Chapter 1: Chains of Blood, Chains of Spirit

Many years later, after I finish the long waka to the West, I land again for the big Southern Heaven gate.

The place just dey shine, like wedding for my village when everybody gather, but my chest dey heavy as stone. Sun dey hide low for sky, breeze dey blow the smell of burnt incense and old palm oil pass my nose—like prayer time for Lagos street corner—mix with this new tension wey dey hang for air.

Behind Yusuf, spirit warriors full ground like flood. As he open the heavenly gate with him sword, spirits and masquerades rush enter, Sun Wukong—the real wahala spirit—dey front, banners dey fly like Sallah day, everywhere full of colour and noise. Meteors begin fall, clouds catch fire, and the tall white palaces for heaven start to collapse with one big gbam.

E be like say all ancestors and ancient masquerades don gather for one final yam festival, the whole sky dey shake with their noise. Fire and smoke dey dance for air, aggrieved spirits dey sing like Egungun procession. Everywhere, cloth and banners dey flutter, like masquerade dancers for New Yam festival—war mix with old pride, everything dey rise again.

Chief Musa stand for my front, block road, hundred thousand soldiers behind am. He raise him sacred staff, shout at me, call me beast.

Chief Musa voice loud like town crier, face strong like person wey just lose election. Soldiers line up behind am, shields dey shine, but some dey tremble—nobody wan die for wahala wey no concern dem. Musa just dey do performance, staff up, chest out like big masquerade for square, mouth dey run like tap wey no get valve.

I just shine teeth, wave hand, raise Universe Ring, Odu Ribbon, and Fire-tipped Spear high. As if signal drop, hundred thousand heavenly soldiers just switch side sharp-sharp.

Na so everywhere scatter. All those loyal soldiers just turn, salute me, drop weapon or raise am for me. Chief Musa shock, mouth open like fish for market, staff dey shake. Odu Ribbon flash like lightning, Universe Ring spin like elder’s kola nut, Fire-tipped Spear ready for gbege.

For the panic faces of gods and prophets, I see fire wey dey my own eyes for the heavenly soldiers. How many of dem don pray, fast, reach spirit realm, only to end up as slave for thousand years? Now, na their true soul dey come out.

You go see am—hope and rebellion dey mix for their eyes, like when Naija people say enough for bad government. All the years of silence, prayer, fasting—e choke! Now dem get chance to free spirit, no more slave life. My body sweet me.

"Come, make we call new sun and moon together."

"Make we scatter old order, find our own light, set new law. Time don reach—nobody go chain us again, nobody!"

---

The day Sun Wukong get crushed under Five Fingers Rock—the big mountain wey Prophet use lock Monkey for five hundred years, like the way elders dey use cane hold pikin down—I dey squat for compound cell, dey reason life. I tell Yusuf, "No, I must find Monkey. I owe am."

The cell smell like old kerosene and jollof pot wey dem forget. I just dey there, back press wall, mosquito dey hum. My chest dey tight, old anger dey boil. I no fit leave Monkey for wahala. Loyalty na number one for this life.

Yusuf dey outside dey drink, him left eye soft like rainwater, right eye sharp like cutlass, third eye just dey roll, dey vex small. "Ah, all Three Realms know say Nedu na champion for loyalty and righteousness. But you suppose comot for cell first. Heavenly Chief send me come interrogate—just confess, beg your papa, everybody go happy."

E cross leg, balance bottle for hand, three eyes dey measure me. One soft, one sharp, third dey watch like market woman dey price customer. Yusuf sabi wine, but today even he dey careful. "Just humble small, beg—everything go soft."

My vex just burst. "Yusuf, you dey find my wahala? You feel say I no fit beat you?"

Na so my blood dey hot. I jump up, chest out, eyes red. For this life, nobody dey use me play—even friend.

Yusuf talk, "Pagoda—just go beg your pagoda-papa."

E dey try play, but I no get time. Sometimes, person go push you reach wall.

Me: "Oya."

I bone face, act like say I ready fight, but na cruise—make dem know say I no be mumu.

