Mama Adene is getting dry clothes from the line and doesn’t notice a heart wisp hover into her compound. Until she hears chatter from across the street. She looks around and finds that a curious gathering has formed in front of her house. She whirls from the line and squints at her patio. Then she sees it and loses grip of the pile of clothes in her arm out of terror. It is a golden orb like the sun just sinking behind Igbadenedo Temple’s bell tower on the horizon. And it is the Shoga’s heart wisp. Only his has a golden hue. How dare he come to claim her after murdering her husband for supporting his opponent in the election that made him the Shoga? She waits for the wisp to descend towards her but instead, it goes for the door. Adene comes out of the house calling at her and is taken aback by the ball of light shining on her face. She puts up her arms to shield herself. Mama Adene gasps. The Shoga has come for her daughter. The people in the crowd are already taking pictures and she wants earth to slice open beneath their nosey feet. She watches Adene, caught in a dilemma of hopes. That Adene rejects the proposal to become The Shoga’s third queen out of justified spite or that she accepts it to avoid the troubles The Shoga’s bruised ego will rain on them. Adene chooses the former. She tightens her hands into a fist, stares into the wisp and crosses her arms over her chest. The crowd wows and ahs at her audacity to reject a golden opportunity to share in The Shoga’s power. Mama Adene, now realizing she dreads The Shoga’s wrath, runs toward the door.
“Adene! Please, open your palms and receive it. Save our family, please.”
Adene shakes her head as she glances at the setting sun. She turns her back, finalizing her rejection. And the wisp vanishes in a loud hiss. Mama Adene quickly ushers her inside from craning necks and prickling eyes.
“Adene Mọ’Mademeke, we just defied The Shoga. Do you realize what this means?” Mama sits across Adene on a sofa.
Adene reclines looking at the white squares on the ceiling. Her legs shake in opposing rhythms. She doesn’t say anything.
“You could have accepted it. If not for me, at least for Gunuga and his family.”
“I’d rather die, Mama. Even if I want to accept it, I can’t.”
“Why can’t you? You know families’ fates are bound by bloodline. We barely escaped your father’s treason crime.”
Adene sits upright and sighs. “Mama, I bonded with an elemental after Papa’s death. I have cast my heart wisp to the sun.”
Mama snaps her fingers over her head. “Abomination! That can’t be true. I brought you up a proper faithful.”
“It is true, Mama. I am devoted to the sun.”
“No!” Mama shakes her head. Then she holds it with both of her hands like she’s trying to stop her boiling brain from bubbling out of her skull. Suddenly, she becomes still and glances at Adene. “Is it because of Anahati? Did you do this because of Anahati? Ah!”
Anahati had been Adene’s lover. When Mama learnt of Mademeke’s accident, she drowned in grief. But she had a buoy, a twisted consolation; Anahati who was Mademeke’s driver died in the accident too. She had almost run mad when she found Adene making out with her. Her palms that sped to cover her agape mouth metaphorically remained until now. Because how would she talk about her daughter being in love with a woman without heaven caving in? This was why Anahati’s demise in the accident had sprinkled a pinch of relief on her tumultuous mind. She had felt her daughter might come to her senses and find a man this time. She couldn’t have imagined the double bereavement would make Adene commit heresy and make herself unmarriageable.
“I am sorry, Mama,” Adene says.
“No no no!” Mama glides off the sofa onto the floor like the sofa is too tender to cushion her pain. She breaks down, repeating, “We are doomed! We are doomed!”
Adene is summoned to The Shoga’s court the next day. The Shoga guards who had come to pick her up at dawn called it, a summoning. As if she had a choice when she would honour the call. They hadn’t waited for her to change her nightgown. They had snatched her from her mother’s unyielding grasp. This is why Mama uses “arrested” while reporting it to Gunuga on the phone a short while after.
“The Shoga has arrested your sister. The guards said there will be a hearing at 10.” Her voice is hoarse from last night’s cry.
“It’s alright, Mama. Everything will be fine. Let’s meet at 33 Disata Bus Stop in 30 minutes,” Gunuga says like it’s not an unusual thing for his sister to be arrested like it’s nothing to fret over. Mama can’t eat the food she prepared. She stands from the dining table and covers the steaming plate of honey rice. She picks up the house keys from the sitting room table and heads for the door. The bus stop isn’t far but she can’t stop feeling time is avalanching away. She has to be there now.
Gunuga shows up 15 minutes late. Mama who arrived early has waited for more than half an hour, sitting on the communal bench, shrinking under judging eyes. The news is all over the web and other commuters would glance from their phones at her and then back to their phones, sometimes speaking loudly for her to hear. “That’s the mother.” “You know the father was a criminal too.”
