Chapter 1: The BMW Key Stunt

Na for New Year, when everybody dey gather for parlour, my cousin carry wahala enter our card game.

The way he carry face, you go know say kasala wan burst. My aunty just hiss, shift body for sofa. Everybody full ground—cousins, uncles, aunties, even small children dey chew chin chin, some dey chop hot, peppery suya for one corner. Bottles of Maltina dey hand, laughter dey flow, but tension dey hang for air like harmattan fog.

Suddenly, my cousin slap him BMW car key for center table, the sound loud, echo for parlour. He dust the key, make sure say all of us see as e dey shine. Him teeth dey out, that kain smile wey dey say 'na me be boss.' He shout, “Who get liver here? Who fit follow me play this game? Make una no fear o!”

Omo, everywhere freeze. Even the way the BMW key land, e clear say na show. Children dey whisper, "See BMW key!" Me, I just dey sip my Maltina, dey observe, dey reason say this one na pepper dem stunt—no be real gamble.

People shock. Hands dey wave, “Abeg, na just play we dey play, nobody fit try that one.” But soon dem begin hail am—how e for be, say young man dey drive BMW?

Uncle just hail, “Ah, Osondu, e don better for you o! Who dey your age dey drive this kain machine?” Mama Nkechi drop spoon, dey look the key like na juju. Excitement dey roll through parlour.

But me, I dey reason my own hand, because na three Kings I hold.

My heart dey beat small-small. I dey fan myself with card, the three Kings dey look me, dey shine like dem dey ginger me. My leg dey shake, but I bone face.

My cousin dey bask for all the praise, ready to reshuffle, when I quietly drop my BYD car key for table. I talk soft, “I go match your bet.”

Mouths open everywhere. Aunty Tope own wide like she wan catch fly. My own heart dey kpokpo dance, but I arrange my BYD key like say I sabi am before.

Silence drop. You no go hear pin. Even generator wey dey disturb before, calm down. Na only our breathing dey echo for parlour.

Everybody dey look me like say na madness. My cousin eyes open gbagam—me, the quiet one, now dey match am.

As our car keys land for table, na so family warmth waka. Laughter vanish, tension thick like ogbono soup. Even the suya smell pause, like say the meat dey fear burn.

But I no dey regret. Na him first bring BMW key come table.

For my mind, I dey reason, 'Wetin go happen go happen.' This one na matter of liver—sometimes man gats prove say e get heart.

Since he fit run street for him own blood, I no get reason to pity am again.

No be wickedness o, but if you fit disgrace person for front of him people, why you go expect mercy?

My cousin hiss, “How much dey your pocket sef? You dey try fear me? This na BMW o. Go gather your money first—no dey do anyhow with that your BYD wey no reach.”

He rub hand for head, twist mouth, dey look me like small boy. My own pride just dey swell inside, but I still keep quiet.

I just dey give am cold eye. Truth be say, I hate to dey play cards with my cousin.

E no start today. Every time, na so him go turn game to battle of 'who get pass.' E dey tire me for mind.

Before, New Year dey sweet, but every year, he dey use money do big man for bet.

Even small children dey para. 'Brother, abeg, no dey shout,' dem go beg. But he no dey hear. For him mind, na to show power.

Anybody wey sabi card know—person wey no get money, no get mouth for where big man dey, na to just dey swallow.

Na so life be. Dem go use money press you, you go dey smile, dey pretend say e no pain.

If we dey play one or two naira, he go throw five hundred. Dem dey play ten ten kobo, e go say, 'I no get change, take five hundred.' Who wan argue?

We go beg am make e calm down, but e go talk, “Five hundred na small thing now.”

That him voice, like say e dey pity us, dey always tire everybody.

He dey use us play, knowing say we no fit match.

Na only am dey get fun. E dey oppress, but nobody fit talk.

He no come play, na to show say we poor.

If e dey lose, e go say, 'No wahala, I dash you.' If e win, na to dey hail himself, dey shout.

I know say my BYD no fit reach him BMW, so I turn call my babe.

She dey one side, dey arrange chin chin for tray. As I call am, she pause, look me with those her soft eyes. She sabi say matter don set.

We dey plan marry soon. She dey wear 'three golds'—traditional gold necklace, bracelet and ring wey I buy for her for engagement.

The gold dey shine for her neck and wrist. For our side, na custom—once engagement reach, woman dey wear gold to show family dey ready.

I tell her, “Abeg, put your gold necklace and bracelet for table.”

She just look me, no ask which card I get. Calmly, she remove her necklace and bracelet, drop am for table. She even nod—ready for anything. The gold tap table, e ring small—like bell for juju meeting.

That moment, I think: To get woman like this, wetin man still dey find?

My mind just soft. For this life, beta woman na blessing. E no easy to see who go follow you enter fire.

I face my cousin, talk serious, “Now the stakes don reach. You ready to show your card?”

My voice low but strong. Everybody ear stand. Na showdown.