Chapter 6: Throway Love and Choose Myself

That day, I no go class again. I just carry myself go house.

I waka under sun, no care who see me. Some neighbours hail me, I just wave, my eye red.

I rush enter my room, begin scatter everywhere—bookshelf, wardrobe, storage box—scatter everywhere.

I dey throw books, shoes, wrapper. My pillow for floor. Tears just dey drop.

I carry big carton, pack everything wey Kamsi ever give me, throw all inside.

Key holder, pen, birthday card, valentine rose, even small teddy bear wey e win for me for funfair. Even the Ankara scarf wey he buy me for Christmas, I throw am inside carton. I pack all put for carton.

The box full. I make sure say nothing remain.

I search every corner—under bed, inside bag, even purse. Any small paper wey get e handwriting, I throw.

I carry am downstairs, pour everything for dustbin.

I no care say people fit see me. As I dey pour am, old woman for block dey look me, I just bone.

As I finish, my parents never come back, so I call my mama.

My hand dey shake, but I use strong voice call am. The phone dey vibrate for my palm.

“Hello, my baby, wetin happen?”

Her voice soft, but e get worry. Na that kind mama wey sabi when pikin dey cry.

“Mummy, when you reach house, abeg go tell Uncle Chukwudi and Aunty Ngozi say I don break up with Kamsi. And,”

I talk am with cold voice,

I never sound that hard before. My mama pause, then say, 'No wahala.'

“from today, make Kamsi no near our house again. Make e stay far from me.”

I talk am like person wey don tire. I drop call. My chest dey beat.

When my mama reach house, she see the slap mark for my face, just dey panic.

She drop bag for door, rush come hold my face, dey check. 'Who do you this thing?' I just nod.

I tell her everything wey don happen.

I narrate am from beginning, tears dey flow. My mama just dey shake her head, dey sigh.

My mama hear am, veins for her neck dey show, she just waka go knock Kamsi door.

She no wear slippers sef. Just waka, her wrapper fly. Neighbours dey look, dey whisper.

Aunty Ngozi no understand, but my mama no waste time, explain everything—how Kamsi slap me, how e dey watch as transfer student dey bully me, how e protect her instead of me.

The gist dey fly for corridor. Before five minutes, everybody for compound know. Aunty Ngozi mouth wide, hand for head.

Aunty Ngozi face first pale, then red with anger.

She begin dey shout for Kamsi name. 'Kamsi, come outside!' E rush come, face pale too.

Our families dey close before, but now, because of me, wahala don enter.

Children for compound dey hide dey look. Everybody dey wait to see wetin go happen next.

But my mama no blame me. She just hold me, talk gently,

She sit me for lap, dey rub my back, dey hum old Igbo lullaby—“Nne, ndo, ndo”—as if her song fit wash away pain. 'Ifeoma, nobody get right to touch you anyhow. You hear?' She kiss my forehead.

“Our Ify no fit let anybody bully am. Anything you decide, me and your papa dey your side.”

Na that word calm my mind small. I know say, no matter how the world take turn, my people dey for me.

All the pain and sadness wey I dey keep, just burst. My nose dey run, I hug my mama, cry well.

Her wrapper wet, but she no talk. She just dey rock me, dey hum one old Igbo lullaby. Na so sleep carry me small.