Chapter 7: The Shrine and the Sendoff

Day before Eldest Sister enter palace, papa carry all of us go ancestral shrine, go tell ancestors and heaven. Candle dey shake, but now, father and daughter don turn ruler and subject. Papa pour libation for ground—palm wine touch earth, ancestors name full air. He hold ivory tablet, kneel, do three prostrations, nine bows, no play at all.

For shrine, everywhere dey smell incense. As papa kneel, all of us follow—no talking, just prayer. Papa voice deep, e call ancestors, mention family name, say, "May Oluchi journey bring Okoye family honour, not shame."

Eldest Sister rush help am, but papa talk low, "Ritual no fit joke." This kneeling na for government family power, and to make am understand—family must bow to power from today.

Eldest Sister eye red, but she still hold herself. For this kind day, nobody dey cry loud. If you do, e mean you never ready for big world.

When time reach, mama dress Eldest Sister by herself. Plenty cash split into twelve envelope—new naira notes, crisp, dey shine for candle—biggest one hide for her sachet, coins sew inside maid handkerchief. Papa give her one sandalwood box, inside na gold-plated seal. "Eighty-six secret people dey palace; from now, all go listen to you."

Mama arrange gele for her head, sew charm for inside hem of her cloth. She whisper, "Any trouble, press this sachet, you go get help." Papa gift get meaning—gold seal na power, sandalwood na blessing. For Okoye house, every sendoff dey loaded.

Eldest Brother give her one name card. "This woman sabi treat women sickness, she dey Government Hospital already."

For our place, to get correct doctor number na like to get extra life. Everybody dey prepare Eldest Sister to survive for palace, as if na warfront she dey enter.

Second Brother hand her land paper. "Three busiest street for Aba—na your own."

That kind asset fit save person from shame. For noble family, to own land mean you no go ever beg. Eldest Sister hold am tight, tears for her eye.

Me and Third Sister, we never reach age, we give her coral pendant and sachet, the coral dey warm, sachet sew with special herb.

My own hand dey shake as I give am pendant. Na small thing, but na the only way I fit say goodbye. The coral dey hot for my palm, like e dey carry all my prayer.

Second Sister na last. She bring peacock cloak wey gold thread take sew, feather dey shine for candle, every stitch get meaning. "My sewing no too fine, but I hope Sister go wear am, fly like peacock."

She dey act humble, but na big work. To sew peacock cloak, person go spend night upon night. As she open am, all the small girls dey gasp—feather dey shine, the thread fine pass money.

As she talk, one tear drop for peacock eye. "I remember, when I small dey learn embroider hibiscus, I no fit do am. Eldest Sister hold my hand, teach me."

The memory hang for air. Small Temi dey sniffle. Second Sister voice dey break, but she still smile. The tear drop for cloth, but nobody talk—everybody dey think their own.

Eldest Sister smile freeze. When she look up again, seventy percent na pain of betrayal, thirty percent na memory of that Lantern Festival, when Second Sister save her from hot oil, leave small scar for her arm.

That year, festival light full house. Everybody dey laugh, only Eldest Sister get small burn. Halima rush help her, take blame for the wahala. Since then, their bond strong but sharp. Now, as Eldest Sister touch the cloak, her hand shake, old pain dey mix with present worry.

Wahala for inside house dey always start with silence, end without blood. That time, I understand—every gold thread for peacock cloak get unspoken feeling—thirty percent calculation, seventy percent true heart. Like that year under bougainvillea, na Second Sister push Eldest Sister fall, then hide dey cry behind stone.

Na so Okoye family dey—big wahala, small tears. If quarrel start, e go end for night, but the memory dey linger like scent leaf for breeze.