Chapter 2: Suya Wahala

One month later, Friday night for hostel dey lively, Halima suggest, "No class tomorrow—make we order late-night snack, watch horror film. My treat."

Dem dey scatter gist, laugh dey flow for room like chilled Fanta.

"No o, make we share the bill," Bukky talk. "You pay last time."

Bukky na person wey dey always do fair play, her own dey balance.

"How about... I order this time." I try gather courage.

My voice small, but I force am come out. Na risk, but I wan try.

"To thank una for taking care of me this past month. My mama dey disturb una sometimes." I scratch my head, shame dey catch me.

I dey pray make dem no laugh me. I dey hope say maybe this go help me belong.

Na my first time to talk say I go treat, and my first try to use Family Wallet for big order—four suya platters, total 8600 naira.

My hand dey shake as I dey press pay, sweat dey my palm like say na exam I dey write.

As I pay finish, my phone vibrate scatter.

The vibration loud for my soul. My heart miss beat.

Na my mama name show for screen, my heart jump.

Cold fear grip me. If to say na another person, maybe I for ignore. But na her, I no fit.

"Hello, Mama..."

My voice dey shake; my roommates fit hear the fear.

"Nkechi. Where you dey now?"

Her voice sharp like razor.

I dey hear background noise—she never sleep, she dey wait for me to make mistake.

"Na 10:30 for night. Wetin you use 8600 naira buy? Who dey with you?"

My brain dey run like I dey pursue medal for sports.

I rush comot from hostel room, lower my voice. "Mama, na just snack I order with my roommates..."

I dey try explain, but I know say e no go enter her ear.

"You dey lie."

Her voice rise. "For hostel? 8600 naira for hostel? You dey with boys? I know am, as you leave house, you go dey misbehave."

Her accusation dey bite, like mosquito for night. I wan cry.

"Na just suya, Mama, I fit let my roommates talk to you—"

I dey beg, but her mind don made up.

"No need. Go back to hostel. No—on your video now. Make I see where you dey."

She no gree for any privacy. I gats obey, else wahala go too much.

No room to explain, I just obey. My hand dey shake as I open video call. Camera show my three shocked roommates and fresh takeout for table.

Halima hand dey cover her mouth, Bukky dey look away. Everybody just dey freeze.

My mama face fill the screen, powder sharp but face twist with vex.

If to say na cartoon, her eyebrow for dey fly up. But this one na real life.

"Good evening, Ma..." Halima greet, her voice low.

My mama no answer, her eye just dey me.

Her silence dey heavy like rain wey wan fall for August.

"Na this one be late-night snack?"

She dey calculate calories with her eye. She never chop am, but she don judge am.

"You dey chop oily food for this kind time?"

She no believe say my belle fit take am, she dey reason say I dey destroy my body.

"Your belle fit handle am?"

Her voice dey carry concern and anger mix together—like ogiri and maggi for soup.

"Na so you wan waste your living expenses?"

For her mind, every kobo na project.

She dey fire question anyhow. My roommates face move from surprise to shame to just ignore.

If ground fit open, I for hide. Na so their face dey change, nobody wan look me.

Bukky turn, close her bed curtain.

Her own be say, she don sign out from the drama. Na my cross I go carry.

"Mama, abeg, make we talk later..." I dey beg.

My voice low, almost tears.

"Now. Return that suya."

Her tone no get space for discussion. Na command.

"Then write self-criticism, explain wetin you do and wetin you think tonight. I want am tomorrow morning."

Self-criticism—like say na boarding school I dey. But I know say if I argue, wahala go double.

After the call, everywhere quiet.

The silence dey ring for ear, nobody fit look my face. The suya just dey cold for table.

I stand there, hold cold suya, tears dey drop for my face.

The tears dey hot, like pepper, I no fit wipe am before e fall.

"Nkechi..." Halima finally talk. "Your mama... she dey always like this?"

Her voice soft, as if she dey careful make e no cut me more.

I nod, mouth no fit talk.

The smell of suya dey make me wan vomit—just as my mama control dey choke me.

I dey think say if to say I fit disappear, I go do am. The pain pass hunger.

"Erm... we understand." Bukky peep from her curtain. "But next time... abeg no treat us."

Her voice dey gentle but e carry pity. I gats swallow am like bitter leaf.

I know say, as usual, I no go fit get friends for this school.

My own wahala dey too much—nobody wan near person wey dey under constant surveillance.

That night, I curl under my wrapper, dey cry as I type the 'self-criticism' wey my mama request.

The words dey heavy for my hand. I dey write lie, but if I no write am, e go worse.

2 a.m., my phone vibrate again. Long message from my mama:

[You don finish the self-criticism?]

[Na for your own good I dey do am. Outside world no pure.]

[You no sabi manage money. Na me dey teach you.]

[From tomorrow, your Family Wallet limit na 3000 naira per day.]

[Make you learn. I love you.]

Her "I love you" dey always come last, as if say na after slap dem go rub balm.

As I dey look the message, I suddenly realise something scary: this one no be love. Na prison, wear love cloth.

For my mind, na so I picture am—barbed wire tie for body, but dem write "protection" on top.

My mama dey use money tie me like net, tight so tay I no even fit struggle.

I dey imagine say one day, I go suffocate if I no run.

Next morning, as my roommates still dey sleep, I quietly delete the self-criticism wey be lie.

I no get mind to send lie again. My spirit no fit take am.

Instead, I write for my notebook: "How to apply for student loan and campus part-time job."

I dey list options like person wey dey plan jailbreak.

My mama no go ever understand: control no go make me better. E go only teach me to dey lie, to hide, and one day, to rebel.

As I dey write am, I dey wonder—if freedom get price, I ready pay am.