Chapter 3: Old House, Old Wound
For house.
The compound quiet as graveyard. Our dog wey we leave with neighbor that year don die. Na only bush dey greet us. Even air for the house get heavy.
My wife just dey worry.
She just dey pace up and down for parlour, touch her wrapper, sigh every minute. Her eyes red, she no fit rest.
She look me, no know wetin to do: "How we go do am now? We don leave for twenty years. Keke don die tey-tey. How we wan take bring her come house?"
She voice dey crack. She dey look me like say I get magic answer.
I scratch my head, my mind sef dey heavy.
My leg dey pain me, my chest dey tight. I go outside, look sky. Moon just dey shine anyhow, no peace for my body. I know say my past dey find me.
My son wan marry big man pikin; na chance wey no dey come all the time.
The in-laws dey from Ondo, and dem no dey joke with tradition. Dem say if we no do things well, dem no go let wedding hold. My boy dey look up to me, I no fit fail am.
The in-laws dey very traditional, dem talk say make we go see baba to choose good day for the wedding.
Everybody for community dey watch, dem dey expect us to do am correct. If we fumble, dem go laugh us for meeting.
Now, everything don hang because of our daughter. I must find way.
I feel say spirit of Keke dey hover for the house. I dey pray make God forgive me. But for my son, I go do anything.