[Scene opens in a quiet compound. Chickens are running around, children are playing ten-ten, and an old radio is humming highlife music in the background. Then the camera zooms to me stepping out of the house in slow motion with a wrapper tied, a chewing stick in my mouth, and eyes squinting like a general on duty.
Voiceover:
“They thought she was the quiet one. They thought she was innocent. But they never knew… she was the storm they prayed against!”
Everybody was gathered outside the family hut, deliberating on who will own the family land that was left behind by our father, who just passed away. I sat down silently, watching them point fingers at who will inherit it.
Elder 1: Carol, it's Amauche, right, as the only male left to inherit this land?
Aunty Carol: Elder, you lie. Where was Amauche when Papa was sick?
Elder 2: I think you all should share the land among yourselves and leave this quarrel before you all regret it.
Aunt Carol: You all are playing with fire. This land belongs to me
Uncle: “This land belongs to me! I am the eldest!”
Aunt: “Over my dead body! My son will inherit it!”
Everyone talking at once, wahala everywhere.
[Camera cuts to me sitting calmly in the corner, eating fried chicken and a bottle of Pepsi, acting as if what they're doing doesn't concern me. Background music goes silent. I suddenly drop the bottle on the table—BANG!
Me (slow, wicked smile): So… all of you think the land belongs to you, eh? … Do you know whose name was used to register it at the ministry?
Everyone freezes. Music changes to Nollywood suspense beats. My cousin gasps dramatically, and my aunt starts fanning herself with her wrapper.
I bring out a folded paper from behind my seat. Close-up shot of everyone’s shocked faces.
Uncle: Chineke! Don’t tell me… is you?
Me: [laughs like Patience Ozokwor] “Yes oh! And by the time I finish with you people, even your shadow will pay me rent! ”You are all busy shouting, 'My land, my land.' You better start planning your exit before I exit you all.
My aunt fainted, followed by my uncle's son one by one (with that slow Nollywood fall to the ground). Chickens are scattering. Someone is shouting “We are finished!” in the background.
I just adjust my wrapper and walk away in slow motion, while the village drummer starts beating the talking drum like I’m the villain entering part 2 of the movie.
Voiceover:
She came, she cooked, she conquered, and left no crumb.
Images are Ai generated
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