Chapter 2: Secrets for the Holy Archive

Surprisingly, we jam again for the Holy Archive not long after.

That day, rain just finish, so everywhere dey cool, and the palm trees for outside dey drip water. Me I just dey arrange scroll for shelf when I see Eze Yinusa waka enter, as if breeze just dey push am. The air thick with dust and old palm oil lamp smoke, the shelves dey creak like old tortoise shell. The place get holy scent, like old books and burnt incense.

“Eze Yinusa Merit Elder, I greet you.”

He salute me with both hands, that same kind gentle voice. The way e talk my full title, e show say e sabi protocol well. The junior scribes wey dey arrange book stop, look our direction.

“I greet you too. And who be this person behind you?”

I look up, surprise, at the fine elder in white wey follow am.

The new elder tall, skin smooth, with gold thread for the hem of him agbada. The way he follow Eze Yinusa waka, you go know say e no be ordinary scribe; e body language show pride but also plenty loyalty.

“This na the chief scribe under the Great Chief Shango. Since I just enter this Holy Archive and no too sabi many things, Elder Okorie agree to follow me.”

That time, I feel something no too clear.

For spirit world, chief scribe no dey follow anybody anyhow unless strong reason dey. My mind begin dey tick—wetin dey really happen here?

Even more strange, the two of them stand very close, their agbada sleeves dey touch, and when their eyes meet, e get as e be… like say something dey between them.

You fit smell the tension; e be like two big masquerades wey dey compete for festival, but no wan show am outside. Other elders dey look corner-corner, dey whisper.

Sango just stand one side, hugging his staff, and talk with mocking tone: “Ah-ah, na so Holy Archive don turn to chemist shop now?”

The way Sango yarn, even the junior scribes wan laugh. For Naija, if person dey mock you with style, e mean wahala don enter.

“Hahahahaha.” Baba Tunde laugh two times, but as nobody answer, he just keep quiet.

The laughter short, like goat wey dem just slap; you know say when silence land after joke, tension dey ground.

Eze Yinusa bite his lip, eyes begin red, like person wey dem offend well. He hold Okorie’s sleeve, voice dey shake, “Brother Okorie~”

You fit see e dey try hold tears, but e no wan make people see am weak. For our place, man dey hide pain with pride, but when wahala too much, e fit show small.

Okorie sharply stand for front of am, protect am, glare at Sango. “Dirty man! Mind your mouth! Eze Yinusa Merit Elder sabi scripture well—how you go dey insult am?”

Okorie voice high, the kain voice wey fit scatter village meeting. The way e stand, you go know say if Sango talk again, e fit dash am slap with word.

Sango hug his staff, sneer, “He never old reach, na small pikin, and you dey call am master? Even if he start to dey write scripture from when dem born am…”

Sango voice low but sharp, the kind wey dey cut like cutlass wey just pass grindstone.

“I don already finish one hundred and eight volumes,” Eze Yinusa’s soft voice cut in, just stop Sango’s rant.

His voice be like water wey quench fire. Everybody for the hall just look one kind, even me mouth open small.

“Wetin?” This time, na me shock.

The news land for my chest like palm kernel for iron mortar. For Naija, na who get experience dey talk, but this one pass normal.

Even if the Spirit of Wisdom himself come this world, e no fit write that kind plenty scripture in twenty years. Holy scriptures no be ordinary book; every word need deep wisdom and enlightenment. How person wan just do am anyhow?

I dey reason say even if dem dey work day and night, to finish one volume fit take some people their whole lifetime. E get as e be.