Chapter 6: Bookworm Shock and Party Wahala

For secondary school, my brain just open.

I begin get sense. Book wey I no dey read before, now I dey solve question before teacher talk am finish. My memory sharp.

When exam result come out, teacher voice dey shake: “An An, first for grade! Full marks math! Full marks English! Only two mark lost for essay!”

My name for board, everybody dey look. Teacher dey fear, other pikin dey hail me.

My papa and mama look result, frown like say dem wan crush fly.

Dem shock. Instead of joy, dem dey suspect. For their mind, na only trick fit bring that kind result.

My papa: “Na print error?”

He dey turn paper, dey check if ink miss. He no believe.

My mama: “She cheat? Make we hire person check?”

She dey reason say maybe I pay person for result. She dey suspect me.

4

That night, one old man with white agbada show for house, dey wave staff, dey jump round my bed one hour.

As I dey sleep, na so I dey see baba dey spin for my room. He dey speak in tongue, dey pour powder for floor, dey wave staff like prophet.

“Strange o, strange. Three soul, seven spirit complete. No be juju.”

He dey mumble, dey check my head, dey look my palm. Mama dey peep door, dey shake head.

I pass study, dey chop ice cream, hear argument inside.

I no send, dey lick ice cream, dey use style listen to their gist for parlour.

My papa: “I no pass English, math, government.”

Him voice low. E dey shame to talk.

My mama: “I no even write exam—na money I use pass.”

She dey boast. Everybody know say na true. She no dey hide.

My papa: “Teacher say she fit enter University of Ibadan.”

He dey show admission letter, dey wave am like say na bad luck.

My mama: “University of Ibadan? Na which yeye school be that?”

She dey screw face, dey hiss. For her mind, na party she want, not book.

My papa dey look admission book, dey sad: “No be only yeye—see motto: ‘Self-improvement, virtue.’ Dem wan turn person to bookworm.”

He dey reason say if I enter, I go forget my street sense. E dey worry.

To stop me from ‘spoiling,’ my parents begin try all my interest.

Dem buy book, buy music CD, buy makeup kit. Everything I talk I like, dem go buy three. My room turn to supermarket.

My mama bring fruit, ask: “An An, you don watch ‘Naija Idol’? You fine pass all those girls…”

She dey try push me to music. Even call one music teacher, say make I try.

Later, ‘Entertainment Industry Black-and-Red Survival Guide’ appear for my desk. Papa write for front: ‘Focus on Chapter 3: How to Use Paparazzi Free.’

Papa dey plan my life. He dey mark chapter, dey give me lecture for night. I dey laugh, dey reason which wahala next.

For breakfast, papa push check: “Dad invest for movie—the main babe never choose…”

He dey find way make I enter film. He want use connection. I no send.

I just bring out physics gold medal.

I flash am for table, dey smile. Their mouth shut.

My mama fork fall for ground.

She shock. Fork roll for floor, she no even pick am. Everybody dey look medal.

Everything scatter when early admission letter show.

The day letter land, na so house turn upside down. Even security dey peep.

My papa hand dey shake as he hold envelope. “Ibadan…University of Ibadan… dem wan turn my pikin to scientist?”

He dey mumble, dey turn paper. For him eye, science be like bad luck.

As holiday start, my parents book five-star hotel for entrance party.

Na big party. People full hall, champagne dey flow, DJ dey blast Burna Boy. Even family from village show.

My mama wear designer, hold champagne dey smile for guest: “We just raise am anyhow, see as she sharp…”

She dey toast glass, dey take credit. She dey snap picture, dey show teeth.

Then she hide for dressing room, dey kiss admission letter till lipstick full am.

If you see the letter, e red. All her lipstick for mouth transfer go paper. She dey pray small, dey thank God, dey whisper, "Enemies go hear am today."

My papa own worse.

He dey shake. Every picture wey he take, hand dey tremble. Sometimes, he go look me, tears for eye, dey pray say make I no leave house.

He order cake wey be like University of Ibadan gate, but as he dey cut, hand dey shake, knife almost cut school name.

Cake designer try. Everybody dey snap picture, but papa nearly divide cake for wrong place. People dey laugh, dey tease am.

Near end of party, papa drag me enter VIP room.

He close door, face serious, like say meeting wan start.

Face dark like charcoal. “Just hear say that Hassan pikin… enter University of Ibadan too.”

Voice low, eye sharp. For him mind, wahala don land.

My mama nail snap: “That boy na Yinka, abi? Dem say na competition carry am enter.”

She dey vex, dey squeeze face, dey bite lip. E pain her.

I spin butterfly knife for wrist—‘school gift’ from papa.

My own plan dey. I spin knife, dey wait. For my mind, make dem try me.

“So?”

I no fear. I dey smile, dey prepare for battle.

Papa take deep breath: “An An, hear me well. If you see am, waka another road.”

He dey beg. For him mind, make wahala no start.

My mama, for once, agree: “Yes, that family na wahala.”

She dey nod, dey agree. For her mind, she no wan make I suffer.

I tilt head, smile: “Okay.”

But everybody know say I no gree. My own way, na my own way.

As if.

Inside my head, I dey plan. No be today wahala start.

Papa debt, na pikin go pay. Na so e suppose be.

If family get beef, na me go finish am. E dey my blood.

I wan make Yinka kneel, talk with him mouth, say him papa na goat.

My plan na to win—make Yinka confess, make everybody know say our side dey on top.