Queen Nehanda Character Analysis

“For so long we’ve been defenseless against the havoc the maji wreak, but now the gods have blessed us as well. We’re powerful enough to annihilate them, Inan. The only way to achieve lasting peace is to cleanse the maggots from this land.”

Her words make my fingers grow cold. To cleanse Orïsha of maji would be finishing Father’s work. It would be another Raid.

“Yoruba is sacred to our people. It’s not just something you can learn.”

“This is bigger than that,” I wave my hand. “For skies’ sake, we’re at war—”

“Our magic isn’t about the war!” Zélie shouts. “Our incantations are the history of our people. They’re the very thing your father tried to destroy!” Her chest heaves up and down and she shakes her head. “Titans have already stolen our magic. You can’t steal this, too.”

“These rebels burned your city to the ground. They wanted you and your people to starve. They are the poison of Orïsha! If you do not cut off the hand now, eventually you will be forced to sever the entire limb.”

I clamp my mouth shut, digesting her words. I know as long as these rebels terrorize us, every maji in Orïsha will be seen as a criminal. The Iyika have to go.

But despite knowing this, my insides twist as Ojore grabs the Burner by her hair.

“Everyone, fill the bags with as many scrolls as you can. Kenyon, burn the rest.”

“Amari, you can’t!” I whip around, blinking as the ringing sensation in my ears grows louder. [...]

“These are sacred incantations,” I explain. “Histories of our people that will be lost to time!”

“No!” I jerk up, wincing at the pain that shoots up my side. “This temple may be the oldest Orïsha has. It holds the stories of our past!”

Though Chândomblé wasn’t created for me, I feel its pulse like the beating heart of this land. I remember wandering its hallowed grounds in search of Zélie’s path moons ago. Kneeling before the portrait of Ori. This temple was the one place that could quiet the noise in my head.

My chest falls as Mother marches forward with her tîtáns that still stand. As she walks past the carnage in her path, I know she’s right. Our enemies are gaining ground. We need to eliminate every asset they have. But how long can both sides keep going like this before we destroy Orïsha?

All these years I thought Father was a monster, but what if ruling this kingdom forced him to act that way?

“This war didn’t start when magic came back, Inan. You are only seeing the end of a battle countless have given their lives for. By winter’s dawn, we will have wiped the scourge of maji from this land. Even your wretched father couldn’t achieve that.”

“Mother, what are you talking about?” I grab her arm. “We’re fighting the Iyika. Not the maji.”

“We’re fighting them all. We have been for decades. This war started long before the Raid. It began before you were even born.”

I look back, not recognizing the monster that wears Ojore’s face. We did this to him. We poisoned him with all our hate.

Now we shall pay the price. I can’t even pretend he isn’t justified. He deserves retribution for all the blood on our hands. All of Orïsha does—

Even from afar, I see the blackened corpses that lie in the streets. Corpses that lie there because of me.

I picture Inan and Mother among the dead.

I picture my best friend.

Strike, Amari.

Father’s voice fills my mind as the tears fill my eyes. Though I breathe, my chest stays tight. It feels like I’m being buried alive.

“Orïsha waits for no one,” I whisper the words. “Orïsha waits for no one.”

I will the words to be true as I ride through Ibadan’s gate.

“He attacked the king. That foolish boy killed himself.”

It’s the last sword in my gut. I’m surprised when I don’t feel blood. Ojore saved me more times than I could count. He needed me today.

But instead of backing him, I let him down.

I let Mother sacrifice him for the throne.

“He was right,” I whisper. “We’re poison.”

“I see the truth now. We pretend that magic is the root of our pain when everything rotten in this kingdom begins and ends with us. There’s no helping it.” I clench my fist. “Amari proved that in Ibadan. This throne corrupts even the purest of hearts. As long as it exists, people will continue to tear this kingdom apart.”

“For so long we’ve been defenseless against the havoc the maji wreak, but now the gods have blessed us as well. We’re powerful enough to annihilate them, Inan. The only way to achieve lasting peace is to cleanse the maggots from this land.”

Her words make my fingers grow cold. To cleanse Orïsha of maji would be finishing Father’s work. It would be another Raid.

“Yoruba is sacred to our people. It’s not just something you can learn.”

“This is bigger than that,” I wave my hand. “For skies’ sake, we’re at war—”

“Our magic isn’t about the war!” Zélie shouts. “Our incantations are the history of our people. They’re the very thing your father tried to destroy!” Her chest heaves up and down and she shakes her head. “Titans have already stolen our magic. You can’t steal this, too.”

“These rebels burned your city to the ground. They wanted you and your people to starve. They are the poison of Orïsha! If you do not cut off the hand now, eventually you will be forced to sever the entire limb.”

I clamp my mouth shut, digesting her words. I know as long as these rebels terrorize us, every maji in Orïsha will be seen as a criminal. The Iyika have to go.

But despite knowing this, my insides twist as Ojore grabs the Burner by her hair.

“Everyone, fill the bags with as many scrolls as you can. Kenyon, burn the rest.”

“Amari, you can’t!” I whip around, blinking as the ringing sensation in my ears grows louder. [...]

“These are sacred incantations,” I explain. “Histories of our people that will be lost to time!”

“No!” I jerk up, wincing at the pain that shoots up my side. “This temple may be the oldest Orïsha has. It holds the stories of our past!”

Though Chândomblé wasn’t created for me, I feel its pulse like the beating heart of this land. I remember wandering its hallowed grounds in search of Zélie’s path moons ago. Kneeling before the portrait of Ori. This temple was the one place that could quiet the noise in my head.

My chest falls as Mother marches forward with her tîtáns that still stand. As she walks past the carnage in her path, I know she’s right. Our enemies are gaining ground. We need to eliminate every asset they have. But how long can both sides keep going like this before we destroy Orïsha?

All these years I thought Father was a monster, but what if ruling this kingdom forced him to act that way?

“This war didn’t start when magic came back, Inan. You are only seeing the end of a battle countless have given their lives for. By winter’s dawn, we will have wiped the scourge of maji from this land. Even your wretched father couldn’t achieve that.”

“Mother, what are you talking about?” I grab her arm. “We’re fighting the Iyika. Not the maji.”

“We’re fighting them all. We have been for decades. This war started long before the Raid. It began before you were even born.”

I look back, not recognizing the monster that wears Ojore’s face. We did this to him. We poisoned him with all our hate.

Now we shall pay the price. I can’t even pretend he isn’t justified. He deserves retribution for all the blood on our hands. All of Orïsha does—

Even from afar, I see the blackened corpses that lie in the streets. Corpses that lie there because of me.

I picture Inan and Mother among the dead.

I picture my best friend.

Strike, Amari.

Father’s voice fills my mind as the tears fill my eyes. Though I breathe, my chest stays tight. It feels like I’m being buried alive.

“Orïsha waits for no one,” I whisper the words. “Orïsha waits for no one.”

I will the words to be true as I ride through Ibadan’s gate.

“He attacked the king. That foolish boy killed himself.”

It’s the last sword in my gut. I’m surprised when I don’t feel blood. Ojore saved me more times than I could count. He needed me today.

But instead of backing him, I let him down.

I let Mother sacrifice him for the throne.

“He was right,” I whisper. “We’re poison.”

“I see the truth now. We pretend that magic is the root of our pain when everything rotten in this kingdom begins and ends with us. There’s no helping it.” I clench my fist. “Amari proved that in Ibadan. This throne corrupts even the purest of hearts. As long as it exists, people will continue to tear this kingdom apart.”