Chapter 2: No Be Juju Be This?

My daughter’s school application was rejected.

My heart skip beat. Ifeoma, my jewel, after all our sacrifice. Her joy for school just dey my mind.

The reason? The apartment’s school slot don already register, e no fit use again.

The way the woman talk am, e pain me. She no even look my face well, just dey arrange files like say na regular wahala. See as she dey form madam, no even send person—God go judge am.

How that one take happen?

I dey reason—did I sleep and someone enter my apartment? Did some spirit use my name? E no add up.

Na my own apartment—how dem go use the slot without me knowing?

Na so I vex, rush go Royal Heritage Primary School, carry my contract go, insist make dem show me the registration records.

Dem try form official, but when I stand my ground, show my documents, dem no get choice. The security guard even look me like say I be Oga wey fit sack principal.

As I see the result, e be like say dem slap me for face.

Hot slap, join cold one. My whole body cold. Dem say na another person’s pikin dey use my slot. E no enter my ear at first.

The records show say the slot really don use since last year. Another person pikin don dey go school for one year already, use my apartment’s slot.

I bend low, look well. Na true. My own slot, another person chop am. The wahala reach bone.

And me, I no hear anything about am.

The thing pain me deep. If to say I fit carry the record tear am, I for do am.

I wan craze.

Inside the principal office, I dey sweat. My wife voice just dey my head: "You sure say everything go smooth?" I wan craze.

Me and my wife save every kobo, even our papa and mama join hand, gather money take pay down payment for this twenty-five-million-naira apartment for city center.

Our whole family sacrifice, even my uncle for village send us goat money. All na for this school slot. The pain choke.

All na just to give our daughter better school.

Since my daughter dey learn alphabet, she dey dream Royal Heritage. E pain say dream dey scatter like this.

Now dem dey tell me say the slot don loss?

The thing weak me. Loss just enter like thief for night.

The school slot fit only use once every six years—the next chance na five years from now.

Na so I count, carry hand tap forehead. Five years? Ifeoma go turn teenager by then.

So wetin go happen to my daughter now?

I look the staff, my voice low. "Abeg, make una help me. I no fit go house empty."

I demand make the school give me the other parent’s information sharp sharp.

I dey shake, my hand for counter. The receptionist dey look me with pity.

But dem refuse, talk say na student privacy.

For Naija, dem dey quick use 'policy' hide wahala. My mind dey hot.

“Sorry, we no fit give you the student parent information directly, but we fit try contact them for you.”

I gree, but my spirit no rest. Na so dem dey cover people for this country.

I try calm myself down.

I dey breathe slow, repeat 'God no go shame us' for my mind.

After some time, the school staff come back: the other party no gree talk.

I for swear say na juju. Dem just block me.

“The other parent say na their own slot their pikin use, dem no owe anybody explanation.”

My body dey shake. My head dey pain me. My face sef no fit hide my anger.

The woman for counter dey avoid my eye. I know say dem dey pity me but na nothing fit help.

One teacher come near, talk to me quietly: as long as the apartment na your own, na only your pikin suppose use the slot.

He whisper like say e dey talk secret. "Oga, if na your house, na your right. No let anybody cheat you."

E take me some seconds to reason am well.

Na so I stand, squeeze my face. My mind dey run calculation—who do me like this?

I drive go local government registry office straight.

Road no even long. My foot dey heavy for accelerator. If police stop me, I for tell them say na emergency.

When the staff check my family registration info, I shock.

I nearly drop my phone for ground. Wetin I dey see so?

True true, extra person dey under my name.

Fan dey blow hot air, generator noise dey hum for backyard, people dey sweat under faded poster of Mr Governor.

One seven-year-old boy, Ibrahim Musa.

I rub my eye, check am again. No be juju be this?

The name dey loud for the screen like warning bell. I just stand dey look.

I rush ask the staff, “How this one take happen?”

The woman blink, tap keyboard again. She dey confused. “The system show say Ibrahim Musa join your family registration last July.”

My chest dey pound. My voice rise: “I never see the boy, I never sign anything! How he waka enter my registration?”

I dey vex. “Wetin be this? How person wey I no know go land for my family registration?”

For their system, my name dey shine like landlord. Yet, stranger enter. Na which kind country be this?

The staff talk say, “E fit be registration error.”

Na so e easy? Error wey swallow my money and my daughter’s future?

“Error? You know how much wahala and loss your ‘error’ don cause me?”

I nearly climb counter. Other people wey dey queue begin shift. I be like madman.

My voice loud sotey everybody dey look me.

Security come stand for door, dey eye me like person wey fit scatter office.

I force myself calm small.

Na my daughter face I dey imagine. I swallow spit, reduce voice.

“I dey request make you remove Ibrahim Musa from my family registration now now.”

If to say na village, by now I for don call my uncle for town hall meeting.

“Because this matter concern minor, you go need bring proof say new guardian agree.”

Dem begin quote law. Na so dem dey do for government office, always dey delay you.

My vex increase.

I fit break table that moment. My blood dey hot.

So person fit just waka put pikin for my family registration without my consent, but to remove am, na wahala?

I dey wonder how dem take get my details. Na who leak am? Na some sharp guy for inside or na external arrangee?

Beside the registry office na the police post reception.

I waka with speed reach police counter. No time.

I call police immediately.

My phone dey shake for my hand. I dey record everything for evidence.

I give them all my evidence, explain say this one no be family matter at all.

Police officer dey look my face, his biro stop for air. "Oga, e strong o. Make we see your documents."

The police tell me to wait as dem try contact Ibrahim Musa’s original family.

Na so I siddon for one corner. The plastic chair dey hot, sweat dey my back.

Every minute just dey long.

I dey check my phone, dey tap leg. Ifeoma photo dey my screensaver, the thing dey pain me more.

Finally, police say Ibrahim Musa’s parents travel, dem go fit cooperate when dem come back.

Travel ke? For this kind wahala? My mind no gree. Na run dem dey run.

You dey joke with me?

I nearly laugh for the wahala. This one na real Naija film.

This family just dey dodge me, na clear.

I reason say, dem get connection or dem just dey wicked.

School registration deadline dey close—how I go just dey wait?

Every day Ifeoma dey ask, "Daddy, when I go wear school uniform?" My head dey ache.

My vex dey boil.

E be like say hot water dey my chest. I no fit just fold hand.

As I comot police post, I call my guy wey dey work for education sector.

My guy, Seyi, na sharp man. If anybody fit dig name for this Lagos, na him.

I no gree. I know the pikin name and school—how I no go fit find the parents?

For this city, information dey move for street pass NEPA light. I gats try every angle.