Chapter 3: Old Wounds, New Fire

I swear, my head don touch. See as I take enter chief’s man wahala.

For my mind, I dey curse myself—how I waka enter this kain trouble? Na so love dey be?

That night, I just quietly help hibiscus spirit go him room, clean him wound, rub medicine, then waka commot.

I dey shake as I dey rub ointment. I no wan look his eye, but e dey draw me like magnet. When I finish, I rush commot, dey avoid story.

Na real madness—if person catch us, na death be that.

For this estate, even the wall get eye. If e leak say guard dey help chief’s man, na finish.

But I no fit just look make he die for Hibiscus Court.

Something inside me dey push me—say make I do am. Maybe na foolishness, maybe na heart.

For half month, every night I dey sneak medicine go give am. When him wound finally heal, I gree relax.

I dey use excuse say I wan check light for corridor, but na lie. Sometimes I dey even cook small soup drop for am.

As I just calm down, na so sickness catch me—I take seven days sick leave from captain.

Body weak, fever come hold me. Maybe na wahala dey catch up with me, maybe na guilt.

The more I think am, the more fear dey catch me. I slap myself: “You dey craze! Real craze!”

I knock my head for wall, dey curse my sense. Person wey no get wahala, now dey find who go bury am.

Pressure too much—I chop three wraps of amala at once.

Food no even sweet, but my hand no gree stop. My spirit dey look for comfort, even if na inside eba.

Back for my room, I wan cry under bedsheet, but sleep carry me.

I hug my pillow, dey imagine say na peace I dey find. Sleep come finally collect my sense.

When I wake, I go find Musa to drink.

Na only drink dey calm me sometimes. Musa dey always ready share beer with person, even if him no get shishi.

Musa dey complain: “Who know wetin do chief—he just summon all guards go front yard. We stand like mumu for one hour, chief no even show face, just send person dismiss us. My leg still dey pain me.”

We dey laugh, dey mock senior guards wey dey waka like say dem get army for pocket. Na so we dey use joke cure stress.

After we drink small, I ask am, “Musa, you think say if chief tire for the men for Hibiscus Court, wetin go happen to them?”

I try talk am like joke, but worry dey hide for my voice. Musa look me, then hiss.

Musa just dey shell groundnut. “If dem die, na for Hibiscus Court dem go die. When chief first start to keep men, he wicked—dem dey carry dead body commot steady.”

He throw groundnut shell for floor. "If you no get person for up, na grave go chop you." Sometimes Musa talk truth wey dey bitter pass ogogoro.

I scratch my head, wahala just dey worry me more. I no suppose ask.

E be like say I just add pepper to my own wound. I sip drink, no say word again.

As we dey drink, noise start for corner.

Voice full for compound, laughter dey fly. I know say another family member don land.

“Chijioke don come back from school, him don wise well—he go do big things.”

Na auntie Ngozi dey talk, her mouth no dey tire for praise.

“You dey praise me too much.”

Chijioke voice dey cool, him smile sharp, but you go know say him get sense.

I look, see my fine brother, Chijioke.

He tall, fair, always wear correct cloth. Auntie Ngozi hug am, dey sing, "My pikin don come back o!" Neighbours dey peep fence. Even teachers for school dey hail am. If you see am, you go sabi say na person wey family dey proud of.

He wear blue kaftan, gentle and correct, dey talk soft with people. But as he see me, him face just turn stone.

I dey hope say he go pass me, but him eye catch me. Na wahala be that.

I force smile, try dodge.

I try waka quietly, but Chijioke sabi catch person fast. My heart dey beat small-small.

But before long, Chijioke catch up.

He no dey waste time. Before I fit hide, na so he land near me. Him style no dey change.

He first talk: “I hear say you dey work as guard for Chief Dike’s house. Na good work. Not long ago, I go poetry gathering for there, chief notice me. I mention your name. If dem call you, abeg wise up—you fit get better life.”

I surprise, mouth open. Chijioke dey quick use opportunity help person, but him style dey somehow. I just dey nod, dey hide my worry.

I no expect am.

My mind travel back—two years ago, the last time we talk, na serious fight. I dey fear say e never forget.

Because two years ago, before he travel, we get big fight.

E still dey my mind like yesterday. That day change everything between us.

He hold my drawing, face dark like thunder, shout: “Ikenna! Wetin be all these nonsense—indecent!”

The paper shake for him hand, eye red, voice crack. Neighbours sef hear am.

All the drawing na Chijioke I draw. My secret crush don burst. For this estate, if dem hear say man dey draw man, na big wahala—people fit stone you for junction.

Na so my secret scatter. For days, I no fit chop, sleep run from my eye.

Chijioke act like nothing happen, which suit me.

Since then, we dey walk like strangers. Na only God know wetin dey his mind.

I quickly talk, “Thank you, Brother.”

I dey struggle to balance my voice. Even as I try smile, shame dey hold my chest.

Chijioke arrange my collar, talk gentle: “Try come house sometimes. Papa and Mama miss you.”

He dey force the old brother role. Na tradition—no matter the quarrel, family no dey cut off.

I shift back, talk true: “Brother, I wan marry. To stay outside go make things easy.”

My words hang for air, but na the only thing wey fit save me for now.