Chapter 1: The First Taste of Power

Anytime I kill person, all the sense wey dey their head go enter my own, sharp sharp.

As I yarn am like this, you fit think say na one kind witchcraft story or Naija film. But na my real life be that, and e don harden my heart like old kpali since that time.

On the eve of university entrance exam, I kill my best friend—her grades dey always top. After the exam, I take her place enter one big university wey everybody dey respect—Unilag, the one wey dey for lagoon side.

For our side, if you see person enter Unilag, everybody for street go dey hail am. My mama sef go tie two gele join, dey waka like peacock. But dem no know wetin I hide for my chest like heavy yam.

1.

I get one superpower wey nobody sabi: anytime I kill person, I go inherit everything wey dey their mind.

E be like say God dash me this thing by mistake, or maybe na punishment. If you look me, nothing show for my body—my eyes dull, my body ordinary. But my secret strong, e fit turn small pikin to big devil if I no careful.

I first notice am when I be ten, during holiday. My mama too busy for work, so she send me go stay with my grandma—Mama Nnena—for village.

That time as we reach, the corridor smell like red oil, dust, and ogiri, with goat dey chew wrapper for backyard. As pikin, I dey miss city light, generator noise, all the small enjoyment for Lagos. For Mama Nnena place, na only battery lantern dem get, and she go switch am off before nine. If I try complain, she go just look me with that her kind Igbo eye—"Ezi nwa, go and sleep. Tomorrow dey." But me, sleep dey run from my eye.

To tell you true, as pikin, nothing dey pain me pass when dem send me go Mama Nnena house. The village poor, everything dey old, nothing dey to play. Every night, just after eight, Mama Nnena go say she wan sleep. Because of this, we dey always quarrel. Plenty times, I go make Mama Nnena vex till her wrinkled face go change colour, like say thunder wan strike, she fit even shout “Chineke mo!”

Sometimes, if I dey stubborn too much, she go sigh, bend down for her raffia mat, then begin recite all those old Igbo proverbs wey I no too understand. The only time she dey happy na when she dey tell me folktales or dey roast corn for backyard. But I no send—my mind dey always look for wahala.

My mama always warn me, make I no disturb Mama Nnena, say her heart no too strong. She dey always carry one small bottle of medicine everywhere. Of course, I sabi am.

I remember how she dey hold that medicine like say na gold. If she wan sleep, she go keep am under pillow. Even for market, the bottle go dey inside her wrapper, tight for her waist. My mama warn me tire—"No play rough with Mama Nnena o! Her heart no dey strong." Me, I just bone face, pretend say I no dey hear.

So that night, everything normal before wahala burst. We quarrel again, I just vex, shout for her head:

My tongue dey scratch me, but I try hold am. Still, the anger too much. "Old witch, why you never die?"

Na real wahala that night o! As I open mouth pour that curse, the air for parlour just hang. Gecko wey dey ceiling even pause. I see say Mama Nnena eyes don change, like say she see wetin pass ordinary. Thunder no strike but everywhere just cold, like say spirit waka enter room.

Mama Nnena look me like say she see spirit.

"You, you..."

Her lips dey shake. She try talk, but the words no gree come out. Her voice faint like harmattan whistle. I see say sweat dey her forehead, even as the night cold. For that moment, fear catch me, but stubbornness no gree me say sorry.

Her body dey shake, she dey stammer, no fit complete her talk. Next thing, her eyes open wide, her body bend, her dry hand dey hold her chest as she fall for ground.

"Medicine, my medicine..."

Her voice just weak, like somebody wey dey beg God for last chance. The way she dey find the bottle, e pain me small, but I bone. The thing dey my hand like say na juju.

She dey struggle reach her wrapper pocket. I sharp, I first her, carry the small bottle commot from her pocket. I hold am tight, just dey look her as she lie for floor.

I remember that moment well—my hand dey shake, sweat dey my palm, but I no gree give am back. My chest dey drum like talking drum. I look her, she look me, but I refuse blink.

Even till now, I still remember her face that time. Her lips don turn purple, her head dey back. For her deep eyes, first na surprise, then after small time, e turn to shock and fear. Na that moment she understand wetin I wan do. Her body dey fight to survive, she try stand up, but the more she struggle, the more she dey gasp for breath.

For inside her eye, I fit see the story of her whole life. All the farm work, all the children she born, the war she survive. Everything dey there, like film wey no get end. Her hand dey shake, her wrapper don shift, and tears dey roll from my eye but my face still hard.

After e reach like forever, her body just stop. She lie down, hand stretch reach me, like person wey freeze. Her body cold, she no move again. Everywhere quiet like grave.

Even cockroach no fit make noise that time. Outside, night crickets dey sing, but for inside parlour, na only my breath I dey hear. Cold catch me, fear hold my leg like chain. I just dey look the empty room, dey wonder whether I don turn witch.

My leg dey shake but I force myself go use the landline call health centre. As I dey wait ambulance, I waka go the medicine cabinet, open my cold palm, drop the small bottle there. Then I just use my hand scatter all the bottles for ground.

E no easy at all. My hand dey tremble as I pour the medicine everywhere, so if dem come, dem no go sabi which one na which. I look myself for mirror small, clean my eye, then waka go parlour like say nothing spoil. Rain dey threaten to fall, breeze dey shake the zinc roof.

As the ambulance siren dey make noise outside, I fall for ground, begin shout and cry as if say na real panic dey catch me.

I shout so te people for compound gather come look. "Abeg! Help o! Mama Nnena! She no dey wake up!" The ambulance people rush in, carry her, but me I dey roll for floor, dey sob. Inside me, my mind dey blank—half fear, half something I no fit name.

As I dey wait ambulance, I whisper, “God abeg, no let dem catch me. If you forgive me, I go change.”