Chapter 1: Blood and Blindness

Late at night, when I return to the flat, thinking say my roommate don already sleep, I dey grope for darkness, hand dey search for wall as I waka go my room to rest.

Na so I softly push the door, careful no make noise as I sidon for corridor, hand dey feel along wall. My shoe dey tap tile softly, I dey listen well, my mind dey focus on that crack wey dey for floor just before my room door. For Naija, NEPA fit seize light any time, so darkness no be new thing, but this one heavy for body—e be like say even my shadow dey hide.

Next morning, police full everywhere—like say our flat turn crime scene overnight.

You go think say na Nollywood film, the way everywhere just full, police uniform dey shine, their voice dey scatter. That sweet smell of Mama Amaka beans wey dey always float for corridor don vanish—now na only strong disinfectant and wahala dey for air. I dey reason if na my eye dey deceive me, but I know say this one pass ordinary.

My roommate don die that night.

My chest jam like say spirit grip am. As I stand there, hand dey shake, sweat dey roll for my back, even as harmattan breeze dey blow. How person go sleep, wake see say him neighbor don kpai? For Lagos, news dey fly, but this one hit me double because na my own person.

Dem talk say for parlour wall, bloody line dey—written with the victim’s own blood—

Na so dem pack everybody for parlour, all mouth wide open. Police dey write, neighbors dey whisper, and dem point the thing for wall—red, sticky, real blood letters. Even though I no fit see, I feel am for body.

"Lucky say you be blind man, abi?"

Chai! My whole leg weak as dem read am. The words heavy for air like curse. Wetin I do wey make me survive? I dey reason maybe na my blindness save me. For Naija, God dey always get hand for matter wey pass person understanding.