Chapter 1: The Road Wey No Reach

The village road don spoil for years, so all of us gather for village square, dey collect contribution—everybody drop as e fit. Na me drop one million naira—na me carry the heavy load for the whole thing.

Dem dey hail me, dey call me Honourable, even dash me kola nut for meeting. Even Mama Nkechi, wey never ever greet me before, begin smile dey say, “Our Olisa, e good dey your side.” She even stretch small groundnut give me, dey form like say we be padi. But all the hype no mean anything if dem no fit reason my side. E pain me reach bone. As I dey waka home that evening, I remember papa old canvas shoe wey still dey stuck for that mud since last rainy season. Mama still dey pray every night, "Make this road reach our gate, God." All the memory just dey press my chest.

But last last, the new road plan no even reach my house at all.

You know as e dey be, when person expect small reward or at least, fairness, e go pain if dem just sideline you. That kain thing fit break person mind, especially for village where everybody dey claim say e dey for 'togetherness.'

Village chairman come talk say, “Village road na everybody own, so na everybody go decide where dem go build am. Olisa, you dey reason am wrong. Na all of us dey decide, no be only me.”

E go dey shake him head, dey wave hand as if he wan throw away responsibility. Everybody for meeting dey nod, dey form unity. For my mind, I dey reason, ‘Unity wey no reach my house?’

“If na my power, I for don build the road reach your front gate sef, even carry am enter your compound.”

He dey talk am as if na joke, but I see the sharpness for him eye. E get as e be. Sometimes all this politeness na just cover cloth for what person dey hide.

I just laugh.

The laughter no come from my belle, e just come from my mouth. E taste bitter for my tongue. If no be say people dey look, I for just bone face. Even Mama Shade wey dey pass, look my face, see as I dey force the laugh. Inside my mind, I dey boil. But for village, you no fit show say you dey vex pass level.

Every house for the village get road reach their door. Even the chairman chicken coop and dog house get their own small road—but my house, dem no even look my side.

As I dey waka round village, I see small children dey use new road play ten-ten. I see even Baba Musa dog dey waka for new tar road reach e own dog house. I just shake head. Na so? Everybody chop, na only me dem wan use shine?

No wahala. If na so una wan play am.

For village matter, if you too show emotion, dem go call you proud. I just carry face, lock up. But for my mind, na different story.

The next day, I pack my whole family comot. If road no reach my house, abeg, I no dey pay. Make the village road dey suffer, e no concern me.

I call my wife, tell her make she pack the children things. Even my old papa and mama dey look me, dem no fit talk. E pain everybody, but na who go gree talk? As we dey load our motor, neighbours just dey peep from their window, dey whisper. For their eye, na drama. For my mind, na my own respect I dey protect. If person no get face, wetin e get? As we drive out, I swear for my mind—this village go remember today.