Chapter 1: Accusations on the Hill

Halfway through the grave-cleaning, my younger cousin just burst up the hill, panting and shouting that somebody for the village don die. "Yeeeh!" somebody shout from the crowd, voice sharp like broken bottle.

All of us just pause for one second, broom and cutlass still for hand, dust from the old graves hanging in the air. My aunty, wey dey tie two wrappers, almost drop her lantern. Even the old men wey dey carry bell for the ancestors just freeze—the bell wey suppose call spirit, now just dey hang for their hand like dead thing. For that kind moment, even the crickets wey dey make noise for bush hush like say dem dey listen.

I just dey for back row, dey chop groundnut, dey reason to myself, "Person die on top New Yam Festival—na real bad luck for their family." The shell dey rough for my finger, the taste bitter-sweet for my tongue.

I even lick my thumb, wipe am for my wrapper, sigh small. This kind gist wey dey scatter festival fit mean say new wahala don land for the person family—some people go talk say the yam this year go get bad luck, some go carry the matter reach shrine. My mama for say, "May God protect us from untimely trouble on festival day."

My cousin point at me. "Na my sister use her car jam Mama Kudi."

You suppose see as everybody take twist neck look me that moment, like people wey dey watch football and ref blow whistle. As if dem wan use eye carry my secret come out. Even the small pikin wey dey suck mango stone for corner stop, mouth open. One old woman wey dey clean tombstone just clap hand say, "Ah! E don happen!"

I shock. My body cold. My ear dey drum, like when rain wan fall for zinc roof.

Na my own cousin dey talk this kind thing, for public? My mind dey race. I dey try remember if I waka for road today at all. My groundnut almost fall from my hand.

My cousin continue, "Na my sister dey speed around 9 a.m., jam Mama Kudi for front of her provision store."

The way e talk am, you go think say e dey act for one Nollywood film. People begin murmur, some dey shake head, some dey whisper. You go know say na real matter wey go reach village square soon.

Nine in the morning.

We don climb this hill since five o'clock to honour our ancestors, kneel tire since morning, even chop plenty smoke from all the burnt palm fronds. With everybody for the village gather for grave-cleaning, everywhere just jam-packed.

The dry air just dey choke person. As I dey think am, I remember say my slippers even tear as I dey carry my uncle up the slope. If anybody waka comot, people for notice now now.

"Sister, abeg, you suppose go confess."

My cousin talk am with that kind voice wey people dey use for church, like say he dey advice sinner. Some of the elders just dey nod, some dey purse mouth. One pikin, e face carry sand, dey look me with big eye like say e wan cry join.

The sister-in-law wey dey near me just add mouth, "Morayo, how you go dey so careless like this?"

She talk am with that kind voice wey dey scratch ear, eyes red like say na she dem offend. Her wrapper even shift for shoulder as she dey gesticulate. Two women for back murmur, "I talk am say her driving get wahala."

My cousin too begin talk, "Morayo, I don tell you before—New Yam Festival dey always full. You suppose dey careful when you dey drive."

The way e dey repeat am, you go think say na my driver license he dey hold. Some people nod in agreement, others dey look ground like say the answer dey there.

My aunt dey wipe her eyes, "Morayo, just behave yourself for inside, try change make you better soon."

She talk am, voice low, nose red, like person wey don tire for wahala. Her scarf dey slip back as she use one hand dab tears, the other hand dey hold my wrist. Old women dey shake head; you go know say story don reach elders hand.

I sharply ask, "Junior brother, the 'sister' wey you talk say jam person—na me you dey talk about so?"

My voice rise small—everybody pause, the bell for ancestor hand no jingle again. Even the birds for mango tree quiet, like dem dey listen.

My cousin answer, "Na you o! I see am with my eye, even plenty people see am. Na you dey drive."

E bend eye, mouth tight, like person wey dey fear but wan show boldness. The way e talk am, e be like say na final judgement.

"But I never comot from this hill since morning—na here I dey kneel, burn palm fronds, dey cry. I even go wake you for house this morning make you follow us, you no gree get up."

I face the crowd, voice dey shake. My body dey pepper me, shame and anger dey mix inside me. Some elders dey look each other, some dey cough like say dem dey clear spirit from throat.

My cousin just dey insist, "Sister, abeg stop dey form story. Just accept wetin you do. Mama Kudi people dey come find you now now."

My teeth dey grind small, but I hold myself. He cross hand for chest, look away. Some of the men for back dey mutter, "All these young people sef." Their voice low, but e cut pass cane. My heart dey pound, sweat dey my palm, even though harmattan breeze dey blow.

I turn face my uncle. "Uncle Sola, from when we climb hill reach the end of ceremony, I dey by your side steady. You sure say you no see me?"

As I ask am, I dey hope say him go help me clear my name. Even the groundnut for my mouth bitter. My leg dey shake small.

My uncle, wey get bad leg and always dey for wheelchair, na me push am climb the hill. With the crowd, I kneel near am for cemetery almost all the time.

Uncle Sola cough, rub him knee, him old wristwatch dey shine small for sun. Him voice soft, "People too plenty, how I go fit dey count everybody? If you do wrong, just talk am. Our Adeyemi family no dey fear."

