Chapter 1: Family or Faith

Ye Wenjie, the greatest betrayer in human history, don show face again.

Under the pale morning sun, her shadow long on the peeling cement floor, people for the street dey whisper her name low, as if she be secret only elders fit talk about for market corner. Her return dey spread like aboki suya smoke: thin, hot, impossible to catch. Some people clutch their chest, spit three times say make bad luck pass them by; others just dey watch, eyes sharp, ready for wahala. Na so e dey be for person wey fit change the fate of whole Earth with ordinary decision.

She dey come to change the story, or she go betray Earth one more time?

Mothers dey drag pikin enter house, grandmama dey rub powder for doorpost, dey whisper prayers for protection. For some, na hope she carry; for others, na only disaster. But every heart dey beat, dey wonder—this time, na family she go choose, or she go follow faith?

Family or faith—which one go win?

---

1

Ye Wenjie wake up come see herself for house, back to her first year for university, just as one of her papa’s students waka enter.

The air for their two-bedroom flat for campus still get that smell of old books and soap wey never dry. Wenjie rub her face, almost dey suspect na dream she dey. The hum of generator wey dey next compound blend with the cackle of compound children, but her mind dey sharp. Na so life dey, every day fit be turning point.

"You be Professor Ye’s daughter, abi? My name na Ifedayo," the student introduce himself.

Ifedayo tall, with that awkward confidence wey only first sons of strict Yoruba families get. His English dey polished but still get small Ibadan drawl. As he dey talk, Wenjie dey remember the future: the taste of ogi and akara dem chop together, the day him laughter turn to cough for hospital bed. Life, ehn.

Many years later, this same Ifedayo go become her husband—and na her own hand go end am. Ye Wenjie look am well, dey wonder if e too remember everything wey go happen later, like her.

Her heart pinch small, like say mosquito bite am for chest. She study his face, the way him eyes dey avoid hers, the way sweat gather for him brow despite the fan. She dey watch for any sign—maybe e fit see her memory inside her own eyes too. But the boy just dey normal, like person wey never smell trouble before.

"You don hear of Red Coast before?" she ask am straight.

She no waste time, no dey play around. Her voice no get shake. Ifedayo look confused, like say she ask am if he fit catch moon for sky. The question hang for air, heavy like raincloud.

Ifedayo just shake head, laugh, then say, "Red Coast? I never hear that one before. Na new club for campus?" E clear say the boy no know anything. No sign for him eye. Wenjie rest her back for wall, allow herself small relief. Even for this strange new beginning, e remain as e be—innocent of everything wey dey come.

So, this one no be key person—e no get any memory of another life here.

For her mind, she dey tick list, cross out Ifedayo. The web of fate dey spin, but this strand no dey tangled with her own. Her heart settle small, but caution still dey her bones. Nigeria no be place to trust chance.

Ye Wenjie waka go her room. For her table, she see stack of manuscript paper: her fresh thesis wey she just finish, titled "Possible Energy Interfaces within the Solar Radiation Layer and Their Reflective Properties." Na this one she plan submit for Astrophysical Journal.

The room small, with dust for window edge and old transistor radio dey hum news from far place. She look the thesis, remember all the midnight lamp she burn, the prayers her mama say, the hopes wey dey ride for her head. But she know say this story, if e follow as before, go end for one big wahala.

She just shake head, throw the thesis for dustbin. As the paper land, she wipe her brow with the back of her hand, mutter, "Na wa o, this world no dey tire to surprise person." Then she write new title: "Spectral Analysis of Habitable Zone Planets in the Alpha Centauri Triple Star System."

She pause, look outside where children dey play suwe for compound. Her hand steady as she write new title. Na gamble be this, but she get the stubbornness wey run for her family blood. Anything wey go keep her ahead of history, she ready to try am.

That same harmattan, Ye Wenjie convince her papa, Professor Ye Zhetai, to take up one applied physics research project. Because of one of Ye Zhetai’s rivals, dem send the whole family go Sambisa Forest region.

Cold dry wind dey blow everywhere that year, dust dey for nose, lips dey crack. Wenjie dey speak to her papa for kitchen, voice low, as she dey turn eba for pot. As Wenjie dey turn eba, the smell of palm oil and fried onions fill the air. She lay the ground well, mix logic with small flattery. Her papa, man of science but soft for heart, gree, even though her mama dey look both of them with side eye. But Nigeria, ehn, na rival dey run things—before you blink, dem don post una go bush.

Shao Lin sharply distance herself from Professor Ye, rush go do divorce for the magistrate court.

People for neighbourhood talk say the matter be like cinema. Court clerk even whisper say madam carry her own lawyer come, dey read paper with accent wey no get home. As court gavel fall, Shao Lin turn her back, never look Professor Ye face again. Some say na survival, others say na pure pepper body. Mama Kemi for next flat just dey peep curtain, dey shake head, dey whisper to her own.

Of course, all this na Ye Wenjie plan am.

Wenjie fit sit under mango tree, dey watch the sky, but her mind dey busy dey arrange chessboard. She no dey show joy or regret—just that steady calm, like person wey dey see end before story start. No be today she dey play this kind long game.

She no go return Red Coast to press that button, but deep down she know say the way history dey scatter anyhow, e still dey head one way.

She dey reason, sometimes, as harmattan breeze dey scratch her ear: If na only me waka come, e go still happen? This country, this world, no dey ever really change direction. But at least, she go try.

All the progress wey human beings don make, na by chance.

Her mind dey roam, dey remember all the elders for her village wey say, "Life na luck, my pikin." Even for this her science, sometimes, na only luck separate invention from disaster.

Even if Ye Wenjie for Red Coast no open Pandora box, another person—maybe Wenjie Keller for Blue Coast or Purple Coast—go press that button for her.

She dey see the way fate dey stubborn. For every Wenjie, another version dey somewhere, ready to make the same mistake. If no be me, na another. Na so this world dey move.

Wetin Ye Wenjie need do na to warn human beings make dem ready before all these things start.

She dey wonder: If e get way to pass message for radio, or for dream, or for the kind midnight story elders dey tell, maybe people go prepare. But she know, for this Nigeria, warning no dey ever loud enough. People still go chop breakfast.

But for reasons wey everybody sabi, her effort no go show until ten years later.

E pain her small, but she no fit control the hands wey dey write history. She just hope say, someday, her warning go save even one person. She dey pray, low for heart, as night dey fall for Sambisa bush.