Chapter 4: Bukka Bliss, Palace Summons

Mama carry us to Mama Nkechi’s bukka—the one place me and Guanguan dey like pass.

The smell of frying oil, pepper, coconut just pull us from street. Inside, local music play on a radio. Our special bench wait for us, and Mama Nkechi herself waved, teeth shining. "Twins! My fine twins!" she hailed, already serving us with the pride of a favourite auntie.

Me, na their coconut puff-puff dey sweet me pass. Normally, mama no dey allow me chop am plenty, but that day she let me enjoy. My happiness no get part two, as I dey think, e good as papa don come back.

My hands sticky, sugar on my chin, but I no care. Guanguan grinned, her cheeks round like mine, and we kicked our legs to the music. Mama watched us, smiling, wiping our mouths with her wrapper as if we be small pikin. The joy in her eyes told me she finally get peace.

Next day after papa return na our birthday. The queen send call, make mama carry us go Royal Hall celebrate.

Early morning, mama wrapped us in best Ankara, beads shining, hair freshly threaded. The palace messenger’s horse stood at gate, causing wahala as children pointed, trying to touch mane. Neighbours whispered about the honour—twins invited by queen herself.

Mama no too happy, maybe because her birthday wahala go waste.

I saw her look at leftover meat pies and jollof rice, brow tight. She told aunty to care for food, but her eyes lingered on backyard, like she wanted us to just stay and dance. Still, she wiped her eyes, straightened, "No cry for palace, o."

I no too like the queen. Any time she see me and Guanguan, she ask, "Which one of you be Ifeanyi Tangola?"

Her voice sharp, eyes piercing, like she wan see inside us. Her head-ties fit cover her chair, rings shine even when she no move. Her words always twist my stomach.

Once she ask, mama go kneel sharp-sharp, "Replying to the Queen, the elder na Ifeanyi Tangola, the younger na Ifeanyi Weimi."

Her knees thud, eyes down, hands folded. Even if her wrapper dirty or knee pain, she never hesitate.

Queen go frown, look us well, "Ngozi, you sure say you sabi your two daughters apart?"

She tilt head, eyebrow raised, gold earrings swinging. The whole hall go quiet.

Mama answer, "Sometimes e dey hard small."

She always look away, voice soft. Once, her lips trembled, but she smiled through.

Mama dey teach us no lie, but she dey lie herself.

I caught Guanguan’s eye, we almost laugh, but I bite tongue. Adults get their own kind of truth and lie—na the one wey keep you out of palace wahala.