To be real, na Monkey cause my wahala. If he no scatter Heaven, Chief Musa no go dey do gra-gra. Talk of Chief Musa, that man no sabi him level. E dey pose like King of Heaven, big Marshal, but dey run go collect order, dey wag tail like dog, dey crawl for Heavenly Chief foot, yansh up like say dem wan flog am.

As I dey remember am, my teeth dey grind. Na that uncle for family meeting wey dey make noise, dey run errand for chief, but inside e dey fear real gbege. Na so Musa dey parade for Heaven.

The pose too much—I no fit hold, I kick am.

I swear, na reflex. E dey do anyhow, body go hear am. Spirits first shock, then laugh scatter like goat see yam.

Chief Musa roll for ground like drunk uncle for naming ceremony, and when e finish, all the spirits for hall burst laugh. He sef join, but when he look me, him eye wicked, and the Sacred Pagoda—like our own village shrine, but for Heaven—wey dey him hand dey shine small, like say e dey warn me.

The laughter no sweet for am. Inside the smile, na real vex dey hide. Pagoda just dey shine, like eye wey dey monitor thief. I fit feel am—danger near me.

I just whistle, hands for pocket, dey act like nothing happen.

Sometimes for life, na packaging. Even when wahala dey come, bone face, act like na you dey run things.

Later I learn say that old dog sabi game. For this world, muscle no reach—you need strong back, you need connect.

True. If you no get person, muscle go fail you. Chief Musa sabi network, sabi position. E dey humble for who senior am, dey show power for junior.

His backing na my papa. His connect na me.

Life hard—some people go use you climb, but when gbege land, na your blood go pay.

That mutt raise the pagoda, still dey calm, and I rush go fight Monkey, three heads and six arms, life and death matter.

That day, war spirit dey my body. I dey ready—spear, ribbon, ring—all for wahala. Three heads open, six arms spread. I dey mad for battle.

Monkey just sneer, "Ah, no be this small Nedu wey pull python tendon scatter East River? Wetin, your papa don kill you two times, you still dey work for am?"

Monkey mouth no dey close. E dey mock me, eye dey shine, body ready for gbege. E dey remind me of all my pain—like person wey break coconut for another head, still dey laugh.

I bone face, curl lip. "Dead Monkey, today na your last day."

I form hard man, but heart dey race. Still, I go show am say street no be for only one person.

Three heads, six arms—Fire-tipped Spear, Odu Ribbon, Universe Ring, all land for Monkey head. Monkey no get my weapons, nor my fast leg, nor my Three-Flavored True Fire. I reason, even if I no fit finish am, I go show am pepper.

No easy, but I ready. Wetin be life if you no try? I go wound am, even if na last thing.

But this Monkey na real cheat! E pluck hair—woosh!—thousands of clones appear. I no fear, my six arms fit block, but abeg, why every Monkey clone get golden cudgel?

If na film, I for don pause am. Everywhere full, Monkey dey fly, cudgel dey rain like December harmattan. I no sure which be real, but I stand gidigba.

That day, from first round, na me dey collect. No fake, all real.

My body dey take beating—muscle dey pain, sweat and blood dey mix. But I no gree—na pride matter.

Four, five rounds pass, my arms numb, Odu Ribbon and golden bricks dey fly, still I no fit touch real Monkey. I stop to throw things, just dey use Universe Ring and Fire-tipped Spear, dey fight eighty-one thousand cudgels head-on.

I dey pant, arm dey shake, spear dey hot, but leg no shift. Everybody dey watch. For my mind, na only fight remain, even if na die.

I fight till lips bleed, eyes red, teeth clench, I no let go. My blood rain outside Ninth Heaven, set wildfire for nine thousand miles, every spear burn Monkey hair as e float enter cloud.

Blood drip from mouth, but I no stop. The pain dey remind me who I be, as my fire dey spread, Monkey no fit near.

Suddenly, Monkey stop.

E just freeze. Staff rest for ground, look me with eye wey dey search soul. Fire dey burn, but e calm.

He stand inside fire, pack staff, dey look my blood and stubborn eyes.

The air still. Even wind stop, like say Heaven dey hold breath.

He talk, "To fight you no get meaning."

E pain me. After all this, na so e talk? I laugh inside pain.

