Chapter 10: Ten Years, New Troubles

For the fifth year queen mother dey rule, I clock ten.

They celebrated with quiet feast. Drummers played soft, cooks brought favourite food. Queen mother gifted me gold bangle, Tola Shun gave book with my name inside.

I still dey run daily waka, dey joke.

I moved hall to hall, finding small things to laugh. Pulling faces at servants, sneaking meat pies. Life settled soft and slow.

That day, as I dey talk, Tola Shun just raised voice for queen mother: "Since mama say this thing no correct, why you no allow me check am well?"

His voice sharp. I held breath, unsure.

I sharp ear, wan hear gist, but before I get anything, queen mother said, "Er’er, go rest for today."

Her tone final, eyes daring me argue. I bowed, heart pounding, slipped out.

Even though I wan hear, my life important pass.

Mama always said, "No put ear for adult matter." I hurried away, promising myself gist from Mama Zainab later.

Because if you hear wetin queen mother no wan make you hear, na wahala be that.

Everyone knew—palace ears long, palace walls longer.

One time, person wey eavesdrop, dem chase am commot.

Now she dey sell suya by market gate, always looking over shoulder. The story scared me into silence.

For night, I just relax for couch dey read storybook.

Moon shone, cool breeze blowing. I kicked off slippers, enjoying rare peace.

Mama Zainab, wey dey serve queen mother, brought food box.

She entered quietly, steps soft, tray on head. Aroma of stew and yam hit me, stomach rumbled.

As I see the setup, I know wetin dey. Anytime Tola Shun and queen mother quarrel, he no go chop, na me go carry food give am.

It had become ritual—me, peace-offering, sneaking into his room with hot food.

As I entered outer hall with food, I no see Tola Shun. I dropped box, planned to go inner hall.

Hall was dim, shadows flickering. I tiptoed.

He never waka go anywhere, because Baba Sani still dey outside.

The old guard at his post, eyes sharp. I waved, he nodded, sign of peace.

Inside hall dark. I called, no answer. I wan light candle.

My hands shook, matches ready, his voice cut through darkness.

Tola Shun: "No light am."

Tone low, heavy. I froze, peering in.

He shock me. I followed his voice, squat by bed.

I shuffled, wrapper brushing floor. Sat quietly, waiting.

I squat, he rested head for my shoulder, "Ifeanyi Tangola, no look."

His head heavy, breath warm. I patted his back gently.

His body shook with sobs. I hummed softly, mama’s tune.

I said, "Tola Shun, if I hug you, you no go sad again."

Words childish, but true. His arms tensed, then relaxed, letting me hold him.

As I dey feel myself, Tola Shun pushed me, "Ifeanyi Tangola, you wan strangle me?"

He laughed a little, sound dry. I let go, pouting.

I for like sew his mouth shut.

I imagined chasing him round palace with mama’s needle. It made me giggle.

He looked, then changed face to Oba style, sharp.

He straightened, eyes cold. I rolled eyes, knowing he was hiding.

Abi na so all Oba dey?

Maybe that’s price of crown—always pretending.

I stood, stretched knee, "Come chop, I dey hungry."

Stomach growled. He grinned, moved to table.

True talk, my room no get kitchen. If he no chop, I no go chop.

I set bowls, hands brushing. For moment, it felt like old times.

Sometimes I wan beat Tola Shun.

His stubbornness made me wan throw shoe, but palace rules, and him be Oba.

But I no fit, na Oba he be.

I stuck out tongue when he no look, and that small rebellion made me feel better.