Chapter 3: Zainab Don Lost
The bakery na single mother dey run am with her pikin. The woman name na Aunty Hanatu, her daughter name na Zainab, she be just four years old this year. Everybody for area sabi as e hard to raise pikin alone, so we dey always help her as we fit.
Her bakery dey smell of fresh agege bread and coconut buns, sometimes puff-puff if she get time. Sometimes, if rain dey fall or bakery oven spoil, na neighbor dey help Hanatu with repair. During Salah, Hanatu go bake small bread, share for children. Zainab na everybody pikin for this our street.
I call Aunty Hanatu sharp sharp, but she dey outside deliver cake, she no pick.
I ring her number back to back, my heart dey beat. I even send her text, "Abeg, call me as soon as you see this!"
Like one hour thirty minutes later, Aunty Hanatu rush enter my shop, panic full her face. She hold my daughter, dey shake, "Where Zainab go? Abeg, talk sharp sharp!"
Her scarf shift for head, face full of sweat, leg dey tremble. My daughter just freeze like goat wey see lion.
My daughter fear, mouth no fit talk. I tell Aunty Hanatu make she call police quick, then I follow her go find pikin, but as we cross road, no trace again.
I shout her name for junction, my voice crack. Some Okada men gather, help us check gutter, under car, all corner.
Police come respond fast. From my talk and CCTV, dem find the boy that same night. Him name na Musa.
The DPO himself come area, say make dem comb everywhere. When dem finally see Musa, e dey for one uncompleted building dey play sand.
Musa dey swear say e no carry Zainab go anywhere. Even e parents dey lie say e dey house all day.
Na old woman for street talk say, "I see am for junction with small girl." Musa papa dey shout, "My pikin no dey waka, na play e dey play!" But evidence no dey lie.
But as police show dem CCTV, their lie scatter. Na so Musa begin stammer:
"I never reach twelve, so I no fit go prison, abi?"
Even police officer hiss. One sergeant whisper, "This one get mind o. God go judge!"