Chapter 3: Zainab Enter, Destiny Scatter

The system tell me say Timi don jam person wey mean plenty to am—

My heart jump. I dey pray make e no be another caretaker wey wan scam am, or worse, some street boys.

By the time wey I rush reach there, over thirty minutes don waka.

Na so I tear slippers, run like say na last bus for Ojota I dey pursue. Sun dey drop for horizon, everything dey cast yellow like Egusi soup oil.

Sun dey set.

Orange glow everywhere, breeze dey blow small small. Even the grass for compound dey wave like dem dey welcome me.

Timi just siddon for the pavilion behind the old house, near the rock garden, dey draw something for him board.

I tiptoe reach back, dey observe. E dey focus, hand dey dance for paper, e face calm. The kind peace wey I never see for am before.

For the other side, one babe wey tie ponytail stand beside am.

As I look well, I notice say she set. Eyelashes long, smile sweet, na the type wey boys dey chase for campus. She fine like Adesua Etomi, smile dey scatter ground.

She wear white dress, dey lively and cute.

The dress neat, iron well, and e be like say she carry perfume wey get small vanilla scent.

Sometimes, she go shout, she dey munch puff-puff, crumbs for hand, as she dey praise Timi’s work.

Her voice get ginger. Even my body dey catch small joy as I dey listen.

“Wow, this your drawing mad o! You too get hand.”

I nearly clap join. Na Naija way, if something sweet you, you go shout without shame.

“I dey study art too, and I fit talk am well—you be real genius!”

She dey hype am well. E dey blush like say dem pour cold water for body.

“Which school you dey attend?”

My ear stand. I wan hear if e go mention the school I manage put am.

“My mentor na director for African Art Association. Make I recommend you give am?”

My mind fly. If to say na me, I for don dance Shaku Shaku. African Art Association no be small thing for Lagos o.

“Of course, I still sabi many teachers for art schools wey dey Naija.”

As she talk, e dey proud, but still dey humble. Na that kain person wey dey carry others along.

“Dem go really, really value you.”

The way she talk "value," e sweet for ear. You go know say e mean am.

…

Genius—

True talk.

I know am since I collect the task.

From the first time wey I see Timi draw, I know say God hand dey the boy head. Na talent wey no dey market.

Timi na real genius.

For Nigeria, to get that kain eye for color and form, na blessing. If e get better people wey fit help am, e fit carry Naija art for head.

One painter wey you no go see for many years.

Dem dey talk am for art circle. People dey wait for person like am, but e no dey show face. If to say e get better manager, e for don go far.

If dem do him exhibition, e fit make whole city fall in love with art, and any small thing wey e draw when e dey bored fit sell for crazy price for auction.

Even for small gallery for Yaba, people dey rush him sketch. If e frame am, e fit pay house rent for one year. Na so the thing sweet.

But this kind person, since e small, dem see say e get autistic behaviour.

For our place, dem no too sabi the name, but everybody know say the boy no too dey mix with people. Na only drawing dey make am smile.

As e dey grow, e con dey show signs of bipolar—sometimes e go just dey hyper and anxious, sometimes e go dull, e fit stay days and nights no talk.

E get day wey e go lock door, dey paint non-stop for three days. Next week, e go dey like water wey no get taste.

For secondary school, Xie family business con crash—the company nearly collapse.

You know Naija economy, e dey shake like dundun for frying pan. Xie family business just crumble overnight. E pain everybody.

Timi parents die since e small, just old grandpapa remain to run things.

E pain me well. The man try, but age no dey on him side. Neighbour for estate dey always greet am with respect.

The old man no fit handle the wahala, con get stroke, land for hospital.

If to say dem get better money, e for no suffer reach like that. But hospital for Lagos no dey smile. Hospital smell like dettol and sweat, nurse dey frown as if my presence dey spoil her day.

Before e die, e use the last money wey remain find person wey go look after him grandson—make sure Timi dey okay, both for body and mind.

Na so the man do final hustle. E call me, beg me for that hospital bed, "Ifeoma, abeg, no leave am."

Then, e beg the person make e find one real estate man wey dem dey call Baba Musa.

Everybody sabi Baba Musa for our area. Na man wey dey settle fight for street, e get long leg for community.

That one na old padi wey dem suffer together for village, e still dey owe am life.

You know for village, if person help you during war or famine, na blood brother you dey call am. Baba Musa and Timi grandpapa get that kind bond.

But Baba Musa family don travel go abroad, contact lost.

As e happen for many families, once dem waka, dem number no dey work again. I even find one old address for Ilorin, but house empty.

“But e go remember,” Timi grandpapa talk, cough two times. “E get one agreement—him granddaughter Zainab and Timi suppose marry since dem small. Now wey Xie family get wahala, na only dem I fit beg make dem help Timi.”

I remember the way the old man voice crack, "I no fit trust strangers. That Musa family, na our own."