Chapter 3:

That day, I run go the school like say na marathon.

I dash pass okada, nearly jam one car. My leg dey shake, sweat dey pour like say rain dey fall from my body. Everybody dey run, crowd full everywhere.

The way I run ehn, my breath nearly finish; my leg never pain me like that before.

I dey pant, dey cough. Slippers dey cut, I no even look.

But still, I late.

I dey blame myself, 'Why I no come earlier?' My chest dey pound.

Na only smoke I see everywhere.

Na thick, black smoke—people dey shout, some dey pour water. Some mama dey scream, 'My child! My child!'

And the classroom don turn to something else.

Only window frame remain, everything else na ashes. Na so the paint dey peel, iron dey bend like e dey cry. School bell no ring again—everywhere silent after the commotion.

I wait for the door of the classroom for ten hours.

People try drag me comot. I say, 'I go wait. Make dem bring body.' I no gree move. Rain even fall, I just dey there. My cloth dey smell smoke.

Na then I see my son body, burnt finish.

Dem cover am with black nylon. I fall for ground, mouth open, no voice come out. My heart break like bottle.

True true, we don lose am.

No more hope. All the prayers, all the 'God forbid', e no work that day. My pikin don go.

I no go ever forget how my ex-wife cry reach faint.

Halima collapse for ground, people rush bring water, sprinkle for her face, dey recite small prayer. Her cry loud reach heaven. She call Ifedike name like hymn, 'Ifedike, Ifedike!' Na the sound still dey my ear till today.

That night, I no fit go house; I just sit down for front of the ashes, dey look.

People pass, some drop hand for my shoulder, some dey shake head. I dey there, eye red, face black with soot. I no talk, just dey look emptiness.

The classmates wey follow my son jump fence go café escape, because dem no dey inside classroom.

Dem dey for café dey laugh, dey play. Dem parents dey buy gala for dem, dey say, 'God save you.' But my own, e no return.

But as fate wicked reach, na me catch my pikin, carry am go back to where fire go meet am.

That thought dey bite my heart. If to say I leave am, maybe e for still dey alive dey play with dem for street now.

If I no do am, e for survive?

I dey ask God, 'Why you no use hand stop me?' Every night, the question dey my mouth.

Na me, with my own hand, push my son go die.

E pain pass knife. Na me, na my leg waka the wahala come house. People dey try talk sense, but I no fit listen.

That night, I drop 56 cigarette butts for classroom door, but sense still no enter my head.

I smoke reach finish, throat dey pain. I use shoe crush the butts, count am, maybe e go give me peace. But na lie. The pain dey increase.