Chapter 2: Palm Grove Under Fire

Hot sun dey burn, sweat just dey drip from my body.

The sun for Okpoko Hills no dey play. For this early afternoon, even breeze sef dey hide. I fit smell salt from my shirt. My hands dey shake small as I wipe forehead with handkerchief wey don brown for edge. Na my prayer be say make these fish survive reach inside.

I look the yellow croaker inside the buckets—some don already turn belly up, oxygen don dey finish.

E pain me see as the biggest one, that stubborn croaker I carry from pond, just dey struggle for breath. The water for bucket don dey warm, the fish dey open mouth dey fight for life. My mind dey heavy—this no be how I dey deliver fish.

My chest just dey pain me. I no fit hold am, I whisper quick prayer, “God, no let my sweat waste today.” I come dey rush Sani, the manager for Palm Grove Restaurant, again.

My voice sharp as I waka meet am. I dey sweat for body, but cold dey my heart. "Sani, abeg, help me now!"

“Abeg, carry these fish inside, put oxygen for them, before all of them kpeme finish.”

I dey use body block am, show say I no go gree until dem help. I know say if I push too much, dem fit talk say I dey worry, but if I quiet, my fish go die finish.

“If una no want am, just tell me straight, make I fit carry them go back before e too late.”

Na so voice crack, e almost break. My boys dey look me, dey wait for order. I dey reason, if dem reject this fish, na big wahala be that. Man must survive for this Lagos.

But the guy just dey do like say e no get mouth, no carry the fish in, no gree make I go.

Sani just stand gidigba, hands for pocket, face straight. I dey reason if na him boss tell am to delay or na him dey form big boy.

“Mr. Okafor, steamed yellow croaker na our main dish. We dey sell plenty every afternoon, so we need these fish well.”

As e talk, I sabi say he dey try calm me, but him eyes dey fear. The workers for kitchen dey peep, dem know say today get as e be.

“But oga talk say na him wan check today’s fish by himself before e go collect. We wey be small boys, no fit decide.”

This one surprise me. For all my years, I never see Chief Garba inspect fish by himself. Even when dem dey get big event, na me dey handpick am for dem. I begin reason say something dey fishy.

He offer me Benson cigarette, dey form humble, but still stand for front of the fish buckets, block road.

He stretch am, say, "Oga Okafor, make you take small rest." But I just wave am off—my mama warn me say, “No collect anything from person wey dey hide mouth.” My mind dey far. I no come here come relax, abeg.

Wetin Sani talk fit be true—sometimes when dem get important people, dem dey check the fish well.

I dey remember the last time senator come chop for here, everybody dey run up and down, dey taste every soup, dey smell every fish. I sabi say reputation dey important.

But after all these years, I dey always select the biggest, freshest yellow croaker for them.

I no dey play with my name. Once person chop my fish, e go come back again, I dey sure. Even for my village, dem dey call me Fish King.

Even if money no too enter, because of our relationship and my name, I never carry nonsense fish come.

Pride dey my chest. For this business, na your name be your currency. I fit chop now, but tomorrow still dey.

Yet, see as dem dey look me now.

Na so my mind dey heavy. I dey ask myself—na so relationship dey spoil for Lagos?

As I think am, my face just strong.

I bone face, chest dey rise. For this country, you no fit let dem see your weakness.

I no collect him cigarette. I dey waka around the buckets, dey call the restaurant owner, Chief Garba, steady.

My phone dey hot for my hand. Each call, na hope say e go pick, but nothing.

But every time, na so so “number no dey reachable.”

My boys dey look me, one of dem even whisper say, "Oga, maybe make we try WhatsApp call." But still, nothing.

E never reach when restaurant open, na im Prado jeep park for front.

Prado wey dem wash until am dey shine under sun. I sabi that car, na Chief Garba dey drive am for town, but today, na Idris I see waka commot.

Na there I see Chief Garba pikin, Idris, waka come out with him big belle.

Him shirt tight, belle round. I remember when e small, now e don grow big—man pikin turn man. Life dey quick pass person.

I rush meet am, drag am go where the fish dey.

I no wait make e finish greeting. I just waka fast, pull am by elbow. My boys dey look me, I no send. For this matter, e dey urgent.

Thank God, even though oxygen low, the fish still dey move gills.

I point am out—see as dem dey struggle, but dem never die finish. Inside me, I dey beg God make dem survive reach inside kitchen.

Na my own fault. Normally, once I drop fish, I dey go, then settle money end of month. I never jam this kain wahala before, so I no even carry oxygen tank this time.

Na inexperience, na trust cause am. For this business, you suppose dey ready for anything, but today, I slack. E dey pain me, but I learn small.

“Nephew, na me hand pick all these fish today—each one pass two kilo, na correct big yellow croaker.”

I dey try soften matter, remind am say e be like my pikin. For our side, na respect dey hold relationship. E dey important say you dey call person by title.

“Abeg, check am. If e dey okay, tell dem carry am inside make una lunch no delay.”

I dey smile small, but my hand dey shake. Hunger dey worry me, but I no fit show weakness.

I talk am with fear.

I no wan make e notice, but my voice shake. My boys dey watch, I try control face. For inside, I dey pray say make e gree.

I and him papa, Chief Garba, don dey run things for almost twenty years. I watch this Idris grow.

Time dey fly, na so pikin turn adult. I remember how e dey run follow me for farm, dey yarn say e wan be fisherman.

When e small, na me e dey follow go my fish farm, dey beg make I teach am catch fish.

Sometimes, e go even hide small fish for pocket, run go show him mama say na him catch am. E go laugh, say na him go open big farm pass me.

But today, Idris just look me one kain, dodge my hand.

E just shift like say e dey avoid my touch. My heart cold, but I pretend say nothing dey happen.

E use him toe tap the fish bucket.

E just dey knock bucket with shoe, like say e dey check if something dey inside.

Because oxygen don low, the fish no dey swim like before.

Dem just dey float, dey gasp. Some done weak, but one or two still dey move tail. Na so all eyes dey on the fish.

“Most of your fish don die.”

Him voice cold. People around dey whisper. My heart just drop.

“As e be, we no fit collect dead fish.”

E talk am like say e no even pain am. I dey reason whether na play or serious matter.

“But since you dey call my papa ‘big uncle’ since, I no go let you go house empty-handed.”

Him mouth twist small, e dey mock me. I just dey look am.

“Ten naira per kilo. Carry them come.”

Na there Sani try collect bucket, dey look my face, but Idris hold am back.

Sani gree, wan carry bucket, but Idris stop am.

I fit see say Sani dey fear Idris pass any other person. As Sani stretch hand, Idris just use eye block am. Na so I know say wahala big.

“Na them dey sell fish, dem suppose bring am reach our door.”

He talk am like say na slave work we dey do. My boys just dey squeeze face. One nearly talk, but I give am sign make e cool down. After I signal dem, one mutter, 'Oga, na because of you we still dey here o.'

Then e point me: “Abeg, move them sharp sharp. No dey waste time.”

For my mind, I just dey reason say small pikin don dey send me message. But for business, man go get sense.