Chapter 2: The Chief’s House

The cart wey carry us just dey go, day after day.

E be like say na never-ending journey. Sun dey burn us for day, cold dey bite for night. We squeeze for back of cart, smell of palm oil, old sweat and fear full everywhere.

More small girls dey join for the cart.

Na so the group dey grow, girls from different village, all of us dey look each other with wary eye. Some dey cry, some dey whisper prayer. Everybody dey reason say, if luck shine, maybe we fit land for better house.

After two months, the cart full with girls wey dem don baff well, dem come sell us give Chief Olatunde house for Okpoko Hills.

Okpoko Hills na big place, fence high, big mango tree for front. As we land, dem rush baff us, rub us with coconut oil, tie wrapper for chest—make we look clean. Even for that fear, I dey reason say this Chief house better pass bush.

I no go lie, before I transmigrate, I dey complain about 8-5 work, but I no ever think say I go fall reach this level—become real beast of burden, no get any human right.

This kain slavery, e pass waiting dem dey show for Nollywood. No phone, no hope, na only tomorrow you dey wait, like say tomorrow na jara wey dem dey dash.

The madam wey come buy us check us like goat—she look our hand, leg, even teeth, pick eight of us make we stay.

As she dey check, I dey shake like leaf. She look my eye, check my hand, tell me make I open mouth. For her face, na business she dey do—no pity.

The girls wey dem send back cry sotey dem nearly faint. Chief house still beta, if dem carry you go another place, you fit no even reach beast of burden, na chicken or goat you go be.

Rumour dey fly say some house dey wey dem dey cook servant, no be only serve. Everybody dey pray make dem pick am for chief house.

Na so this feudal life hard, but no road to run. I no get cheat code; if I wan live, I gats play by the rules.

The reality bite me—this no be film, na survival. Na only sense and loyalty fit help you waka well.

I dey among the eight wey dem keep.

As dem call my name join the eight, I no know whether to smile or cry. My belle just dey jump.

For those days, I remember everything trafficker tell us: learn the rules, serve your oga well—na so you fit survive.

Every night, I go repeat am for my mind, like prayer: respect, work hard, no ask question. Na only way wey you fit get small peace.