Chapter 22: Cutlass and Vengeance

I run commot hut, go watch Fifth Prince dey train soldiers.

Their shout dey fill air, spear dey shine, sweat dey drop. The way dem move, e fine, but my mind dey elsewhere. I dey envy their strength, dey wish say I fit get my own chance.

Dem dey hold spear, eyes sharp, every move strong.

Their leg steady, hand sure. Na the kind of power I dey dream of, the kind wey fit protect person wey you love.

But dem thin, not like the big grassland men wey ride horse and swing machete.

Their own body dey small, but their courage big. I dey wonder if courage fit beat muscle, if spirit fit win war.

I just feel say dem no fit win.

My mind dey doubt, but I dey hope say maybe miracle fit happen. For war, sometimes na luck dey decide.

But I dey envy them.

The envy dey burn, make me restless. I dey wish say I fit join, fit prove myself, fit carry weapon fight my own battle.

I dey imagine say I fit hold spear, fight like them.

For my mind, I dey lead army, I dey free mama, I dey chase fear away. The dream strong, even if body dey weak.

Then I go kill all the men wey do my mama bad, make horse mash their body.

The anger strong, the wish dey hot for my blood. Revenge dey sweet for mind, but for heart, the pain dey deeper.

So I pick stick, dey follow their move.

Legs bend, arm steady. I dey copy, dey pretend say stick be spear. The more I practice, the more I dey feel strong.

But Fifth Prince see me, come kick me fall.

His own anger quick, leg sharp. I land for ground, sand enter mouth. The pain real, but na my pride suffer pass.

“You wan learn our moves, go tell your people?”

His voice sharp, full of suspicion. For our land, to trust stranger hard, especially when enemy dey everywhere.

He look me down, eyes full of disgust.

His face tight, lips thin. The way he dey look me, e fit kill hope. For my mind, I dey plan how to prove myself, even if nobody dey look me for face.

“Forget am.”

His words short, sharp. Like door wey slam for person face. I gree pick myself, dust body, even as pain dey bite my palm.

The soldiers no even notice, dem just dey train.

Their mind dey ground, dey focus on survival. I dey watch them, dey learn with eyes, even if mouth dey bleed.

I dey ground, the stones dey pain my palm, but not reach the pain for my heart.

Pain for body go pass, but pain for heart dey stay. I dey tell myself say someday, my own pain go bring strength.

Old doctor watch me, shake head with small smile. Later, he call me back, carve wooden cutlass for me.

His hand steady, knife sharp. He dey talk say every warrior start small. The cutlass fine, handle smooth, balance for my hand like real weapon.

“If you fit remember all the herbs, I go teach you cutlass. E different from their own, but better for you.”

He show me bitterleaf, say e fit cure fever, and ogbono root for pain.

His voice warm, eyes dey shine. For our side, cutlass na tool for farm, but also for war. He dey promise me power, if only I fit learn.

As I hold the cutlass, I imagine say I dey stab the herdsman couple for neck.

The vision strong, anger dey fuel my hand. But for mind, I dey wonder if revenge fit bring peace, or if pain go remain.

“I go learn...”

My voice sure, eyes dey shine. Hope dey wake for my chest, even as sorrow still dey ground.

Old man smile, check some books, give me name ‘Wuraola.’

“Wuraola mean gold wey bring joy for house,” he talk, eyes gentle.

His own smile full of meaning. For our land, to name person na to give destiny. 'Wuraola'—gold of wealth, joy of the house. I dey wear the name like cloth, even if e still dey new.

“Your identity special, world no dey accept you. Make I be your master, learn wisdom with me.”

His offer big, heavy. For my heart, I dey gree, even if fear still dey. Wisdom better pass weapon, na what old people dey talk.

I no understand, but as long as I fit learn cutlass, I gree.

For my mind, I dey hope say maybe, just maybe, this new path fit bring me back to mama.

...

After that, for one month, I learn medicine by day, practice cutlass for night.

Each day dey pass, I dey stronger. The herbs dey become friend, the cutlass dey fit my hand. Old man dey praise, small small, but e dey push me.