Chapter 4: The Monster’s True Face

My brain just blank, leg dey shake anyhow. Na so my mouth dry, as if sand dey inside. I no fit think straight, just dey wish make ground open swallow me. All the tales I hear about palace wahala, e no reach this one. My hand dey find my knife for wrapper, but I know say if I move, na death sure pass.

I no even know when the music stop; even the palace maidens stop their dance. Everybody dey look me—like say knife full everywhere, ready to cut.

I look right, I look left—everybody eye red, some dey lick lips, others just dey wait. Silence heavy, even fly no fit buzz. I dey sweat like goat wey dem wan kill for Sallah.

For that silence, e be like say I dey hear the footsteps of death dey come. You know that kind silence wey come before thunder strike? Na so e be. I dey hear my own breath, dey count every second. My ancestors, hope una dey look me so?

As I wan fall beg for my life, Oluwa Kenechukwu just burst laugh again. His laugh loud, e shake the roof. Everybody follow laugh, but the laugh no reach their eyes. Palace air cold, but I still dey sweat. My head dey turn, I dey thank God say maybe I fit escape.

The chiefs join am, their laugh dey echo for the hall. From where he sit, Oluwa Kenechukwu point me: “Chief, na joke I dey joke. Why you dey fear?”

The laughter no sweet me at all. I force myself smile, but I know say danger never pass. Na so dem dey play with person life for this place. I try remember the secret pouches, the warning still dey ring.

“You suppose know say as Chief Adviser don die, na you get big merit now. If no be say you poison am when you dey serve am, how he for take sick and die quick?”

The hall quiet again, but the meaning for the words strong. Some elders nod, others just dey watch me like hawk dey eye chick. My mind dey run—who go believe say na me?

My brain blank, like thunder strike me. No thought, no hope. My spirit wan jump comot body. I dey remember my mama, I dey remember old stories, I dey beg for miracle.

During the Northern Campaign, na me dey prepare and give the Chief Adviser him medicine. I no sabi medicine, I no even know whether the prescription get wahala.

The memory dey clear. Every night, I dey grind root, add powder, cook for fire, pour inside small calabash. Chief Adviser go drink, cough, then smile weak smile. I dey follow order, but I no sabi if e good or bad. For this place, person fit kill with food or word.

Na so I take poison as medicine—na me kill the Chief Adviser. The weight of that thought heavy. Even for market square, if person poison chief, na taboos full everywhere. I dey pray say e no true, but the evidence dey strong.

That moment, I just wan jump go attack the Later Lord, make we die together. Rage dey my body, but fear still hold my hand. For my mind, I dey shout, but body no gree move. I dey think, maybe if I jump, at least I fit wound am, make spirits happy small.

But as I look up, wetin I see fear me pass. The air change, the lamp wey dey burn begin shake. I blink, open eye wide, then I see am.

Oluwa Kenechukwu don turn to ball—no be say he fat, na real ball of flesh. E big, round, dey move small small for throne. I fit see the veins wey dey crawl for skin, like snake dey under. I open mouth, but no word come out.

That ball of flesh just white and oily like palm oil, e no get hand or leg, only one big bloody mouth for center, with maggot dey crawl for inside teeth.

The mouth big reach yam mortar, and every time e open, the whole palace dey smell like burnt hair and rotten meat. The maggots dey wriggle, some fall for floor, but nobody seem to notice. My legs weak, I dey beg my chi for inside.

Then the bloody mouth just dey stretch, dey chop food like animal. The speed wey e take swallow the meat, na only animal dey fit do am. No chewing, no manners. The whole thing na horror. Even if na Nollywood film, director no fit imagine this kind scene.

But the food no be palace food again—na bloody hand and leg dem dey serve. E be like say dem cut am fresh, blood still dey drip. The hands and legs be like those of warriors, strong, scar still dey. I cover my mouth, bile dey rise for my throat. For my mind, I dey beg make I wake up, but sleep no come.

I try shout, but fear hold my voice. I look around, but the chiefs still dey chop and drink like say nothing dey happen.

I tap my foot for ground, pinch myself, but everything real. My head dey swell. The others dey talk, dey laugh, dey toast palm wine. E be like say na only me dey see the true face of monster. Like say dem no dey see the monster wey dey their front.

I dey ask myself, na only me get this second eye? Abi dem swear for me? I dey reason if I fit fit run, but the warning from secret pouch still dey loud for my head.

Suddenly, I hear whisper for my ear, e be like snake dey crawl for ground—every word clear: “You... fit see?”

The voice cold, slow, snake-like. My ear dey tickle, my body cold. I wan scream, but I remember say if I do, wahala go land.

I wan run, but I remember the first secret pouch from the Chief Adviser:

“No let dem know say you fit see.”

The warning be like chain wey hold me for ground. I bite my tongue small, hold eye steady, make I no show fear. My papa always talk, "Man wey sabi hide secret, na him dey live pass old age."

If I show say I dey see something, na die be that. I fit imagine how dem go just cut my head throway, or worse, turn me to their own food. For this palace, truth dey kill fast.

I swallow my fear and the thing dey worry me, I talk: “Na Your Majesty wisdom kill the Chief Adviser. I no fit take the glory.”

I bow small, voice steady, even though my heart dey pound like bata drum. I drop eyes for ground, try look humble. For inside me, I dey call all the saints, ancestors, and oracles—make dem blind this monster spirit.

As I talk finish, the whisper disappear, Oluwa Kenechukwu come normal again. The air clear, the lamp shine brighter. The maggot mouth disappear, na ordinary round man dey sit for throne again. My spirit dey pray say make the thing no come back.

Only say I see small disappointment for him eye. I notice the way e eye flash, like say spirit inside dey vex. E no talk, just wave hand like say e tired. The chiefs relax, music start again. I dey sweat under wrapper.

“Somebody, give Chief chair.”

Two servants rush bring big stool, dust am well, set am for my back. I no fit refuse, so I sit, eyes low. My hands dey shake small, but I no let dem see am.

He wave hand, like say I no matter again. I dey hear dem whisper, talk about festival, about new beginning. But for my mind, I dey plot how I go escape next time.