Chapter 1: Feast of Two Elders

At the celebration feast after we brought back the holy books, I realize say I no be the only main person for the day.

People dey chop and gist everywhere, the drummers beat go slow, mixing juju and talking drum, as the smell of nkwobi and spicy pepper soup dey float for air. Small pikin dey chase each other with suya stick, their laughter loud pass the drummers. You know as e be—when elders gather, story go long, but the happiness for the place fit lift even tired spirit. I sidon under one mango tree, just dey watch as people dey hail and toast, the whole courtyard bubbling with life.

Far off, I spot one young man in spotless white agbada, crowd full around am.

The agbada clean so te e be like rain never touch am before; the embroidery for the chest dey shine under lantern light. Some elders dey hail am with proverbs—"He who brings kola brings life!"—and some dey take turns pour libation for am. The young man carry himself with that calm confidence wey no be small pikin own.

Curious, I ask, “Who that one be?”

Chief Priest Olumide stroke him beard. “Like you, he be newly promoted Merit Elder. So both of una celebration feast dey happen together.”

The chief priest voice thick, like person wey just finish heavy fufu with egusi. Him face dey serious, but the glint for him eye show say he dey proud of the both of us. Na rare thing for two Merit Elders to be celebrated the same day; the whole village dey talk am.

I surprise small, but I no see wahala inside. Life hard for common people; if person with big ability sacrifice himself for righteousness, get the true word through hardship, and help everybody, then na true sage be that.

For my mind, I reason say even if na two or ten people reach this level, e no go reduce my own achievement. As dem dey serve food, I clap my hand for chest, give small thanks inside. "E good as spirit world dey reward who get good heart," I talk for my spirit.

I hold my calabash of palm wine, step closer and finally see his face well. E no old pass thirty, face still fresh like morning bread, wearing a plain white agbada, clean and spotless, with an ivory-handled fly-whisk hanging by his waist. At first glance, he really look like one celestial elder.

The way e dey handle the fly-whisk, you go think say na proper Yoruba Ifa priest, but the ivory for the handle show say e get mixed blood—maybe Igbo and Yoruba. The light for e eye sharp but humble, the kain person wey fit dey talk for village square and everybody go listen.

“This must be Baba Nnaji?” He talk first, him voice soft like cool water. “I don dey hear of your name since.”

The softness for him voice no mean say e dey hide anything. The words gentle but e get weight, like the way harmattan rain dey cool skin. For that moment, everybody hush small to hear wetin go happen next.

I join my palms to greet am. “Please, how I go take address you?”

I bow small, both palms together in the Yoruba way, but also nod my head like Igbo elders dey greet. Respect na everything for that kind gathering.

“Dem dey call me Eze Yinusa.” He smile small.

—Eze Yinusa.

The name sound familiar, but for now, I no fit remember where I hear am before.

As I dey think am, suddenly I hear loud "gbam" for my back—

The thing loud so te everybody turn. Person fit even think say masquerade enter party uninvited. My heart jump one small, but I just dey try balance my calabash.

Na Sango mistakenly knock palm wine jug over.

Sango be like say e never touch palm wine since last festival; the way him body dey quick, you go know say spirit dey follow am. Some elders hiss, but others just laugh, "Na Sango, abeg, e dey carry thunder everywhere."

"What’s the problem, Great One?" Eze Yinusa still dey smile, but his eyes deepened small.

You go notice say e smile no reach e eye again; e just dey observe as Sango dey pick the jug. For our side, body language dey important pass words.

Sango bare him teeth, lower voice, whisper for my ear, “Baba, this guy get as e be. You sure say this one no get two head?”

Sango no dey whisper anyhow; if him voice low, e mean serious matter. I adjust my cloth, look well, but I just nod small. My mind start dey move upandan.

After the party scatter, Sango just carry me go straight to the Palm Grove.

No need to talk plenty—Sango grip my wrist tight, drag me follow am, we waka pass the old shrine where moonlight dey shine for raffia roof. The palm grove quiet, only crickets dey sing.

“Baba, you know who Eze Yinusa be?”

I shake my head. “He born for Zuma Rock. Him papa na the Great Chief of the Five Sacred Hills, him mama na the highest-ranking elder under Chief Wale. Him uncle and aunty dey serve under the Ooni of Ife. Him papa sister too—”

Sango eyes dey shine like lightning. The way him dey list the family tree, e be like say dem dey plan political meeting. Even me, I dey wonder how small boy fit get all this connection.

“Abeg, Baba, which one concern me for all this family talk? He’s the newly promoted Merit Elder—why I go care about his family tree?”

I wan vex small, but Sango just cross him hand, shake head. "Family name dey open door for this country pass key."

“Ah, Baba, you dey miss my point. Wetin I dey try talk be say, this Eze Yinusa Merit Elder, dem born am just twenty years ago.”

“How e take possible?”

To become Elder, you go need serve for many seasons; even elder-pikin self must face trials. How person go gather enough merit for just twenty years to become Elder?

I remember as elders dey talk say "Soup wey sweet, na money kill am"—but for spirit matter, na suffering dey bring rank. The way Sango talk, my chest just cold small. E mean say power pass as we dey see am so?