Chapter 2:

That day, after I finish work for the local government office, I beg my oga make I go house early.

Oga Adamu just nod, 'No wahala, Mr. Dike. Na family matter important pass.' I thank am well, carry my small brown bag. Office dey smell like dust and biro ink, my head just dey think of home.

For road, I buy better spiced grilled chicken gizzard to add for dinner.

I greet Mama Rasheed for the junction, she dey sell gizzard, she just smile, 'Ah, Oga Dike! You go chop well today o.' I pay am, collect my meat, still dey think how my pikin go rush come hug me.

But as I dey pass one glass window for inside one small street for Kaduna, I see one face wey I sabi well.

Na sudden flash—one round head, ear like mine, dey bounce up and down. I stop, wipe glass. 'Ifedike?' Na him.

My son, Ifedike.

The way he dey press mouse, e be like person wey dey control rocket. I see him smile, I know that grin—na happiness pure.

Suppose say him dey for third year of secondary school, dey prepare for WAEC.

Him suppose dey dey struggle with maths assignment, dey prepare for exam. I remember him new school uniform, starched well, now e dey play instead.

But school never even close, and there he dey, happy for inside cybercafé, dey shout things like, “Pentakill!” and “Abeg, no collect my kill!”—all those game talk wey I no too understand.

I hear all those oyibo words—'lag', 'server', 'pentakill'—I just dey confuse. The place dey smell of indomie and sweat, boys dey everywhere, everybody dey shout. My belle vex small.

Anger just rise for my body small.

But I remember say pikin must make mistake. I fit vex, but na love I go use teach.

But I no vex for am.

I breathe deep, recall my papa hand—how e hot, how e dey shout. I swear say I no go pass that one to my pikin. So, I lower my voice.

When I dey small, I sef chop beating and insult from my papa and mama, so I sabi say that one no be the way.

I remember the cane wey dey under bed—how e dey itch leg. I tell myself, 'No be every matter dem use koboko settle.'

So I enter the café, talk to am gentle, then carry am go back school.

'Ifedike, make we dey go,' I talk. He try beg me, 'Daddy, just five minutes.' I no gree. I just tap him back, collect small bag, carry am. The café attendant just dey look us.

I still remember, as I dey look the sun wey dey slant for window, and my pikin dey waka dey go, happiness just full my belle small.

I feel say I do right thing—correct pikin, carry am go where he suppose dey. The sun dey shine that evening, birds dey sing for mango tree. My mind rest small.

But I no know say just thirty minutes later, bad news go land.

E no reach one hour, my phone ring. My leg weak, hand begin shake. I for no come out house that day.

Fire don catch my son school.

I hear 'fire', my ear block. The woman for phone dey shout, 'Uncle, come quick!'

Worse, na him own classroom the fire start.

Na SS2B. I see the black smoke for sky, I know say wahala don happen. I run, my gizzard fall for gutter, I no even notice.