Chapter 3: The Curse of Memory

Ten years ago today, na so Mama get accident as she dey try buy strawberry cake wey I want.

I still dey remember her slippers, how e be like say she go come back, open gate, smile. Strawberry cake wey sweet pass honey, na me beg am. Na me send am out that day.

She just leave us like that.

Na rain fall that evening. Everybody gather, dey cry. For kitchen, I dey hide, dey squeeze cake carton, dey pray make all be dream. But dream no come.

Since then, Mr. Nnamdi begin hate me well well.

He no dey look me face. E dey carry leg up when I dey sweep parlor. Small thing go vex am.

For the burial, he tell everybody: "Chisom no be my pikin again."

The words shock everybody. Even elders for village look am twice, but nobody fit talk. For my mind, I dey beg, I dey hope say na play, say tomorrow e go change.

I squat for ground, my eyes red, dey look am, my face full with confusion and wahala.

Dust dey fly everywhere, na so I cough, but nobody send me. I dey alone for crowd.

That time, I too small to understand why he wicked like that.

Children no dey reason big wahala. I just dey think say maybe I no sweep house well, or maybe I too cry.

Na when I grow up, I begin know say those words heavy.

Every birthday, every holiday, the thing dey replay for my ear. Like curse.