Chapter 1: When Ram Became a Curse

My papa na the most famous chef for this area. Him roast ram dey get that kpa kpa for skin, inside soft like Sunday bread—anybody wey chop am, e go dey lick finger, dey ask for more.

The day wey papa dey roast ram, even the air go dey smell celebration—small pikin go whisper, "Mama, I smell ram o!" Old men go cough, dey ask, "Una sure say invitation no lost for road?" If you see the way people dey shine teeth as dem chop, you go know say e no be ordinary food.

Halima, the Regent Prince favourite wife, hear about am, come summon my papa go the prince house make e cook, say na the roast whole ram she wan chop.

That news fly for street like breeze. Mama just pack her wrapper tighter, nod head with pride, but I fit see small worry inside her eye. For this kind request, you no dey talk no. Na honour, but fear dey join body. Mama adjust wrapper, whisper small prayer under breath—"God, cover my husband."

My papa go. But when dem throw am commot, e body don burn finish—skin and flesh don roast like say dem use am do suya. The night air cold, but the smell of burnt flesh hang heavy. People cover nose, some dey cry.

The cry wey burst from market women mouth that day, their cry tear sky, "Ewo! Ewo!" Some people talk say spirit dey follow the matter, others whisper say the prince house get darkness wey normal eye no fit see.

Na so we come hear say the wife just get one kind wahala for mind: she say she wan chop roast ram wey no go get ram taste at all. One old woman hiss, "Na wah! Wetin she want chop then, spirit?"

People dey talk say madness dey inside big house. For village square, elders rub chin, dey wonder which kind taste person dey find wey no be taste again.

When my mama hear this thing, she no even cry one tear.

She just tie her wrapper strong, her face dry like harmattan yam, look sky like she dey talk with ancestors. Not even one drop of cry.

But three months later, she carry big pot go front of the prince house begin sell ram.

For early morning, before cock crow, she sweep ground, set stone for fire, and pot dey boil. People begin gather, some dey fear, but hunger no dey hear story. That first day, aroma travel reach palace window.