I laugh. "Na lie. If my papa no dey press me from up, who wan fight you?"

I shake head, spear for hand, dey catch breath. Na family dey chain me, not spirit or sword.

Monkey raise head. "That guy?"

E point up, like world na elders chess board.

I say, "No, na my papa pagoda seat. My real papa na the Sacred Pagoda—like our own village shrine, but for Heaven."

I look up. Sometimes, the thing wey dey hold us pass blood, pass flesh. E dey come from name, family, old promise.

Monkey: "..."

Silence. All spirits and gods dey watch, nobody talk.

Forget whether pagoda na Prophet or Burning Lamp own, whether e dey shine holy light or not—from my pagoda-papa back, I see four words: Fatherly Kindness, Dutiful Son.

Those words dey shine for head, like shrine inscription. If you no gree submit, dem go press you. The chain of family long, strong.

If you no gree be dutiful, papa go force you.

E get as e be—if you no submit, elder’s weight go crush you.

I tell Monkey. Monkey show teeth. "No be prophets suppose drop worldly desire? Why dem go dey care if you dey dutiful?"

Monkey talk true. For mouth, dem preach let go, but when e reach pikin, na power dem use hold body.

I spin Fire-tipped Spear. "Who sabi. You still wan fight?"

No time for long talk. Here, na fight or step aside.

Monkey laugh, wicked laugh wey harmattan wind dey carry, cloak dey fly—na real spirit wahala.

He say, "Nedu, I go kill your papa. You help me kill Chief Musa, the Heavenly Court Demon-Subduing Marshal. How far?"

I freeze, body cold. That talk heavy like thunder. Old pain begin dig me.

I freeze, memory rush me—like I don return to that day when Four Rivers Kings flood Chentang Gate. My feet dey sink inside wet red sand, the air heavy like rain before thunderstorm. Everybody kneel, Chief Musa throw sword for city wall, admit guilt: "Na this demon cause wahala. Make spirits bear witness."

The smell of wet dust, the press of shame, the cry of people. That memory fresh, like wound wey never heal.

Everybody look me. I know—dem dey wait make I die.

The eyes of the people heavy, sky thick with judgment. No escape.

I hear my mama dey cry, wan climb wall, but Chief Musa soldiers hold her. I pick sword, face blank, look Chief Musa.

My heart dey shake, but I stand. Mama voice dey cut like blade, but I no fit reach her. My eye dey burn, but I hold sword.

First time, Chief Musa no fit look my face.

Always boast, but that day, eye shift, body tremble. E know say e wrong me.

Before, na so so shout and curse, but this time, no fit meet my eye.

The hall quiet, just wind and mama cry.

I smile. Four Rivers Kings, black cloud dey press. I talk, "No wahala. Today, I carry my cross. Cut bone return papa, cut flesh return mama."

As I talk, spirits nod. No easy, but I ready. My fate na my own.

From that day, I reason say I no get anything with Chief Musa again. But who for think—my mama go build altar for my soul, and just before I return to life, Chief Musa go break am again.

The pain of betrayal deep, but mama never give up. She keep hope, burn incense, e touch me. But Musa—always dey destroy wetin I try build.

My three souls and seven spirits don form finish. For incense smoke, I face Chief Musa. This time, he no dodge my eye, eyes red, clearly no want me return.

The incense dey choke, spirit world silent. I dey vibrate, anger dey rise, all my souls dey align.

My soul dey shake with vex. "Chief Musa, with which right?"

My voice rise like thunder. All spirits dey listen, breeze carry my pain round.

Chief Musa shout, "You no suppose live! You be demon, calamity, no be my pikin, you no suppose dey this world!"

Him shout echo, but na only fear under am. E dey use holy talk cover shame.

That moment, I understand: that day for Chentang Gate, he realise say he wrong, say he owe me. But as papa, how e go admit say he wrong? Wetin he owe, he no fit pay, so he no gree make I live.

He dey hide for pride, dey use holy law cover sin. For heart, e know say he betray blood.

I look am, injustice dey burn my soul. No, I no go die. I must live, live for revenge.

Revenge na the only way to balance. For Naija, if person wrong you, you no gree let am go unless justice balance.

