Chapter 1: The Day Everything Scatter

Rain dey fall that day, ground muddy, my slippers dey slip as I dey run. I chop beating so tey I come dey waka with crutch since that day and I no fit get pikin again just because I wan protect Ifeoma. The kind suffering wey I see, e no get part two for this my life.

The boy land for prison. Everybody for street hail me small, but later all of them forget, na so life be for Naija.

Later, Ifeoma blow for entertainment industry. Her name dey everywhere, people dey use her gist for radio and market.

I no ever reason say she go open mouth accuse me for public say I dey take advantage of her and dey control her life. My mouth open, hand dey tremble—no be Ifeoma I know, I swear. The kain wahala wey enter my head ehn, even my village people for Imo no fit believe am.

One of her craze fans come kill me, cut my throat. As I dey die, she look me for face and hiss:

“If no be you, how Musa for go prison!” Her eyes cold pass harmattan breeze. She no even shake.

“I want make you use your life pay for the love wey I lose!” Her voice sharp like blade, e cut me for heart again. For Naija, sometimes, na who you help go finish you.

When I open my eyes again, I don turn back to the day wey Ifeoma dey dragged enter bush by that street boy wey always dey hang for junction, dey smoke Igbo, dey harass people. Everywhere quiet like say make God reset my story.

This time, I just go sidon dey look. That yeye boy and that ungrateful babe fit handle their wahala by themselves! My own don finish for their matter. But as I sidon dey look, my heart still dey shake—wetin go happen if I just waka comot?