Chapter 6: Street Party and the Lonely Giant

I stay with Baba Musa for the compound one month.

Compound life no easy. Big men, small boys, all dey look me. But as long as I dey with Oga, nobody fit near.

First half, we dey drink, gist, chop, play cards.

We dey play "Whot", even gamble small. Baba Musa sabi throw joke, but if e lose, e go frown.

Second half, I carry am waka—to chop for buka, hear song for bar, gamble for bet house, boat ride for river.

For bet house, e lose, but laugh. For bar, he sabi old Fuji song. For river, we see children dey swim, he smile like pikin.

Inside all this, I find out say na accident he take kill him papa. He wan help the old man, but him hand too strong—he break the papa arm, the pain kill am. So the patricide wahala land for him head.

He tell me for night, voice low, no eye contact. Na only person wey trust you fit talk this kind thing.

For the streets, two kind people know am. One set dey curse am, call am unfilial, run from am. The other dey fear say he fit kill person wey born am, so dem no gree near. So, he no get friend—at all. But the guy really need person to drink and gist with. This big, stone-face man wey dey vex quick, na lonely man—like tortoise for dry season.

E pain me. Na why I push am reach this side.

"You really want friends?"

River dey shine. We sit for boat, dey share sweet palm wine.

Mosquito dey bite, but river breeze cool body small.

Breeze dey cool. Fish dey jump, boat dey rock small. For here, man fit talk heart matter.

"I want am well." Baba Musa finish one cup sharp.

He look me, eye dey beg, like pikin wey mama promise new shoe.

"How many you want?"

I dey smile. For my mind, I dey plan big.

"The more the better, abeg."

He open hand, like person wey dey beg market woman.

"Me, I get friends everywhere. All of them na better people. As long as you do wetin I talk, all my friends go become your friends."

I lean, voice low, like secret deal.

"True? Wetin I go do?" Baba Musa eye light up.

He dey hope, like man for December salary.

"E simple."

I write letter to my paddies, invite them come Mama Nkechi’s Restaurant for Jos—free food and drink, three days time.

I use my best pen, add extra emoji. For street, food dey bring people together.

Three days later, Baba Musa book the whole restaurant. My broke paddies full everywhere, every table get food and palm wine.

Jollof rice dey fly, goat meat dey finish quick, and small children dey chase each other under table.

Dem dey laugh, dey shout, dey chop like say tomorrow no dey. Even Mama Nkechi dey dance small.

"Brother Musa, if you need anything, just call me!" one talk, mouth oily, salute Baba Musa.

The table dey shake as dem talk. Even children join shout.

"Me too, just talk!"

One small boy jump for joy, another hug Baba Musa leg.

"No fear, just yan us!"

The energy for restaurant high. Dem dey hug, dey gist. Baba Musa dey smile, dey look me.

"Yes, no do like stranger!"

Another voice from back, girls dey wave hand, some dey form group selfie.

"Who talk say Brother Musa no get friends? We dey here!"

Everybody dey shout, raise cup. Baba Musa eye don red with tears.

He try hide am, but tears roll. For Naija, na only strong men dey cry for joy.

I sit beside am, smile, pat him shoulder.

I use my palm press him back, make e relax. For street, small touch dey help heart.

"The reason dem be my friend no be only because I dey broke and like food like them, but because we dey plain, no dey send world wahala. We dey live as we want, as long as our heart dey straight, e don do. If you dey worry about wetin people talk, you go tire."

I talk am soft, make e enter soul.

Baba Musa nod, bow head, use hand wipe tears.

He use back of hand, like pikin wey no want show say e cry.

I continue:

"Even if everybody for this world dey curse you, call you bad pikin, so what? As long as you know say you no be that, who dem be? Musa, you be better person. Believe am, as long as your mind dey clean, people go still like you."

I drop am, touch his hand. If your heart clean, e go show for face.

That day, this big, dark man hold my arm, cry like pikin.

Him grip strong, but I no pull. Na cry of happiness.

When I dey go Baoshi Compound, Baba Musa give me him iron staff.

He hold am two hands, then pass am. Na sign say he trust me.

"Abeg, dey come visit, make we dey drink!"

He wipe nose, laugh, voice light.

"Na so!" I smile, bump fists with am for breeze.

We tap fists, do old school handshake. Sun dey shine, palm wine dey remain.