Chapter 4: New Yam Festival of Disgrace

After I return court, Empress Halima organize new yam festival.

She send invitation to all noble families—big feast, best cooks. Palace garden dey decorated with white flower, the smell sweet pass perfume.

She wan find husband for me, make up for all the wahala for desert, hope say I go get happiness.

She tell palace women, "I want my stepdaughter smile again. Any man wey fit make am happy, I go bless the marriage." Her heart dey open that day.

But all the noble men avoid me.

As I waka enter, dem shift seat. Some dey pretend say them dey adjust agbada, others dey face ground. I notice as whispers dey fly, eyes dey dodge my own.

Musa Bello no come too.

He send message say him get state matter. My heart just sink. I know say na pain, not duty, dey hold am.

Wetin be the use of service to country?

I dey ask myself—who care if person die for nation, if nation no fit remember am after?

Woman suppose dey loyal to one man; nobody wan marry princess wey dem send away go another land.

For this our place, if woman touch another man, e hard to wipe the story. People go talk, talk, until you tire.

Wetin be the use of king favour?

I hear some noble boys dey talk, "If I marry princess now, dem go say na favour I dey chop." Palace favour dey heavy, sometimes e dey wound who collect am.

Noble people fear make dem no talk say dem dey lick power.

Nobody wan make market woman point finger say, "Na that one chop princess hand-me-down."

New yam festival finish early.

Even palace drummer dey pack drum before sunset. Food plenty, but few people chop. My heart cold.

Even though I expect am, my heart still pain me.

I waka slow, my slippers dey drag ground. Maid dey follow, dey whisper comfort, but my spirit dey lost.

I beg to move to princess residence early, king gree.

He just wave hand, voice low, "My daughter, rest."

Papa look me with eye wey no straight.

He no fit face me—him heart dey run from my pain. Even the way him breathe, e heavy, e weak.

I know say my presence dey remind am say he use him daughter exchange for glory, show say he weak and no get heart.

I see am clear. The way palace elders dey look am now, some dey respect, others dey pity. He know say my own sorrow dey different.

Empress Halima, wey fight my mama well before, now dey look me with pity.

Her face soft, voice calm. She hold my hand, her gold ring cold for my skin.

"This world hard already; women no suppose add wahala for fellow woman."

Her words heavy—tears dey her eye, but she still dey try smile. For that moment, na only two women dey understand each other.

After she talk finish, she give me plenty gold, silver, jewel.

She bring big calabash, full of gold, silver, coral. "Take am, my daughter. Use am shine your life, no let sorrow swallow you."

"If I no fit help you find good husband, at least make I give you half your life of enjoyment."

She hug me, perfume smell like wild flower. She dey whisper prayer for my ear, say, "May God repair your heart."

New yam festival, yellow millet dream.

For palace, yellow millet dey mean hope, dey mean sweet life wey never reach. Everybody dey dream, but dream no dey last.

Food finish, dream scatter.

When all the plates empty, na only silence remain. The hope wey we dey carry for the day don vanish.