Chapter 4: The Bond and the Betrayal

Musa Tang na my old padi, my partner. We from the same village, drive truck together, marry almost the same time, start logistics company together.

For youth meeting, na we dey always lead praise. Everybody sabi us for park. E get one year, me and Musa trek from Asaba reach Onitsha with empty tank, but we still carry our customer goods reach market. That kind hustle, e dey bond people.

E short and thin. Because I big, I make am dey call me brother, and I dey protect am everywhere. If wahala show for road, na me dey front. E dey fear to break through evil, so na me dey do am, then I go share half the chop money with am when we reach house.

No be say Musa dey lazy, but e get that kind fear for night road, especially if story of one ghost girl or armed boys dey hot for area. E go hold my shirt, whisper, "Chukwudi, abeg, you dey see am?" I go laugh, say, "No worry, nothing dey happen." After run, we go share garri and groundnut, dey plan our next trip.

I tell am many times: Na me carry you come, na me go carry you go back.

I always see am as my padi, even when people dey warn me say, "No trust Musa too much." For my mind, if we drink from same cup, e mean say our spirit dey one.

I think say Musa Tang na my blood, say our bond no go ever break. But as I dey run up and down dey take care of my papa, mama and sick wife, e use style finish the company, move assets, dey collect private jobs wey put me for big penalty wahala.

E sharp for book, I no go lie. But I no expect say my own person go reason me like enemy. Na when lawyer call me say company money don fly, na there I open eye. Betrayal pain, e dey burn like pepper for sore.

Even that time, I no suspect am—until I kneel for e door, beg am for money for my wife treatment, I see am use the goat meat wey I buy with my last two hundred naira feed e dog.

As I dey kneel, my heart dey beat like drum for shrine. The dog dey chop, Musa dey watch. E just look me with cold eye, as if say I be beggar for junction. For that moment, my world break.

E look me talk, "Long Chukwudi, who you be wey you dey call yourself my brother? Now you no even reach my dog level."

The word dey hot for my soul. I stand, dust my trouser, wipe sweat for face. For my mind, I talk, "Na God go judge." But deep down, I swear, one day, Musa go feel am.