Chapter 2: CCTV and White Attachment Palava

When I first notice say my keke battery don miss, I just stand there, shock.

E be like film trick. My heart cut, I just dey look the spot like say the thing go magically appear back. Sun dey fry my neck, pepper seller dey shout price for junction. But I no even feel am.

Na play?

I even look left and right, dey hope say maybe na prank, or somebody carry am clean am, go soon return. Na when my neighbour waka pass dey shake head, I know say the matter no be joke.

See ehn, I just go house for small afternoon nap during lunch break. By afternoon, I no even fit go back office.

I for just manage am, but my body no gree. I just weak, wahala tie wrapper for my neck. As I see battery don vanish, my spirit just fall.

With the last small pride wey remain for my chest, I take half day off, waka straight go the estate office, begin para, dey shout make dem show me CCTV.

As I dey climb the stairs, my leg dey shake. For my mind, I dey rehearse wetin I go talk, so dem no go look me like mumu. If you no make noise for Naija, dem no go send you.

My keke old, yes, but na the first thing wey I buy with my first salary. E mean plenty to me.

You know say anything wey you hustle for yourself dey special. That keke carry me from jobless to small something. E be like my pikin.

No way I go just gree leave am like that.

I just dey boil for body, dey ready to fight anybody wey wan use grammar confuse me. My mind dey on top the battery like say na gold.

I burst enter the office, body dey hot. Na after lunch, the property manager—a woman wey tie wrapper sleep—just jump wake, hair scatter, dey look me anyhow: “Na which wahala you bring this afternoon? CCTV no dey catch thief, na eyes dey catch thief.”

Her eye red, you go know say sleep never finish for her body. Wrapper shift, her phone still dey hand, but as she see my face, she arrange herself small. E be like say my wahala pass her sleep.

As she see my face, she change am: “But you self, you no see say plenty battery don dey miss for here? We post am for group, put notice for bike shed, tell una make una dey careful... How many times we go talk am? You no see?”

She adjust her wrapper, eyes dey sharp now, voice dey rise. E be like say na me be the problem for the whole estate. She dey do like say dem dey do us favour.

I vex sotey I laugh: “See what? Una no dey do anything—no call police, no extra security, just paper notice, una think say na that one go stop thief? Now na we the tenants una dey blame? So make I dey carry battery climb five floors every day lock am for safe?”

My voice loud, I even use hand gesture join. People for corridor dey peep. I no send. If I no talk am, dem go ride me.

She vex, voice dey shake, just point computer: “Go check am yourself. Abeg, no disturb me.”

Na so she bone face, act like say she busy. I hiss for my mind, but I just focus on wetin carry me come.

Omo, these estate people dey behave like say na their papa get the place. If you need them, dem no dey. But if na time to collect money—cleaning, security, compound fee—dem go show, dey collect.

For service charge, dem go send reminder three times before end of month. But if you cry for help, dem go vanish like NEPA light.

But see am, for this so-called fine estate, my keke battery just vanish for broad daylight. Just because of small nap.

E pain me, but e dey show say even for estate, nobody safe. All this fake security na just story for landlord.

Normally, I for drag with her, but my mind dey my keke.

E no get strength for long talk. Wetin dey pain me pass mouth. I just waka face computer, ignore her own.

I rush go computer, rewind CCTV to when I park—12:10 p.m.

Na me be number one detective for that moment. I dey fast forward, rewind, dey hope say my thief go show face well.

Na that time I just close from work. My office no far, just ten minutes. I dey resume back by 3, so of course I rush home go sleep small!

You know as traffic dey Lagos. If you get chance sleep, you go grab am. I dey eye time so I no go late return.

Lucky say camera catch me as I park and come down, my keke show well.

My shirt still dey neat, my bag dey for hand. I fit remember the sun wey dey roast that afternoon, but I no send. My mind dey on sleep.

But wahala come. The camera, after all the sun and rain, don shift. E suppose dey show the full keke, but now na only the front and basket e dey show. The battery side dey hide under my nylon rain cover, so the thief just bend down, remove the battery calmly.

Person dey waka pass, but nobody notice anything. E be like say the thief na professional—no rush, no panic. E pain me sotey I bite my lip.

The person dey so coded—if you no know, you go think say na the owner dey repair im own keke.

E get one kind boldness, you go fear. For my mind, I dey pray make camera show e face well.

My anger no get part two. The woman for my side come look, dey smile small: “This camera sabi work, abi?”

She dey mock me lowkey. If to say I get power, I for carry the monitor go house.

I eye her, begin check am frame by frame. For one small corner wey the cover no reach, I see white attachment or maybe na those old women wey dey tie scarf.

The white just flash, e dey quick, but e stand out for the footage. My hand dey shake as I dey snap am with my phone. Anything fit help.

I snap am with my phone—e fit help. White attachment? Or na white scarf?

I zoom the picture, look am well. For my mind, I dey debate—abeg, white hair or just old nylon?

Maybe na one of those small boys wey dey dye hair dey waka?

You know say street boys now, dem fit dye hair pink, white, anything. I no wan jump to conclusion.

But plenty small thief dey waka up and down. How I wan take find the correct one?

E no easy. For Lagos, everybody fit be suspect. Sometimes even your neighbour fit thief you.

The matter no go anywhere. Na small battery, no even reach one hundred thousand naira—police no go send am. I just swallow the pain, as if na me thief myself.

Even if I go station, dem go ask me to "drop something" before dem go touch case. I no get that time or money.

After that, I no fit ride the keke again. I sell the empty frame for chicken change, begin use okada go work.

Omo, the thing pain me, but waiting I go do? Life no go stop. My pocket dey dry, but at least I fit still move.

At least I dey save money and dey exercise—two in one. But for Lagos, you fit run from wahala, e go still find you.