Chapter 3: The Sweet Orange Boom

Some years back, our village dey plant maize, rice, and cotton. Then one person try first, plant sweet orange.

Everybody gossip for palmwine joint: "Who go chop orange for dry season?" But the bold man still do am.

That year, e follow the trend of people wey dey show sweet orange for TikTok Naija. E not only sell all him fruit, people even dey rush am, and e make plenty money.

Na so people come dey hail am for meeting. "See better head!" Even women dey talk say his house dey always smell fresh.

As villagers see am, jealousy catch dem, everybody rush go meet village head, say make we change crop.

Na Naija way—if one man dey shine, others go try shine join. Competition sweet for mouth but bitter for pocket if e fail.

With everybody agreement, village head use different style force the first person share him planting secret.

The man try hide am, but e no fit. You know as elders dey talk—if e no gree, dem go use prayer and proverb force am. "You no fit chop alone for this village," dem talk.

Every house clear their half-grown crops overnight, plant sweet orange, hope say next year harvest go good.

No time waste. As if police dey pursue person, everybody clear ground. Even small pikin carry hoe, help plant seedlings. People dey dream orange, dey see orange.

No be like before wey crops dey mature September or October, people go dey manage till year end. Orange dey bear fruit harmattan and dry season. If market good, every family fit get better money before Christmas, fit celebrate well, and plan money well.

Village women dey already dey dream new wrapper for Christmas, men dey price ram for festival. Hope dey everywhere.

My family join too.

Papa no want make we carry last. Even mama drop yam farm, focus on orange. We dey pray for good harvest.

But this year, too many people plant sweet orange, supply pass demand, factory come reduce price. My papa just dey worry.

You fit see am for him body—he no dey eat well, just dey reason for farm every evening. Even mama don notice, dey pray harder.

“Pikin, we don train you reach this level, send you go university. We never ask you for anything before, but this time, we really need help. Abeg, help the village, help your papa and mama. Try ask around, use your connection, make we sell these oranges. If you no fit sell everything, just help us sell our own. Christmas dey come, you no want make everybody celebrate well?”

As he talk, mama nod head, her eyes dey beg join. "Ifedike, you be our hope. No let us shame," she whisper.

My papa voice soft, but e touch me.

I feel as if dem drop big stone for my hand. The thing dey heavy, but I no fit drop am.

I just feel somehow. I dey help, but e come be like say dem dey use sense press me.

I look window, see children dey play. I wonder if I fit change anything. Na big wahala.

As he dey look me with hope, I just sigh and gree.

Na so I talk am. "Okay, I go try." The way dem smile ehn, you go think say solution don land.

“Okay, I go try.”

I talk am again, make everybody hear. Even mama clap hand, dey pray inside her mouth.

As I see my papa rush go tell everybody, I just weak.

He dey shout my name for compound, dey hail me. "Ifedike go help us!" Na so all the old men gather. My body just dey shake.

I be ordinary person. Even village head no fit do am, how I go take sell all the fruit?

I look myself, remember say I be only one person, no magic. But hope na something for village.

But papa talk say, even if na small we sell, e better pass nothing.

I reason am well. Even if na five basket, person fit use buy salt and soap for house. I gree.