those months ago, uninvited and strange, yet so oddly comforting in her unspoken way. Every day, Adaeze would look at the corner where the woman used to sit, her heart inexplicably heavy with longing. The old woman’s visits, her odd words, her cryptic smiles—they had become a routine Adaeze hadn’t realized she had come to depend on.

As the weeks turned into months, Adaeze began to miss her. She missed the strange woman’s presence—the way she seemed to know things that no one else did. Even the whispers of the other villagers, who had called her crazy, had seemed less jarring when the woman was around. Adaeze had long since stopped dismissing the notion that something beyond the ordinary had been happening. The crazy woman—was she truly mad, or was she simply misunderstood? And why had she disappeared?

The emotional toll of the pregnancy weighed heavily on her. The doctor had told her it was prenatal depression, and though they were managing it with medication and counseling, it didn’t make the days any easier. Adaeze felt as if she was losing herself. The excitement she had once felt about the life growing inside her had been replaced with anxiety and fear. Fear of motherhood, fear of her own worth, fear that she wasn’t prepared for the challenges ahead. The village, with its judgmental eyes, only made it worse. Every day felt like a performance, a charade that Adaeze had to carry on for the sake of her reputation.

She could no longer focus on the things that once brought her joy. The small pleasures she had found in her work, in her relationships with her apprentices, had slowly faded into the background. Every task, every thought, seemed like a monumental effort, and each time she looked at her reflection in the shop’s window, she saw a stranger. The exhaustion in her eyes made her look older, her face weary. Her heart ached with the sense that she had no control over her own life.

But then, one morning, a strange thing happened. As Adaeze walked into her shop, the familiar chill of the empty space greeted her, but this time there was something different. She felt it before she saw it. A presence. A familiar feeling that tugged at her, as though something had shifted.

When she rounded the corner, she saw her. The crazy woman. Standing there, in the same corner of the shop, looking as if she had never left. She hadn’t changed. Her clothes were the same, her hair wild, her eyes distant. But there she was, looking as though she belonged there, as though time had not passed at all.

“Adaeze,” the woman said, her voice soft and steady, like the sound of an old memory. “How are you?”

The words seemed simple, but they hit Adaeze like a rush of emotions. She stopped dead in her tracks. The overwhelming feelings of loneliness, sadness, and anxiety that had gripped her for so long were suddenly made sharper by the woman’s return. Her chest tightened as a lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed the woman’s presence until that very moment.

“I’m not well,” Adaeze admitted, her voice cracking. The dam broke then, and tears began to fall, hot and unbidden. “I feel terrible. I feel lost.”

The crazy woman’s eyes softened, and she nodded slowly, as though she had known this all along. She reached into her bag, her movements slow and deliberate, and pulled out a small, dried leaf. It was unlike anything Adaeze had ever seen. It was dark green and pressed carefully, as if it had been cherished for years.

The woman held it out to Adaeze, her gaze intense yet gentle.

“This,” the woman said softly, “will help. Use it as you need. It will give you peace.”

Adaeze hesitated for a moment, staring at the leaf. It was a simple thing—nothing grand or complicated—but there was something undeniably calming about it. As her fingers closed around the small leaf, she felt a strange warmth spread through her. It was as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted.

But before she could speak, the woman was gone. She vanished as quietly as she had appeared, leaving only the leaf in Adaeze’s hand and a lingering sense of something profound. Adaeze stood in the middle of the shop, confused but also strangely comforted. What had just happened? Had it been real?

Part 3: The Healing Journey

Days passed, and Adaeze kept the leaf close. It sat on the counter by her register, always within arm’s reach. She didn’t know why, but something about it calmed her in a way nothing else had. It wasn’t a miracle—she wasn’t suddenly healed—but it felt like a promise of something more, something she had been searching for in the depths of her own despair.

The days that followed were still hard. Her pregnancy continued, the emotional lows still taking their toll. But with the leaf in her possession, Adaeze began to feel a faint glimmer of peace—a peace she hadn’t felt in months. The fog that had clouded her mind began to lift, and though the sadness remained, it was now tempered with a quiet sense of strength.

She started walking to the market again. Slowly, she resumed talking to the villagers, though the fear and judgment still lingered in the back of her mind. She found herself smiling more, even laughing. It wasn’t a perfect recovery, but it was progress. She could feel the weight of the depression beginning to loosen, like a storm finally receding after days of rain.

And then, one afternoon, as she sat in the back of her shop, she heard a familiar voice. It was the crazy woman again. She was standing in the doorway, her wild eyes looking at Adaeze with a knowing gaze.

“Adaeze,” she said, her voice soft. “How are you now?”

For the first time in weeks, Adaeze found herself smiling genuinely. “Better,” she said, her voice steady. “Much better. Thank you for your help.”

The woman nodded, as if she had expected this response. “The peace will come when you stop fighting it,” she said cryptically, her eyes distant again. “Sometimes, the healing comes not from what we do, but from what we allow.”

Adaeze didn’t fully understand, but she nodded. She didn’t need to know everything. For the first time in a long while, she realized that she was okay with not having all the answers.

The crazy woman turned to leave, but before she did, she looked back over her shoulder.

“Take care of the child,” she said. “She will need you.”

And just like that, she was gone again, vanishing as quickly as she had appeared.

The Birth of Peace

Weeks passed, and Adaeze’s due date drew closer. The anxiety that had plagued her for so long finally began to ease, replaced by a quiet anticipation. The journey of her pregnancy had not been easy, but it had brought her to this point—a place of acceptance. She had learned that healing was not a destination, but a process.

The village, still filled with its whispers, couldn’t touch her anymore. She had found her peace, both with herself and with the life growing inside her. And though the woman had disappeared, her gift—her quiet wisdom—remained.

On the day Adaeze gave birth, she was surrounded by the warmth of her shop, the familiar scent of fabric and spice in the air. There were no crowds, no judgment. Just the quiet, calm presence of the village she had once feared.

And as she held her child for the first time, Adaeze felt the presence of the crazy woman in her heart, a soft smile curling on her lips.

Healing, Adaeze realized, came in many forms. Sometimes, it came in the most unexpected ways—from the quietest of people, from the strangest of encounters.

And sometimes, healing came not from what was said, but from what was left unsaid.

The End.