Chapter 2: Okafor Family Judgment

The Oba don send him order.

Na morning, dew still dey ground when palace messenger waka enter our compound, bell dey ring for him hand. Everybody clear road—no be today dem know say Oba word na final.

Papa go die by thousand cuts; mama own na public beheading by noon tomorrow.

People dey whisper, dey gather by gutter, dey fear. Na big matter for city when dem talk say person go die by thousand cuts. Old mama Ada for next compound talk say she never see this kind thing before for Okafor family. For our side, nobody dey chop again, food dey cold for fire.

The wicked thing wey my uncle do—sell army weapon—na my papa dem pin am on top.

Everybody for street dey point finger. Dem dey say, "Ah! No be Okafor pikin? Na dem dey sell gun for soldiers!" My uncle dey flex for back, dey raise shoulder like peacock, as if say e no know anything. For my mind, I dey scream, but my mouth dry.

To hold us down, the old madam no gree make papa get him own house since. But just some days back, she rush split am out.

Na that day I sabi say trouble dey. Old madam, wey dey act like say na she hold key to everybody destiny, just wake one morning, drag papa out. People dey whisper for street say she sabi something wey we no sabi.

From that time, na two Okafor family dey for the capital.

Our own small house dey by the far corner, close to cassava farm. The main Okafor compound big, dem dey host chiefs, but now, our small side just dey like bush animal wey dem cast out.

Everybody sabi say na the side-woman-born son of Okafor family sell army weapons.

No matter how e pain, when people talk, their word dey enter bone. Even for market, when I waka, market women go lower voice, "See am, na that side-woman pikin daughter."

The Oba dey punish the second branch wey dem separate, no be Chief Okafor himself.

E clear say power pass justice for this side. Dem wan make example of us, but for inside their mind, na the branch wey no get strong hand dem dey finish. I dey reason say, who go fit fight back for us?

As I hear this news, dem lock me for the old house storeroom, na from the housemaids gist I take know.

Na from dark corner, behind empty garri sacks, I dey listen. The way housemaids dey talk, dey giggle, dey gossip, my ear sharp pass dog own. My heart dey pound, I dey pray say maybe na lie dem dey talk.

But when dem give the order self?

My mind dey run scatter. I dey count days for darkness, dey wonder if Oba own order na yesterday or today. The way Naija people dey rush order from above, I no trust say time still dey.

Even though I never turn real fierce ghost, as evil spirit, I don see plenty bad things for this world.

For spirit world, I don waka pass many things. From Sango thunder for night, to witches wey dey gather for village square, I don see. But this one wey human being fit do their own people ehn, e still dey shake my spirit.

Wetin I never see?

People wey dey gossip say I get bad luck, I don hear am before. But this one choke. I dey try reason say, which one pass—spirit wahala or human wahala?

But my chest still dey burn me.

As I sit for storeroom, I dey press my chest, dey feel heat wey no go. My heart dey do gbim gbim, like Agidigbo drum for festival. Sweat dey my palm, rat dey scratch for corner, but my mind dey only on wetin fit happen next. I dey breathe fast, but the pain no wan shift.

Before, all the wahala na me dem dey do.

Na me dey collect slap, na me dey carry blame, na my food dem dey throw. Before, if bad thing happen, I go just laugh—say na spirit own. But now, the pain don reach my blood.

But why e pain me pass this time?

E pain me because dem touch the two people wey love me without condition. As I dey think, tears dey my eye, but I dey fight am, dey tell myself say spirit no dey cry.

The day my uncle come, him no even do gra-gra. Na just one look e give, my papa and mama just surrender.

E shock me say my papa just bow head, mama hold am. Uncle stand for door like snake wey just chop fowl, him eye sharp. Everybody silent, only harmattan breeze dey whistle.

I hear papa talk:

“I fit carry the blame.”

Na so e talk am, voice low, but steady. For Igbo land, man wey fit carry another person wahala, dem dey call am real man. Dem say, “Onye ji nne ya n’aka, o ji ndu ya n’aka”—who hold him mother, hold him life. But this sacrifice choke, even me dey fear.

“But you go register Ifunanya under your name. From today, she no be my pikin again—she no get anything to do with me..."

