Chapter 6: Hospital Test

Hospital, 3 p.m.

The corridor smell of spirit and old paint. I rush pass nurse and patient.

I see my mama curl for chair outside emergency, dey shake.

She look like pikin, knees for chest, wrapper hold tight.

“Mama.” I hold her cold hand. “Wetin do Papa?”

Her hand dey shake. I squeeze am, dey pray for strength.

She look up, see me, burst cry.

Her wail echo for corridor, two nurse peep come out.

“Your papa go borrow money from Uncle Auwalu this morning, but harmattan thick, e no see road, crash enter bridge. Car front don scatter.”

Voice break, tears just dey flow. I fight my own tears.

I ask quick, “He dey okay? Wetin doctor talk?”

Mind dey race. I picture my papa, always strong, now for hospital bed.

“I no know—doctor never come out. Your papa dey surgery since afternoon.” Her eyes red, swell. “My pikin, if anything happen to your papa, wetin I go do?”

She grab my arm, dey sob. I hug her, dey try strong for both of us.

I say, “Nothing go happen. You get me. I go always dey for you.”

My chest heavy, but I refuse show fear.

I look Ngozi papa with anger.

He stand for corner, arm fold, face strong. Him eye meet mine, then shift quick.

Her family come when dem hear say my papa get accident. At first, I think say dem care, my mind sweet small. But the next thing wey he talk scatter my heart.

He clear throat, face my mama: “Ehen, madam, sorry o. But why your husband go dey do like small pikin?”

“Why your papa-in-law go dey borrow money now?”

The words just dey bite. I hold jaw, fist tight.

I tap my foot for ground, dey try hold myself from shout.

My anger boil over, voice dey shake. My mama try hush me, but e don too late.

“If una no raise bride price, my papa no go borrow money. If no be that, all this no go happen!” I shout. “If anything happen to my papa, una no go escape!”

My shout echo for ward, everybody dey look. I no care.

“Ah ah, how you wan blame me for your papa accident? Na me hold gun for am? He just no wan sell house. Only one pikin, still dey stingy, I no understand.”

He spread hand, but eye cold, mouth twist.

My body dey shake with anger—almost punch am.

If not for my mama, wahala for burst.

Doctor come out.

Face tired, stethoscope hang, hand stain ink and iodine.

“The patient case no too good. He need another operation. Make una hear,” he say. “Him ribs and two arms don break, leg scatter well.”

He pause, let news settle. I hold my mama hand tight.

“First option: use medical titanium frame replace the broken bone. E get high chance to heal, no wahala later, but e cost—about ₦1.8 million. If e heal well, fit cost less.”

Eyes go from my mama to me, dey search for hope.

“Second option: normal surgery, use iron to join bone, make e heal slow. E go pain well, and patient go suffer more—rainy day leg go pain, no fit do hard work for six months to one year. For his age, e fit get wahala later.”

My heart dey beat fast. My papa no like to sit down. To see am like this…

“But e cheap—if you get insurance, at most ₦70,000 to ₦80,000.”

He wait, hand behind back, voice gentle.

“Do the first one, doctor. Abeg, save my papa, no matter the money—I go find am,” I say.

My voice strong, but leg weak. My mama nod, eye dey beg.

Doctor nod. “Okay, go pay, we go start soon.”

He waka go, leave us with hope and fear.