Chapter 1: Wahala Jam Wahala

A thief broke into my house and hid inside my wardrobe.

This na wetin I see for my surveillance camera. I no fit call police—because me sef get dead body hide inside the same wardrobe.

Under the dim yellow bulb of my sitting room, the CCTV monitor dey show the black-and-white image of that thief as he tiptoe inside my flat. My hands shake small as I dey watch am, but I just bite my lower lip, steady myself, dey reason wetin I go do. Sweat dey run for my armpit even though fan dey blow. For this Lagos, trouble dey wear different cloth every day. See as wahala jam wahala for my own house, ehen?

1

My name na Ifedike, and I be thief.

Every day, I dey waka go those blocks wey dey near Palm Grove Estate, dey share flyers for every flat.

I like to roll the flyers like small tube.

Then, I go just wedge am for the doorknobs of the people wey dey live there.

Sometimes I go greet the security man with small change, just to make am look another side. After one or two days, I go come back check my flyers.

If the flyer still dey there, e mean say the person never come house for some days.

Na that kind house I dey target.

For this my line of work, you gats use sense, no be muscle. Sometime I go even pretend say I be estate agent or PHCN man, just to take style check the environment. You know na, Naija no easy. From small pikin, dem dey teach us say street get ear, so I dey always use my own sense join. E no dey matter whether sun dey burn like mad or rain dey fall, I go still waka that street, make sure I sabi all the shortcut and escape route. Person no fit too careful for this Lagos, especially when you dey do work wey no pure.

2

Today, na Flat 201, Block 4, Palm Grove Estate I wan enter.

The flyer wey dey the doorknob na the one wey I drop three days ago.

Three days don pass, the flyer still dey the same way I leave am.

I wear my cap, mask, gloves, and put cover for my shoe.

I carry my tools from my bag, then use am open the door sharp sharp.

Small fine scent dey the apartment.

I lock the door gently behind me, then begin check how the place be.

Na my way be that—if anything wan happen, make I sabi where I dey.

Na normal self-contain apartment.

The bathroom dey beside the kitchen, burglary proof dey for balcony.

Only one toothbrush and one cup dey inside bathroom.

Shoe rack full of women shoe.

From all these, e clear say na woman dey stay here alone.

Since na woman, my eye dey on jewelry first.

If I see better electronics, na plus.

These days, who dey keep cash for house?

I find one jewelry box inside the bedside drawer.

Two bracelets, one necklace, two earrings, and one ring—all that thick, yellow gold wey Igbo women dey like wear for wedding.

I pack everything. This waka don pay already.

Experience don teach me one thing: as you don gain, just comot.

So I close the drawer, ready to disappear.

My heart dey do me gish-gish as I dey waka around the room. The kind perfume wey dey air na that expensive one, e resemble something I smell for one babe body for church last month. I fit even swear say na original, no be all those fake Dubai type. For corner, I see one small Bible, some old photograph wey dey inside frame. I shake head; this life, people dey trust house too much. As I dey gather the gold, I dey pray make NEPA no carry light, make nobody for compound hear any sound. I dey plan to use back staircase run, because those estate securities dey sharp sometimes if dem see stranger waka come out for main door. Sharp guy no dey waste time.

3

But as I reach the door, I hear key dey turn for lock.

Na so my body just cold.

As e be so, I sharply run go corner, squeeze myself enter wardrobe.

Na only there sure for this house.

I close the wardrobe, breathe out long.

My chest dey bounce like generator wey no wan start. I hold my breath, dey pray make my phone no ring.

I dey listen for the door, dey plan my next move.

I hear door close, then high heel shoe dey knock for floor.

True, na woman get the house.

Because the wardrobe dey corner face the door,

I fit see the whole room from small gap for the wardrobe door.

One fine woman—she resemble those Adaobi dem—enter.

She drop her handbag, change to slippers, pull her coat, hang am for rack.

Then she waka come wardrobe side.

My heart nearly stop—wahala dey.

I go soon jam her face to face.

But na God save me, she open the left side of the wardrobe,

I dey hide for right side.

I squat down, hide behind clothes, she no notice anything.

She carry casual jacket, wear am, close wardrobe.

I wipe cold sweat—false alarm. I dey sweat like person wey chop hot pepper for dream.

She enter kitchen, wash apple.

She on TV, sit down for sofa.

Na gardening show dey TV.

She dey chop apple dey watch TV.

Me, I just dey hide for wardrobe, no even dey breathe well, dey wait make I see chance run.

I don already ready for worst—if e set, I go just burst out.

As long as she no see my face, I go dey alright.

But if I do that one, everybody for compound go hear noise.

If she call local vigilante or security, na camera go show my face.

So, best thing, make I waka comot without anybody sabi.

For now, I just dey wait make she go bathroom or sleep.

The tension for my chest heavy pass cement. My hand dey shake inside my glove. I dey almost swear say this na the closest I don ever come to collect beating for work. The apple wey she dey chop dey make one kind crunchy sound, and e dey echo for my ear. My nose dey pick the smell of her hair cream as she waka pass the wardrobe. My mouth dey dry, and I dey beg God make she just carry herself go sleep early. This kain wahala fit make person promise God say him go change, if e survive.