Chapter 2: Rebirth for Idemili Hill

--- CHAPTER TWO ---

Seventeenth year of Ogbuefi Okoro, nineteenth day for the third month.

For Umuola, every new chief bring new counting, new hopes. The market don quiet, only goat cry echo for far. Dust for road thick, wind dey restless. Mazi Chukwuemeka dey hold the royal yellow cloth, him don cry sotey voice don almost finish. Step by step, he dey follow Obinna climb Idemili Hill, go meet the old bent iroko tree, look up as breeze dey shake the leaves. The harmattan breeze slap their faces, dry leafs dance for ground.

Idemili Hill na sacred ground. Even small pikin know say if person climb there for night, spirits fit greet am. Mazi Chukwuemeka leg dey shake, slippers nearly fall. The yellow cloth na royal thing, never touch ground unless for chief burial.

Mazi Chukwuemeka no fit hold am again, he cry out with cracked voice: “Your Majesty, so e mean say road no dey again?”

Tears drip for sand, turn small mud. He look Obinna like last hope, like man wey dey beg rain to fall for dry season farm.

Obinna eye dey scatter, voice dey shake, but inside, pain and vexation dey rush. He talk, “No money, no food, outer city don fall, people don lose hope. People wey dey shout say dem loyal to chief dey wait to serve the invaders; old noble families ready to open gate surrender. Which road remain for me?”

His belly hollow, like pikin wey never see breakfast. His hand grip palm staff, knuckles white. His words come out slow, heavy, as if each one dey carry sand from ancestors’ grave.

“I no be chief wey lose him land, but all my elders na elders of lost land. For today matter, na only death remain!”

He spit for ground, like man wey reject shame. The ancestors surely dey look down, eyes red, maybe dey wait for who go carry the land shame for head.

Late dry season, third month. Night breeze dey blow strong. The powerless, angry Chief Okoro, Obinna, hang himself for Idemili Hill—and na so Ifedike open eye again.

Crickets start to sing. Moon dey thin, sharp for sky. For that moment, the world pause, spirits turn face. The land collect another broken story.

No be say rebirth sweet o.

Cold crawl for skin, memory heavy like old mortar. To come back from land of ancestors no be joke; Ifedike chest dey tight, him spirit dey roll inside body.

Plenty broken memories, plus heavy choking feeling, just jam Ifedike head, one after another. Power sef dey rush wild for him body.

A force, old like shrines of Umuola, begin rush inside blood. The pain e carry, e strong. Na like hammer knock for inside bone. But Ifedike spirit na stone, e no dey break easy.

Pain—chai, e pain reach bone.

Him teeth dey grind, eyes dey shine. Pain be like firewood smoke for eye, sharp, hot, but e dey make man strong. He fit feel him ancestors dey talk: Stand, my son. No let small pain scatter your heart.

Mazi Chukwuemeka still dey nearby, no know say dem don swap His Majesty soul, e still dey cry. Suddenly, he notice say something no correct.

He pause mid-cry, nose still run. The kind shiver wey hold am, na only when juju pass your front you fit feel am. For Umuola, if dead man waka, na sign say big wahala dey come.

His Majesty, wey suppose dey nearly die, just grab the yellow cloth, use one move pull himself up.

Ifedike leg strong, hand grip like wrestler. For old chief to stand, Mazi Chukwuemeka eyes nearly commot for socket. He drop the cloth, mouth wide open, dey look like goat wey see masquerade for first time.

Mazi Chukwuemeka: “Ahhh!”

E echo for night. Bats scatter for iroko tree. He wan run, but leg no gree move.

This one—this one no fit happen!

Him mind dey race, dey remember old mama story: when chief rise from death, something big dey come. He pinch self, e sure say e no dey dream.

Next thing, he see His Majesty use chance kick the bent iroko tree trunk with all him power.

The sound waka like thunder. Old iroko tree, wey dem say dey protect village, tremble as if angry spirit dey inside.

The tree shake, then after small time, e fall for ground, dust just full everywhere.

