Chapter 3: Musa Big and the Fight for Dignity

One afternoon before school close, those boys show again. Their oga, Musa Big—everybody sabi am say he dey borrow money, no dey pay back—he no ever pay for the Fanta wey my seatmate dey bring for am.

Everybody sabi Musa Big—him head big, voice loud, always dey form boss. Him dey waka with gang like say na governor. Even prefect dey fear am small. Whenever him dey around, wahala dey follow.

"Same thing, abeg, one Fanta," Musa Big tap her desk talk.

As he talk, him dey look her like say na compulsory duty. Some people for class dey watch, dey wait see if she go vex. But she just dey look table, dey squeeze her pen.

"Add one for me!" him boys join mouth.

Dem dey talk as if she be salesgirl for shop. One even snap finger to rush her. Me, I dey boil inside. If not for respect, I for shout.

I know her—she no fit say no.

She dey always shy to refuse. She go just nod, write down for her list. Sometimes I go see am dey tap foot under table, small sign of annoyance, but she no go talk.

"She no dey go house today," I just yarn.

I gree for myself, as I use my voice scatter their plan. I fit feel my heart dey drum like talking drum for my chest.

"Ehn?" Musa Big look me somehow. He twist face, dey try size me up. Class quiet, everybody dey wait see who go back down. He taunt me, "You think say you get muscle now? Small boy like you?"

"She no dey go house this afternoon," I talk again, strong face. My palm dey sweat, but I no gree shift eye. I set jaw, dey look dem for eye. I no blink. Even my voice come out hard, the kind way wey surprise even me. Na that kind moment wey you know say you don cross small line.

Musa Big and him boys just dey look us anyhow but dem waka commot.

Them no talk again. One of them hiss, another one pull skirt, dem waka pass. For my mind, I dey thank God say dem no decide fight that moment.

After dem go, everywhere quiet. Me and her no talk for small time.

You fit hear only chalk for blackboard, teacher never enter yet. For that small silence, my ear dey buzz. She just dey arrange her things, slow slow, her face still.

"Thank you," she talk finally.

Her voice small, like person wey dey swallow garri without water. Her eye dey shine, gratitude full inside. She no need talk plenty, I understand.

"Mm… no wahala," I reply.

I just nod, dey look my shoe. No big grammar fit talk that time; na the kind moment wey silence dey heavy pass word.

"You suppose dey go house. We still get class later." I stand up rush out, no even look back.

I no wan make anybody see as I dey feel. Sometimes, to show say you care dey hard for our age. I just grab my bag, waka sharp, heart still dey beat anyhow. For corner, I hear her sigh—just small.