Chapter 1: Broken Home, Broken Hope

Beaten by my papa, bullied by my classmates.

But to talk true, the beating from my papa cut deeper pass cane, and the way my classmates dey use mouth finish person fit make your heart run commot from your chest. E dey feel like say ground for Oshodi market wan open, carry person disappear. For my mind, I dey always wonder, na so life go be?

With nowhere else to go, I waka enter the tattoo shop for the corner of the alley.

Rain dey threaten for sky, thunder dey grumble far, breeze dey scatter nylon for gutter as I waka go that shop. Inside, wall dey smell of menthol and old pepper soup, tattoo ink mix with the scent of rain outside. The area na real ghetto, even goat dey fear cross that alley for night. My leg dey shake, but shame and wahala no gree make I turn back.

I don hear say the oga wey dey there na real street guy—tough, no dey smile, if wahala start, e no dey carry last. Everybody for our area dey fear am.

Dem talk say if e catch thief, na back of cutlass e dey use teach sense. For junction, boys dey gist say him only dey respect him mama, every other person na just another face for street. Even area boys dey clear road when him dey come.

I push open the door, pull one rough, squeezed five-hundred-naira note from my pocket.

My hand dey shake as I touch the door handle, sweat dey run from my palm like say I thief sugar. That five hundred, na like my last hope—money wey I gather from picking plastic bottle for junction. My heart dey drum kpom kpom for my chest.

Gathering all the small courage wey remain for my body, I talk:

"I hear say you dey collect protection money, so... you fit protect me?"

My voice small, e almost break, but I manage finish the talk. For that moment, I dey beg God make my leg no cut.

Inside thick cigarette smoke, the man just twist him mouth, gimme one kind look:

"Which pikin you be, wey get mind come this place?"

The way e dey look me from under brow ehn, e be like say I wear masquerade mask. For my mind, I dey reason whether to run or to stand, but leg no gree move.

Later, because of that five hundred naira, the guy protect me for ten years.

Na so fate carry my leg enter story wey I never plan.

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Chapter One

The year wey I meet Musa Okoye, I dey fourteen years old.

Na hot harmattan, everywhere dry, breeze dey slap person face. I still remember as my slippers dey cut anyhow that year. For that street, na only me dey waka like fowl wey no see corn.

Because I no dey chop well since small, I short and thin, I even look younger pass my mates.

My neck long like broomstick, cloth dey hang for my body like say na hanger. For compound, people dey use me joke: "Ngozi, breeze go carry you o!" But me, I just bone, dey waka my own jeje.

Since I sabi myself, my papa never do any better work before. The three of us just dey survive on top my mama small twenty-five-thousand-naira salary from tailoring shop.

Na tailor shop get my mama life. She dey sew for people from morning till night, sometimes dey carry work come house. Many times, her finger don collect needle wound, but she go just tie rag continue work. Twenty-five thousand, yet she go still squeeze money buy small gala for me once in a while.

My papa love gamble, but na lose e dey lose steady.

E dey play baba ijebu as if e be investment. Every time result come out, you go see am dey press him head for hand, dey mumble: "Next time, next time." But e no ever win anything wey pass one green bottle of Origin.

Anytime e lose, e go vex; when e vex, e go drink; when e don high finish, na beating go start—both for my mama and me.

Na so house dey turn to wrestling ring once sun set. If e no shout, e dey break something. If e no break, na person e go use vent. Sometimes, even neighbours dey hear am, but dem go just close window, mind their own.

Broken plates and leftover food dey always scatter for ground.

Spoon dey disappear, cup dey lose handle. My mama go pack the pieces, keep for one corner—she dey hope say one day she go gum everything back. E get one plate wey we dey use since I small, e don break tire, but glue still dey hold am.

When I be five, e lose big money.

That day na Saturday, rain dey fall, everywhere cold. My papa waka come house, footstep heavy, mouth full with curse.

That night, as e come house, everywhere dey smell ogogoro, e grab my mama hair, begin knock her head for cement floor, press her face, dey knock am again and again. When e tire, e kick her belle.

The sound, ehn, e dey enter my bone. Each knock na like thunder. My mama dey shout, but voice no reach anybody. My body just dey shake, fear tie me for chair.

"So you dey look me finish now, abi? You dey feel say I no get sense again?"

The spit from him mouth dey fly. E eyes red, like person wey dey see demon. My mama just dey beg, but e no send.

"You no born boy for me, now I dey shame for outside. See as dem dey talk for junction."

Neighbours dey gossip say woman wey no born boy no get power for husband house. For my papa side, na big shame.

"Na you cause all my wahala. If I no marry you, by now my life for don better."

As e dey talk, e voice dey loud, like trumpet. My mama mouth dey bleed, eye swell.

My mama just curl for ground, blood wey dark red dey gum her hair together.

Her body dey tremble small small, but she no cry again. E be like say all the tears don finish.

