Chapter 3: Chains and Threats

The truth heavy for my mind. As I stand there, I dey remember days when hunger go make my belly flat, but na only her voice go keep me alive. No papa to call, no uncle to run to—na only her, even if na her anger remain for me.

I squatted for one corner outside the sheep pen, quietly inching closer.

The ground cold reach bone, but I no fit move far. I dey crawl small small, heart dey pound for chest. I dey hope say if I quiet enough, she no go notice me, and if she notice, maybe she go change her mind. My own wahala na say I stubborn, no fit go where my mind no gree.

“Go!” Mama sense say I never really leave and shouted again.

Her voice sharp, cut through the night like knife. The sheep scatter, one even run jam fence. I close my eyes, tears wan come, but I swallow am back. Her anger dey heavy, but I still dey wait, still dey hope.

“Why you no just die? Even your breathing dey make me sick!”

The words hot like pepper, burn my heart. My body dey tremble, and I fit hear my own breath—small, shaky. The pain for her voice pass the one for her body. E dey hard to understand how person wey suppose love you fit talk like that.

Fear catch me, I hug myself tight.

Na fear of many things—her words, the cold, the darkness, and wetin go happen if I really leave. I press my knees to my chest, try use my skinny arm shield myself from everything. I dey wish say the earth fit open swallow me make I no feel anything again.

Most times, mama no dey like this. When her head dey touch, she go hide me under one ewe make I drink milk, and she go give me the clean moi moi first.

For those days, she fit plait my hair, sing old song wey her own mama teach her. She go dey talk say, 'Pikin, no cry, na God dey watch.' Sometimes, she go laugh, eyes shine small—even if blind, joy go touch her face. Na that side of her I dey miss.

But every month, there go be some days wey she go just turn wicked and scary, just like tonight.

The day go start normal, but night go turn her to another person. Sometimes na full moon dey cause am, sometimes harmattan breeze. I dey watch her change, like how dry season dey turn river to dust.

But tonight, e worse pass before.

Her voice dey tremble, body dey shake, as if all the pain for her heart just burst out once. E be like say spirit enter her, the kind wey dey cause wahala for family. Tonight, she dey fear something only she fit see.