Chapter 7: Kitchen Bed Chronicles

Time pass 11, almost midnight, glass door open small.

For Lagos, even for midnight, noise still dey from street. Generator dey hum, dog dey bark. My eye dey red, but sleep no come.

"Okechukwu, you sleep?"

"Ah, no, I never sleep." I quick sit up. Na Sister Bisi.

Her voice dey low, dey blend with night breeze. She wear scarf, her face dey shine for dim light.

"I wan smoke. Temi dey allergic, so I no fit smoke for parlour."

"No wahala."

You know say for Lagos, if you no gree person smoke for parlour, na kitchen be next option. But for me, na my bedroom.

"You dey smoke?"

"Erm, yes."

I dey answer like person wey police stop. I dey hide cigarette as if na contraband.

Kitchen no too big, plus my bed dey there, space no dey. If Sister Bisi face me, e go be like say she dey look dead body. If she turn back, na her yansh go dey my face. After she reason, she just sit for my bed.

Na so she balance, cross leg. I dey freeze, dey pretend say I no dey see anything. The distance close, I fit smell her perfume—Vanilla and small dust.

"Where you from?"

"Makurdi."

After that, everywhere quiet.

She puff smoke, look ceiling. The light from phone dey shine for her face. She just dey reason her own.

"People for here get sense sha," I try talk something.

Sister Bisi smile, smoke just waka enter my face, get small sweet smell.

Her lips red, the smoke curl like spirit. I dey try form big boy, but my mind dey waka.

"E no bad."

She no talk again. The cigarette light dey shine for her orange lipstick, just dey somehow attractive. She smoke half, off am for sink.

As she off the stick, water dey run. Her hand fine, nails dey painted. She just dey nod her head, dey hum song I no know.

"Sleep early. You no know when next you go get better sleep."

I no understand wetin she mean, just confuse.

As she dey talk, her voice get that big sister advice. I just nod, dey pretend say I wise.

Around six, before alarm even ring, footsteps for parlour wake me. Some people don ready go work, dey waka up and down.

The house dey busy like Balogun market. Plate dey knock, door dey bang, everybody dey rush.

I rub my sleepy eye, stretch my body. I too suppose get up—need reach city library early find seat, start another day of book.

The morning breeze enter kitchen window, blow my face. Na so I know say new day don start. I dey pray make today better pass yesterday.

"Ah, Okechukwu, you wake early," Zainab greet me.

She carry towel, her eye still dey half sleep. She always dey wake first. Her voice dey calm, e dey remind me of mama.

"Morning."

Sister Zainab enter bathroom, sit for toilet. Person already dey there—Ifeoma dey brush teeth. As Zainab enter, she talk something, Sister Zainab come look shy, close door quick.

I dey laugh small, but I no show am. E no easy to share bathroom with plenty people, especially girls.

Me sef shame catch me, I run go kitchen light cigarette.

As I light am, I dey reason my life. Wetin bring me come Lagos, and how far I still get to go.

People get their own habits. If you do one thing long, e go turn your normal way. If e reach, e go even affect your body.

Na true. Some people no fit sleep if dem no bath. Some must drink tea before dem comot. For me, na smoke be my own habit.

Like, to wake up and smoke—na normal for many men. And as you dey smoke, e go make you wan use toilet—na reflex for most guys.

Na so my belle begin drum. If I no enter toilet now, wahala go dey.

"I don finish be that."

I just whisper, "God abeg, make I no disgrace myself for this house today."