Chapter 8: The Spiral of Shame

After I talk finish, Brother Seyi ask, “Na true?”

E face dey tight, voice low. People for station dey listen, dey judge from the way I answer.

I shock. “Brother Seyi, you—”

I look am, pain catch my chest. I wan ask if e believe me at all. Na only God go judge this kain matter.

“No be like that,” Brother Seyi talk, dey scratch head. “I know you well. I just dey wonder, why she pick you?”

E dey try reason the matter from every angle. E know me, but this kind accusation no be small thing. For Naija, even friend dey fear join.

“You see am so—see as e pain person.”

E sigh, e face fall. E dey hold my hand small, e dey show me say e still dey my side, but e fear no let am rest.

As I dey go station, na only one thing dey my mind: ‘E don finish. I don turn Akpanwole.’

Akpanwole—person wey everybody avoid, person wey wahala pursue. My heart dey bleed. My name, my family, my business—everything dey at stake.

Even though I dey pity the woman, I believe na pain dey worry her, she dey act out of vex.

I try reason with myself—na frustration, na single mother life, she dey carry too many wahala. I dey pray make God touch her heart.

After all, single mother for this kind matter no fit get clear head.

For our area, pikin matter dey pain pass. No woman wan hear say her pikin suffer, especially if na only her dey care for am. Everybody dey feel her pain, but this one pass ordinary vex.

But me, I no do anything.

I fit swear with my life. Even if na juju, nothing go make me touch small pikin. I dey look police, my eye red, my mind dey race.

I no even sabi her.

If no be say her pikin dey play with other children for my shop front, I for no even know her name. I no get any business with am.

At most, since she just move come, I don see her two times for road—never even talk to her.

She just dey greet pass, sometimes dey look ground. We no get any wahala before.

Her pikin don follow other children come my shop play before.

Sometimes I go dash dem sweet or biscuit, but I never even carry any of dem pass front of shop. My shop dey open, people full everywhere. Mama Chidinma dey fry akara for corner, boys dey play draft for gutter.

How e take turn say na me molest her?

I dey ask myself, dey try remember if anybody set me up. Sometimes Naija wahala fit come from where you no expect.