The nest the familiar company Gunuga comes with doesn’t allow her whine about his lateness. Or comment on his elaborate dressing as if he is going to receive a military honour. He is wearing a ceremonious silver shoulder pad over his coat. Mama had bought him a smaller size for his seventh birthday which he rejected. He’d worn Adene’s scarf around his neck instead. Mama realizes now that instead of fearing Gunuga would be a gender outcast then, she should have worried his masculinity would come to overshadow his sense of appropriateness. A man attending his sister’s hearing shouldn’t look this rigidly dressy.
They are greeted with whispers when they get on the bus. Of course, it is about them, about their family’s ill fate. Gunuga’s face is stoic, eyes set straight ahead at nothing, he seems blind to the comfort Mama’s body language seeks from him. Her fingers trembling on her laps, her misty eyes, her request that he wind up the window. Gunuga doesn’t look at her.
The bus stops at The Shoga Square, a sprawling area teaming with people pouring in and out of shopping complexes, lined by roadside vendors, taking pictures with the statues of holy prophets. One of the statues is at the centre of a roundabout overhead, a stone throw from where Mama and Gunuga alight. It is Prophet Odusere, saint patron of karma. His black skin is in stark contrast to the white wrapper tied over his shoulder. Golden rings adorn his neck and wrists. His arms are stretched out with one palm up and the other down. Mama bows in its direction and says a prayer. A moment later, Gunuga taps her. They have to cross to the other side of the express where the high walls of The Shoga’s palace loom. There are prying reporters waiting at the gate, their entrance blocked by security. Someone points out that Mama and Gunuga are approaching and cameras begin clicking at them. Mama is reminded of her dream, of a life used to paparazzi. One that would have played out if The Shoga’s opposing candidate who Mademeke supported had lived and won. Mademeke would have been appointed Elder 7; part of The Shoga’s council of twelve. The gale of questions blasted at them by the reporters pixelates her reverie. She is not the wife of a high noble here. She is just the wife of a dead felon and the mother of an arrestee. One of the security men comes to shield them from the intrusion and guides them through the gate.
The Shoga’s Estate is vast and it is quite unimaginable that this space of land exists at the heart of Igbadenedo. The buildings are ancient, constructed with clay bricks and designed with painted carvings. Directly before them, a cheetah’s sprint away is the Temple from which domes and high-reaching minarets protrude. The bell tower popular for being the tallest structure in Igbadenedo stands beside it. Across the field to the right are the palace chambers of rounded walls and cone rooftops. The court hall is the closest to the gate. Mama and Gunuga take a left turn from the yawning road towards a giant cubic monument capped with a dome. There are scribbles and paintings of valiant deeds of the past Shogas on the outer walls. The automated door slides open for them to enter while the security men remain still like figurines.
The hearing has already begun. Mama and Gunuga find seats at the back pew. Two people they meet on the row leave for the front lower pew. No acknowledgement, no pleasantries. Adene is in the middle of the central depression, seated on a stool. Mama can’t see her face. She is facing the high table of The Shoga and his band of twelve Elder 7’s. They seem like God peering down at their tiny creation. Distress turns Mama’s body to a marionette, causing her to shift intermittently on her seat, she tilts forward, such that it appears she will tumble down the step of pews anytime. Gunuga is rather calm.
“I do not plead guilty for I have done nothing wrong.” It’s Adene’s voice, composed, firm. “I only rejected a proposal. That is not a crime in the Constitution.”
Mama is not surprised Adene is countering her charges. Though not cultural, Mademeke used to analyze the constitution and its flaws with Adene.
“An unpaired woman rejecting The Shoga’s proposal is unreasonable. There is no logic to it,” one of the elders says.
Mama hears the click-clack of heels behind her but she doesn’t look at who just entered. Until the person, a woman in purple embroidered boubou, asks her to move inward so she can sit with her. She makes space and checks who is willing to risk their social standing. It’s Madam Agatha, widow of The Shoga’s opposing candidate who died in a car accident with Mademeke. She would have been queen. Now against antagonism, because she’s a woman, she runs her husband’s coal business. She was the one who told Mama that The Shoga killed their husbands because the poll was favouring them. She touches Mama’s knees in silent solidarity.
“Unreasonable and illogical is not the same as criminal, my lord,” Adene says.
The Shoga rubs the eye-shaped tattoo on his forehead. “You don’t have your heart wisp, young woman. I can’t perceive its essence with my third eye.”
Mutterings erupt.
“Silence!” The Shoga’s voice thunders, as he stamps his staff on the ground. A shivering quiet ensues. The Shoga continues, “And you are unpaired, so you couldn’t have devoted it to a husband. Where is it?”
Adene’s head falls, her long braids cloaking her face. “I gave it to the sun.”
