Chapter 2: Food for the Famished

Na that time noise begin for outside, like angry goats dey fight for compound.

After small commotion, some lean men drag one man wey blood dey him body come my front. The blood stain dey scary—Naija blood na red, but for here, e dey look even more fierce. The rest people gather, dey whisper, some dey hide face, others dey peep like market women for quarrel.

Musa, sharp as ever, quickly hide the boxed meal under one torn wrapper, stand for my front with the loyalty of houseboy wey no want lose work.

One man announce, voice rough: "Oga, this one try run, we catch am."

The man wey blood dey him body dey shout, voice crack: "I no run! Na hunger dey catch me, I just go look for something chop."

Another man bark: "Lie, you wan run. Baba Sani, if you run, na all of us dem go kill!"

As I watch this scene, my body cold. The men cloth na like say breeze and fire don fight am. Their hair dey lock, dirt everywhere, and the kind body odor wey dey follow dem, na only God fit deliver nose from am.

To call dem lean na understatement. Bone na wetin remain, like all those dry fish for market. Dem be like ancestors wey refuse to go grave.

I raise head small, force my voice steady: "Na all of una dey go government labour?"

Confusion run for their faces.

I shake head: "Una no even get strength—how una wan work?"

One man rush show muscle, but the thing be like broomstick: "Oga, no look my body like say I lean, I get muscle."

I no laugh. "Abeg, carry me go see others."

Musa, ever ready, bark out order: "Baba Sani, stand up, lead the way!"

Baba Sani look me with the kind eye wey dey check if spirit dey follow you.

Outside, my surprise grow. Me sef think say my own bad, but these labourers dey sleep under mango tree, ground cold, dew full everywhere.

Everybody curl, face dry like harmattan yam, body just dey bones.

I ask, "Una chop today?"

Musa answer, "Oga, na so we dey rush for road. Nobody don chop better food for two or three days."

"So wetin una dey chop?"

Person from crowd, voice dry: "Wild leaf, tree bark..."

Omo, the thing pain me. This one pass suffering. I reason say since na here I land, at least make I try ease their wahala. Person nor suppose dey chop tree bark like goat.

I face them, voice soft: "Oya, make una chop first. After, we go talk."

As food drop for the talk, eyes dey shine everywhere, but some old men dey look me with suspicion. Na for Naija, when leader dey kind, e dey fear people pass when leader wicked.

I instruct Musa to keep order, begin share two Set A to each person. I dey reason say if I start now, maybe hope go enter their body. Some get stewed goat meat, some chicken drumstick, some fried beef—all correct!

After sharing, nobody touch food. Food like this be like dream for dem. Commoners no dey see this kind meal, even village chief na once in blue moon e dey get am. White rice, not watery pap, with meat—na big thing.

I stand for front, clear throat: "My people, today na just two boxes. If you never belleful, I no go give more—make una no spoil una belle. When una strong, I go make sure una dey chop well."

Everybody just dey look me, confusion and hope dey wrestle for their eyes. Suddenly, one voice from back shout:

"Oga, talk true—na wahala you dey plan so?"

My head nearly explode. I laugh small for inside, Naija no dey carry last. I shake head: "No be wahala, na food. Abeg, find stick use as spoon, make una chop."

Na so joy burst everywhere. Some dey dance small, some dey praise God. "Ah God, chicken drumstick, white rice—na my first time to chop correct food!"

"If I know say white rice dey, I for carry my whole family come do government labour!"

"Mama, see your pikin dey chop chicken drumstick o!"

I just hide one side, dey shame small. But joy full my chest as I dey watch as dem dey chop with all their heart.

As I dey look, my own hunger no dey let me rest. I go back to my stubborn kpof-kpof, begin dey chew slowly.

Before I know, one person notice my bun, pause. E stop, then everybody else stop, dey eye my hand. The respect dey touch me, but e also dey humble me.

Next thing, one kneel down, bow: "Oga, you too get good mind!"

As he kneel, na so others follow—na kneeling competition. The whole place dey echo: "Oga, you too get good mind!"

One old mama cross her finger, dey mutter, "Abeg, make spirit no vex."