Chapter 1: Aroma, Debts, and Drunken Pig Head

My family dey run bukka.

Even for rainy season, the smell of fried oil and pepper dey greet you before you reach our door. For our side for Ibadan, everybody sabi our small joint—e just dey beside that old cocoa store wey don turn to market shed. Even people wey dey pass for express go stop, talk say, "Abeg, na here dem dey sell that ogbonge pig head?" Sometimes, conductors dey shout our bukka name before dem reach the next bus stop. Rain or shine, you go always see person dey wait for our food.

We get one special dish wey everybody sabi for far and near.

Dem dey call am Drunken Pig Head.

My grandma dey always talk say when my papa still dey young, wahala no dey ever finish for am. E go dey gamble, owe people money, pack im load run go another town hide.

Ehn! E go chop money for Baba Tunde lotto house, then run go hide for Iseyin or Saki—na so trouble dey chase am. My grandma say e fit chop yam for afternoon, by evening e don use the money go play card for beer parlour. Na only spirit fit save person like that, she dey talk.

People wey im dey owe go dey come our compound everyday, dey make noise, dey threaten us.

Sometimes dem go even come with cutlass, dey bang our gate, dey shout my papa name, dey throw stone enter our compound. I remember say the fear dey make all of us hide under bamboo bench, dey pray make thunder strike the people wey dey disturb us.

The thing vex my grandpa sotey e just kpai, my grandma sef try drink otapiapia that time.

Dem say my grandpa spirit no fit rest, say na my papa wahala send am go early grave. For that otapiapia wey grandma wan drink, na only God and old mama Ada wey dey next compound use prayer and salt save her life that day.

Na about six months later, my papa come back, dey drag one drunk pig follow body.

You suppose see as people gather look, dey point finger, dey gossip. Some boys from mosque even follow am, dey ask if the pig na juju.

When the people wey im dey owe hear, dem rush come house, beat am sotey e black and blue, come still warn am: if e no pay all the money plus interest within one month, dem go dig my grandpa grave, break my grandma leg join.

One man even use bottle swear for am, say him spirit go pursue my papa everywhere if e run again. My papa just dey look dem with yeye smile, the pig dey grunt like say e understand wetin dey happen.

But my papa no even shake. E just dey laugh like person wey craze, "Una fit beat me anyhow, but abeg, no touch my pig o."

As e talk am, people just dey look am like say e get kolo. Na only one stubborn person fit dey talk like that when debtors dey threaten am for public.

"No be one month, I go pay una within two weeks."

People begin shout, some even spit for ground. Dem talk say e dey craze. But my papa just dey clean im pig, dey laugh.

As those men waka go, my grandma just fall for ground dey cry.

She hug her wrapper, dey roll for sand, dey call her mama spirit, "Egbami o! My chi, help your daughter!" Neighbours rush come, dey try beg her make she no cry again, say life no hard reach like that.

"Sanya, this money big pass us. We no fit pay am. You better run. Me, I no dey fear anybody, I old already."

Even as tears dey her eye, grandma voice still strong, like person wey don see war. She even swear say if dem wan come break leg, make dem try am, her spirit no dey fear them. She pat my papa head, talk say, "Na so I born am, na so e be."

But my papa full ground. "No worry, your pikin don learn work for outside. From today, just dey follow me enjoy life."

E hug my grandma, clean her face, tell her say new life don start. Some neighbours laugh, some just shake head—dem no believe say anything fit change.

Next morning, my papa kill the pig, set big black pot for village entrance.

People never see that kind thing before. Some dey fear say maybe na ritual, others dey pray say make dem taste the food. The pot big sotey if you climb am, you fit see half of the village.

The smell of meat wey dey cook just dey fly everywhere, dey pull everybody—old and young—come like say na juju.

Even fowls begin gather near pot, dey pick bone wey fall, goats dey push demself. Na so aroma strong reach.

"Sanya, wetin you dey cook like this?" villagers ask am.

Some dey use stick turn the pot, dey look inside, dey try guess the ingredient. Some women dey talk say na soup for marriage, some say na burial food.

My papa just open pot sharp sharp, the smell wey rush come out na die—meat and palm wine mix, everybody mouth just dey water. Palm wine dey bubble for top like small festival, scent dey scatter for air.

Children wey dey run before, begin stand still, dey swallow saliva. Even old men wey sabi all the market women begin dey peep inside, dey drag position for front.

Inside the pot, pig head dey there, soft well well, steam just dey rise like say na magic.

The fat just dey melt for soup, e resemble festival for pot. My papa use big spoon press am, the meat just dey fall off small small.

"Drunken Pig Head!" my papa announce with pride. "If you wan chop, abeg pay money!"

E raise him hand, talk like town crier for village square. Na so everybody begin shout, dey wave money for air.

"Drunken Pig Head, na five thousand naira for one portion. Other meat na normal price."

You go think say na joke—five thousand for pig head. Some people wey never see money reach like that before begin laugh.

"Five thousand for one portion? Sanya, you wan thief us for broad daylight?" person shout from crowd.

Even Baba Fatai, the old tailor, begin count him change, dey talk say na only people wey don craze go pay that money.

My papa no even look face. "If you wan chop, chop. If you no wan, commot."

E just dey use big spoon serve, no get time for long talk. Na so stubborn head e be.

Some people vex sotey their face change colour, but nobody gree go. The pig head smell too sweet.

Na there you go know say aroma fit hold person like chain. Some people just dey squeeze face, but dem leg no gree move.

Even my grandma tell me later say, that time, she dey keep to church way, no dey chop meat at all, but that aroma almost make her forget her vows.

She talk say even Pastor’s wife pass by, say she no wan chop, but later send her last born come buy for her. Na so aroma powerful reach.

Na village chief, Mallam Sani, first buy Drunken Pig Head.

Him come with all him wives and children, dem dey queue dey wait portion. The man just pay cash, no price am. E say, "I dey support local business."

Him junior brother, Musa, first buy the whole pig head.

Dem even snap picture put for WhatsApp status—say na pig head of destiny.

Before you know, everywhere don hear the story.

By evening, people from next town don begin dey trek come, dey talk say, "We hear say miracle dey happen for Sanya bukka."

From that day, luck just follow my papa. Small stall wey e start just dey full every day, money dey enter.

E buy new wrapper for grandma, send me go buy new pot for market, even repair our leaking roof.

The year wey my papa marry my mama, e open three-storey bukka—Drunken Immortal Place.

People dey look am like wizard—say who fit turn ordinary pig to money na real juju. Bukka big sotey councilor come commission am.

The meaning be say, even spirits go chop the pig head, get drunk, fall from sky.

Na true Yoruba proverbs dem use talk that time: "Even ancestors go taste this food, forget home."

Opening day, my papa increase price ten times.

Big men come with convoy, dem spray money like say na naming ceremony. Even radio Oyo send person come cover the opening.

Every year after, price dey climb again.

Even news for radio dey mention am—"Drunken Immortal Place, home of rich men and fine women." Ordinary people dey grumble, but dem go still gather by window dey smell food.

People curse am, so only big men and rich people fit chop, but na that time money really dey enter.

Dem talk say na food for people wey get contract or dey chop government money. My papa go just dey laugh, say business na business.