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My Allowance Don Ruin My Life / Chapter 1: Allowance Wahala Land
My Allowance Don Ruin My Life

My Allowance Don Ruin My Life

Author: Brittany Lee


Chapter 1: Allowance Wahala Land

New semester, new wahala: My mama just slash my allowance from ₦120,000 a month to only ₦40,000.

Na so I just dey sit for my hostel bed, dey count ceiling, my head dey buzz. Fan nor dey work, heat dey slap my back, but na money wahala dey burn me pass. You see, Mama nor even send warning—she just drop am like garri for water—no time to prepare, e soak me quick, scatter my plan. That day, everywhere quiet for hostel, even generator sound nor reach my ear. I look my phone screen, dey calculate wetin remain for me this month.

And that ₦40,000 no even dey come once—na four instalments of ₦10,000 per week.

My mind flash back reach secondary school, when allowance na once a month, and e dey reach. Now, to even chop once for Mama Kemi’s bukka, I dey count change like fuel attendant. I dey miss Mama Kemi’s beans and dodo—now even dodo na luxury. Dem nor dey play for this Ibadan o! This place dey show person pepper pass suya.

Anytime I collect my pocket money, I must send her full account of everything I spend, down to the last kobo.

I dey feel like accountant wey dey answer EFCC. Every kobo, I dey record like say I dey prepare for SUG audit. Sometimes, I go dey write out receipt for pure water, dey snap am, send am for WhatsApp. E reach one day I send her list, she call me say, "You no write transport for there." E shock me!

She call am “training you to be prudent and grateful to your parents.”

She go say, "If I nor teach you now, you go dey waste like people wey nor get home training." That word dey always enter my body like cold harmattan breeze. I dey try dey grateful o, but e hard!

So, me sef go post for my WhatsApp status:

For the photo, I dey hug one yellow-haired guy with my left hand, right hand dey hold Zobo drink from Mama Kemi’s bukka. Caption: “Na only man wey fit spend money for me be the best.”

You know as e be for WhatsApp—once you post, everywhere go scatter. I just dey laugh under my breath, dey wait make one or two family people send "Is this you?" message. That Zobo, e cold reach bone; the yellow-haired guy, na one boy from drama club, e dey do as if e dey craze, e even dey pose like influencer. I dey use style dey provoke Mama small, sha.

Na so my mama WhatsApp video call pop up immediately.

That her green scarf dey for her head, she dey for her bedroom, eye dey red like person wey just finish midnight vigil. As I see her name for screen, my heart cut small. I sabi say wahala dey come.

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