Chapter 4: Standing for the Truth

"True, Senior Musa just talk for him comment say this song better pass him own, say e dey inspired."

"Now e dey talk say Senior Halima thief am. No be himself e dey disgrace so?" Some students dey side talk, Naija people sabi gossip.

Musa look me, mouth one question—make we continue?

I nod. Wetin I get to lose again?

Why I no go?

"I no dey jealous because another person song better pass my own," Musa talk. "In fact, I dey appreciate am. But if na copy or thief, no matter how sweet e sound, na rubbish."

"The real composer dey my side. She be—" Musa pause, look me.

He shift microphone, softly ask me my name.

I sign my name and department. My hand steady, heart dey pound.

"She be Aisha, second year for music therapy, na she write 'Heartlight'." Musa announce.

As people see me sign, everybody begin talk. Some dey argue, others dey shake head.

"How? Mute person fit compose? You dey joke?"

"Senior Musa dey play?"

"I no understand. Music therapy student fit write this kind big song? If na true, e mean say composition department dey slack o."

As I dey see all their doubt, my heart dey shake, face dey red. The thing dey pain me, but I gree to stand.

I look up, see their mouth dey move. Na like wind for my ear.

Just like when teacher call me for speech when I be small. I no dey talk then, but dem still force me stand for assembly.

I open mouth, nothing come out.

Dem laugh me, tell me make I come down, ask why mute dey give speech, why I no go school for disabled. Na wetin I dey run from since.

That day, Tunde run come stage, hold my hand tight: "No fear, Aisha. You no be disabled. I go protect you." Back then, him word dey comfort me.

I just dey find Tunde for crowd. I dey hope say he go rise for me.

One bad thought enter my mind.

If he come now, I go just come down, forget the song. Na only him fit make me drop matter.

But as I look well, I see am for audience, dey look me cold. Him face hard, like say him no know me again.

Him eye just dey talk: You see? You no hear me, see wetin happen now.

I bow my head, tears dey my eye.

I wan run, but as I just move, Musa hold my hand quick. E grip me soft, like say e dey beg me try small.

"No fear. I dey here."

"Continue. I go be your voice." Musa talk am with steady face, and something warm just calm me down inside.

As we dey run, for my mind I dey pray—God, abeg, no let dem catch us. Make I see my mama again.