Chapter 1: Spirit Pepper and Dream Wahala

After I died, I started visiting my enemy’s dreams every day, cursing him to hurry up and join me in hell.

If I fit add small ata rodo to his sleep, why I go rest? Night after night, I dey appear inside him dream with red eye, dey rain curses like say my spirit get unfinished business. Sometimes, I go drag him leg under bed, or I go pelt am with hot yam—anything to remind am say my mind no soft for am, even after death. Make he quick join me, abeg, so our wahala fit continue for afterlife.

But the guy just kept living, full of ginger, until he reached thirty-four.

Imagine, every obstacle I throw for road, the guy just sidestep am like danfo driver for CMS, dey shine teeth like say na festival. E dey chop suya for night, dey toast girls, dey make money for day—ginger full body. People even dey talk say na winch dey follow am. I dey watch, tire.

I tire, abeg. I just waka commot.

Honestly, spirit get limit. My own vex just expire one day, as I see say Musa no dey near grave. I look am from underworld, shake head. "Abeg, na your life. No be me go die two times because of one stubborn man."

A few days later, when his life dey sweet pass, na that time he go turn on the gas cooker.

You fit imagine? As e dey celebrate one small contract, e waka enter kitchen to make indomie, come forget say life na fragile thing. Na when e smile reach ear, na that time e go get wahala.

Click—he strike the lighter.

The sound sharp like thunder. My spirit body sef shiver, as if say person slap me from afar. I dey watch, e dey amuse me small, but fear dey my belly.

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Ah-ah, guy, abeg no try rubbish o!

You dey craze? I shout for air, though I know say e no go hear. This one wey Musa dey dance with your ancestors, e dey find serious wahala. My spirit just dey shake, like mama when pikin dey stubborn.

Just as the flame rise, I rush go, puff my cheeks, and start to blow the lighter for Musa’s hand like my life depend on am.

You go think say I be breeze wey dem call for harmattan. My cheeks big, spit almost dey drop, but I no care. Musa life dey on the line, and even though I claim say I hate am, my conscience no go let me rest if this kind death catch am.

The gas cooker for our side dey hiss anyhow, just dey wait for small spark to scatter everywhere.

That sound na real snake. The kind hiss wey get power to scatter two-story building. My hand shake, fear catch me. If fire touch gas, wahala go burst—dem go call am tragedy for news.

Musa just slump for sofa, dey turn one broken ring for him hand.

The way e sit down, e resemble old man wey life don finish. E dey rotate that broken ring, like say e dey find answer for inside. The ring na ordinary metal, but e carry heavy memory. Maybe na my spirit dey inside am.

Him fine, gentle face just dey empty, like say hope don finish.

Once upon a time, na face wey dey make girls giggle, now e flat like slate. Eye no get light, skin no get glow. E resemble those people wey you see for bus stop, dey wait for bus wey no go ever come.

I drag breath, pack am well.

I drag spiritual air with all my might, as if say na I get last chance for heaven. I ready to fight death with mouth.

Puff.

I blow with all my spirit power, spit and all, like say I be aboki dey sharpen knife. Na so my face screw.

The flame shake.

For that one second, my spirit hold breath—NEPA light fit come, fit go—nobody sure. The fire waka small, dey dance like e wan fade. I dey pray inside spirit, dey hope say my small effort go work.

Finally, e die.

Relief wash me like cold breeze. The small flame just die, surrender. If not for ghost, I for kneel down thank God.

I fall for ground, everywhere wan dark for my eye, my heart dey run like keke wey brake no hold.

Spirit body fit sweat? Because I sweat. My head just blank, leg weak. Na so I fall yakata for ghost floor, heart dey pound like say police dey chase am.

Who go believe am—Musa don craze.

I swear, for all my years alive, I never see grown man dey waka upandan with death like this. E remain small, I for call him village people come hold meeting.

Grown man, dey play with fire to burn himself.

If na small pikin, people for shout. But Musa—na big man, e dey play with fire as if say e dey roast boli.

You dey mad? If you die for my front, wahala go dey! As usual, even if person wey you hate old, dem still dey trouble you.

Life funny sha. Enemy wey you curse, na him matter no dey finish. Whether alive or dead, wahala no dey ever end.

Musa eyelash just shake small as he look my side.

Maybe e dey feel my presence, maybe na breeze. But for one split second, e eye shift. E blink, as if e see shadow for corner.

Him pale eyes no show anything.

Blank, like say e dey dream with open eye. Spirit fit pity person, I pity am small.

Few seconds later—click.

Chai! I wan faint. My spirit nearly jump out of my spirit body. E wan try am again! If e succeed, wahala go wear shoe.

Chai! Abeg no die! I no go curse you again! God, I no wan make Chief of Underworld call me for query, abeg!

I begin to beg, swear say I go turn new leaf. If Musa kpai, my own don finish—Chief of Underworld fit suspend my spirit allowance!

My small pikin sidekick, lips don dry from blowing, look me with face wey no sweet at all and ask:

My apprentice for underworld work, Sade, just dey look me with dust for face, lips white, eye full of wahala. "Aunty, you no talk say na your enemy be this? But see as e be like say e wan die because of you."

"Na wa o! See as spirit dey sweat for who suppose be your enemy!"

……

Me sef wan know—wetin be this new madness?

Abeg, after all my struggle, this one pass my power. If na Nollywood, dem for say na village people dey do Musa. Me, I don confuse. How person go dey find death upandan, make spirit dey run helter-skelter?