Birds for tree scatter, sand fill Mazi Chukwuemeka mouth. The land tremble small. Na sign say ancestors dey awake. Old women for nearby compound begin shout, “Tufiakwa!”

Mazi Chukwuemeka: “…”

He try talk, nothing gree commot. Sweat pour for face, hand dey shake like person wey drink ogogoro quick. Him face white like person wey see masquerade for afternoon.

This one na even bigger wonder!

For Umuola, person wey fit bring down iroko with leg, na spirit man. He dey wait make elders appear from bush, carry sacrifice. His heart dey jump like drum.

Before Mazi Chukwuemeka fit react, one pair eyes red like pepper—no be ordinary eye—shine for inside dust, like old lion wey crawl comot from dead body and blood river—eyes wey fit decide who go live or die, fit command the village with just talk.

Those eyes no be for ordinary man. Only for market day masquerade or for vision, person fit see am. Night air thick, like palm oil soup. Mazi Chukwuemeka cross self for chest.

Proud, cold, “If no be me, who go fit settle this land?”

His voice low, but e carry weight. The trees for hill bow small, like dem dey respect king. Even crickets pause their song for one breath.

Mazi Chukwuemeka just hold breath, shock remain there. Na after dust settle, he come confirm say na still Obinna get those eyes.

He squint, doubt still dey. But na the same nose, same scar for cheek. Spirit or no spirit, e still be Chief Obinna.

“Your Majesty?”

He voice low, shaky, like goat wey dey find mother. Him mind dey pray make e no be ghost.

Ifedike no answer am.

His head full, heavy with journey from land of death. He just dey look far, like person wey dey see tomorrow.

After he escape death, the wahala for him mind come calm, and Ifedike see the two hundred years history of Umuola dynasty pass for him front.

The stories flow like river. He see the coronation dance, the palm wine feast, the war council under great silk cloth. He see betrayal, love, and all the faces wey don waka this land.

Ifedike: “….”

He sigh, hand for head. E pain am say history dey repeat, that all their sweat nearly turn to sand for hand.

E for nearly die again out of vex.

He spit for ground, mind hot. As if if him get power, he for use thunder scatter the palace, start afresh.

Before him body even cold, Nnamdi begin fight him uncles, fourth son (Chijioke) carry youths rebel, snatch chieftaincy, lock up royal family, dey fear say princes fit support council again.

Stories of family war na old gist for Umuola. Brother against brother, cousin betray cousin—all because of one stool, one crown. Ifedike chest dey tight, fingers curl for palm.

Ifedike: For a moment, e no know which of dem to curse first.

He mutter name for under breath, voice like storm. If to curse fit bring change, e for start from family, then spread to council.

After Idemili Fortress wahala, the Umuola progress just cut half. Kelechi still get mind collect chieftaincy again, kill loyal people.

Loyalty na scarce thing. Ifedike remember how friend turn to snake, how wine wey dey share for council table fit poison a man. The spirit of trust don die for palace long ago.

Ifedike no even bother to curse—na the whole clan he wan finish.

He laugh small, bitter, hand for waist. Sometimes, na whole generation suppose chop cane.

After that, everywhere just spoil: elders dey form clique, palace boys dey put hand for council, children of the dynasty dey chase juju or just lazy, secret guards turn decoration. From royal family reach top council, everybody dey seize land; common man land no reach half the village, but na dem dey pay all tax.

He picture the city—market women dey hustle, but their sweat dey fill other people basket. Boys wey suppose guard gate dey chase juju for corner. Ifedike feel the wahala for him bones.

Plenty Uchechukwus, just like Red Cap boys that year, go surely rise come scatter Umuola.

He remember old Red Cap rebellion, blood for sand, mothers wailing by stream. Each time one Uchechukwu rise, na new story of pain and betrayal.

And Obinna, you still get mouth talk say you no be chief wey lose land?

He shake head, eye hard. Self-pity na soft mat for weak chief. For this land, chief wey cry no dey last.

Too suspicious, no dey decide quick, kill plenty loyal people wey fight rebellion; always dey rush, push good men go die for battlefields wey no be their own.

