Chapter 7: Flashbacks and Fractures
Me and my guy don know since small pikin, we dey play for sand together that year.
Na childhood friend, the type wey know all your secret. Na him first teach me how to play draught for gutter front of Mama Ifeoma shop.
I dey call am Brother Seyi.
He don big, but still get soft heart. For our area, if Seyi dey your side, nobody fit run you street anyhow.
Brother Seyi rub him head, ask me, “Baba Kunle, wetin really happen? How this matter start?”
He dey look me with eyes of concern. I fit see say e dey struggle believe wetin dem dey talk, but e dey give me space to talk my mind. That time, na only God know how I take dey hold myself together.
Wetin really happen?
I sef no know.
My mind dey flash back. Na only God know if I offend person wey dey use jazz or if na pure bad luck. I dey search my head, nothing dey come out.
After two for midnight. I dey boil indomie for my shop—water never even hot finish—when police show.
My stomach dey hungry. My pikin sleep inside, my wife dey village that week. Na she dey care for her sick mama, so I dey solo for house. I just wan do quick chop, lock shop, go sleep. Na so knock land my door, wahala burst enter.
One woman report say, back in May, I molest her three-year-old pikin.
As dem talk am, e be like film for my ear. I dey count my head, dey recall May, wetin I dey do that period. Nothing make sense.