That day, I force my soul make e no scatter, return to my master.

With all strength, I hold my soul, refuse to vanish. My will strong, spirit stubborn like goat.

But when I reborn from lotus, spear for hand, all the way na reason I dey hear—my master, my mama, that yeye Burning Lamp, that yeye Prophet—all dey talk: Even if your papa wrong one thousand times, na your papa. You no fit kill am.

Their words dey follow me. Even as I land, spear dey hot, na their voice dey cage mind.

I grip Fire-tipped Spear, stand for Wind Fire Wheels, dey look Chief Musa till eyes bleed, but holy light from Sacred Pagoda just press me for ground, I no fit move.

E be like holy prison. The light heavy, I dey choke, but still I dey look Musa—hate and pain for my eye.

Prophet talk, "If you no see am as papa, take God as papa."

Prophet dey chant, voice deep, like old palmwine tapper. For him mind, na easy talk. For me, wound dey deep.

I scream, shout tire—holy light break, join, break again. My lotus body scatter, then under holy light, I turn to Nedu Third Son wey no get emotion.

My shout shake heaven, but na so dem tie me, break me, reform me. All my fire reduce to ash. At the end, na cold emptiness remain.

I no remember how many cycles I pass under Sacred Pagoda. Nobody talk for me. Even my master and mama just dey beg make I let go, say if I hold on, I go really destroy. Make I just gree.

Na lonely waka, like person trek bush without torch. Even mama, even master, dem don tire. Dem just dey pray make I free myself.

I look Chief Musa pale face, no life, and I grin, blood full mouth.

My smile dark, pain of generations. The taste of blood sweet and bitter. I know say wahala never finish.

I say, "No wahala, Chief Musa. The road still long."

I bone face, gather strength for next battle. For this life, journey no dey end until justice balance.

After I reach Heaven, I meet Yusuf. He say, whether Prophet or Burning Lamp, dem dey claim say dem no dey interfere, but dem dey always put hand.

Yusuf dey shake head, sip palmwine. "Na dem dey control everything, but go act like dem no dey there. Fake holiness full Heaven."

"If you fit kill your papa because he wrong, then if gods and prophets mess up, who go kill gods and prophets? Your papa na your papa, gods and prophets na gods and prophets. Even if dem wrong, loyalty and family duty go tie you down."

For this life, chain dey everywhere. Chain of family, chain of faith, chain of tradition. Nobody truly free.

I quiet small. "Three eyes dey see pass two."

I lower voice, respect small. For wisdom, Yusuf sabi pass me, even if e dey do like elder.

Yusuf pause. "You get three heads and six arms, six eyes, but you no dey see well because you never read enough book."

Na so e throw jab, but small truth dey inside. Education fit clear blindness, but some wound only time dey heal.

Me: "..."

I just bone, pain still dey, e still dey do sharp mouth. But I know na love talk.

For all spirits for Heaven, only Yusuf fit be half friend, but even he na only comfort person wey dey trapped too fit give. I always feel say something dey wrong with this world. E no suppose be like this. I no suppose be the only one, spear for hand, dey waka alone for palace of glass and spirit stone, dey watch all these spirits dey plan how to oppress people, just like Four Rivers Kings.

Sometimes I go waka for Heaven, shadow long, spear for hand. Spirits dey whisper, dey plan. The whole place get as e be—like market full of thieves. Na so corruption dey spread.

Until that day, Monkey tell me, Chief Musa that bastard suppose die. I go block pagoda for you, you kill am.

For my heart, na lightning. Nobody ever talk am like that—say justice na justice, blood or no blood. E shock me.

Fire everywhere, blood still dey my lips from fight with Monkey, eyes red sharp. After I come back to life, fight my way return Chentang Gate, temper hot, but na only this I wan hear:

Just that—Chief Musa suppose die.

That line clear my eye, like rain wash market dust. E sweet, e pain.

He no deserve to be papa, no dey take responsibility, even wan grind my bone to dust. Of course me, Nedu, suppose kill am.

My spirit dey gree. If justice no balance for house, how e go balance for world?

If anybody ever talk this thing to me, maybe I for don let am go.

