Chapter 2: Suspicion and Secrets

As I hear the news say dem wan demolish the face-me-I-face-you, I really happy for Ifeoma. Lagos heat dey press everybody, even goat for gutter dey find shade, but my mind dey light.

I dey imagine say she go rush come meet me, skin dey glow, no powder, just that village freshness:

“Tunde, I go soon get my own house!”

I dey picture her eyes shining, maybe she go jump small, like when NEPA bring light after long darkness. For her mind, e be like dream come true.

Me too, I dey ready to tease her small:

“If we quarrel for future and you run go house, at least I go sabi where you dey hide.”

I fit even wink, make her laugh, because for Lagos, if woman vex and run, na wahala to find am unless you sabi her full gist.

She go surely bone me, then snap:

“You get mind dey vex me? You dey craze!”

She fit even push me small or slap my hand playfully, her own way of showing love. For Naija, small play like this dey sweet relationship.

As I dey think about her, I dey listen to the phone ring, but she no pick. I pause small, whisper one quick prayer inside my mind—God, abeg, protect am wherever she dey.

I send her WhatsApp—no reply.

I call her office. Her colleague talk say Ifeoma take two days off.

For Lagos, if person take off work, e mean serious matter. My mind begin race. Hope say no be say something do am?

Na so worry begin enter my mind. She faint from happiness?

I rush go her house.

I dey sweat under sun, okada man dey curse for traffic, but my mind no rest. As I reach her street, I see people dey gather for corner, dey gossip about demolition. Everybody dey on edge.

Before I even knock, I hear voice inside:

“Babe, you suppose wise up now. Before, I dey reason say Tunde dey okay, but our family don change o. With the kind house wey we get, we go collect at least three flats for demolition. You sabi wetin demolition mean? You see all those people for Abuja wey get money? Na demolition help them blow.”

Na Ifeoma mama dey talk. The thing dey pain me. So because dem don get money, she dey look down on me?

Her voice dey loud, like person wey don dey calculate money for dream. In Naija, once compensation matter enter, everybody dey sharp. Kai!

But e never finish:

“With four flats, we get plenty option. Even if you marry rich person, we no go fear anybody.”

Her mama voice dey sweet, like person wey dey taste honey. For her mind, dem don hammer. For this country, four flats fit change person level overnight.

“And you know Musa people abi? Dem don dey this area since. Him papa, mama, grandpapa, grandmama, all the family house na for here. Him aunty, uncle, cousin, all of dem—dem go collect at least twenty flats. If you follow am, you go dey alright forever.”

Musa, that big, dark guy wey sweat dey shine for him face, always dey wear one dirty singlet, wey no dey bath—compared to me?

My mind dey vex as I remember how Musa dey always wear same singlet. For compound, if you pass am, you fit smell him body before you see am.

“Abeg, Musa na just secondary school finish. The boy no sabi book at all. You want make I follow am?”

“Wetin education go do for you? E go give you house? Tunde go need mortgage to buy house, you sef fit still dey support am.”

Na so for this country, people fit use house take rate man, forget say education dey important.

“Musa sef no try. Him head be like pig. I dey feel somehow to even look am.”

“My daughter, all man na the same when NEPA take light. If money dey, just package am, e go fine.”

Na wah! That line pain me. For Naija, dem fit use money cover all man wahala. As light go, all man be the same for darkness.

As I hear am, my mind just cold.

I feel like say breeze from mortuary blow me. E pain me reach bone.

I been dey reason say Ifeoma mama na simple, nice woman.

I remember how she dey always smile, dey greet everybody for compound. I no know say calculation full her head.

But I console myself, say Ifeoma no be like that.

I dey tell myself say she no go reason like her mama. For my mind, Ifeoma get better heart.

But after I wait, I no hear Ifeoma reply. Later, she just talk small, her voice low, like person wey dey lost for Oshodi crowd:

“Okay, I hear. Make I think am.”

Her voice low, like person wey dey lost for Oshodi crowd. I begin fear.