Chapter 3: Strawberry Wahala

That afternoon, I waka go one mama put near campus. As I order, comments rush come again:

[The supporting babe wan show herself for where the main babe dey work part-time.]

[Abeg, make this supporting babe just comot. Protect our main babe!]

As I enter, heat from the small coal stove dey slap my face, and the air thick with scent of frying fish and Maggi. Small generator dey hum for background, and egusi smell dey mix with the pepper soup aroma. I wipe sweat from my forehead, wait for my order.

So, na here Halima Musa dey do her part-time work.

One soft female voice talk for my side:

"Your strawberry cake dey here. Make I add water for you."

I turn, na Halima Musa I see.

Her face fine and gentle, eyes dey shine, skin fair, hair long and black. She look really soft and beautiful.

Her beauty different—no be the kind wey dey make noise, na the one wey cool like harmattan morning. Even her smile dey careful, as if she dey try hide from trouble.

As she see me, she freeze, her eyes wide. The kettle for her hand just pour cold water on top me.

I shout small, the thing cold die.

Everybody for mama put just turn, some dey laugh under breath. I hold my body make I no vex pass my power.

Halima Musa quickly drop the kettle:

"Sorry! Sorry!"

She rush grab tissue, but as she dey panic, na so she push the strawberry cake land on top me. Strawberry cream just paint my dress like party jollof stain.

The strawberry cake sef na the only one wey I like. Na so I just dey look as cream dey flow for my silk.

I breathe in, hold myself.

Wahala. This dress na real silk chiffon. You no fit just wash am—cream stain don spoil am be that.

Na dress wey my aunty carry from Dubai, e pain me. My eye just dey red small.

I frown, vex dey catch me.

As she see my face, Halima Musa eyes just red, like small goat wey dem frighten:

"I’m really sorry. How much be your dress? I go pay."

Her voice dey shake, e be like she wan cry. I look the babe well, see say she still dey try be strong.

I look her.

She dey shake, fear full her body. But as our eyes jam, I see small stubbornness for her eye.

She no want make anybody look down on am, even as she dey beg. My chest soft small.

I talk, "Thirty thousand for the dress."

I just talk am, mouth sharp, but my mind no too serious. I dey try test her reaction.

Halima Musa eyes open, she step back, tears just dey drop:

"What?"

Her mouth just open, hand dey shake. If to say na some girls, dem go run enter toilet.

I wan talk say I no really mean make she pay. But comments rush come:

[Na the main babe no do am on purpose! Why supporting babe dey ask for big money?]

[Who dey wear this kind expensive cloth come chop? If e stain, na your wahala now!]

[Abeg, community council suppose settle this supporting babe, she too wicked.]

[Main babe, no cry! You no do anything bad.]

The words just hook for my throat. My body vex.

Even for my own matter, e be like say I no get say at all. E pain me, but I just bone.

Na so me come be the bad person now?

This campus wahala sef—people like gist pass food.