All I need na one person to talk true. But silence dey reign, everybody dey fear consequence.

But nobody talk am. Nobody judge am. Instead, all gods and prophets dey protect am, dey lift am up, make am Pagoda-bearing Heavenly King, Grand Marshal Subduing Spirits.

Na so power dey work. Dem dey cover each other, lock out the one wey get truth. The world no fair.

I look Monkey, no fit hold laugh. My laugh set fire roll for sky, sea of fire boil like day Chentang Gate drown, laugh dey echo for flames, dey hit palaces of gods and prophets, then turn to cry—cry wey break heart, bitter, carry thousand years pain and anger, finally free.

The cry choke my throat, but I no hold am. I let pain flow, tears and laughter mix, voice carry for sky. Even spirits wey no get ear hear am.

"Fine. Make we go kill my papa."

That vow dey ring for my blood, like juju wey never finish work. Even the spirits for bush dey shiver.

That day, Monkey jump from fire, golden armour burn, red cloak tear, but him killing spirit strong pass before. In a flash, he stand before Chief Musa.

Monkey move like lightning, fire burn round am. Chief Musa step back, fear finally show for face.

Chief Musa just fling the Sacred Pagoda instinctively.

Hand dey shake, pagoda fly. Instinct dey rule, no more calculation. E never see Monkey like this.

Sun Wukong get captured, but even without magic, he no dey die, and he break out from the pagoda again.

The world dey shake, pagoda dey press, but Monkey stubborn, him spirit no dey break. E dey show everybody say no force fit chain true rebellion.

By the time he free, I don already stand before Chief Musa, face like ice, spear spit fire dragon reach ten feet high, cloud and smoke roll, heavenly soldiers run, Chief Musa eyes wide with fear.

The soldiers wey dey follow Musa begin run, some drop weapon, some dey tremble. Chief Musa face pale, e dey look me like say e see ghost.

Just then, one sigh come from above heaven.

The sound gentle, but e heavy like bell for shrine. All spirits pause, breeze stop, na so e be when elder wey control life dey talk.

Lamp like small bean, then light from everywhere—I no see anything, but I know say na Burning Lamp.

Na only Burning Lamp dey shine this kind way. The light spread, cover sky, heart begin beat slow. Everybody know say na authority.

I know Burning Lamp sigh well. That time I recognise pagoda-papa, help Ji Fa and others fight for the land, Burning Lamp dey Xiqi too. Elders release plenty fire arrow—not ordinary fire, nothing fit quench am. I dey okay, but I no fit save everybody. Once fire catch you, you just dey watch yourself burn to ash.

The memory dey sharp—smell of burning flesh, screams, the feel of loss. Even for spirit, pain dey real.

Skin burn, you still dey shout; burn reach bone, you no fit shout again, but your eye still dey move.

Eye dey talk everything—pain, fear, regret. Even when body don finish, the soul dey linger.

I don carry dying children, girls, old men, warriors. I no fit bear am, so I ride Wind Fire Wheels go kill, but Burning Lamp stop me. I say, why you dey block me?

Anger dey push me, but Burning Lamp just stretch hand, calm face, voice low.

Burning Lamp say, "No rush. Fate never reach."

E dey use that calm voice wey dey make you vex more. E dey act like elder for burial—no emotion, just words.

I say, "People don die finish, who get time for fate?"

For me, action dey important pass fate. Wetin be fate when people dey suffer?

That time, Burning Lamp still be old prophet, already dey act like those bald monks from the hills. He say, "Even if you rush go avenge, you fit quench the fire? You fit save the people?"

E dey throw question, but inside chest, answer no sweet. I know say power get limit, but to do nothing still dey pain.

I vex. "E still better pass to do nothing!"

My spirit dey boil, eyes red. Na so pain dey push man to action.

Burning Lamp shake head. "To do nothing—na that one be fate."

The words cold. E dey remind me say sometimes, gods dey use fate take cover laziness or wickedness.

I no understand then, but soon I understand. Burning Lamp, that bastard, no save the fire or people. The place turn hell, people die one by one, some spirits no fit bear am.

