Chapter 2: Under the Weight of Shame

I just dey there, weak like wet bread, for Musa Lawal lap. My body nor get weight again, I feel as if na only my soul remain, body just dey float.

He bend down, dey look my empty face, him slim fingers dey shine small as he slowly clean my waist with one old Ankara wrapper. The wrapper get faded red and blue pattern, smell like palm oil and old soap—palace life nor fit remove the street from Musa Lawal hand.

I don cry before, my body just dey weak, no strength remain for me. My tears soak the wrapper, e dey wipe me like pikin wey fall down for playground. I nor fit move, only my chest dey rise and fall, just dey there, weak like wet bread, for Musa Lawal lap.

Before nko, I no know say eunuchs get their own way. All those palace tales wey I dey hear as pikin, I think say na lie. But this one, e dey real for my skin.

The way dem dey do person, e pass wetin normal man fit do. E be like say Musa Lawal sabi secret wey normal men no fit learn for seven lifetimes.

Me, wey be prince for Garba Kingdom, come lose all my dignity for eunuch hand—make am do anyhow. The pride wey I carry since birth, e melt for him lap like sugar for tea.

E pain me reach bone—like stone dey knock my heart. I wan shout but my voice nor gree come out.

Tears still dey come, small small. Na so pride dey die.

I raise my hand, my hand hang for air, but anger push me pass shame. I slap Musa Lawal, use the hand wey my family ring dey. E make him fine, fair face red, even small blood show. The ring, heavy with old gold, dig small mark for him cheek. Even the palace lamp catch the blood, shine am like ruby.

As I dey grind my teeth, I curse am. My voice rough, full of wahala.

"You dey craze." My voice shake, but I force am. For this palace, craze dey fly like mosquito, but today, na my own dey bite Musa Lawal.

Before, I don cry and insult am, but for Musa Lawal eye, I no see even small pity. E just dey look me like say I be new cloth wey e wan sew, dey measure my shame, dey calculate.

Na my helplessness dey sweet am, as I no fit run, him eye dey wild, pupil dey big—e dey happy well. For the first time, I sabi the real meaning of power. The kind power wey nor need king crown or royal ring.

I dey under am like fish wey dem wan cut, dem kill am again and again. My dignity dey bleed like say knife dey cut am steady.

Musa Lawal no talk back. He just use him thumb clean the blood for him face, talk say na him fault, but e no even mean am. "Na this servant do bad." He talk am with cold voice, as if na wind dey blow inside him chest.

E no even try to beg. E just dey clean the blood, dey shine eye, like say pain na small thing for am.

E clear say e never do reach, and e go do am again if e like. Musa Lawal mouth nor get fear, e nor dey look back.

With the way e be now, why e go bow for me? If na before, e go kneel, beg, but now, I dey see say position fit turn person heart to stone.

No matter how I vex, e no go change anything. Palace wall thick, but shame thick pass am.

Na just me dey fool myself. All this gra gra nor dey move Musa Lawal. I dey alone for inside my wahala.

For Musa Lawal lap, my pride scatter, and palace wall just dey watch, silent like grave.