Chapter 5: Wahala No Dey Finish

I reason am—if their pikin fit dey kidnap for house, how strong dem be?

I dey wonder—this enemy, na only mouth dem get, or dem fit really fight? If their own pikin no fit safe for house, who dem wan threaten?

But my papa talk say one of dem, Hassan, na my mama first love, ex-fiancé.

Na big gist. My papa drop am like bomb. All my life, I no know say drama long reach like this.

Before wedding, Hassan fall for Sade, bar girl.

The story long. Na one night for club, Hassan go see Sade dey serve drink. From there, everything scatter. My mama vex, break bottle for head, waka commot.

My mama vex, push her fiancé go meet another woman with her hand.

She no waste time, call family meeting, tell everybody say she no do again. The whole street hear the story.

I ask my papa, “Why you sef hate dem?”

I dey reason say maybe na only mama get beef, but papa own long pass.

He sigh: “That year Sade dey bartend, she pour drink for my body. That Hassan mumu think say I dey toast him babe. He wan finish me.”

As e dey talk, you go see say e still dey pain am. Him eye go narrow, voice go low. Old beef no dey die for Lagos.

As I hear am, I quietly sharpen my knife.

For my mind, I dey plan—if war start, na me go end am. My own style, I dey ready. Knife for locker, pepper spray for bag.

That one na beef wey no fit die.

For this life, some fight no get end. This one, na generational wahala. Everybody for house dey reason am.

For school, one fat boy dey back of me, dey pull my braid.

Every day, I go arrange my hair, spray oil, tie bead. As I reach class, the boy go sit back, dey plan how to pull braid, mess up my shine.

Every morning, my mama go spend thirty minutes braid my hair, tie am with bead. That boy go use him oily hand scatter am finish.

As I dey waka home, mama go dey vex, dey retouch hair, dey say, "Who dey scatter this your fine head?" She no dey smile.

I warn am three times.

I give the boy chance. Even write note, talk am for class, warn am for playground. But him ear no dey hear.

Fourth time, I turn, grab my stainless flask.

Na that day e know say pikin fit vex. I just turn, eye red, grab flask, dey ready for action.

Bang!

The sound for classroom loud, everybody pause. Teacher drop chalk, class silent.

The boy front tooth fly half metre, land for teacher table.

The thing shock everybody. Tooth fly for air, land with sound. Some pikin begin cry, others dey laugh. Me, I no shake.

He hold mouth dey cry, blood dey come out, my hand still full of him hair.

I no even release hair. The boy dey struggle, teacher dey shout. I dey look teacher face, dey wait make dem talk.

Teacher call my papa and mama, voice dey shake: “An An knack classmate tooth comot… even use him head jam desk… Jesu! An An, you break tooth for school?”

Dem call my house. Teacher dey fear, dey explain like say e no wan lose job.

Thirty minutes later, my papa helicopter land for school field.

Noise everywhere. Children rush window, dey point up. Papa land like Oga, suit still fresh.

He jump down with suit, assistant run behind, carry billion contract: “Chairman, abeg sign!”

Assistant dey pant, dey beg. Papa push am one side, no send.

My papa no look am: “Shift, my pikin don wound person! I go settle am!”

He dey vex, but if you look well, you go see pride for him eye. Him own pikin, na champion.

My mama burst enter office, still dey wear face mask.

She no even remove mask. She just storm enter, voice loud, eyes dey scan everybody.

“Who touch my pikin?”

She ready for war. Teacher dey dodge, other parents dey hide.

Teacher hide for corner. “Na… your pikin do am…”

Teacher no wan enter wahala. Dem point finger, dey hope say matter go die quick.

My papa check my knuckle: “Your hand dey pain?”

Him own concern na my hand. He look am, blow small breeze, rub balm.

My mama open my palm: “This boy hair no get quality, see as e make our pikin hand red.”

She dey talk like say na market inspection. She dey show teacher my hand, dey frown.

The boy parents wan vex, but my papa drop black card: “Dentist, hair transplant, mental wahala—use am.”

Papa drop black card, everybody shock. He dey settle matter with style.

He pause, eye narrow: “But if I hear say your pikin touch my daughter again… next time, no be only tooth go fall.”

Threat don drop. The boy parents just dey nod, dey smile fake smile.

Next day, my desk turn danger zone.

Nobody wan sit near me. My desk free, everywhere quiet. If I cough, dem jump.

The boy change school. I hear say him papa file for overseas transfer that night.

Na big panic. Rumour fly for PTA. The boy family waka leave area. My name enter blacklist for small pikin.

My mama dey hum as she braid my hair again. “If anybody scatter your hair, we go use him bone do hairpin, you hear?”

She dey smile, but her hand strong. She dey plait hair, dey plan next move.

I nod, dey suck strawberry milk.

My own mind dey, I dey dream new strategy.