He count names, each one heavy. Wisdom no dey with speed. True leader suppose sabi who to trust, who to fight. Many good men don chop sand for nothing.

Ifeanyi, Sunkanmi, Yakubu… Their pain heavy pass Obinna own self-pity.

He call their name inside heart, pour small prayer for them. For land wey good men dey die anyhow, no peace go enter palace.

For the dark, Ifedike feel say na their wahala carry am come here.

He look sky, eye full of old tears. Ancestors dey judge from above; for each sin, person must pay.

He look the iroko tree wey fall, think say: That pain just now, that sudden power, must be Ifeanyi natural strong body.

He rub shoulder, remember how Ifeanyi dey wrestle for new yam festival, body like rock. Even as pain wan scatter him chest, na that strength wake him spirit.

But even juju strength no fit stop disaster.

He nod small, sigh. No matter how strong, if the land bad, even lion fit die for goat hand.

No money, no food, no youths—Ifedike still push go front, machete break, carry spear continue fight, blood full body, still die for enemy arrow.

He remember last moment—sand dey mouth, blood full ground. But still, he no run. To die for Umuola, better pass to live for shame.

Night breeze wake hero dream. Ifedike look sky, sigh: Una all na good sons, good men. Make una rest—since I dey here, invaders no go rule this land, and Umuola dynasty no go fall just like that!

He spread hand, whisper prayer for wind. ‘My brothers, rest. My spirit go stand for all of una.’

But as e be now, everywhere don cast.

He shake head, look valley. Lanterns wey dey burn for city dey faint, like hope wey dey die.

Uchechukwu one hundred thousand boys don surround the city, people inside don lose hope—before day break, city fit fall.

The night thick with fear. Mothers hold pikin close, men dey sharpen cutlass in secret, but all their eyes red with fear. Enemy songs dey reach wall.

Even if you disguise run comot, no money, no youths, who know how many wahala dey wait for road.

He reason am—who go follow, who fit trust? For Nigeria, road no dey easy. Even rat dey fear for bush when trouble land.

And even if you survive am, Four Northern Towns, Musa the Gatekeeper—all of dem no really loyal.

Old alliances na just mouth; when wahala land, even best friend fit turn Judas. Musa own loyalty na like raffia rope—if you lean, e go cut.

To run alone—no be to rush go turn Chief Eze of Otukpo?

He smile small—joke old men dey crack: better to die for your land than to go Otukpo beg for stool you no deserve.

So Obinna no get any better plan, na why he choose death.

He understand the hopelessness, but cowardice still no be answer for Umuola chief. Ancestors no dey welcome chief wey run.

No wahala. Obinna no get plan, but Ifedike get mind to win.

He rub chest, stand tall. Spirit strong, na here true leader dey show.

Na as you dey waka, road go show!

He grin, brush dust from wrapper. For Umuola, hope na river—once you start waka, e go find road by itself.

As he turn back, Mazi Chukwuemeka still dey stand there dey look.

Mazi Chukwuemeka leg dey wobble, sweat full brow. He no sabi wetin to do, but hope dey blink for inside chest.

Ifedike wave hand: “Oya, make we go down from this hill.”

His voice sure, like bell for morning mass. Even the trees listen, birds perch for silent watch.

Mazi Chukwuemeka body shake, still confuse: “Your Majesty, e mean say hope still dey?”

His eyes beg, like child wey lose mother for market. He dey find small reason to believe.

Ifedike look am: “As chief, even if road no dey, you no suppose turn back! To hang yourself for bent tree no be chief wey die for land—na chief wey abandon land!”

His words heavy. The shame of running, na worse than arrow for chest. In Umuola, chief must stand, even if na for last dust.

Mazi Chukwuemeka heart shake: “So where Your Majesty wan go now?”

He voice soft, almost break. For mind, e dey beg ancestors make dem show better way.

Ifedike dey waka dey talk: “No youths, no warriors—so first, make we go find people, buy okada.”

He say am like man wey dey talk tomorrow sure pass today. For Umuola, if okada dey, road no far. Even for war, small chance na big hope.

