Chapter 7: Altar of Tears
The man face twist, phone no gree open with face unlock.
Na wahala upon wahala. People dey rush, dey argue. Phone dey stubborn, everybody dey shout password.
One vendor wey dey near rush call the man wife.
She dey press phone, dey run voice call. Voice dey shake, "Madam, come quick!"
Maybe she dey ride okada, call no go through.
Some people dey try shout to the okada man for junction, but traffic don block everywhere.
Big Timi try calm viewers:
"She say na just small time, she go come back."
E try soft voice, but e own hand dey shake. Stream dey hot.
But the other vendor vex:
"She lie, she no wan make una no wait. Na at least one hour from here to her house!"
People for market dey begin argue, e fit turn fight if care no dey.
Time dey pass. The man dey struggle, but nobody fit help.
The sun don shift, shadow dey long. People just dey look, dey murmur. My eye dey cold. For Naija, e dey hard to help stranger sometimes—wahala too much.
I just look am, laugh inside me.
For my mind, I dey think—everybody get e own problem, e own fight. To help person, you go risk your own comfort. Na why many people dey mind dem own.
For this life, everybody dey protect themself. To help person, wahala too much.
So, the man body slow down, finally e no move again.
Quiet fall for market. Even the okada noise calm. Na so life dey waka.
Na that time the woman and ambulance reach.
Woman rush come, panting. She see husband for ground, scream. Ambulance people rush, but e don too late.
Doctor look, shake head, sigh.
E bend, whisper to the woman. Her face collapse, e scream shake everybody. My heart move, but my face no show am.
The woman kneel for ground, cry:
"Doctor talk say e dey okay. How this thing come happen like this?"
Her cry dey loud, market people gather, some dey talk, some dey pray. For Naija, na so we dey mourn—tears mixed with shout, prayer, and confusion.
"If I know, I no go try hustle this money."
I hear the regret for her voice. Money dey sweet, but sometimes na curse e carry come.
By now, the stream don scatter.
"Two people don die for one stream, na wa!"
"This na real life Final Destination."
"This mama scary—anywhere she go, person dey die."
"Omo, na real wahala be this!"
"Chai, this woman get strong mind o!"
"Kai, na only God fit save us."
Viewers don plenty, stream top chart.
Big Timi phone dey hot. Stream dey trend. But I see say him hand dey shake small.
But Big Timi no fit smile again, fear dey him eye as e look me.
E dey avoid my eye. Na so this country be—if something pass you, fear go catch your spirit.
I carry my egusi seed from the woman bike, wave Big Timi, turn dey go.
The egusi small, but na all I fit carry for now. I no get energy to talk, I just wave make I disappear before another wahala start.
"Money don finish, I dey go."
I no fit talk much, the thing don tire me.
"And abeg, good luck."
I talk am with soft voice, because for this life, luck na wetin all of us need. For this country, luck pass certificate.
I go my house—na abandoned place.
The air dey stale, wall dey crack. But na my corner. Nobody fit chase me for here.
For top old family altar table, one memorial photo dey.
The altar dey dusty, candle wax still dey for corner. I arrange the photo, clean the frame.
For the black and white photo, one small girl dey smile, dimple for her cheek.
Her smile dey pure, no wahala for her face. My own face now don old, but the dimple dey show small. My eye mist, but I hold myself.
I use clean cloth wipe the photo, then bring out egusi seed, put for her front.
I pour the egusi for plate, arrange am. For my tribe, to remember dead pikin, you go put wetin dem like for altar—na sign of love, sign say you still dey think of dem.
After all, I sit down, close eye.
I fit hear rat dey run for ceiling. Breeze blow the curtain, but I just dey sit down, dey count my breath, dey pray small prayer for inside my heart. I whisper small prayer—"God, make you rest her soul. Na only you sabi why life hard."
I no know how long before I hear police siren for outside.
My body dey alert. For Lagos, siren fit mean anything. But today, I just dey calm, dey wait.
Footsteps, then police rush enter.
Dem burst enter like say dem dey find armed robber. Torchlight dey shine my eye. I just siddon, dey look dem, no panic.
"Mama Kudi, you dey under suspicion for two murder case. Abeg follow us."
Police man voice deep, e face strong. Dem no dey joke for Lagos, especially when death waka up and down.
I stand, smile, raise my hands.
I lift my wrapper small, arrange am, then I raise my two hands. My face calm. In this life, if na your time, na your time.
(*Note: The family altar table na traditional table wey dem dey use for remembrance and family gathering.)
Na some tribes dey use am pass, but for our side, na normal thing. Nobody dey question why old photo dey for shrine.