Chapter 3: Mama’s Call and Lagos Reality

"Okechukwu, if e no work, just come house."

I balance phone for my ear, dey shift my bag from one hand go another so my hand no go break.

My mama voice dey always get one kind warmth. Even when she dey worry, she go still try make I feel okay. That time, na so she dey call, dey check on me as if I still be small pikin.

"E dey okay, Mama. I don find house—space plenty well well."

Sometimes I go lie small, just to make her rest. I no go tell her say na kitchen I dey eye for house. Wetin she go fit do?

"E no easy to dey on your own o."

Her voice soft, e dey like say she dey look me for inside phone. I just nod like she fit see me.

"But I no fit come back house. If people for area hear say I graduate but I dey house dey chop your food, na so so gossip dem go dey carry."

For our side, if you return house after school, na wahala. Even neighbors go dey yarn say you be lazy boy. Me, I no wan make them carry my matter go put for meeting.

"Make dem talk."

Na so my mama sabi—she no dey look face. But for me, shame no go allow.

"No worry, Mama. I go dey alright. I go call you later."

I no want make she hear my voice dey shake, so I quick end the call. She go still pray for me before I sleep, I know.

As I drop call, the agent wey dey with me just look me with pity.

The man just dey size me like person wey wan ask for transport. I no blame am—every young graduate dey look like struggle. His face get that "e go better" look.

"You just finish school, abi? Everybody dey suffer am at first, but e go better. When I finish school that time..."

I just wave am, no get strength for motivational talk.

For Lagos, everybody get story. If you hear all, you no go ever waka. Sometimes, person just wan hear silence.

"We still get stairs to climb?"

"Seventh floor. Remain two."

As he talk am, my body just dey drag. For my mind, I dey remember all those Nollywood film wey dem dey chase person for staircase.

"Okay."

Old house, seventh floor na the last, no elevator, na shared house. All the wahala just pack full, na so the legend of 12,000 naira per month start.

As I dey climb, my leg dey shake. My bag heavy, sweat dey pour. My mind dey calculate how I go survive here—my whole life dey inside one small Ghana-Must-Go.

When we finally reach, the agent knock door gently.

As the knock land, I dey hold my breath. You know say some people fit get bad belle, fit open door shout, "Who be that!" But this one, e gentle.

Small time, fine quiet babe open door small.

But before she open, I hear small whisper: "Who dey knock this kind time?" She open the door just a crack, peep, then when she see say na agent, she relax small, open the door wide. Her eyes shine like person wey dey fear, her skin fresh—one of those Lagos fine girls.

"Who be you?"

Her voice soft, but e get that Lagos edge. I just dey reason if na wahala I dey enter.

"Ah, Temi, you remember? Na me be agent. I bring new person wey go stay with una."

As agent talk, Temi shift, open door wide. Her leg dey shake small, but she just rush inside like say she no want wahala.

"We fit enter?"

"No wahala."

I wipe sweat for my face, look around. The house really spacious: three rooms, parlour, bathroom—over 160 square meters.

For Lagos, na palace be this. Even light dey blink for corridor, show say dem dey pay bill. My mind dey calculate where my bed go dey.

"Okechukwu, make I show you."

My eye dey follow where agent finger dey point like say he dey share land.

I dey look every corner, dey try calculate which side go peaceful pass. E get as the agent dey carry body—like person wey dey sell heaven.