Chapter 4: Public Disgrace

Ifeoma know say she no fit get help from me, so she run meet her grandma.

She kneel for my mama room, beg with tears, voice soft like baby goat. My mama stroke her hair, try comfort her.

"Grandma, you always love me pass. If Musa no get work, I go suffer after marriage. Abeg help me beg Daddy."

She hold my mama leg, tears dey drop. My mama sigh, wipe her face, promise to try.

My mama heart soft, she drag her weak body come beg me:

Her legs dey shake, but she still walk come my room. She kneel, raise hand, her voice low. "Obinna, if Musa no get work, Ifeoma go suffer after marriage. You no fit..."

I just tell her straight:

I clear throat, talk slow. "Mama, the university don hold meeting. Dem say make nobody use connection give work. If dem catch, no be only Musa go lose job, me too go lose my work and professorship."

Her face drop, she sigh. She know say this kind thing no get shortcut.

No matter how my mama love her pikin, after she hear that, she just leave Ifeoma to dey complain.

She go back to her room, no talk to anybody. Her eyes red, she dey pray, but her voice low. Ifeoma come disturb am small, but she no answer.

Who know say Ifeoma get sense pass that?

I think say she go tire, but Ifeoma stubborn. She no dey take no for answer. She dey plan her own.

That day, I go academic lecture. Big people and students full everywhere. Somehow, Ifeoma hear am, rush enter stage begin shout for public:

She no mind security, no fear crowd. She carry megaphone, her voice shake hall. People dey record with phone.

"My papa, Obinna, na professor for English Language and Literature for Unity University. For school, e dey form gentle man, but for house, na beast wey dey beat him pikin."

She point me for crowd, voice loud. Everybody shock. Some dey whisper, some dey record. My leg dey shake, shame dey catch me.

"When my husband people come for marriage, he look down on them, chase them commot. For house, I dey beg before I fit chop. These days, I never chop better food. If no be my mother-in-law, hunger for kill me by now."

She cry for stage, some students dey clap, some dey hiss. I just stand there, ground dey swallow me. My colleagues dey look me, dem dey judge me with eyes. Na real wahala start be that.

That day, I know say my own don finish—my name dey scatter for social media, and shame no dey let me raise head for staff room.