She no run, she no fight back. She just dey believe say if she endure, maybe the small good left inside the man go wake up.

I dey wonder wetin dey make woman strong reach like that. Sometimes I feel say na stubbornness, other times, na just love wey stubborn.

When my papa tire to beat my mama, e turn face look me.

The room cold, darkness dey corner, but the look for e face hot pass candle.

"See this small witch, pikin of useless woman, na useless pikin."

E spit for ground. My leg dey shake. I dey wish say I fit disappear inside wall.

"Wetin you dey look? You wan fight me?"

I no even fit look am for face, na then slap land for my face, heavy, pain first, then everywhere just numb.

For my mind, na only small thunder dey roar. My brain blank, I no fit cry.

E be like say sound just die for my ear, everywhere quiet like inside bottle.

That kind silence dey scare person pass the beating. Na so I know say e serious.

The slap tear my eardrum.

Na hospital nurse tell my mama say my left ear go dey hear small small again. Doctor look me with pity eye, dey shake head.

My mama cry, drag me enter her chest, use her weak body cover me from the madness.

She hold me like say if e loose me, I go vanish. Her own blood dey soak my shirt. Her voice dey tremble as she dey whisper prayers.

The man shout, the woman scream—everything stop when the man don tire.

E just crash for chair, dey pant. My mama dey rub my back, dey hum song wey her own mama teach her. Na only hope wey dey that night.

For night, na only my papa snore and my mama sob you go dey hear.

Snore loud like generator. My mama tears, small, e dey come and go. For that darkness, na only God know wetin dey her mind.

My mama, with red eye, finish to rub medicine for my wound, come quietly pack the mess for ground.

She no talk, just dey move gentle. Sometimes, e go wipe tears, sometimes e go pause, look me, then continue.

We squeeze for one small bed. She hold me tight.

Her hand dey cold, but she press me near her. The way she hold me, e be like say she wan use her body shield me from the world.

I talk: "Mama, make we run comot for here. I go make money, take care of you for future."

I whisper am. For my mind, na big promise. At least, I fit dream.

She look the moon outside window, wey one side don cut.

The night breeze dey enter, carry small hope join. She just dey stare moon, her face soft, like person wey dey beg light to return.

"No, your papa treat me well when we young. E save money buy me gold bangle, carry me waka far just to watch fireworks, buy me plenty fine cloth wey I no even fit wear finish."

She talk am like person wey dey remember story from another life. Her eye dey far, smile small, but the pain still dey under.

I touch my mama faded, shapeless cloth, wey don tire for wash.

That cloth na real warrior—patch everywhere, colour don fade, but she still dey wear am with pride. For my mind, I dey vex, but I no fit show am.

"Mama, you dey lie."

The words heavy for my mouth, but I talk am. I want make she see the world as e be.

She pat my head, her voice stubborn:

"I no dey lie. Your papa just get small wahala for now, e go change. E promise say e go love me forever."

Her voice dey shake, but she still hold am strong. For that moment, she dey beg herself believe.

"Just like the moon for window—one day e go full again." Her voice low, like she dey tell herself join.

She stroke my hair till I sleep. That night, hope and fear dey dance for her voice.

Next day, my papa clear, act like nothing happen, dey laugh with my mama, dey ask her for money.

E dey whistle, dey play ludo for parlour. If you see am, you no go believe say na the same person. E even dey call my mama "baby" for joke.

E talk: Ifeoma, I still love you. Na drink make me behave anyhow. When I win money, I go give you better life.

Na this same talk e dey repeat every time. My mama just dey smile, dey serve am food.

Just small talk, my mama don soft, give am her whole salary.

She no dey argue, just carry small envelope, drop for am. E go peck her, say "God bless you, Ify." For my mind, na so dem dey start the circle again.

This kain scene don too common, e dey fear person.

Neighbours don tire to talk. Some dey shake head, some dey look us like movie. Na only me still dey count days.

I look the money for my papa hand, I wan ask my mama, no be she talk say this month salary she go take send me go nursery school?

My head dey reason am, but mouth no gree talk. The money just waka from her hand to him own, like say na normal thing.

I don reach five years, I never enter nursery.

All my mates don dey recite ABC, dey draw sun for book. Me, I dey home dey watch pigeon for window.

But my mama dey smile, her eye just dey my papa body, she forget me finish.

Sometimes I go stand for her side, try drag attention. E no go work. Na papa dey rule her world.

So, I just keep quiet.

I hug pillow, tell myself say e go better. But each time, the quiet for house dey increase.

No wahala, next month mama go remember me.

Hope still dey inside me, small as e be. Every new month, I dey look her eye, dey expect miracle.

But till I enter primary school because of government free education, my mama still no remember me.

The day dem share free book for compound, na that day I know say chance finally show. I no blame her, but my heart still dey heavy.

So I miss all of nursery.