Chapter 8: Interrogation Table

Interrogation room. I don sit here reach five, six hours.

The room cold, light dey blink. Na only iron table and chair dey. I cross my leg, I no talk. For Naija, na patience dey win battle.

I sabi say na police style be this.

Dem go leave you for long, make your mind scatter. But me, my mind tough. I don see life, this one na small.

Dem wan break my mind, make the strange place shake me.

I look the wall, e dey dirty. Na the kind wall wey don hear many confession. But me, my heart dey calm.

If dem treat me like this, e mean say dem dey take the case serious.

I know say na big thing happen. Dem no dey joke when death enter market.

Finally, the door open.

Door drag for ground, two police men enter, one come near me.

One big police man sit down, relax for chair.

He cross leg, look my eye steady, then he drop file for table. Na man wey don see things, e face dey hard.

"My name na Inspector Musa."

E voice deep, strong. Na Hausa man, accent dey show. For Naija, every tribe dey for police force.

"Mama Kudi, former psychology lecturer for big university, resign last year, now dey pick trash near market."

The way e talk am, e surprise me say e do him homework. I just nod, no talk. Life na rollercoaster—today you dey teach book, tomorrow you dey pick plastic.

"I dey wonder—wetin make you fall from top reach ground like this?"

I smile small.

"Everybody get their own way for life."

My voice low, because story long. For Naija, e no too hard to fall, especially for woman wey no get strong family again.

Inspector Musa squint, smile small.

E dey try check whether I dey lie. But I hold my ground. Na only God dey judge.

"True talk, I like am."

He nod, then write something for paper.

"But if you dey do any mago-mago, na kasala go burst."

Na warning. For this country, e no dey hard to enter trouble if dem think say you sabi pass them.

"Today, as you dey buy things, two people die for your front. No be too much coincidence?"

E eye sharp, e dey watch my body language. But my face dey strong. Na so market women dey—dem no dey gree for anybody.

I raise my hand, show say I no know.

I open palm, show am. Na sign say nothing dey my hand, my conscience dey clear.

"Everybody get their own destiny. If Death call person, who I be to stop am?"

For Naija, na so we talk—when person die, dem go say "na him time." I use that wisdom cover my own track.

Inspector Musa hiss, throw photos for table.

The way e take hiss, na like say I talk rubbish. I just dey look am, my heart dey steady.

"Even though you dey live for abandoned house now, we still find plenty things for your old house."

My body cold small. I know say dem don dig my life. For Naija, police dey find evidence like say na food.

The photos show bedroom.

Na the room I dey use before I lose everything. I fit remember the wall paint, the old chair, and the picture frame.

For wall, pictures full everywhere.

My research pictures—life of people for market. The way dem waka, who dem talk to. Na my old academic habit—study people, even when I dey suffer.

Na the same fruit seller and egusi seller wey die today.

My mind shift. I remember their face, their laugh, their wahala. But my face no show emotion.

Photos from every angle, everything dem dey do.

The kind detail I gather, e fit make person fear. But for researcher, na so we dey archive life.

One whiteboard dey middle.

Na the same board I use teach student before. Now, na only me dey write on top.

For there, their headshot, with note of their friends, daily waka, timetable...

Inspector Musa raise eyebrow.

E eye dey sharp now, e dey expect make I talk lie. But I just dey look am.

"Na you do all this, abi?"

I nod.

I no hide am, because na research I dey do. For Naija, people dey fear too much, but me I no get anything to lose again.

"Na research for social experiment, I wan understand how small vendors dey live. E dey break law?"

I talk am with soft voice, but my eye dey sharp. For Naija, na only book people dey believe in research. The rest go think say na jazz you dey do.

He pause, then snort.

He write something for paper, hiss. Na so e dey be—if you talk pass police, dem go vex.

"We dey suspect say their death join with you."

E eye dey scan my face, as if e go see sign of guilt.

I smile, pain show for my face.

I allow small pain show, make e no look like say I dey enjoy the wahala. But for my mind, I dey laugh.

"Oga police, one die from brick wey breeze blow, another na heart attack."

I bend forward small, voice steady.

"Even if I dey there, you no fit say na me kill dem."

For Naija, evidence na king. If you no see person with knife, you no fit jail am. I dey use that law protect myself.

Inspector Musa shake head.

E mouth tight, e finger dey knock table. I dey see say e dey frustrate.

"All this fit be set up."

He dey try connect dot, but nothing dey match for e head.

"I don send people make dem check if person loosen brick for upstairs, and dem dey test the tea for flask."

He wan show me say dem dey thorough, but I dey calm. If dem no find, nothing fit hold me.

"If you talk truth now, maybe your case go better."

He dey try pressure me, but I no shift. Na old trick.

After that, he relax for chair, close eye.

E dey wait make I break. I cross leg, dey look wall.

I no move, just balance too.

Na so old Lagos women dey—no dey shake for small pressure.

Time pass. Door open, young police enter with two files.

Door creak, file dey hand. I look up, no talk.

Inspector Musa stand, eye sharp.

He collect the files, wave am for my face.

E dey try intimidate me. I just dey look am.

"Mama Kudi, na your last chance be this!"

E voice loud, echo for room. But my heart dey stone.

As I no talk, he vex, slam files for table, open am sharp sharp.

Pages fly, photo scatter for table. He dey search for one clue wey go hang me.

As pages dey flip, Inspector Musa face dey change, sweat dey him forehead.

E hand dey shake, eye dey red. I dey see frustration for him face. Na so dem dey when evidence no complete.

He look me, shock, no believe.

"How come nothing dey wrong..."

For him mind, e dey confuse. Na so e be—sometimes, truth no dey show for surface.

I smile small.

I arrange my wrapper, lean back, smile reach my eye.

"Oga police, since nothing dey, I fit dey go?"

I talk am with boldness, because I know say dem no fit hold me for nothing.

"No fear, if una need me, I go always show."

I stand, dey wait. In this Naija, sometimes you go stand for your right, but you go do am gently.

Inspector Musa grit teeth.

E teeth dey grind, but I no fear. My own conscience clear.

"You dey rush go because you still wan kill one person, abi? If you try any nonsense, you go chop cell food."

E try provoke me, but my face remain straight.

I look am, act surprise.

I open mouth small, like say I dey shock. Na old woman drama, but e dey work.

"Oga, that one heavy for mouth o. No carry that kind talk give me."

My voice steady, but my eye dey sharp.

"If evidence no dey, abeg, no dey accuse person anyhow."

Inspector Musa hiss, bring out another photo from pocket.

Na Big Timi half photo, red marker don cross am.

I look am, smile small. Na old photo wey I use for research. But for police, everything na evidence.

"We see this for your house too. If I no miss, na him be your next target, abi?"

E dey try find answer, but I just dey watch am.

"I wan know—how you go take do this one?"

I sigh, put hand for table, adjust my body well.

I tap my finger for table, adjust my wrapper.

"Bias wey dey people mind na big mountain, Oga police."

I raise my eye, talk softly, because na truth. For Naija, people dey suspect the poor quick, but dem no dey see wetin dey their own front.

"This photo just show say I no like am."

I cross my hand for chest, look am. For this country, to survive, you go learn to carry your matter for head, but no let anybody use your story do skit.

As I dey waka comot station, Lagos sun dey wait for me. Anything fit happen for this city—na only God dey see tomorrow.