Chapter 1: The Spirit-Cat’s Mistake

The year wey I poor pass, na fight I dey fight with wild spirits over grave offerings, when I suddenly hear say the Okafor family wan do ritual to choose spiritual guardian for their pikin.

The harmattan that season tough no be small, the kind wey dry crack person lips and make market women curse under breath. Hunger dey wire me, my fur don scatter with dust. I be One-Eye, the wildcat wey spirit world dey fear. And all the small spirits for the old cemetery dey form gra-gra, dey claim each small kolanut and bottle of dry gin wey mourners drop. Still, na that Okafor palava draw me, sharp like the way jollof rice dey pull children for party.

"Spirits and elders of all kinds, anybody wey fit cure my daughter—no matter where you from—we go build church for your head, and worship you."

Their voice loud, scatter for air, mix with talking drum and bell wey dey ring from backyard. I just dey observe, my one eye dey shine like torch. The Okafors no dey joke; their elders gather, everybody tie wrapper, some dey whisper prayer, others dey watch road for sign of miracle.

To build church no too special, but na the roast chicken and fat goat wey dem put for table make my eye dey turn for hunger.

If you see the aroma wey just dey float, e reach make man forget him own wahala. The palm oil still dey shine for chicken skin, and the goat pepper soup dey draw fly. My belly rumble, that kain wey be like drum for ogene festival. I swallow spit, dey calculate my move.

Before my brain fit reason, my mouth don already dey chop.

No time for sense when belly dey empty. My leg quick, na so I land beside the tray. My teeth no waste time; sharp like razor, I dey scatter everything—bone, skin, even gizzard wey dem hide under leaf. No shame for hunger.

People dey stare. Some dey whisper, some dey point. Me? I just dey chop.

The steward shock, e try pursue me. "Who let this cat enter? See as e dey chop like say e pay bride price!"

The man fear me small, but e get job, so e go do am. E grab broom, wan chase me commot, but my own leg fast pass him own. The whole compound dey watch, some dey laugh, others dey fear.

But Uncle Okafor just kneel down for my front with heavy gbam. "Great Immortal, abeg help my daughter!"

The man fall for ground like sack of yam, sweat dey drip from him head. People wey gather begin murmur, some kneel join, others dey peep for window. I see small tears for Uncle Okafor eye, e no even dey shame. Desperation fit make man do anything.

I just look the pikin wey dem put for keke napep chair, see say her three souls no complete, I come realize—

The sight pain me. Small girl, her skin yellow like new yam, hair plait in short shuku, dey limp for chair, eye just dey look like say e dey far from here. Her chest dey rise small, but for spirit world, na only one faint light I dey see hover round am. E shock me.

Wahala dey oo.

Na wahala wey pass as e dey hot; if dem no do fast, ground fit swallow pikin, her name go just become old gist for compound.

E be like say I don enter gbege so.

This kind thing no be my plan at all. But since I don chop their chicken, spirit law no go gree make I waka commot. As elders talk, person wey chop from pot must wash plate. Hunger carry me come, now na battle I dey face. I sigh small—Na so e dey be for this world.

But the real battle never even start.