Chapter 2: Investigation and Shadows

2

The dead girl name na Nnenna Okafor, ten years old, the old woman own granddaughter.

Forensic doctor still need check the real cause of death.

I ask the old woman to talk wetin really happen. She talk:

"This evening, I carry my granddaughter come here make she play swing. We just play small before una people show."

Now, her face just squeeze, two cloudy tears roll down. She wipe her face with the edge of her Ankara, rocking back and forth like women do at burial grounds. Her pain raw, like say her own heart don break.

"How my granddaughter just go like that?"

I watch her well. She no look like person wey dey lie.

But this her 'small' play na almost six hours.

I reason am. The old woman fit no dey okay for head.

To confirm, I ask:

"Mama, you know say your granddaughter dey that swing for almost six hours?"

As I expect, surprise catch her.

"Wetin you dey talk? We only play for like thirty minutes."

Idea begin form for my mind: this woman fit get amnesia.

She lose track of time, just dey push her granddaughter swing, over and over.

Until the pikin notice say something dey wrong, try beg her grandma to stop—but Grandma no answer. The girl fear die for the swing.

Cold run for my body. For our side, elders suppose be protector, but sometimes, mind fit betray love.

According to the caller, after him chop evening food by six, he see them for swing, hear the girl laugh happy.

That time, the girl still dey alive.

When he return by seven, dem still dey swing, but he no reason am.

Na until midnight, when he waka go buy cigarette, he see say dem never stop.

That time, everywhere don quiet, no laughter again.

That part of estate na old area.

Most flats get old curtain, some window patch with carton. Night guards dey sleep from ten. If you shout, na only wind go answer.

Fear catch the man, he run go call police.

Just then, Nnenna papa, Mr. Okafor, enter station.

He look simple, honest, eyes red and swell like person wey don cry.

Shoe dusty, trouser rumpled like person wey waka round all night. Voice shake as he talk.

"Officer, this one na accident. My mama go dey okay, abi?"

Before I talk, he pull out certificate—na proof say Nnenna grandma, Mama Grace, get intermittent amnesia.

As I suspect—tragic accident.

But for the old woman, how she go take survive this pain?

Mr. Okafor talk say the girl get congenital heart wahala, no suppose dey shock.

I ask, "E don reach midnight, your mama and pikin never come house, why you no go find them?"

He eye dodge, stammer:

"I dey out, dey drink with friends… Na my fault, I too like drink."

He slap himself twice, regret choke am.

He mutter, "God, why you no let my hand break before I go drink? Wetin I go tell my wife now?" His hands shake, knuckle white on table. Guilt and regret full his face.

Even before I near am, smell of burukutu and beer choke air. I just shake head. Which kind papa be this?

The girl mama dey work for outside town.

Her absence just hang for air, like part of puzzle miss. For many Naija homes, na mothers dey hold ground. Without her, the family pain heavy, nothing to balance am.

3

Next day, forensic autopsy report land.

E show say Nnenna die from cardiac arrest, fright cause am.

Na wetin I reason before. Heartbreak full this matter.

I sigh,

"Na real wahala be this. The family go dey in pain."

But Dr. Musa, our forensic doctor, just shake head.

"Whether dem dey pain or not, that one no sure."

I ask am why. He sigh, continue:

"The pikin sallow, thin, hair dry, brittle. Na sign of long-term malnutrition. If family care for her, how she go dey like that?"

Dr. Musa sip water, continue:

He bend, lower voice. "Many children dey suffer for house. Parents go talk say na condition, but na neglect. For village, everybody go notice. For city? Nobody dey check."

"Another thing. My test show say the girl die between five and seven for evening. You say the witness first see them around six. But from five to six, we no know where dem dey."

Following Dr. Musa’s talk, I say:

"You mean, the girl fit don die before six, no be swing she die? Dem fit carry am come swing after?"

Dr. Musa nod.

But I brush the idea.

I pat him for shoulder, apologize.

"Your logic tight, but one thing remain. Witness talk say around six, he hear the girl laugh. That mean she still dey alive for swing."

Dr. Musa just shrug, give helpless smile.

"Maybe I dey overthink."

He rub forehead, like say plenty dead body wahala dey worry am. For Naija, sometimes, story pass wetin book fit explain.

4

But the case don already strange. To fear die for swing—just to hear am fit give person cold.

If we no handle am well, people no go believe.

Rumour dey spread like fire for Lagos. Next thing, dem go say na witch or ogbanje. We gats careful.

So I return to scene, waka meet estate people to find witness.

This place na old estate, mostly old people dey live there.

Some dey sit outside, folding chair, dey fan with old newspaper, dey gist landlord wahala. Most know each other reach twenty years.

Building no get stairs, people no dey waka up and down.

Most ground-floor windows get faded curtain, that Tejuosho market style. Even the dogs too tired to bark for stranger.

I notice one window face the swing, so I knock.

Old man open, dey live with grandson.

Him cap bend, Hausa accent thick like tuwo. Smell of dried fish stew dey corridor.

I ask,

"Baba Lawal, abeg sorry for night wahala. September 7th, between five and seven, you see anybody dey swing for downstairs?"

Old man wave hand, say he no see anything.

I almost waka go.

Suddenly, grandson raise hand, call:

"Uncle Police Officer, why you no ask me? I see them, even do video!"

Surprise catch me, I turn, quick ask am show me.

The boy grin, shy. He bring out phone, fingers dey shake. "I wan post am for WhatsApp status."

Video show 6:02 p.m., just about thirty seconds.

I open am—Nnenna and her grandma dey inside frame.

The two dey play happy. Even though distance far, Nnenna laughter clear.

Her laughter float for evening, pure and sweet. That kind laugh wey fit melt stone. E pain me for wetin loss.

That prove say Nnenna die for swing—na accident.

I copy the video, return station, play am for big screen to check.

For video, swing dey move fast, Nnenna face blur, but her laugh sharp.

I pass video to technical department, make dem enhance am.

But wetin come out freeze all of us.

The technician, one Benin babe, face pale as yam. She call me, voice dey shake: "Oga, come see wetin dey for this video."

After enhancement, Nnenna face show clear—and frightening.

Just like that night wey we see her.

Her mouth wide open, eye bulge, face twist, skin pale like death.

No doubt, na dead person face.

Worse, as video play, Nnenna corpse for swing begin move, release one sharp, eerie laugh wey make everybody body cold.

Officer Johnson cross himself, whisper, "Blood of Jesus!" Sade cover face, no gree look screen. Even me, wey don see many things, my hand cold. The laugh, now bend and wrong, echo like ancient curse.

Why dead person go dey laugh?

Nobody fit answer. Elders talk say when night dark, spirits dey waka. That night, as we lock up, even our shadows dey fear to follow us home.