Chapter 3: Ifunanya’s Truth

Until one day, one strange woman block me for law firm gate, dey insist say another side dey the story, say I gats hear am sharp-sharp.

The day never break well, but people dey rush office as if dem dey sell free recharge card. She no gree let me pass, just dey stand, her hand dey shake, her voice dey tremble. Something about her make me slow down.

I just look am quick, think say she dey bluff, but I still ask as I dey waka, "You be witness?"

For my mind, e no add up. Case wey old like this, na now person go show face? E be like film trick. But my mouth sharp, I ask all the same.

Because the case old, nobody witness show for first trial. Who go believe say after verdict, na now witness go appear?

I almost waka pass. For our side, na so some people dey try collect money, say dem get gist. But her eye no dey lie—she look me straight, no blink. Her slippers nearly cut, but her voice strong.

But her answer shock me: "No, I no be witness. I be evidence."

The kind goosebumps wey catch me that moment, e resemble wetin person dey feel for burial ground. I pause, look her well.

Which kind talk be that?

I stop, turn face her.

For Naija, if person tell you say na evidence e be, your mind go think say she dey craze, or she be spirit. But this woman—her face dey real, her wahala dey real too. The way she stand, e be like say she carry her whole life for shoulder.

Her hair rough, clothes dirty, like say she don waka far come—she look really worn out.

Sun don bleach her hair, and sweat dey run for her forehead. For inside all the dirt, her skin still fair, and her eyes—my brother, her eyes dey talk story. You know when you see pikin wey don suffer? E dey there.

Inside the tangled hair, I see one pair of sad, young eyes. Something for my mind just dey warn me say wahala dey.

If you know Naija well, you go know say when matter don reach this level, e dey wise to hear the full story. I nod for myself, small voice for my mind dey say, "Musa, abeg listen before you go lose sleep."

So I carry her enter reception room.

I just wave make one of our paralegals bring cold water. Small office with old cushion, the kind wey dey swallow person yansh. I drop my bag, sit for edge, draw small jotter close.

"What’s your name?"

"My name na Ifunanya. I be 24 this year, I dey study for America," she talk. "I just come back Nigeria one month ago."

Her voice dey mix Naija and small oyinbo accent, but the pain for am pure Igbo. The way she hold her bag, e be like say her whole life dey inside.

To show say she no dey lie, she show me her National ID card, her university certificate for here, plus proof say she dey foreign school.

She arrange the papers for my front with careful hand, wipe sweat for face, then smile small like person wey dey try beg for hope. The documents clean, all the stamps correct.

I check am—all na better schools. She sharp.

I nod, try show am say I no dey look down on her, even though I dey wonder why somebody wey get all this achievement go dey look so lost.

"How far, Miss Ifunanya." I return her papers, no waste time. "Today I get plenty work, but because this matter na life and death, I clear my schedule. We get the afternoon—abeg, tell me: how person go be evidence?"

She look me well, like say she dey check if I go believe. Then she clear throat, hold her bag tighter.

"Thank you, Barrister Musa." She shift her hair comot her face, her face dey tense, voice dey rush.

The AC for office dey blow small, but sweat still dey for her brow. She look window, then back at me, then talk with voice wey no shake: "I no dey mad. Wetin I wan tell you, na heavy something."

"First, make I talk: I always believe say strange things dey this world. Since I small, many secrets dey around me. I dey remember past things, dey try understand, but I never fit touch the real truth.

"Na now I finally find the answer. This answer get serious meaning for this case. Abeg, you gats help me."

Her eye dey beg, but na more than that. E be like say she dey fight something bigger than me and her.

"Go ahead."

I open jotter, poise my pen, even though my mind dey race. Person no go know where this kind story go end. If to say I dey church, I for don cover my face pray. But here, na law, na evidence. I lean forward.

That time, I no even know the kind shock this case go bring me.

For my chest, I feel small stone settle. Something dey tell me say after today, I no go look life the same again.