Chapter 2: The Quiet Clues

That severed head wey roll comot for ground, and Mama Salisu next door wey dey under the hibiscus flowers—both of them keep quiet for five years.

If you pass that side for evening, you go see as flower dey close for night, but nobody dey talk about wetin dem see that time. Na only silence dey full the compound.

Our only clue na one small pikin, just two years old, wey survive that night, and the small-small money wey the suspect dey send go give him mama, wey don reach eighty years, every year.

Every year when rain dey start, that old woman go get small bundle for hand. She go just nod, no talk too much. Village people go pretend say dem no see am.

As for the second clue? E no show till five years after the wahala.

Because the suspect mama don dey old, she feel say her time dey near, she wan see her son one last time. So she come meet us say, “My son dey come give me money every year.”

Her eye red as she talk am, voice low like person wey dey beg for market. You go know say heart dey heavy for her chest.

As day break, Mama Salisu wake up.

If you see old woman wey sleep dey dodge, you go pity am. Sometimes, dem go just sit down for raffia chair, dey look ceiling till cock crow.

As you dey old, sleep dey run from you; once you wake, sleep no dey come back.

She waka comot go open her door, first go check her chicken coop.

Even for village, chicken na property, na pride. If anything touch them, wahala go start. Na why Mama Salisu dey count her fowl before she even brush mouth.

If person open door, chicken too suppose open their own.

Mama Salisu chicken coop get two levels: bottom na where chicken dey sleep, e get door; top na where dem dey lay egg, that one open. The coop smell of old feathers and kerosene smoke.

E get one iron rod wey she use take block the door, so that bush dog no go chop her hen. She be real local woman—sharp for everything.

She open the coop door, then by habit, she raise hand go the second level.

Her hand touch one roll of money.

That one surprise her. For that kind cold early morning, her hand suppose touch egg or feather, but this time na money.

Mama Salisu grab am sharp-sharp, hide am inside her blouse like thief, rush enter house…

She peep window, whisper, “God cover my shame, make village mouth no carry my matter.”

She no wan make anybody see her, because village eye dey sharp. If anybody sight am with money wey no get explanation, people go begin talk.

“My Shuaibu don come give me money again. My poor pikin—who know where e dey hide, whether e dey chop well, whether e dey warm…” Her voice break, barely above whisper, so even rat no fit hear. Tears for her face as she carry the money touch her chest. That kind prayer wey only old woman sabi pray—say make God protect her child, even if e be bad person.

Mama Salisu dey cry with low voice, make nobody hear.

You know say for this kind community, if woman dey cry for her pikin wey be criminal, she go hide for corner, cover her face with wrapper, so that neighbour no go carry gist reach chief palace.

She no fit let anybody know—if dem hear, na wahala be that.

Because gossip for village dey fly pass harmattan dust. If people hear say she dey collect money from Shuaibu, na big palava go land.

Her pikin na wanted person.

Nobody wan near that kind matter. If you waka pass, you go greet her gently, but you go hold your children.

Police don scatter everywhere dey find am.

Village don turn to checkpoint. Sometime, even hunter dey help police, dey comb bush, dey look for Shuaibu. Everybody dey fear to mention him name anyhow.