Mazi Chukwuemeka come dey panic, think say His Majesty don craze, he follow am waka, him face white like person wey see masquerade for afternoon: “Your Majesty, we no get money to recruit boys or buy okada. Just now, when dem ask elders for money, na thirty or eighty naira dem drop, say dem don broke. Common people sef—if we try collect from dem again, the whole city go scatter!”

His voice loud, hands dey fly for air. He dey fear riot, fear hunger, fear shame. For his mind, wahala just dey multiply.

Another cannon sound for outside city, smoke and fire full sky, enemy army dey laugh for far, like say dem dey use am scare Umuola boys make dem run more.

The sound heavy, like thunder wey dey curse city. Dogs bark, children hide under bench, old men spit for ground, curse enemy papa.

Ifedike just stop, Mazi Chukwuemeka nearly jam him back.

He no look back, just stand, leg apart. Even birds quiet. That silence heavy, thick pass ogbono soup.

Dry season breeze dey blow for city, but now everywhere quiet. Ifedike turn, look Mazi Chukwuemeka: “When I tell you say make you collect money from people?”

His face calm, voice carry weight. For Umuola, question fit kill pride faster than slap.

Mazi Chukwuemeka shock: “Your Majesty, if no be from people, from who then?”

He stammer, voice nearly break. Palm sweat dey flow.

Ifedike talk: “Anybody wey get money, na from dem we go collect.”

He look am straight, no blink. For this land, big man na bank. If city wan survive, rich man must feel pinch first.

Mazi Chukwuemeka dey fear, try test am: “So who get money?”

He ask am like pikin wey no wan chop cane. For mind, he dey list names of elders wey get fat goats for backyard.

Ifedike look am: “You believe that lie say dem broke, just thirty or eighty naira?”

He snort. For Umuola, rich man cry poor when wahala show face. He remember how elders dey wear gold chain but go drop small money for council.

Mazi Chukwuemeka come dey panic, stammer: “Your Majesty, but if we wan collect from elders, we suppose get reason, abi?”

He voice soft, like man wey dey beg for leniency. He dey fear elders fit vex, go call meeting for back.

Ifedike nod: “Reason dey. Boys need food, na normal thing. But our boys no get food—no food, no courage, just one rebel cannon dem go run. Our boys no always be like this—na somebody thief their ration, turn dem to this.”

He spit for ground, eyes flash. He remember how council dey pocket ration, leave boys for wall to chop dry garri. This wahala no be ordinary.

“As e be now, how we no go carry cutlass?”

He raise hand, shadow fall for ground. For Umuola, if hope finish, only cutlass remain. Even market woman sabi say hungry man na angry man.

Mazi Chukwuemeka shock sotey e remain there, remember how Ifedike take kick down iroko tree, body begin shake, no fit ask again, just follow Ifedike go down hill, pass street, finally understand why dem dey go out.

His legs dey weak, heart dey race. He dey look left and right, praying make nobody stop dem for road. He adjust wrapper, dey prepare for anything.

Na to reach the house of Chief Okafor, Olumide.

For Umuola, if war dey, you find where real men dey. Olumide house na stronghold—old lion dey guard gate, boys dey ready, no matter the time.

Mazi Chukwuemeka reason am: Yes, to collect money from nobles and elders, you need boys. But as city boys no get mind to fight—even if His Majesty call, only few go answer. Na only Olumide, wey no get city guard work, get house boys wey fit fight—a rare loyal person for city.

He nod inside, chest rise. Loyalty na gold for war. Without Olumide and him boys, hope no go stand.

But when His Majesty start dey calm like this?

He dey wonder—na which spirit enter chief after tree fall? Old Obinna dey rush like bush fire, no dey pause for anybody.

No be say he suppose rush go city wall call men, then vex when nobody answer?

He remember how Obinna go shout, curse boys for not answering, threaten council, then break own staff for ground.

Of course, Mazi Chukwuemeka no fit talk am. As he remember the iroko tree, and the way His Majesty dey para for nobles and elders, he just keep quiet, only shout, “Chief don come o!” when dem reach the Chief house.