He look me, look ground. Some people nod, some dey purse mouth. One woman clap say, "Ehn! Family pride!"

"But—"

I try talk more, but the words no gree come. I swallow spit, my chest dey heavy. Na so the crowd just dey look me, as if my skin don turn glass, make dem see wetin dey my mind.

Everybody eye just dey on me, cold and sharp—different from the way dem just dey serious in front of the grave before.

Even the sun sef comot for small cloud, cast shadow for my face. Breeze blow the ash from palm frond enter my eye, I blink am away. I feel as if ground wan open.

My cousin sef, he face just dey like person wey sure say e sure.

He stand as if him dey wait for trophy. Some children dey look am with respect, one small girl even shift close to him leg.

I still dey confuse. This grave-cleaning matter big o—how my cousin no go get up?

My mind dey run, dey check memory as if I dey search old cassette tape. I dey try reason how my cousin go know about the accident if e no even come out house.

I squeeze pass people, go meet my cousin papa. "Uncle, you hear wetin your pikin just talk?"

I use style push through, sidon for ground in front of my uncle. Him dey wear old Agbada, wey the embroidery don fade. Him hand dey rest for him walking stick, face serious.

This uncle na the family pride—graduate come back village, dey run agri-business, dey sell farm things online. Fine boy, even marry village chief daughter, wey be my small aunt.

Everybody dey respect am for village. Even when he cough, some people dey pause. The way him dey always carry phone dey snap picture of yam and cassava, some elders dey call am "farmer wey sabi book." Him wife, my small aunt, na real beauty, dey quick vex, quick smile.

"Morayo, everybody dey make mistake. No fear. Just accept as e be, pay as e be—family go support you."

He talk am with calm voice, but you go hear the weight. Him eye dey gentle, but the message clear—no disgrace the family. Some elders nod, "Na so e suppose be." For my heart, e dey pain me say nobody dey believe me.

"But I dey this hill since! Wetin I wan accept? Wetin all of una dey do—una dey play with me?"

I feel my voice crack, as if tears dey hide for throat. My chest dey tight, I dey shake head. The whole thing dey sound like dream.

"I watch African Magic, if person jam person, beg the family well, fit no enter prison. Mama Kudi people dey peaceful, dem no go wahala you. Calm down."

He even add that one, as if African Magic na law book. Some people for back chuckle small, but nobody really smile. The matter dey heavy for everybody mind.

My cousin just shout from back, "Sister, go confess before e too late!"

Voice loud like bell, scatter all the small talk. Some of the old men tap their stick for ground, one woman wey dey fan herself stop. The harmattan breeze just pick up, carry dust from dry grass.

One kind breeze just blow, dey scatter the palm ash for air. The weather wey already cold, just come dey bite more—harmattan fit don start.

My lips begin crack, as the white dust dey float around us. The air get that dry, peppery smell, and some people dey cough. Even the ground dey look pale, like say ancestors dey vex.

"E don finish. Kudi family dey come. Sister, you don enter wahala."

The way e talk am, people start shift leg, adjust wrapper, like say fight go soon start. Some men gather, ready to block road if anything wan spoil.

About twelve people rush climb the hill, everywhere just choke.

The sound of feet, wailing, wrapper slapping, fill the air. Some people dey shout, some dey cry. Even goat wey dey roam graveyard pause look the crowd.

Mama Kudi first son, Musa Kudi, dey front, follow men and women for mourning cloth, all of dem dey cry anyhow.

Musa Kudi na strong man, face like yam pounder, chest broad. Him red eye dey shine for sun, wrapper tie tight for waist. The women dey tie black scarf, the men dey carry handkerchief, some dey hold sachet water, dey use am clean face.

"Who be Morayo Adeyemi?"

Musa voice thunder pass megaphone. Some people just shuffle back, nobody wan stand near me.

Everybody eye turn face me.

I feel as if cold hand grip my heart. My mouth dry, but I force my leg move. Even my shadow no wan follow me go front.

No choice, I waka come front. "Na me."

My voice just come out low, but everybody hear am. My feet dey heavy, leg dey weak. My hand dey cold, but I stand well.

"Na you jam my mama this morning. Wetin you wan talk now?"

E cross arm, chest rise and fall, him voice hard. Some of the mourning women begin wail louder, one even sit for ground dey slap earth.

"Brother Musa, e be like say you dey mistake. I dey this hill since five o'clock, dey grave-clean. I no comot, how I wan take drive jam your mama?"

I hold my ground, try talk clear, but my voice still dey shake. I look am straight, my hand dey tremble for side.

Musa Kudi, eyes red from cry, talk, "I know say you no go gree. You don go city, come back, your mind don change."

E point finger, voice crack with pain and anger. Some women dey nod, some dey hiss under breath.

"Brother Musa, you no fit accuse person without evidence."

I try use city grammar, voice small but stubborn. One man for back, wey sabi law for town, nod head like say he dey reason my side.

"I wan ask, that white Toyota with plate number KJA97336, na your own?"

Musa voice drop, serious. As e call plate number, some people dey whisper. My heart jump.

My brain blank. "Na my car. I drive am come yesterday, park am for my compound."

I dey try remember if I lock am, if key dey my bag. Sweat dey my forehead even with harmattan breeze. I dey look ground, dey reason how possible.