Chapter 5: Hunger Inside the Golden Bowl

"Master, no fear. Make your old Sun break this bowl." Monkey try encourage me, then show im power, but the golden bowl no even shake.

E stamp leg, dey shout, e do backflip, try use staff knock the bowl, but e be like fowl dey fight iron pot. No scratch, nothing.

E look me with vex, like say if no be for us, e for don escape.

E dey frown, nose dey wrinkle, tail dey wag. Im eyes red, but I dey see small pity for inside.

As wahala dey hot, Bajie try calm am: "Monkey Brother, no vex. Call the Five Direction Revealing Kings, the Six Spirits and Six Ancestors—make everybody reason solution."

Bajie voice dey calm, but e dey tremble. E dey rub hand, dey sweat for forehead. The mention of ancestors remind me of home—when wahala too much, na ancestors we dey call.

For the original Journey to the West, dem dey protect Tang Seng from heaven join.

E remind me how elders dey pray for journey, dey carry kolanut for sacrifice. For here, no protection dey come.

Redeemer self promise say if wahala come, heaven go answer, earth go help.

But here, everywhere just dey dry, no angel, no spirit, no thunder—just us and our wahala.

Monkey chant, e dey vex more.

Im voice dey crack, e dey stamp foot, like pesin wey dem cheat for market. E dey call names, dey beat chest, but no answer.

"Nobody dey answer your old Sun!" E dey knock im head for the golden bowl.

E knock am hard, sound dey echo, I dey feel am for my own skull. The pain for im face show say hope don finish.

How e take happen? The golden bowl get power, but e no suppose fit block us from outside.

E dey confuse everybody. I dey try reason how we take reach here, but my mind dey blank.

Heaven don abandon us?

My body cold. My heart dey pray, but no voice dey answer. My chest dey tight like pesin wey wear cloth wey no be im size.

Cold catch me, monkey dey knock the bowl, the noise dey worry my head.

The noise dey vibrate my teeth. Bajie dey cover im ear, Sha Seng dey mumble prayer. I dey shake, I dey sweat.

Sha Seng dey mumble, "Master, wetin we go do?"

E voice low, like whisper, e dey tremble. For the first time, fear dey im face.

Na only Bajie just dey quiet.

Bajie dey corner, e dey chew something, eyes dey shine. E face dey swell, like person wey dey hide pepper for cheek.

Wait—Bajie?

My eye clear, as I see say something no dey right.

I look Bajie wey dey one corner.

E don lie for ground, body dey swell, bristle dey grow everywhere.

The change fast, im skin dey burst, bristle dey sharp. Pig smell dey fill the bowl.

"Snort." Bajie lift head, snout and tusk long pass before.

E resemble that wild pig wey dey scatter farm for village, but this one worse. Im eyes dey red, im mouth dey wet, saliva dey drip for ground. Hunger dey shine for im face.

E dey look me, dey drool, dey smile.

E tongue dey lick lips, e dey size me from head to toe, as if e dey imagine how I go taste with pepper soup.

"Master, make we scatter."

Im voice deep, e get hunger, but e soft, almost sweet, like the way butcher dey beg you for extra money after sell meat. Im teeth dey shine, eyes dey red—if dem open this bowl, na me be first meat for pot. The bowl dey hot, the air thick, and for my mind, I dey pray make Baba God remember me for good, because I sabi say the real journey don start.