His voice loud, like gong. For Olumide house, once you shout, boys dey appear quick. For Umuola, chief’s arrival na big news, even for war.

Ifedike knack Mazi Chukwuemeka for head, waka enter, talk:

He knock am gentle, like elder brother way teach small boy sense. The kind swagger wey follow am, e no dey borrow power from anybody. Chief dey walk like man wey carry answer for bag.

“Announce what? For time like this, you still dey wait make Chief come greet me?”

His voice cut like whip. Boys wey dey hang for corridor shift, grip cutlass tighter. Olumide house quiet, all eye dey chief.

Mazi Chukwuemeka: “Ahhh!”

He shrink, hand for chest. The kind respect wey follow fear, e deep. Some boys chuckle for back—na so new chief dey carry power.

Mazi Chukwuemeka fear catch am. After His Majesty try kill himself, he change finish. How I go serve am now?

He dey remember old stories: man wey come back from death, na spirit man. For mind, e dey plan how to dey loyal till rain stop.

No be only am dey fear. Olumide sef shock. The boys for gate no get time announce—the chief don waka enter, stand for front of Olumide.

Olumide dey play ayo inside compound, see chief enter, ayo seeds fall for sand. He rise quick, wrap cloth for waist, come meet chief face to face.

He bend small, fist to chest, show respect. Olumide look lost: “Your Majesty, wetin carry you come?”

He voice soft, but hand dey grip staff. For Umuola, man no dey gree surrender him house easy.

Ifedike eyes dey hot: “Give me your boys—make we go take back Umuola!”

The words hot like pepper, confidence steady. Even lizards for wall pause, listen. Na war chief dey call, no be small play. Na together broom dey sweep compound clean.

The way he talk am sure die, like say na normal thing, Olumide nearly believe am. He just dey look, then force smile: “Your Majesty, enemy plenty, we few—nothing fit work, why…”

His words fade, but hope dey small for corner of eye. For Umuola, when chief ready, boys dey answer.

Ifedike cut am, waka near, lower him voice: “E no fit worse pass as e be now. Yesterday you and Prince Consort Musa fight for street, kill plenty—surely you no be person wey go just sit wait for death. Since you fit fight, why you no trust me this once?”

He put hand for Olumide shoulder, grip tight. For Umuola, touch from chief fit turn doubt to courage.

This talk strong. Olumide look up, see pride and confidence wey he never see before for Ifedike eye.

The kind eye wey dey talk say: "I go die before I fail you." For war time, na only trust fit break fear.

True, e no fit worse. If His Majesty ready fight till end, wetin remain wey man go lose?

He nod, straighten back, chest rise. For land wey boys dey fear, only chief fit teach courage.

Olumide take deep breath, stand behind Ifedike, shout: “Order! Gather boys, ready for fight!”

His voice roll like thunder, scatter pigeons for roof. The boys rush come, some dey slap chest, others dey raise stick. For Umuola, war call dey sweet warriors.

Ifedike just smile, pat Olumide for shoulder: “Bring cutlass too. If I die hide for your back today, I no deserve be your elder brother.”

The words sweet, memory sharp. For childhood, na Ifedike dey protect Olumide from bully, now na battle dem go face together.

Olumide shock. That warmth for him shoulder, Ifedike smile, e be like say he don go back to when he small.

His heart melt small, nose hot, tears wan fall. Old story dey roll for mind—two brothers for bush, hunting squirrel, sharing laughter.

E don tey, Olumide nearly forget say Chief Okoro na him cousin, wey dey protect am that year, play and waka for bush together.

He remember the promise—"As long as I dey, nobody fit touch you." Now, e sure say true chief don come back.

Old memory and Ifedike smile mix together. Olumide nose begin hot, no know wetin to talk, just bite lip, shout again: “Order! Gather boys, ready for fight!”

Boys scatter, run go bring cutlass, powder, red scarf. Some dey beat drum, some dey sing old warrior song. Some boys draw white chalk for face, others tie red cloth for head—war don land. For Umuola, hope fit rise from ground, as long as heart still dey beat.