Chapter 2: The Whip and the Oath

"Masquerade face, but heart like pastor—you go chop wahala rice for this your life."

When I be twelve, I save one mad old man wey fall enter gutter. Na those words e talk give me. E come still give me one soul-beating whip wey get eleven pieces of carved iroko wood join together.

The whip old, but the carvings fine, e get the kind charm wey elders dey respect. That time, my mama say make I no touch madman property. But as the man dey waka go, e look back, raise hand, bless me with that kain voice wey dey shake for ear like church bell. "Your hand go strong, but your spirit go see wahala." Even though my heart shake, I hide the whip under my mat for room. Dem say if elder give you whip with iroko, e mean say your hand go strong pass ordinary.

I no believe am. At eighteen, I comot village go dey drive big trucks. Na so my life begin change from village boy to road king. By the time I reach my thirties, I get my own company and family. My life be like say e almost perfect.

Dem dey always say who get big body, suppose get big wahala too. Me, I just dey thank God that time. From nothing, I buy land, build small house for Ogwashi, my children dey go better school. Me and my wife dey laugh for veranda every Sunday, dey chop yam porridge—the pepper dey bite tongue, oil dey shine for plate. Life sweet reach belle.

But before I fit blink, my papa and mama die, my wife die from sickness, my brother betray me. I gather plenty debt, na only my pikin—boy and girl—remain for my side.

All those village people wey dey call me "Odogwu" before, begin dey avoid my call. Na only my children dey hold me, dey wipe my tears. Even rain wey fall for burial day, e heavy like say heaven dey cry join me.

As I no get where to run go, na so I see that soul-beating whip again for under one old cupboard.

Na that kind moment wey you go know say, for this life, sometimes na only old things fit remind you who you be. I dust the whip, my hand dey tremble. E be like say, the thing dey wait me since.