Chapter 5: Confession

I fear say Mama Hauwa death go affect my daughter, so I decide make we travel, clear her head.

I tell Adaora, we pack light, enter danfo go park, try laugh, heart still heavy. My daughter happy—first time she dey leave city since case start.

All through trip, my daughter dey jolly. Until one day for Dreamworld Park, she see one princess headband, pink and gold, fake diamonds, price high. She vex, roll for ground, I try bribe her with suya, she still dey vex. Other mothers just dey look us.

That night, I catch my daughter dey chat for her smartwatch. Normally, I dey respect her privacy, but that day, I use parental control check her chat.

My eyes dey red from tiredness, but curiosity win. As I scroll, I feel like thief for my own house.

Wetin I see shock me.

Chats full—paragraph upon paragraph—my daughter dey complain say I stingy, dey count change, dey wear same slippers every Saturday. She yarn about my jokes, old phone, grey hair.

Pages upon pages, na complain. She even write, “Na poverty wan kill my papa. Every time na promo this, promo that. I wish say I fit change family like phone case.” E pain me reach bone.

One girl suggest: “Why you no send your papa go jail too?”

Another add, “Na so one aunty do, her papa travel, no come back!” All of dem laugh with emoji.

My daughter reply: “No, I still wan write WAEC for future. If I send am go jail, e fit affect me.”

My belle twist. I drag my daughter from bed. “Baba Musa ever touch you? You lie?”

She try wriggle, but I hold am soft, voice dey shake. “Omalicha, no lie for me. God dey watch.”

At first, she dodge, my wife no dey to defend her.

She look ground, lips tight, tears gather. I sit beside her, hand heavy for her back.

After I press well, she confess—Baba Musa never touch her. Never molest anybody.

Her voice low, as if she no believe am. She begin sob, tears heavy.

Her reason shock me—because Baba Musa no gree stop for our house, only official bus stop. That thing vex her.

I remember her complain before, “Daddy, Baba Musa dey wicked! E no dey hear person talk.” I no know say e fit reach like this.

The other four girls na her close friends. Dem no like Baba Musa too, say him fat and ugly, so all join body.

Their dislike become bond—one small act of revenge, childish but dangerous.

My daughter dey cry, hold my trouser. “I just wan teach am lesson. Daddy, I no go do am again. Abeg, no vex.”

She hold me, dey shake, voice small. Her sobs fill the room.

I realised, in that moment, her mind still dey like new yam—soft, easy to cut. She no even know say wetin she do bad reach like that. She think say if I no vex, everything don end.

Next day, I carry my daughter house, tell my wife the truth.

Adaora sit, eye wide. The shock pass fast, face hard like stone.

She advise make I cover the matter, no tell anybody.

She pace, wrapper tight. “Make we just forget. You want wahala? If you talk, e fit spoil everything.”

“Mama Hauwa don die already. Even if you help Baba Musa come out, he no go thank you—he fit find us wahala.”

She look me, voice low. “Oga lawyer, you dey hear me so? People no dey forgive this kind thing. If Baba Musa vex, e fit turn to another story.”

She even talk say the best na make Baba Musa die for prison. If we keep quiet, the other girls go keep quiet too.

She pat my arm, tears dey her eye. “If anything happen, who go protect us?”

But what if Baba Musa no die?

My heart dey race. I look ceiling, questions dey run for my mind.

Five years for prison—no too short, no too long. If Baba Musa come out, wetin go happen?

He go forgive us?

I ask myself again and again. I no hear answer. I no fit sleep that night, my mind dey turn like NEPA wire.