Chapter 2: When Spirit No Gree Rest

Over ten years pass. The day I decide say life don tire me, as I dey dig ground for night breeze, one drunk man stagger come grandma grave, dey shout. As I dey dig, my hand dey shake, night air cold, my head dey scatter. I hear am clear, the wind dey carry im voice come.

"Old witch, since I fit burn you die that time, I no dey fear you. If you enter my dream again, I go dey piss for you every day drown you, you old cargo."

I freeze, sand dey my back, my chest dey heavy. Wetin I just hear? My eye red, anger dey boil for my blood. I grab the man, drag am for ground. Moonlight dey show say na Lawal Sulaimon—Rukayat brother. Fear hold am, but pain no gree me stop.

He confess: na them set fire for my house that year. Rukayat, her papa, mama, and brother burn our house because grandma beg for justice. My hand dey shake, I dey see their face for fire, hear their voice for dream. Just to stop grandma from dragging their name for ground.

No prayer fit cool my spirit again. I kill Lawal Sulaimon, then enter Lawal compound—new two-storey house, big gate. Their laughter dey loud, suya and fried fish smell for air. Rukayat dey shine, gold for body, dey laugh with in-law, proud like queen.

I no talk plenty. I just cut all of them throat—no noise, only blade and breath. Set fire, then go back lie for my pit, blood everywhere. Red glow dey sky. Grandma, na your pain I carry, na your tears I dey pay back. My life don finish—maybe spirit fit rest.

But when I open my eyes again, na the same day—university exam, 1990. Sweat full my body, harmattan dust thick for air, skin dey hot. My mind dey race, confusion dey jam memory. For bush, I dey hear same Rukayat dey shout for help. This time, I just bone. Spirit of wahala no go use me again. For Naija, spirit no dey rest until story finish.