Chapter 8: Family Fire and Old Wrongs

When I reach house, I no rush go greet papa or grandma.

Since I know say to dey please them no dey help—I go still be thrown away—why I go dey beg?

But soon, dem call me go grandma place.

Aunty Grace hold my hand, beg me: "Just bow when dem want, abeg? If anything happen to you..."

She almost cry.

This time, I no say much, just: "No worry."

...

"Kneel down!"

"I don hear everything. No matter the excuse, you no fit deny say you no take care of Ifeoma."

Grandma sit for up, face tight, dey frown, she dey shout:

"No matter what, family shame no suppose reach outside. But you—not only you no protect Ifeoma for front of people, you even put her for shame."

"Una be sisters. Ifeoma get problem, your brother talk small to save her name, but you just dey defend yourself—no good!"

"If I no correct you, and let this your attitude spoil Shen family, how I go face our ancestors?"

As she talk, she point her walking stick my way, the beads on her wrist rattling like warning bell. The other aunties for the room just dey hiss and mutter under breath, "Children of nowadays, dem no dey hear word." One uncle for corner clear throat: "Make she hear word today." I swallow, my knees heavy as stone. My head remain low, but my mind dey burn: which kind justice be this for my own country, for my own father's house?

But this time, I no go just kneel—I go stand for myself, even if e break my back.