“What did you say?”
Adene raises her head and glares at The Shoga. “I gave my heart wisp to the sun!”
Gasps and chatters buzz through the court. Some elders shoot out of their seats. Mama falls back in her chair. Madam Agatha holds her shoulder. Gunuga grasps her hand.
In her daze, Mama’s hope begins to shrivel. This hope that survived last evening on sentiments. Now it wilts into something too feeble to levitate Mama. And she falls. Into a swirling abyss of despair.
“Adene Mọ’modameke, you have committed an unforgivable sin. An irreversible one. A heart wisp devoted to the river can be summoned from its depth. One devoted to the wind can be reanimated. One given to earth and trees can be extracted. But the sun, the sun is forever! You can’t be saved.
“I hereby sentence you to death by crucifixion on the Holy Cross.”
Silence from the vacuum of shock. Nobody has bled on the Cross for a millennium now and all who were crucified in ancient times had given up their lives as a sacrificial act of nobility to honour their family and ensure the continuous flourishing of Igbadenedo. The Holy Books have a record of their names in gold.
“I am not willing to sacrifice my life. Willingness is crucial to the crucifixion ritual or the cross becomes cursed and bleeds,” Adene says.
“Your mother can bear your punishment by bloodline then. She will willingly die on the cross to save you.”
“I will! I will!” Mama runs down the aisle to Adene’s side. “I will do anything!”
Adene looks at her mother whimpering on the ground. Her chest burns. She closes her eyes and imagines the sunset. Teardrops fall. “I declare that I willingly accept crucifixion as punishment.”
The Shoga stamps his staff on the ground and everyone rises. Before he leaves the court, he casts a vicious glance at Adene and nods at the guards in waiting to take her. Just like it had happened in the morning, Adene is wrestled out of Mama’s hands. Gunuga and Madam Agatha come to pacify her, supporting her on both sides. Everyone else exits the hall nonchalant.
“I am sorry, Mama Adene. There’s nothing I can do. I am sorry,” Madam Agatha says, tears washing down her kohl.
Mama shakes her head and laughs bitterly. “I know. Nobody can challenge The Shoga. Because The Shoga is God! Ah God! I wish this were blasphemy but it isn’t. I wish it is so that in anger you strike me down now! But you can’t. You are not God. The Shoga is!”
The next day is the execution. Gunuga brings breakfast into Mama’s room, toast and a cup of tea on a tray. Mama is up, sitting at the edge of her bed and staring out the window. One of the doves that had colonized her roof perched on the sill. It flies away when Gunuga reaches the bed. Mama takes the tray from Gunuga and looks at it like a toddler would a knitting kit.
“You have to eat, Mama,” Gunuga says and sits by her side. Last night on this bed, unable to contain his emotions any longer, he had cried with Mama until she dozed off in his arms. Mama thanked him mindlessly as he slipped out of the room.
“Would you like me to slice the toast for you, Mama?”
Mama smiles and shakes her head no. Is this her Gunuga? Her misery must have cracked open his tombstone of unfeeling masculinity. Weeks ago, when Adene returned from his home furious, shouting about how he had slapped his wife in her presence, Mama had said he was just being a man. He was trying to hold the reins of his household. “Father wouldn’t excuse this and he was a man!” Adene had yelled and walked out on her. But Mademeke was an unconventional man. What kind of man hires a female chauffeur? Mama had always thought his opinions on social order didn’t count. But her experience lately has shifted her perspective. Damn this social order that murdered her husband, that attempted to compress her son into a rock, that is now about to take her daughter’s life.
Mama takes a bite from the bread but her mouth refuses to chew. So she swallows. Then she downs the tea in three gulps and puts the tray aside.
“You should stay home today, Mama.”
“No! I am attending the execution with you,” Mama snaps.
“But Mama…”
“I don’t need to wear something new. Seeing my daughter for the last time doesn’t require me looking tidy.” Mama is already walking towards the door, the weight of trepidation on her mind lightened by a yearning for closure.
The wind comes to witness the crucifixion of Adene. It staggers about the arena, flapping scarves and loose hems, throwing dust and leaves from the willows encircling the arena. The sun is not out yet and it is noon like she has refused to illuminate the scene of her devotee’s death. Adene is held by two guards on the stage. She is still in the nightgown they arrested her in, and it is now raggedy. Camera lights flicker on her every now and then. Mama and Gunuga are in the front row and their eyes exchange silent farewells with hers. Soon the Shoga arrives accompanied by his council and the crowd’s cacophony ceases.
The Shoga heads for a corner of the stage where a giant drum stands. The drumstick is attached to the base so that its thick head rests on the centre of the drum skin. The Shoga pulls back the stick and releases it. Gbam! Then the stick automatically flicks back and forth, creating a wave of drumbeats on which The Shoga’s voice will ride to the crowd.
