“You don’t know how proud this makes me,” my grandmother, who was sitting right beside me on the sofa, said, beaming with pride.
“I’m aware,” I responded, trying hard to mirror her joy when inside, agony tore through me.
For weeks now, she had been preparing in earnest for me to take on my new role, completely oblivious of my state. I desperately wanted to tell her what I was going through but chickened out each time after convincing myself she would be too helpless to save me from the situation. No one could save me now, as I was in too deep.
I believed Ifedi had suspected something was wrong. I could tell because of the way she looked at me after I lied about a bruise on my arm. I had told her it came from hitting my hand carelessly against a wall when in fact it had come from Albert grabbing me too hard. Like my grandmother, I didn’t see the point in telling her the truth, as she too would be incapable of rescuing me. I prayed for Okem to return. Being strong-willed, I was sure he would know how to get me out of the mess I was in. Amah’s uncle had stopped searching altogether. After I called him a few times, and he didn’t pick up my calls, I gave up. Albert had likely warned him against maintaining contact with me.
* * *
On Friday, after Albert had gotten over three days of hurdles, he marched to the palace with his entourage to complete the final task—to receive the staff of office—before the kingmakers crown him. A large procession waited outside the palace grounds. As Albert and the kingmakers were about to enter the hallway leading to the King’s private chamber, two of the guards pulled Albert to a corner. They informed him that as the procession was heading to the palace, the King’s attendants had found him lying motionless on his back when they entered his chamber to prepare him for the ceremony. They had tried to wake him up, and when all efforts failed, they had called the palace doctor, who confirmed he had been dead for hours. The palace insiders were immediately sworn to secrecy to avoid the mayhem that could occur from the news leaking prematurely.
In Ide, when a king dies, rites to appease the soul of the dead king and the ancestors consisted of burying the king with human heads to serve him in the afterworld. Head hunters are immediately put to task to obtain the required amount of heads to accompany the king to his grave before the masses catch wind of such a situation. For the quest to be successful, the oath of secrecy must be maintained. Any leakage and the masses would disappear from the streets for weeks on end until the burial is concluded and the kingdom declared safe from hunters, making it hard for the head hunters to achieve their goal. From the stories I was told since I was a little girl, the number of heads needed was a function of the king's age, his clout, and the number of years he'd sat on the throne. More heads led to a more successful reign in the afterworld, and in return, led to better intercession with the gods for the citizens that remained on earth.
While the procession waited outside, the palace began a propaganda onslaught, releasing lie after lie to cover for the real reason behind the cancellation of the crowning ceremony. The palace’s communication secretary placed an announcement on radio and television stations to reassure the citizens that the King was in great shape and that the occasion would resume the following week. He even went as far as claiming that the King halted the ceremonies to prepare for the unexpected arrival of the powerful King of Farabar, who had insisted on witnessing the crowning ceremony. Many chose to believe the lies, but the discerning understood that something was amiss. By sunset, speculations about the fate of the ailing King increased. Whispers filled the air. The farms and markets slowly became deserted as many retreated inside from fear of what was to come. The next day, after an inside source leaked the news, the entire town was in shock.
* * *
With the King dead, our marriage was further delayed by ongoing traditional rites and customs, including acquiring the heads to accompany the King in his grave. Following a formal announcement that the King had died, the palace initiated a mourning period of one week and banned every form of celebration. Anyone found partying or merry making was arrested and made to serve penance, involving washing in the sacred river, a necessary cleansing rite for defiling the holy period. Since the reigning King died before handing over the staff, the King-in-waiting would have to go through the kingmakers, a process that took three weeks or longer and could result in unending chaos if another laid claim to the throne. To avert disaster, the first required course of action was a cleansing ritual for both the future King and the deceased King, making the process more arduous than if the staff was handed over without incident.
A wave of relief washed over me as the further away the wedding day moved, the more hopeful I became that my predicament might change. I’d been praying for a miracle, and it felt like my prayers had been answered. Albert’s behavior was firmly beyond one slap too many. With each passing day my mind despaired over him. His nearness, his
