Chapter 1: Celebration Turned to Confusion

On the last day of the background screening announcement, my family compound dey hot like Ileya festival. Everybody dey ginger, dey count down, dey expect good news. Even neighbours dey peep fence, dey ask, “Olisa don get job, abi?” Children dey run up and down, smell of fried meat and jollof rice dey sweet for nose. My aunties dey tie wrapper, dey gist under mango tree. Everybody dey wait for the official phone call like say na election result.

My parents spend the whole day dey prepare, dey wait for the announcement to finish by 5:30, so the whole extended family fit chop big evening meal celebrate my new job.

Inside the kitchen, Mama dey fry puff-puff, hot oil dey sizzle, smell of nutmeg and sugar dey fill the air, as she dey sing praise song. Papa dey clean him old radio, dey boast say na Victor Uwaifo go play that night. My younger siblings dey chase each other, wear new cloth. Even grandma don already carry her stool outside, dey pray, “My pikin go get work. Dem no fit block am.”

But na so 5:20 p.m. reach, my phone ring. Everywhere hush—na like NEPA just take light. My hand dey shake small as I slide answer. My heart dey drum loud, but I force my face calm. The air just hang heavy as everybody dey look me.

The person for the other end just break my head with news—say wahala dey with my background check. E be like person use plank knack my skull. My brain just blank.

You know that kain moment when your body cold, but you still dey sweat? My eardrum dey ring, my mouth dey open but no words come out. My sister just dey look me with big eye, dey peep my face, my phone almost drop for ground. If wahala fit find me for my own house, who I go run to?

“Hello, Mr. Olisa, you still dey there?”

The voice drag me back to reality. I swallow spit, steady my voice, then ask, “Please, wetin exactly dey wrong with my background screening?”

Even as I dey talk, my mouth dey dry. My legs weak like soaked garri. I dey try package myself so my family no go panic.

“Today, person send letter say you dey live anyhow and abandon pikin born out of wedlock.”

When I hear that one, my mind clear small. I reply with confidence, “That na pure lie. I fit swear for the organisation say I never born ordinary mosquito, talk less of pikin. Abeg, make una check well.”

I even use my real voice, add small pidgin: “Oga, abeg, na dem dey find trouble. I dey loyal, I dey straight. If una wan check, check well.”

He pause, the silence long sotay I wan ask if call don cut. E be like say he dey weigh my confidence.

“That’s the matter, Mr. Olisa. We’ve done preliminary check. If you wan appeal, submit appeal letter and supporting evidence as soon as possible.”

He yarn am with all that government grammar. The thing pain me small—see as dem dey do government work.

I reply quick, “No wahala, I go write the appeal letter now-now. Thank you for informing me.” My voice no even shake. My family dey watch me like hawk, dey try read my face.

After I drop the call, I open laptop sharp, check appeal process, begin type appeal letter and gather evidence. My hand dey shake, but I force focus. My phone dey vibrate every two minutes as cousin and friends dey text, “How far, dem don call?”

As I dey see my parents gather, worry full their face, I force smile, reassure them: “Mama, Papa, no fear. If person dey upright, e no dey fear shadow. As long as I explain well and show facts, nothing go happen.”

Mama wipe her hands on wrapper, Papa just sigh. Even my junior brother dey chew biro, dey eye me like detective. I nod my head, give them small wink, try make dem believe.

Dem waka go, half-believe, half-doubt, continue dey prepare dinner.

But that food no sweet again. Even the jollof rice wey suppose sweet, taste like sand for everybody mouth. My sister just dey chase grain of rice round her plate, everybody chop like say dem dey taste punishment.

I force myself eat small, then stay up till 3 a.m. to finish the appeal letter. I pack all my documents—NYSC certificate, church testimonial, everything wey fit clear my name. At some point, I kneel down pray join, “God, abeg, na only You sabi the truth.”

Now, I just need go police station and community council the next day to get official proof, then send everything with my appeal letter and wait for them to clear my name.

I no sleep well that night. Even as I close eye, na only “background check” dey fly for my dream.