Chapter 5: Palm Grove—New Ground, New Wahala

Hauwa hear am, waka come, carry Sani Garba hand with pride:

She waka front, hips dey swing, eyebrow raised. Her grip tight like say she dey guard gold. I see the smirk for her face, the small victory she dey celebrate.

"Sani, I think say Palm Grove Secondary School dey okay."

Her voice loud so everybody fit hear. Some girls for corridor just hiss, others shake head. For Kaduna, pride dey important pass trophy.

Palm Grove Secondary School na the lowest for Kaduna, and Sani Garba sabi am.

Everybody for street sabi say Palm Grove na where stubborn pikin dem dey go, people dey call am last bus stop for wahala children. Even the tailor for my street gist my mama once say na only area boys dey graduate from there.

He just smile anyhow:

He just give that kain empty smile, the type wey you dey use hide shame for face of public wahala. Im eyes no meet mine. I just dey look my broken hearing aid, dey reason wetin life turn to.

"No wahala, anything you talk."

His voice light, almost like e dey joke, but I sabi say the matter dey serious. Everybody for corridor just dey watch us like film, and I just want disappear.

I hold the broken hearing aid for my hand. The sharp edge dey cut my skin.

Blood small dey leak, but I hold am tight—if pain no fit hold my tears, wetin else fit? The metal dey cold, heavy like all the years wey me and Sani Garba dey share. I swallow spit, face stiff.

E dey pain me, but na only that pain hold my tears.

I press my thumb to the wound, bite my lip. For my mind, I dey talk to God—make e give me small strength to carry the day. In this Kaduna, na shame dey make you strong.

After long time, I throw the hearing aid for dustbin, turn back and waka.

My footsteps echo for tiled corridor, each step heavy like I dey carry stone for chest. For this life, sometimes to waka away be the hardest thing. The sky for evening dey red, and my shadow long pass normal. I just waka go.