Chapter 2: The Past No Dey Forget

Danjuma papa na factory worker wey die sudden. Danjuma na seven that time, and Mama Jummai still dey carry belle. Her mother-in-law, wey dem sabi say she dey wahala, dey oppress her say she be village girl, come even collect her property.

That burial na something wey people never forget for our side. Even people wey no sabi the family, dem gather, dey wail, dey throw sand for grave. Mama Jummai bend down, dey cry—her wrapper for ground, belle big like drum. The old woman, Danjuma grandma, no let her rest: "Shey you see am now? Na you village people dey finish my son." Even the family land, dem drag am.

That time, na Mama Jummai first talk say make we live together. So why she go dey wish me bad now?

I still remember as she kneel, voice low: "Baba Musa, I beg, help us. Just small help."

"Jummai, why you dey do me like this? All these years wey we marry no mean anything for you?"

My voice crack. My back dey pain me, but I force myself. I look her for eye, dey find small sign of pity. Na only dust dey answer me.

I try stand up, but my body no gree.

My leg weak. I nearly fall, na only wall hold me. Age and wahala no be mate. I dey reason whether na old age dey worry me or something else.

"Baba Musa, no vex. I no fit let you spoil the pikin future."

Her words cold like December harmattan for Kano. She no look my face, just dey pack her things. I feel am deep.

Mama Jummai voice cold pass harmattan breeze wey dey enter from the door.

That breeze dey cut my skin, make me shiver. No warm hand, no care, only silence.

I no even know whether na cold kill me or na hunger.

For my mind, the two dey fight. My belly don empty since yesterday; even the last pap I drink no reach. Na so life dey humble man.

As my spirit float, I dey see as heavy harmattan dust cover everywhere—houses, street, okada full ground. The whole town just be like fine painting.

Harmattan get way wey e dey paint life dull. Children go dey run, use Vaseline rub face. Cloth dey white, people dey cough. But for my eye, the dust just cover all my memory—no joy, no pain, just emptiness.

"Ah-ah, why this man still dey sleep? If e no go work, this old woman go die for hunger o!"

Na voice drag me back. I feel slap of reality, and shame join am. Hunger nor dey let person rest.

I open my eyes see old wrinkled face, skin rough like wall wey paint don peel.

The room dark small, light dey force enter through window. The woman eye sharp, mouth dey twist like person wey get plenty story to yarn.

Na Mama Kudi, old woman wey dey live alone. Her husband and pikin join army, dem no come back. She go adjust her headtie, clap hand, say, "Na God hand I dey." Community dey help her, but she still dey try happy for life.

Na every market day dem dey send us boys go help her fetch water. She go dey gist us story, dey laugh anyhow, even if hunger dey worry am. E no easy, but she still dey try smile.

Wait, no be say Mama Kudi don die before?

My body freeze. I dey reason whether na dream I dey. I rub my eyes, look well. E be like spirit dey play with my head.

"Why this pikin dey act like mumu after sleep?" she talk again.

Her voice sharp, no nonsense. The kind woman wey no dey look face before she talk her mind.

One laugh burst for side: "Mama Kudi, you no know—young people fit dey enjoy sweet dream."

Na small pikin voice, sharp and lively. E remind me of how boys dey run inside rain, no worry for tomorrow. My heart calm small.

I stand up see Baba Audu dey water him bitterleaf plant, plastic kettle for hand.

Baba Audu, that man wey dey always smile with everybody. E sabi plant, e get garden wey people dey envy for area. Him kettle na him power—anytime you see am, e dey wet leaf, dey whistle local tune.

"Time reach for you find wife," Mama Kudi talk, her face just dey shine with smile, all the wrinkles show.

Na so elders for our side dey do—any small thing, dem go remind you say you never marry. She talk am with laugh, but e get meaning wey deep. E mean make you find joy, no dey waka alone for life.

Sunshine just dey enter, everywhere warm.

E dey give new hope, like say God dey tell person say, "Stand up, try again." I breathe in, my spirit rest small.

I touch my face—the wrinkles wey suppose dey don almost comot. I look my blue jacket. E still new.

This jacket wey I value, na my pride. For my last life, e don tire, patch everywhere, but now, e fresh like market cloth. E remind me say God fit rewind time.

Since I start dey with Mama Jummai, everything wey I get dey go children hand. When I die, I still dey wear this jacket, but by then, patch don cover the cloth reach everywhere.

Na so life be. When man get family, him joy dey their hand. You go give, give, until only memory remain. But no be say I regret, na just say I wish I fit balance am better.

"Na why you need wife. See as you still dey wear jacket for this your age."

Na true she talk. If I get woman, e for help me keep things in order. No be say I dey complain, but na fact.

So, na so I come back alive? I young again?

I pinch myself small—e pain. I look mirror, no white hair. Na wonder! This life fit truly begin afresh.

I quick accept am—na new life dem give me. I raise hand, whisper, "God, abeg, no let me mess up this chance." Maybe for my last life I too dull, sef God no fit watch again.

I reason say, if God give me second chance, e mean make I no repeat old mistake. This time, I go sharp.

"Mama, wetin time talk?"

I dey rush know which year we dey. Maybe Danjuma papa still dey alive. Maybe I fit change things.

If I fit stop just one mistake, e fit save all of us. I dey pray say time still dey.

"E don reach ten o’clock. You no go canteen? I still dey wait make you bring leftover."

Ten o'clock? I quick tie wrapper, clean face. I no wan make dem say I lazy for work. Mama Kudi laugh, say, "You never change. Food no dey wait person."

One voice dey rush come: "Wahala dey o, Baba Audu, abeg come quick—something don happen..."

People begin gather, dem dey run, I dey feel say wahala don land. For Nigeria, once you hear "wahala dey," e mean trouble wey fit concern everybody.

But e don late. Before Danjuma papa reach hospital, he don go.

The news hit like thunder. Everybody cry. Even men wey no dey shed tear before, dem eyes red. Mama Jummai collapse, belle heavy, neighbors rush sprinkle water for her face. I stand, lost for words, only silence answer me.