Chapter 1: The Mass Grave Miracle

Na for mass grave Shaoshan drag me comot—love just catch am sharp-sharp as e see me dey fight death. E be like say God just use am do miracle for my life. When I don nearly give up, when even fly dey perch for my cracked lips, Shaoshan just appear. Him strong arms carry me like I be lost goat wey never finish for this world. I never see person eye soft like him own that day—even as sand full my hair, and my body dirty reach. As e look me, e be like say na only me dey exist.

Shaoshan no send anybody that day, even as grave dey smell and everybody dey fear, he just kneel for sand, beg him papa make I follow am reach Umuola—say na only me fit give am peace. For this world, na only desperate love fit give man that kind boldness, especially for front of person like his adoptive papa.

On the way to meet his adoptive father, he warn me: "My adoptive father no get pity, and e no dey easy to please." I just dey nod like mumu as keke dey bump for pothole, mind dey run. Sweat dey my back, keke dey smell like roasted corn and old engine oil. Shaoshan face serious, voice low, as if he dey talk about lion wey dey wait for bush.

That man, just because of power, even carried his own wife enter chief’s palace as political sacrifice. After his rebellion succeed, dem tell am say his wife don die since inside the back room, wild grass even don cover her grave reach two meters high. Even that time, his adoptive father no shed one single tear. But still, he kneel for her grave, dig am up, and give her chief’s wife burial rites.

Nobody for village ever forget that story. Even old women still dey whisper am for moonlight, say Shao Daoji get heart like stone, e fit do anything for stool. Dem say for Okpoko Hills, if Shao Daoji cough, even elders go clear throat. After e give his wife that fine burial, breeze for night come cold pass usual, as if the spirit dey watch everybody.

The more Shaoshan talk, the more e dey shake head like say e no believe am. You go see as him mouth dey twist, eye dey far—like say the matter dey too big even for am. E go pause, look outside window, then sigh like person wey carry load.

And the more I listen, the more my body dey tremble. Na small voice dey my mind: Amina, wetin you dey enter? My hand dey sweat, but I no fit run. The keke dey drive fast, and this road no get turning back.

I force smile, ask, "Abeg, wetin be your adoptive father’s full name?" I try talk am gentle, but my voice still shake. For Naija, na who ask question dey get answer, but this one fit bring wahala.

Shaoshan shock small, as if e no expect anybody to ask that kind question. Then he smile with understanding. "You don dey recover for mountain since, so e no too strange say you no sabi wetin dey happen outside."

He chuckle small, rub my hand, then look front. For road, hawkers dey sell groundnut and suya, but e just dey look straight, voice low. He explain say for recent years, stool don change hand, and his adoptive father—before na second master of the Shao family for Okpoko Hills—now be the new chief.

For Okpoko Hills, dem say power dey move like harmattan fire. Before anybody know, his adoptive father, wey people call silent thunder, don become chief. All the elders for village still dey wonder how e take run am.

Shaoshan bend down, whisper for my ear, "Him name na Daoji."

Shao Daoji. The name carry weight—e heavy for air. I feel breeze shift, even keke driver look us for mirror, but quickly turn eye. For this land, some names fit lock your tongue.

As the keke enter palace gate, palm trees dey wave for evening breeze. You go hear the rustle, like spirits dey gossip. The guards for gate stand strong, eyes sharp. Inside keke, my chest dey beat kpam-kpam, as if every palm tree dey count my secrets.

My face just pale, I hold the golden tassel by the window tight like say na my life. That gold tassel, na Shaoshan give me—say e go protect me. As I hold am, I dey whisper small prayer for inside, beg God and ancestors make this journey soft.

Shaoshan think say na his adoptive father’s name dey fear me, so he try console me, hold my cold hand, and laugh softly. E rub my knuckles small, voice gentle, "No fear, Amina. E no go bad as you dey think." Him laugh just dry like harmattan wind, but e dey try calm me.

"Why you dey shake like this? Na my fault, I no suppose tell you all those things. No worry, my adoptive father get plenty adopted sons, and me sef na the one wey e no too send. This time, we fit just meet the Queen Mother."

E dey talk as if na small family wahala. I just nod, force smile, but for my mind, everywhere dey heavy.

As I hear am, I manage smile, inside my mind dey blame myself say just to hear that name, I dey fear like this.

I dey curse my own cowardice—wetin I wan see for inside this palace wey fit break me again?

I rest my head for keke wall, tap my own cheek. Useless.

For Naija, dem go say, "Who get hope, no dey use worry sleep." But my hope small. My cheek dey hot as I tap am. If to say my mama see me now, she go cry.

That time, Jin Cier—dem say she come from faraway, no be Naija blood, that’s why her story dey strange for palace—for the back room don die tey tey, even her skin sef don rot finish.

People for palace still dey gossip, say spirit of Jin Cier never rest. Say every night, cold dey enter back room, and no matter how dem try, flower no dey grow for her grave.

Now, I be Amina, poor man pikin, dem dig me comot from mass grave, my face and body no be like before again. This new skin, new face—na only for survival. Inside me, I dey beg God make dem no see through me. Na so person fit lose everything—name, beauty, even hope.

Even my own mama no go fit recognize me. If to say she waka pass, she go just hiss and say, "This one suffer." My heart dey bleed for that.

The main thing now na to survive this palace wahala, change my identity quick quick, then run go Umuola go find my senior brother—dem talk say e don turn river pirate—then disappear.

For Naija, when wahala pass your head, na to disappear be the real answer. I dey plan am sharp-sharp for mind, no time for long story.

By then, e no go matter who Shaoshan papa be, chief far from here, nobody fit find me. Nobody go trace me reach river. If I enter boat, river go wash all my secrets away.

But... But feelings na wahala. For Naija, even when you plan run, heart fit still tie you. Shaoshan dey smile for me, dey try.

I look Shaoshan wey dey my side, e dey struggle to peel orange, dey try make me happy. Small guilt catch me. I see as juice dey pour for him hand, but e no care, just wan make me laugh. Na so man wey love dey behave—sometimes childish, sometimes stubborn. I bite lip, sigh. Guilt dey hold me.

Shao Daoji owe me. To run small package for him pikin no too bad, abi?

After all, na him make me see hell. If to say I use small lie help him son, na only fair. For my heart, small voice dey say, "Do am, collect your own too."