Chapter 17: No Rest for the Innocent

I stand gidigba say I no get chance do anything—na pure lie.

My chest dey out, my head dey high, but inside my body dey shake. My wife dey beg me make we run go another town, but I no gree. My papa dey for hospital, my mama dey pray day and night.

But online abuse and wahala no stop.

Every hour, new insult land. My business dey dry, people no dey come buy again. Even market women for junction dey gossip when I pass.

People dey talk—

I hear them for barbershop, hear them for church. Nobody dey my side. Even people wey I help before dey avoid me now.

“Something no pure for this matter!”

Some people dey say, "If no be you, why the woman dey cry like that?"

“How come e no dey shop those days? E no clear!”

Others dey twist my story, dey say I use juju dodge the CCTV. For Naija, people dey believe anything once fear enter.

“Who know if you sneak come back from travel?”

Na so dem dey add salt and pepper, turn my life to film. I no fit sleep, my phone no dey rest.

Dem call me animal, say I suppose die.

I dey fear to go shop, dey fear to open window. I dey pray make thunder no strike my papa for hospital.

Public opinion hot, even for midnight, people dey message me, dey curse, some even threaten say dem go kill my family.

Some dey call my line, dey talk say "If we catch you, you go die." My wife begin sleep with cutlass under bed. Night and day, wahala no gree finish.