Chapter 1: Blood Money for the Dead

I dey do grave-sweeping for people during New Yam Festival, so one day somebody ask me if I fit burn real naira for their dead person.

For this my small Anambra town, grave-sweeping no too get respect, but if you sabi run am, e dey pay. Sometimes, if family dey for Lagos or abroad, na me go help clean grave, pour palm wine, burn incense, or even carry goat for ritual. So when the person ask about burning real naira, my ear just stand.

I burst laugh. "You dey craze? Na only people wey their children or grandchildren no fit come dey hire me to burn spirit money—na paper money for offering. How I go burn real naira? You wan make police carry me? I no fit try am."

As I talk am, I use hand draw cross for chest, show say I no dey near bad luck. The thing no even get head for my mind. Even people wey dey pass for outside hear my laugh, look inside, shake head. Na this kind gist dem dey use call person 'werey' for compound.

But the person no gree. She talk say, any amount of real money I burn, she go pay me the same amount.

The way she take talk am, you go know say the woman get liver. Her voice steady, she just dey look me like say she don calculate the thing finish. For my mind, I dey reason say people for Naija trust jazz too much.

I shock.

You know that kind shock wey dey make person mouth open small? I just dey look her like say she wan use my head play draft. For this business, I don see all kinds, but this one get as e be.

I check law—if you destroy naira on purpose, dem fit carry you go cell for ten days straight.

I even call one police padi for town, use style ask about the thing. The man just warn me, "If dem catch you, no say na your wahala. Naira na national symbol o!"

I still dey reason am when the person send two hundred thousand naira to me for WhatsApp. She tell me, make I just burn am.

For my phone, alert just dey ring. The thing loud, even my neighbor Baba Chuks poke head from window: “O boy, na awoof land for your side? Share update now!” I check the message—real money, no be fake.

I weigh the risk and the gain. I talk to myself... I go do am.

For my mind, I dey reason—na God go protect me. If I use this money do better thing, maybe e go wipe any wahala wey follow am. I tell myself, "Guy, if you no take risk, you no go chop big meat."

Two hundred thousand naira na the WhatsApp transfer limit, but e no be the woman limit. She still ask for my bank account number, begin send money like say she dey mad.

That kind money fit shock person. My phone dey hot from alerts. My hand dey shake as I dey type my account number. Wetin even surprise me be say, nobody call me from bank say make I explain am.

My account balance just dey climb—before I know, I don get one million naira.

I run go check my balance for ATM, just to be sure say na real money. The way the thing dey increase, I fit use am buy land for village or even start cement business.

To talk true, I never see this kind money for my life before.

My body dey vibrate like generator wey no get silencer. I even dance small for my backyard, dey look sky, dey thank God. For this my small corner, na big thing be that.

I ask her, "You want make I withdraw half of am come burn?" Because she talk before say, any amount I burn, I fit keep the rest. I reason say to withdraw half balance things.

I dey talk am with respect—no want make she vex. You know as customer dey be, especially this kind customer wey fit change your destiny overnight.

But the woman say no need—she go send person come meet me with the money. Make I just wait for house.

That one shock me pass. For my mind, I dey ask, 'Who dey trust stranger with this kind cash?' But as hunger dey wire me and opportunity dey knock, na so I reason am.

My body dey shake small, I even dey think say maybe na dream. I go wash my face for bucket, but na real life.

Even the water wey I use wash face cold, but my eye clear well. I pinch my skin, no be dream. I carry stool sit for front of my door, just dey look road, dey wait like pikin wey dey wait for ice cream seller.

I just siddon for house dey wait. After about thirty minutes, I hear knock for door.

The knock no be that kind impatient one—e soft, e steady, like person wey don old and no get wahala for body.

I open am, na old woman I see. She wear traditional iro and buba, just like those gentle grandma wey dey TV, with one kind soft smile for face.

Her iro and buba na fine material, Ankara wey dey shine, wrapper tie well for waist. She carry small headtie wey dey match. As I see her, I remember my own grandma for Ibadan—gentle people, but their wahala dey serious when e start.

She dey drag heavy suitcase with both hands. She tell me make I call am Mama Eno.

She talk am with that soft old-woman voice. I greet am, "Good afternoon, Mama Eno." She just nod, eyes dey shine like say she dey happy to see me.

I carry the suitcase, the first thing wey enter my mind na say, e heavy die.

If to say na when I dey secondary school, I for fit lift am well, but now, the weight press my hand like bag of cement. Even the floor shake small as I drop am.

When I open am, na cash full everywhere. Money full everywhere—I shock.

No be small bundles—dem tie everything with rubber band, new mint. The smell of cash just choke the air. My hand dey tremble as I touch am. For my mind, na only politicians dey see this kind money.

Mama Eno smile, tell me, "Na exactly one million be this."

She use her hand arrange the money small, as if she dey bless am. Her nails paint with old school nail polish—pink color, almost fade finish. The way she talk, you go believe her.

I come ask, nervous, "Mama Eno, which grave for village you wan make I burn am for?"

I dey try respect, no want overstep. For this work, na so so respect person go dey show client, especially old woman. I bend head small as I talk.

But she say no need go village—make I just burn am for house. She say she give me one small wooden board, black with old marks—like those nsibidi sign wey elders dey keep for shrine—inside the suitcase.

As she talk am, I dey wonder. Some people dey too old to waka go far, so I understand. But this one come get spirit tablet, e mean say dem no dey joke.

I don do this kind work before. Sometimes, bush road too wahala, or dem no sabi the exact grave, so dem go give me the person name and birthday, make I set up spirit tablet for house do the ritual.