E pain me deep. Burning Lamp just dey look, dey act like nothing dey happen. Some spirits vanish, some turn mad.

Princess Longji come, the land saved, Burning Lamp pull her join fight the elders.

Na new hope be that. Princess bring small peace, but pain never finish. Everybody dey look Burning Lamp for answer.

As for people wey die, Burning Lamp just sigh. "Fate be so. All beings dey ignorant, no fit free, so this calamity come."

Na so e talk, as if people life na sand. No remorse, just fate.

Now, Burning Lamp dey sigh for me again.

Same old trick. Use sigh cover evil, use fate block pain. E dey try chain me again.

Sigh say me too get my own destined calamity.

The word dey hang for air, like curse. E dey press my spirit, try lock me back inside old wound.

I just finish fight with Monkey, no need to use all my power to kill Chief Musa, just small move, but Burning Lamp ambush me.

Ten thousand feet of bright light, crush my fire wave.

The light be like hammer, scatter everything. I no even fit breathe.

Anyway, when I wake up, I don already dey cell.

Iron smell, cold floor, no sound. Na cell be my lot—old cycle dey repeat.

Wetin happen after, na Yusuf tell me. He say Monkey lose. After you and Chief Musa leave, I fight am small, but no be real fight—just change form, waka for world, drink palm wine, talk. I ask am, how things reach like this? He drink, say he just no fit hold am again.

Yusuf voice dey low. E say Monkey don tire, don see say no be by force the world dey change. Sometimes, even fight dey lose power.

"He ask me, since gods dey, and gods dey collect prayer, why flood still dey East and West River? Why loyalist and traitor, life and death, why rank still dey for Heaven, why I suppose bow to anybody?"

True talk—Monkey voice dey echo question wey all of us dey dodge. Why all this suffering, why all the law, if those wey suppose get power to save no dey act?

Yusuf say, "How I wan answer? I no fit. I just tell am make he let go. Na so the world be. If you no fit win, just accept am."

Yusuf na wise man, but him advice dey bitter. Sometimes, to let go na weakness. Sometimes, na survival.

Monkey no gree. Even after dem put am for old baba furnace, he no gree, fight reach Spirit Palace, then Prophet slap am under mountain at Palm Festival.

Monkey own stubborn. Dem lock am, dem burn am, still e no bend. E remind me of my own pain, my own stubbornness.

"Lock am for five hundred years. If you no apologize to your pagoda-papa, you go dey lock for five hundred years too."

I think am, say, "Then abeg, go check Monkey for me. Tell am, five hundred years from now, I go come find am. Anything he wan do, I go follow."

Na promise I make. Loyalty no dey fail.

"I no dey go."

Yusuf just bone, e no want wahala.

Me: "..."

Na so I dey look am, no fit beg, no fit fight.

I say, "Abeg, I go dey lock for five hundred years. You no fit help me this once?"

Sometimes, small help dey go far. But Yusuf get him own wahala.

Yusuf cough. "No be say I no wan help. Na just—I just burn Monkey Hill. Even if I go, I no fit deliver message. Sun Wukong know say na me set fire to save some monkeys, but he fit still wan bite me."

E dey laugh, but e pain true. Monkey sabi hold grudge.

Me: "..."

My face just fall. Na so life be—everybody get cross to carry.

I say, "Heaven no go even leave small monkeys?"

For this world, even small ones dey suffer. Heaven no dey pity.

Yusuf just smile small. "No be say you no know."

The smile short, the pain long. For spirit world, mercy dey scarce.

I hiss, go sit for corner, dey curse: "This world na wahala."

I cross leg, face wall, mouth dey mutter like old woman for market. But na true—life na wahala.

When Yusuf dey go that day, he pause, back to me, voice rare soft. "Five hundred years from now, Heaven and the prophets get journey to the West plan. Since you no wan confess, maybe I fit help you join the trip."

The air chill. E voice get soft, like e dey talk prophecy. Something dey hide for e word, but I no fit grasp am then.

I look am well, something for his three eyes no clear.

The third eye dey blink, e face dey shadow. For heart, I know say big plan dey come.

Wetin he dey hide?

I dey reason am, but the answer still dey far. For now, I just dey wait.