It had been a month since the death of King Takere. His passing left a vacuum in the land, and bitter arguments erupted among the late king's cabinet about who would ascend the throne of Jokoma Kingdom. Each chief voiced his opinion, but no agreement was reached. At last, they decided to meet again on the next market day.
Meanwhile, the late king's twin sons had already begun to display how they would wield power. Each walked around the village as though he were already king, planning his new cabinet and practicing authority. But whenever Fetusa and Iyeta met, quarrels broke out like fire on dry grass. Their mother often intervened, sometimes even calling the king's cabinet to separate them.
The kingdom itself began to split into two. Supporters of Fetusa stood on one side, while those loyal to Iyeta gathered on the other. The land was slowly but surely tearing at the seams.
Many admired Fetusa for his humility and bravery. He respected both the young and the old. Yet others despised him, for he was as tight-fisted as a miser guarding his last coin. Though he had enough, he rarely gave.
Iyeta, on the other hand, was loved for his generosity and courage. He gave freely, even from the little he had. Yet his flaw was pride—he carried himself as though he were lord of the earth. As the elders say, "The cock that crows too early may be caught by the hawk."
On the appointed market day, the cabinet met again at the house of Chief Emeku, the prime minister. Beneath their calm faces lay hidden intentions.
Chief Emeku opened the meeting, and soon, heated debate filled the air. Those who admired Fetusa's humility clashed with those who praised Iyeta's generosity. Voices rose like thunder.
"If Fetusa becomes king," one chief argued, "he will keep his wealth to himself. His humility alone cannot build this community or provide for our needs. An empty stomach does not respect humility."
Others countered, "Iyeta may be generous, but his pride will destroy us. He will not listen to counsel. A child who does not heed advice will stumble with his load. A king who cannot be corrected is like a ship without a rudder—doomed to sink."
The debate raged for hours. At last, the prime minister raised his hand for silence.
"My brothers," he said, "you have all chosen well, but each of these princes has weaknesses. No man is without blemish; even the moon has scars. The only way forward is to invite the chief priest to our next meeting. Perhaps he will bring light into this darkness."
The chiefs agreed, and the gathering dispersed.
The youth of Jokoma Kingdom grew restless. "For a year we have had no king," they cried. "Who will fight for us? Who will lead us? Our fathers fought hard to give us freedom, and now we risk losing it again."
Led by their leader, Mr. Gbetoma, they marched to the house of the prime minister. They sang with one voice:
We no go gree o!
We no go gree!
The king's cabinet must do something,
We no go gree!
Their voices rang like drums of war.
Fortunately, Chief Emeku was already meeting with Chief Egbedu (Ogbaka Ohia), Chief Ebuka (Omeudo), and Chief Abigele (Nneoha). He stepped out to calm the youths.
"My children," he began, "you know very well our land is passing through a hard time. Since the king's death, we—"
The youths cut him short. "Our eyes are not blind, neither are our ears deaf. We are the future of this land! We cannot fold our arms and be enslaved again."
Chief Egbedu spoke gently: "Yes, we understand. That is why we are trying to resolve this matter. But because the issue concerns the twins, our hands are tied. When two brothers fight over inheritance, strangers will carry away the harvest. We have decided to call the chief priest, and we want you to be present."
Mr. Gbetoma replied, "We thank you for your efforts. Though the king's death left a great wound in our hearts, you still strive for peace. Since the chief priest will be present, we, the youth, will also attend."
The youths departed with a firm assurance that answers would come soon.
When the prime minister informed the chief priest of the matter, the priest—called "The Lion's Den" for his fierce spirit—agreed to intervene. "I will bring you from darkness to light," he declared.
The long-awaited day came. Chiefs, youths, and elders filled the palace. All eyes turned when the chief priest entered. He began his incantations, calling upon the gods. Hours passed. The youths grew restless.
"Why are the gods silent?" one chief cried. "You are their eye, their friend, the man with the eagle's sight. Speak to us!"
The chief priest sighed heavily. "I have tried my best, but the gods are angry. Yet there is one path left: a sacrifice. A whole human being, a virgin—and not from this town. Only then will the gods speak."
The hall erupted. "Ha! A human being? Why must the gods demand such a price?" the youths shouted. "Are we not free from slavery, only for the gods to enslave us with blood?"
Chief Ebuka silenced them. "Be still, children. When the elders are in council, the young must listen. We must do what must be done." The priest warned that the sacrifice must be ready by the next market day.
The youths held their own meeting. Mr. Gbetoma opened with a prayer: "Long live Jokoma youths!" and the others responded, "Ise!"
"Our forefathers struggled to free this land," he said. "We cannot let their sacrifice be in vain. When the roots of a tree decay, the branches fall. We must act."
Suggestions poured in. At last, the youths agreed to send some among them, alongside the late king's warriors, to capture a virgin.
Days before the next market day, a maiden was kidnapped and brought to the shrine. The priest praised the warriors and youths for their "sacrifice for Jokoma's future."
On the appointed day, the people gathered. Iyeta, Fetusa, and their mother were all present. The priest made his incantations. The maiden was slain. Blood flowed, and silence fell.
At last, the priest declared, "The gods have accepted the sacrifice."
The people waited with bated breath. Hours passed before the gods spoke through him.
"The kingdom must be divided."
A cry of despair broke out. "Ha! After all our ancestors fought for unity, now the gods demand division? Why then demand blood if this was their answer? A knife may cut the kola nut into two, but it cannot cut the bond of brotherhood!"
The queen collapsed and died in grief. Wailing filled the air.
Weeks later, the chiefs obeyed the priest. Jokoma Kingdom was divided into Dakoma and Sakomar. Iyeta ruled Dakoma, and Fetusa ruled Sakomar. Land and possessions were shared equally.
Prime Minister Emeku declared, "Let generations yet unborn know: once we were one kingdom, until the gods commanded otherwise. Until the lion tells his story, the tale of the hunt will glorify the hunter. Though divided, we were once the same blood."
And thus, the great kingdom of Jokoma was split.