The first time I do am, na one family from Rivers. Dem just give me name and old photograph, say make I burn spirit money. Since then, e don become normal thing.

Mama Eno old well well, maybe she no fit trek go village, so she don prepare the tablet.

You go see say her leg dey shake small as she siddon. Na people wey don see life dey reason am like that—dem no dey want stress for old age. The way she hold the tablet, you go think say e dey important reach gold.

I pour the money out, see the spirit tablet under the suitcase, but the writing for am strange—no be Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa or English. The writing just dey like tadpole wey dey crawl everywhere.

I look am well—be like say dem use charcoal draw am. The design dey twist and turn, like those old nsibidi symbols wey we read for book, but this one pass my power.

I reason say maybe na minority language. Everybody get their own custom.

For Nigeria, e plenty—Efik get their own, Tiv get their own, even Ebira people for Kogi get different style. Me sef, I no sabi everything, so I no want ask too many question.

Na that time Mama Eno come lay three rules for me:

She talk am with that her gentle voice, but the seriousness wey dey her face no get mate. She even bend forward, like say she wan tell me big secret.

First: I must burn the money for 'midnight hour'—that na between 11pm and 1am. Any other time no go work.

As she talk am, her voice come low, almost whisper. For my mind, I dey reason say maybe na some tradition wey dey related to moon or ancestors. You know as people dey talk say midnight get power pass.

Second: As I dey burn the money, all the lights for room must off.

She talk am sharp. For this my work, e no too strange. E get some family wey go say make I use only candle, because dem believe say electricity go disturb spirit.

These two rules I understand. E no too strange—many families dey get this kind request.

I nod my head, talk say e dey alright. Na so dem dey do for some chieftaincy house too, when dem dey call ancestor spirit.

But the third one weak me: She insist say, no mirror or church cross fit dey my room. All of them must comot outside.

As she talk am, I first laugh. For this country, cross full everywhere—keyholder, necklace, even sticker for wall. I even get one small cross for door, just for protection.

I laugh, tell her say she dey overthink. Some people dey believe say dead no suppose see cross, but cross na sign of protection, e dey help guide dead go better place.

I dey try explain—"Mama, cross dey help send spirit go right side. E dey block bad belle." But she cut me short, face squeeze, like say I pour pepper for her eye.

I try explain, but she vex, talk say abeg, make I no argue—no cross for the room. Her people no dey worship that kind cross.

She shake her head, use hand wave me off. Her eye sharp, no be old woman eye again. She just say, "My people no dey follow una own way. Abeg, no argue, just do am."

So na ethnic religion matter. I reason am—different people get their own belief. Maybe the writing na old tradition, and their faith different from our own.

For my mind, I dey remember say my friend for Benue talk say their papa no dey allow cross for shrine. Even some river goddess shrine no dey allow mirror, say e dey draw wrong spirit.

Me sef, I dey follow church. I even swear say I go dey do offering for my life. But one million job na one million job. After all, life long, if I miss one day, no wahala.

Na so e dey be—pastor go preach, but hunger go teach person lesson. I tell myself, after this job, I go pay tithe reach double.

I pack my cross, ready to carry am outside. As I try open door, my mind cut.

I carry cross, ready to drop am for veranda, but as I reach door, the thing no gree open. You know that kind fear wey dey enter heart when wahala wan start? My body cold.

Door no gree open. Mama Eno dey outside, don lock am with big iron chain.

I peep through keyhole, see as she tie chain round handle, use big padlock jam am. Her back bend, but her hand still strong. I dey fear, but no fit shout, neighbours go come ask question.

She beg me make I understand—she dey fear say I fit run with the money. After all, na one million.

Her voice soft, but I hear threat inside. "My pikin, abeg, make you no vex. Na big money, people dey run with am. I no wan lose my sweat."

No be lie. If I burn am, na one million reward. But if I run with am, na two million for pocket.

Na real street sense. For this country, if you dey play sharp, you go meet person wey sharp pass you. Even for my area, na so dem dey collect land money.

So Mama Eno lock me inside, I reason say e make sense.

I just sigh, tell myself say na small sacrifice. She dey protect her own interest, me I go collect my own reward.

She say make I pass the cross through window—just make e no dey the room.

Na small window wey dey close to ceiling, so I need climb stool. I pass am give her, my hand dey shake small.

I open window, give her the cross, say make she help me carry am. She wave hand quick, say she don tire, go send another person carry am later.

She just use hand wave me, no even look the cross well. I notice say her hand dey tremble. Maybe na old age, or maybe na all the waka she do carry suitcase.

I remember say she just carry suitcase full of money, maybe she don tire now, no fit carry even small cross.

For my mind, I dey reason—if person fit carry one million, why small cross go be wahala? But I no talk am out. Sometimes, na so spirit dey hide for small thing.

After, Mama Eno say make I remove all mirror—even the one for bathroom. She say make I break am, carry am go outside.

As she talk am, I dey remember say mirror dey attract spirit for some people side. She insist, "Break am. No leave even small piece."

I say no wahala—mirror no cost much.

I even dey happy say I go fit buy new one now wey money go enter. I carry stone, break the mirror, put the pieces for old rice bag, tie am for outside.

Soon, Mama Eno send person come carry my cross and the broken mirror. She even arrange people come put burglary proof for my window.

Na two young boys, dem tall, their chest strong. As dem dey fix the burglary proof, one of dem dey whistle Igbo highlife. The thing dey make my mind calm small.

I understand—na one million job. Me sef dey reason say I go soon put burglary proof, now I get am free. E no bad.

I tell myself, "This life ehn, when money dey, solution dey follow."