“We have gathered today to witness the crucifixion of Adene Mọ’Mademeke for her sin of heresy. This shall be warning to all that the values and norms of Igbadenedo are law.
“I hereby order the crusaders to commence with the execution. May the blood on the cross save our land.”
Everyone repeats The Shoga’s prayer. The Shoga steps back to join the council at the back of the stage. The backdoor of the temple groans and opens behind the crowd. The crusaders in white garments come forth carrying the Holy Cross. It is maroon and is bejewelled with rubies on the sides. The crowd make the cross signs on their foreheads and part for the crusaders as they make their way to the stage. On the stage, they lay the cross on the ground. One of them takes a golden bowl to Adene to drink from. She does and her eyes turn ashy white. Then she is led to the cross. She lies on it, aligning her body with its shape. The crusaders encircle the cross, close their eyes and begin chanting. Whirring sounds emanate from the cross as its nails twirl out from under Adene’s body, drilling through flesh and bones. When the bloodied ends of the nails protrude out her feet, palms and chest, they open up into canopies and sink back as if hit by invisible hammers. And Adene is dead. Blood flows out, drenching the cross and staining the crusaders’ garments.
While everyone repeats, “May the blood on the cross save our land,” Gunuga holds her stunned mother from collapsing. But a moment later, she yanks herself out of his arms and dashes up the stage for the speaker drum. Before she could be stopped, she activates the drumstick and screams into the vibrations. “The Shoga murdered my husband and my daughter. He is evil reincarnate, forsaken by God and the…”
Her mouth is quickly stuffed and she is dragged out off the stage. Gunuga holds back with all his will. Should he act rashly, he would implicate his pregnant wife. The Shoga strides to the drum in fury. His honour has just been challenged openly and he needs to correct it. His words come out with urgency, forceful like pebbles shot from catapults.
“It is blasphemy to speak evil of The Supreme Shoga. For the Shoga is the vessel of God’s will. But I understand Mama Adene had been broken by grief so her punishment will be lenient. She shall serve the Holy Temple for three months in hope that she learns the grace of divinity. This is my verdict!”
He knocks his staff on the ground. And everyone bows till he marches out the stage.
Every morning since the execution, The Shoga’s guards come to take Mama. Gunuga has returned to his family and only visits in the evenings when she would have returned. He brings along food, serves her and stores some up in the refrigerator. Mama still can’t eat well. She has become a hollow delicate thing, the shed skin of a snake. This is the seventh day and as usual, she doesn’t want to leave her bed. But Gunuga and his family will suffer if she doesn’t. She has to further press down her anger and agony and serve her punishment. Or Gunuga will inherit it. She has thought of inviting Gunuga and his wife over and serving them poisoned tea so that they’ll all die. But she can’t do it. She drags herself off her bed and begins preparation for the temple.
Mama’s duty has been to open the temple every morning and tend to the lit candles surrounding the cross. This morning, she decides to open the always-shut coloured glass windows and allow sun rays in. She likes to think Adene’s soul lives on in the light. When she reaches the last window, closest to the cross, a gush blows in and snuffs out the candles. This must be why the windows are left shut. She rushes to light the candles again. And her eyes catch blood dripping from the cross’ arms. She retreats and rubs her eyes as if to remove a mirage-inducing film. The cross is indeed bleeding and a pool is forming at its feet. She runs out of the temple.
The Shoga jerks up from his seat as Mama narrates what she had seen. His council bowing before him as if receiving a scolding are startled. He picks up his staff and storms out of the hall. Mama and the council members follow suit.
When they get to the temple, a stream of red has filled the temple’s floor and the candles have disappeared. Blood now gushes out like water from upturned kegs. All the blood ever spilt on the cross since centuries past. The Shoga points his staff at the cross and mutters an incantation but the blood level keeps rising. The elders begin stepping backwards, the implication of what is happening dawning on them. The willingness of Adene was coerced and the myth of the bleeding Cross is true.
“The Cross has been poisoned,” an elder says and flees. Others run after him.
Mama decides to wait and watch the clueless Shoga who is still muttering incantations. Then a wave of blood erupts up the steps and splashes over The Shoga in the corridor. Mama takes a step back. The Shoga makes to move but he is transfixed. The blood whirls around him and falls with him into the temple. He begins to sink as if hands are dragging him from underneath. Soon his wide eyes are covered. Mama gasps. Then a smile forms on her face. She runs for the bell tower. The whole city must hear of this. She swings the rope connected to the pendulum and speaks to the ringing sounds breathless. “The Holy Cross bleeds. And The Shoga is dead!”
