Chapter 1: A King Reborn

After Oba Musa, wey everybody sabi as Musa Oladimeji, swallow that mysterious herbal concoction wey Malam Asana the wandering herbalist give am, na one heavy sleep catch am. No be small sleep o—na the kind wey dey hold you after Sallah rice with cold zobo. But when e open eye again, na another world e see. E be like thunder just carry am go new land. Camphor smell mix with dust, distant market women dey haggle—everything strange, but e still get small heartbeat of home for background.

"Where the Crown Prince dey?" one palace voice thunder, urgency full am like say dem catch thief for palm oil store.

Another attendant answer, voice dey tremble, but respect dey: "Your Highness, na you be the Crown Prince." The way e bend small before talk show say e dey fear royalty matter no be play.

I remember well say my pikin, Seyi, dey by my bedside just now... But wait, why my voice come change? As I peep for old cracked mirror, na stranger I see. The scar wey dey my forehead before, don disappear. My skin fresh like new yam, beard wey I dey groom since, don turn pikin cheek. Na wah o! My hand touch my jaw, nothing dey. For my mind, gobe don land.

Baba Tunde swear say Malam Asana’s medicine fit wake person from grave, but this one pass resurrection—na real reincarnation. Na so I take enter new world like folk tale? My spirit begin shake, but I lock up—man no suppose fear.

No wahala, make I first find out who I be now. I gather mind, siddon well, tell myself say this life na only one chance—na to make am count. My mama spirit, I hope say you dey watch me so?

"How my papa dey?" I ask with small voice, act like I dey confused, but inside my heart dey race like okada for Lagos express.

"The late Oba don die for Palm Grove Estate," the attendant talk, voice low like rain for harmattan. Everybody look ground, the pain of their king heavy for air.

"How my elder brother dey?"

"The late Oba send am join ancestors." The words hang for air like bell wey no gree stop. I nod, act like I understand, but my mind dey try patch story together. Na so elders dey talk—when matter finish, e rest for ground.

Oba Musa wipe sweat from forehead. At least e no worse reach. For my heart, I dey pray make this new wahala no swallow me.

I chase palace attendants commot. I need peace to reason. I wave my hand, as king suppose do—everybody rush out, foot shuffle for mat, slippers slap for red clay floor.

For Chief Minister’s compound, Baba Okon dey waka up and down, e no get him usual calm. Even raffia fan wey e always hold, e drop am. Fan rest for table, spirit dey shake like pawpaw leaf for rainy season.

The Crown Prince, Uchechukwu, wey dem dey prepare make Oba, just shout one kain, fall, and faint. E sleep three days and three nights, all the local healers confuse. Even Mama Ngozi wey sabi native herbs, just dey shake head, mutter, "This one pass my power." Mama Ngozi rush come, fan am with wrapper, dey mutter prayer under breath.

Today, e finally wake, but the report wey palace helpers bring still dey worry. E like say His Highness head never set. One young maid, Adaora, whisper to her friend, "Na sign say ancestors dey play o."

The late Oba leave pikin for Palm Grove Estate. If anything do Uchechukwu now, how I go face Oba Zikora for afterlife? Baba Okon rub im bald head, as if sense go drop from am.

I hear say the Crown Prince no wan see anybody. No matter how, I must enter palace tomorrow go check am. My slippers dey ready, I go waka with strong heart and prayer: "Chukwu, abeg, cover us for this wahala."

As for Oba Musa, after e calm, e begin ask helpers plenty questions. Na so e begin understand. E don reincarnate as Uchechukwu. The realization hit am like first slap wey teacher give stubborn pikin.

But I no be person wey go just siddon dey enjoy for Umuola. Since I land here, Okoris and Sani family no go sleep well. I get scores to settle and plans to plant. My spirit dey sharp like aboki knife.

As I look my seventeen-year-old body, hope stubborn for my chest like yam wey refuse to burn for fire. I come shout give sky, "Oloun! This life na real wahala, but who wan try me, make dem come!" My laughter bounce for wall, sweet and loud.

Palace helpers fear scatter. Dem run comot, eyes wide like garri wey soak too long, dey whisper, "Dis Oba get strong head o!"

Erinma sef feel small shame, come calm himself, say, "Call Chief Minister come hall." E wipe face with handkerchief, try regain composure, but the shock of new Oba energy still dey e eyes.

From today, na Uchechukwu I be. Make I see this legendary everlasting Chief Minister wey people dey always hail. I set my jaw, spirit ready for battle—even if na with words.

"When we go start Northern Campaign?" My voice sharp, like hunter wey spot bushmeat.

Baba Okon just stand dey look. E like say this pikin head dey touch. Eyes move from confusion to wonder, like goat wey dey look mirror.

"How we wan take start Northern Campaign?" Baba Okon voice low, rub palm for wrapper, dey reason if na the same Uchechukwu wey dey play ayo for corridor last week.

My eyes dey shine. Inside me, fire of old age and new blood dey mix, ready to burst.

Baba Okon clear throat, "South never stable. Late Oba just lose for River Hill, morale never recover. Your Highness get good mind to punish betrayers, but this no be the time. Main thing na make you go sit for throne, inherit your papa work. Na only then we fit get reason to send army." E voice soft, but responsibility press am like okada overload.

"Chief Minister, abeg come near." I beckon like elder dey call grandchild.

Baba Okon confused, but still come. Heart dey beat, e never see this kain Uchechukwu before.

"During the three days wey I faint, ancestors show me plenty things for dream. Teach me how to rule land, set battle. So I wan ask: if Chief Minister give me thirty thousand warriors..." My words hang, eyes dey search am for belief.

Baba Okon raise eyebrow, inside e mind dey reason, "Na so dream dey teach war?" E no too believe, but the Crown Prince’s fire for Northern Campaign still make am happy. E just console, "Campaign? Who talk say we no go go? Once you sit for throne, we go go." E pat my shoulder gently, like person dey calm excited pikin.

I see say Chief Minister just dey use mouth, smile small, no worry. For Naija, if dem no answer you straight, e mean make you calm down.

Since na so, make I first climb throne... For mind, I dey calculate next step; for this life, na who dey patient dey chop meat for bottom pot.

Baba Okon gather elders, support Uchechukwu to become Oba. He inherit land with reign title "Udochi." Drumbeat, ululation of palace women, smell of fried puff-puff and pepper soup choke air. Elders pour palm wine for ground, masquerades twirl, children throw petals—everybody dey shout, “Udochi! Udochi!” The ceremony strong as tradition demand, ancestors blessing dey invoked.