Chapter 3: Gossip and the Power of a Name

This man no be like those gentle boys for our compound. Him big, muscle full everywhere. All the farm work don make him skin brown. Smile na wahala for am, na only strong face e get.

Even market women dey respect am. If e pass, dem go shift for road, dey greet am 'Oga Musa'.

Anytime he pass, e go look me small. That kind eye dey fear me—e dey make my leg dey shake. I even hear from villagers say farm supervisor hate laziness pass anything, and if him vex, e fit beat person—woman join. My fear increase, so I no dey slack at all.

Dem talk say e beat one boy last year wey thief yam, the boy run commot village for one month. I no wan be example.

I dey work like say tomorrow no dey. Just few days, I don do work pass all my eighteen years. Every night, my body go dey pain me sotey I go dey wipe tears under wrapper.

Even when my back dey break, I no dare complain. If I cough, I go hold am. Na so my life turn.

I no fit cry loud, because I dey stay with other female youth corpers. I no want make dem vex for me. The more I cry, the worse I feel. I dey miss my papa, my brothers. Dem go ever come carry me? Why dem never send me WhatsApp since? As I dey think am, my chest come dey heavy.

Sometimes, I go peep my phone, pray make I see just one message from house, but network for village dey stubborn. No light, no comfort. Na only moon dey keep me company.

Dem no be my family or brothers again, so if dem forget me, e dey normal. But this life hard no be small—I fit just die sef. At least, I enjoy eighteen years, that one dey okay.

I console myself say if village swallow me, at least people go say I try. I no dey thief, I no dey fight. I just dey my lane.

As I dey think, na so WhatsApp status comments flash for my eye: The words blink like torchlight for dark. I shake my head, reason am. Abi na village spirit dey play with my eye?

[Baby, abeg no cry. Just call am ‘brother’ tomorrow, you go see say him go dey loyal like dog, do all your work.]

[Na you him dey find, no be work him dey check.]

I shock. I dey look those subtitles, I blink, my mind scatter. Na cry dey make me see things?

My throat dry. I touch my chest, try remember wetin I chop. Maybe hunger dey make me hallucinate.

I rub my eyes, look again. The WhatsApp comments still dey roll:

[No blame Musa say e dey find am. With that your fine, soft face, dey cry like say rain beat mango flower—even me as woman, I go like you.]

[Tsk tsk, this supporting girl na real sweet babe. No be only Musa, even those boys for compound before—who no go happy if you call am brother?]

[You grow up for Makurdi, hand never touch cold water, just dey soft. Musa go cherish you like egg.]

I wan laugh but my heart heavy. If to say na my bestie Nkechi dey here, she go say, "Morayo, forget those people, na jealousy dey worry dem."

Musa—na the name of that fierce farm supervisor.

Even the sound of him name dey make people behave. For farm, dem dey fear am like headmaster.

My face come red. These comments—na me and farm supervisor dem dey talk about? No now, e no possible.

I cover face small with wrapper. Even breeze no fit cool my body. Which kind wahala be this?

My head just dey turn, plus I tire from work, so after I cry small, sleep carry me.

I no even remember when I sleep. For my dream, I dey play keyboard for church, my mama dey dance. I no wan wake up.

Before day break, cock crow, I gats wake go farm. Because of the cry yesterday, my eyes swell small as I dey work.

I waka go stream early, fetch water for bath. The air cold, the sand dey chill my foot. As I dey look my face for water, I dey see say my eyes red, I resemble person wey chop pepper soup cry.

All those WhatsApp comments don disappear. I reason say na tiredness dey make me dream rubbish.

As I dey work, I hear people dey gossip near me. Na Halima and her people—female youth corpers from Makurdi wey follow me come. She go my secondary school before. We no too close, but she be Ifunanya friend—the real daughter. Dem dey tight.

Halima always dey find my trouble, but I dey avoid her. For village, wahala easy to start.

“Fake girl, still dey form big girl from compound. See as dem assign us to same village—she lazy die, just dey eye men up and down.”

“She don dey flirt since she small, you no know? All those boys for compound, none escape her hand. Thank God say Okafor family real daughter don show—nobody send this fake again, e fit her well.”

“Tsk, small ashawo. Lucky say our farm supervisor no dey like women. Just dey look, if she slack again, oga go show her pepper.”

My ear dey burn, but my mouth lock. For city, I for answer, but for here, na silence dey protect person.