As I hear am, my leg weak. Papa dey protect me with him last breath, dey use the only thing wey remain—my name. For inside me, I dey cry.

Mama, with voice wey dey shake, threaten:

“If anything touch Ifunanya, even if I turn stubborn spirit, I no go ever leave you.”

Mama no dey talk like that o, unless matter don pass play. Her voice dey tremble, but e carry thunder inside.

Maybe this my new body never see enough for life. I cry, true true.

Na first time I dey feel like small pikin again. For spirit world, I be lion, but for here, na so tears just fall anyhow. I dey bite my lips, but the cry strong pass me.

Before I know, tears just dey flow anyhow.

I dey try hide face, but my nose dey run, my eye dey red. I dey shake like leaf for breeze. Mama try hold me, but her own hand dey shake too.

My mama no wise o.

Sometimes love dey make person do mumu thing. For Naija, dem dey talk say love dey blind. If to say mama get sense, she for no threaten spirit with her mouth—but I dey see say na her pain dey talk.

To become fierce spirit no easy like that. You go waka pass River of Ancestors like one thousand times, still dey hold strong for your mind, before you fit get small chance.

For real, people think say to turn fierce spirit easy. Lai lai. E no be beans. Dem go test your mind, test your will. You go see suffering, but you must hold pain like cloth for market.

Maybe na craze dey worry me.

Sometimes I dey wonder if na only me dey reason like this. For my head, wahala dey play like ogene music. Maybe na all the spirit matter don scatter my brain small.

I no be real thirteen-year-old pikin, but I hold my mama tight, no gree leave her, until I see say she dey pain.

I grip her wrapper, my head press for her chest. I dey hear her heart dey beat. I no wan comot hand, I dey hold her like say if I loose, I go vanish. E pain me say even my strength dey make her dey pain.

Papa try calm me:

“Papa just wan stay with Mama for some days. After some time, I go come carry you.”

E dey talk like say na vacation. But the way e voice dey shake, I sabi say na lie. For this Naija, once person enter Oba wahala, e no dey come out the same.

I know na lie, but I still turn my face, dem force me drink sweet pap wey dem put sleep medicine inside.

As dem dey press cup for my mouth, the pap dey sweet, but I taste the bitter inside. I dey reason say if I spit am out, dem fit beat me. So I swallow, dey watch my papa eye dey wet.

Papa tears drop for my body:

“Ifunanya, if you fit run, go find Mama Nkechi for tailor shop for city west.”

As the pap dey drag me go sleep, na this last word I hear. Mama Nkechi na woman wey sabi hide people, she dey fierce. I dey hold the name for my heart.

Na the last thing wey I hear be that. When I open eye again, dem don lock me for storeroom.

Darkness full everywhere, rats dey scratch for corner. Na so I know say dem no send me again. My heart dey beat fast, I dey wonder wetin dey happen for outside.

Dem throw some old buns give me, but I no send, I just chop am anyhow.

Hunger dey press my neck. Even as the bread dey strong, I still chop am, no reason anything. Na so wahala fit make person humble.

I no wan believe am.

I dey tell myself say maybe na dream. E no fit be true. Sometimes I go close eye, try wake, but sleep no dey come.

E no fit be say I sleep for three days straight. If I come out now, maybe chance still dey.

I dey count time with sun wey dey shine through small window. I dey beg ancestors make dem turn time back, just one day.

I hear Papa talk say, the Oba wey dey now get good mind, dey hear people problem. Maybe e fit hear my own too.

Some people dey talk say this Oba sabi listen. If I fit see am, maybe I fit beg am. For Naija, na who get mouth dey get justice.

If na so, make the whole Eze family suffer join.

If to say na so, make thunder fire all of dem. For my mind, I dey curse, dey call on Amadioha, say make e strike anybody wey do my family bad.

I go prefer make all of dem die—make nobody survive.

For my heart, I dey wish say na only dust go remain for their compound. Make ground swallow their name, make breeze blow carry their story.

At least Papa no go suffer the pain of thousand cuts, Mama go get person to follow am.

If dem must go, make dem go together—make love join them for next world. This pain too much.