Chapter 1: Breeze With No Owner

I be the freest pikin for our village.

Sometimes for my mind, I dey feel like breeze wey no get owner—just dey waka as I like, no boundary. Even goat for our compound dey look me with envy, like say e sabi say nobody dey tie me rope.

All my friends dey jealous me, dem dey always talk say nobody dey control me.

When we dey play for sun, dem go point me: 'See Morayo, na she get herself! Na she dey waka where she like.' Dem no know say for my mind, na empty breeze dey blow. Sometimes, I go just smile, as if say freedom na sweet thing.

But the real wahala be say, my papa and mama separate, and none of dem want me.

This thing pain me pass as e hard me talk. For inside my chest, e be like say person tie heavy stone, drop am for bottom of well.

So, when I reach eight years old, dem just leave me for mud house wey dey on top hill for Okpoko village.

Na small mud house wey red earth dey stain the wall, roof dey leak small. As I dey inside, sometimes my heart go dey shake like fowl wey rain beat.

Daytime no too bad.

For day, I fit waka round, shout with other pikin, see sun dey dance for leaf. But for night, wahala just start. The hill breeze go blow anyhow, and that drunk old bachelor, Uncle Bala, go stretch him hand enter the window small: 'Morayo, you no dey fear to dey alone? Uncle Bala go stay with you.'

As e dey talk, e voice dey smell palm wine. The whole village sabi say him hand dey too long for pikin. The window dey rattle small. Sometimes, I go use old pot cover block am, dey pray make morning quick show.