Chapter 2: Papa Drama and Yellow Sisi Wahala

My papa na real case.

As in, the man na full drama. Him own wahala dey different. E get wahala for body like pepper soup get pepper. If dem dey share stubbornness for market, my papa go buy full basket.

He never marry, keep six girlfriends, get enough pikin to play football.

For our area, e dey form bachelor, but everybody sabi say women full him life. If dem wan organize under-17 for Benue, na just summon papa children, team go full. My step-sisters and brothers, we full like NECO center.

Me, I be number seven—not too high, not too low.

No be say I dey complain. For papa list, I just dey middle. No special privilege, no stress. E mean say na only on special days I go collect call or text from am. Sometimes I dey wonder if e dey even remember my name or na just face e sabi.

Before before, I just dey like pikin wey nobody dey notice, but na fine I fine.

I dey blend for crowd, no dey make wahala. But as I begin dey grow, fine wey I fine begin show. For area, even mama friends dey hail me. Some dey talk say I dey do juju, but na God do am, abeg. Dem dey call me 'yellow sisi' for street.

My mama sef na small celeb, she no bad.

Mama fine, get style. Everybody for our street sabi am, she dey waka like say na red carpet. She sabi how to arrange gele, tie wrapper, do makeup, carry herself. Even if money no too dey, her packaging dey on point.

But me, I pass them, carry better gene—fine reach where if I waka for road, eight talent scouts go rush me per day.

I no dey exaggerate. Sometimes sef, my mama dey jealous. "You this girl, e be like say God dey use you do showoff," she go talk. I just dey laugh. If I waka for road, e be like say everybody dey watch film.

Since small, my drawer dey always full—snacks, love letter everywhere.

If you see the kind of things I dey collect—chin chin, TomTom, even biscuit. Boys wey no fit talk go just dey drop note: "I like your smile." Some dey try poetry, some dey write their number. My wardrobe na shrine for crush.

People wey dey crush on me fit line from Makurdi roundabout reach Mile 2.

I no go lie, e tire me sometimes. I go dey reason, na who go fit survive this race? As I dey waka, conductors sef go dey hail me. "Sisi, you get change for my heart!"

Na wahala sef—how I wan make dem stop?

At a point, I begin dey cover face with scarf, but e no work. Even with scarf, voice still dey follow me. Na so I just accept am.

Before I fit reason am, bigger gbege land.

Omo, Naija no dey ever dull. Even when you feel say you balance, new gbege go show. No rest for the beautiful, na so dem talk am.

My papa company jam wahala, money no dey.

See as e be—business dry, papa face dey long like third mainland bridge. If you see as e dey shout for phone, you go think say dem thief am. Hunger wan show for house. Small time, e begin dey arrange plan.

To solve am, papa use him sharp brain—wey dey shine pass new generator—think say he get sense.

If you know papa, you know say e sabi arrange. E fit sell sand for desert, as dem dey talk. But this time, I know say e dey gamble.

—Na so e send me go meet one big oga for Abuja.

The call land like thunder for my phone. "Dress well, go meet Chairman. No disgrace me!" E no even ask how I dey. For Naija, connection dey important. Even pikin na commodity if e go help survival.

Worse be say, as I fine, the oga happy well.

Na so oga see me, smile wan commot for face. "Ah, your papa don try. See as you fine like morning dew." I just dey bow head, dey pray make the whole thing end quick.

Just one hand wave, papa company don survive.

Oga sign one paper, smile. Papa send text: "Thank you, my daughter. You try!" No be say I do anything special, na just show face. But you know men.

Papa dey jolly, big oga dey jolly.

Dem go dey celebrate, dey toast, dey call each other chairman. I just sit down for corner, dey count clock.

Na only me no dey happy.

My mind dey heavy. I no get joy, no appetite. As I dey house that night, I dey reason—na so pikin life be? Sometimes, you go gree for your people sake.

Now, another bigger wahala don jam me.

No time to rest, wahala na relay race. Before you drop baton, new one don start. Na so e be for Naija pikin.