Chapter 5: Payback and Compound Justice

05

I sleep reach noon the next day. Order food, sit down for computer, ready to update my story.

As I dey type, I dey thank God for small mercies. Sleep wey I get, e resemble village siesta after Christmas rice.

Half hour later, phone ring.

My body jump. I dey always on silent mode, but today the ring loud. I dey reason who fit disturb my peace.

I confuse. I dey always write note for dispatch rider to drop food for my door—nobody dey call me.

I don already tip the rider last week—so I dey wonder wetin come change.

"Oga, you fit come collect your food or make I leave am for down?"

Voice dey shaky, like say wahala dey.

I ask, "Why you no fit drop am for door?"

My mind dey think maybe dog block stair, or landlord dey shout again.

"Oga... better make you come see am yourself."

As I hear that tone, I know say na serious matter. I tie wrapper, waka go door, dey prepare for anything.

I open door, na so one strong smell slap my face.

If you see the way my eye water, you go think say I chop raw pepper. Na pure abomination dey my corridor.

Plenty big nylon of dirty refuse dey for my door, yellow-green water dey flow everywhere.

Na full refuse dump. The stench fit raise dead body. My shoe nearly drown for the dirty water.

Nowhere to step.

I gawk, see as maggot dey do parade. Even my food dey one side, like say e dey beg me to save am.

I no even need think—I know who do am.

No be spiritual attack. Na man-made evil. I just bone, drag my belt, prepare for revenge.

I waka go neighbor door, unbuckle belt.

If dem wan do madness, make we test am. I go show say two can play.

I perform correct water magic for their door.

Omo, I balance well, offload with confidence. The sound alone na victory song. Even if CCTV dey, make dem post am for YouTube.

The yellow, smelly urine just dey flow, make sound like say I dey play drum.

If you see the pattern—na like rainstorm for Benin expressway. The place flood well.

My DNA self dey vibrate.

I feel like say my ancestors dey give me thumbs up from heaven. E sweet me pass asun for Ajegunle joint.

One scene flash for my mind: 20,000 years ago for bush, our Homo sapiens ancestors drag big meat reach cave. Blood smell attract wild animals, their red eyes dey shine for dark.

I dey imagine as big cave lion dey lurk, but our people sharp—dem gather, mark territory, scare enemy away. Na so gene for survival dey pass down.

Some strong young men come out, piss scatter for entrance, mark territory.

I fit see their faces for dream, dey nod for me, dey hail me as hero. My body strong, spirit steady.

Testosterone smell cover blood scent. After small time, wild animals just waka go, hungry.

As the urine dey run, I dey proud say my own na direct action, no be empty threat. I dey represent my generation well.

Half sleep, half awake, I see my ancestors dey hail me. My genes dey nod. The thing sweet me die.

For my mind, I dey reason say if dem give medal for this kind bravery, na gold I go win.

Dispatch rider just stand dey look, shock. I tell am make he join, free himself, feel primitive joy for modern world.

E look me, shake head, but the fear of sack still hold am. Na only smile he fit give.

But decency still hold am, he no fit join.

He adjust bag, comot sharp sharp. For Lagos, respect still dey.

I just smile, go downstairs go buy wall scraper.

As I dey waka, I dey whistle. My mind dey free. If neighbor wan drag, make we drag well.

As I dey come back, one old man stop me.

Na Baba Kazeem, wey dey live under my flat. Him wrapper almost touch ground. Eye dey red, but e gentle.

"Young man, na you quarrel with 302 last night, abi?"

I nod.

I show respect, "Yes sir, na small matter."

Old man sigh. "You just move come, you no know as e be. That family na wahala—try avoid dem."

He shake head, voice low. E get that wisdom of people wey don see Lagos finish.

I laugh. "Why fear dem? Dem be king?"

I dey try lighten mood, but old man serious. "For this compound, some people na local government on their own. No just let dem drag you reach point wey you no fit handle."

"Their family na confirmed street trouble, you no fit win dem," old man say. "I dey live under dem. Dem no dey let me sleep. I don call security, tell caretaker—nothing work. Dem dey even throw cigarette butt for my balcony."

He adjust glasses, voice crack. For eye, you go see say e don try everything.

Other neighbors gather:

As dem hear our talk, two women join. One carry baby for back, the other dey pick beans.

"I dey first floor. I get pawpaw tree for my yard—nurture am for years, fruit just dey ripe. Their pikin climb, pluck all. The tree no cost, but na my sweat. I go meet their papa, na fight—dem say their pikin get running stomach because of my pawpaw, say make I pay hospital bill."

Her voice dey shake. The anger real. Another woman add, "Dem dey throw dirty water down. One day, I dey go work, dem soak me with am."

"Dem hijack basketball court to sun wrapper, no get shame."

Even small pikin wey dey there add, "Dem even thief my parking space."

...

Everybody begin drop story. The thing dey pain me. For this Lagos, you fit see all tribe for one compound, but wahala no dey look face.

Na so I see say dem na real bullies.

If you hear as people dey complain, you go know say na compound-wide suffering. Dem really dey use area as playground.

The more I hear, the more my body dey hot.

Omo, as dem dey talk, my blood dey rise. Na injustice I hate pass.

If dem bad reach like that, abeg, no need pity.

I gree say if wahala reach like this, na to join mouth, fight for justice.

I create WhatsApp group sharp sharp, tell everybody make dem add all victims. I go fight for everybody.

I name am ‘302 Survivors’. Within two minutes, phone dey beep, people dey drop number. Na full community e turn.

Humming, I go upstairs, open their dustbin. Na kitchen dirt full am—the smell nearly blind me.

I cover nose, dey pray make I no vomit. If person wan fight, make e do am with style. I carry rubber glove, no look face.

I carry blender, grind everything to thick paste, rub am for their door. Even block keyhole.

I dey careful make CCTV no catch me. As I rub am, the smell waka like say e get leg. Even flies dey salute me.

The door resemble ogbono soup wey dem forget for two days—fly dey do party, even lizard dey peep.

I snap picture, add filter—make e resemble artwork. As I dey snap, my own phone wan faint from smell.

I check time—dem go soon reach house.

I reason say this revenge na classic. The door fit win award for Art X Lagos.

Snap picture, drop for group chat.

Sharp sharp, group grow from like 10 to 30 people.

Within minutes, even people wey I never greet for stair dey add join. Gossip no dey waste time for Lagos.

Once the picture land, everywhere burst.

People dey drop meme, dey hail me. If you see laughter emoji, phone fit crash.

"Which kind interior design be this? Slop chic?"

"You get talent, abeg. If dem no pay you, na dem lose."

"I dey smell am from my phone—guy, you too much."

I sef dey blush. For small compound, fame dey quick spread.

I talk: "Neighbors, abeg come—better drama dey start."

I dey hype the matter. Drama dey sweet when everybody dey ready.

As I send am, I hear duck sound for stair.

The air still dey smell of fried akara from mama Chidinma kiosk downstairs.

Omo, na real live show. If you see as people dey peep window, dey ready for next episode.

"Mummy, see!" Their pikin shout. "Somebody don rub shit for our door!"

The voice ring loud. Na so the drama start, live and direct. For this our compound, wahala na public holiday—if you blink, you miss episode. I just dey wait for next season.