Chapter 2: Papa’s Wahala and ATM Embarrassment

After my papa hammer for work, pride come enter him head, e begin arrange one guy wey senior me with six years make I date am. I no gree. So I pack my load run comot from house. My papa vex, say e go block all my cards, say I go crawl come back within three days. E don reach one week now. I never return, so na my papa lose this round. Because before I waka, I don carry all my designer bags and watches.

My mama just dey look me that time, shake head, say, "This your stubbornness na from your papa side." But I no send. Even as I dey drag luggage, na correct Aboki dey help me for gate, he dey hail me, "Madam, na you get street!" I just dey laugh, my chest dey rise—small freedom dey sweet belle.

But street no be beans. I try use my ATM for one POS stand near junction, na so the thing show 'transaction declined.' The POS attendant look me, I dey form big girl. I clear throat: 'Aunty, abeg try am again—maybe network dey misbehave.' She try am again, still decline. My face dey hot, embarrassment wan finish me.

To show say I fit survive, I find job for one company wey dey stock market, salary na three thousand per month. One week pass, na my papa first begin panic. E try add me for WhatsApp again, this time e use Hibiscus as nickname. After I leave am hang for one day, I reason say make I just reply small.

As I dey scroll him status, I see say e just land for Geneva. No wahala—while him only pikin dey manage three thousand salary, e dey flex for Switzerland dey chop life for Alps. I no send, I shamelessly message am: “Daddy~ next time you dey go business trip, abeg carry me join body.” Still, e no reply. I begin send cat wey dey beg stickers. “The small cat don broke, no money chop.”

Hibiscus: “……”

I just sigh, I know say my papa still dey vex.

But me sef stubborn: “Wire me hundred thousand make I know say you get power, if not I no go call you Daddy again.”

As I dey type am, I dey laugh small. All those small children wey dey hustle money from parent, na me be their chairman. Sometimes I dey even wish say my papa dey act like other Yoruba daddies—dem for don send me sermon, join fasting. But my papa get style, just dey ghost me.

The bags and watches wey I post online too cost, people no believe say na original, even after I reduce price. Na Zashadu bag I carry, dem still dey argue say e be Aba. Hotel wey I dey stay, na per day dem dey collect money. Daddy, you go gree make your baby girl go sleep under bridge?

All morning, Hibiscus just dey read my message, no reply. After lunch, I try again: “Daddy, your heart dey cold o. You go just allow your small cat dey hungry?”

Finally, as work dey close, e wire me hundred thousand. Sharp sharp I reply: “Daddy, you too much!” I nearly jump for seat, pack my bag, ready go chop correct asun and fried rice after work. As I stand up, my team lead block me.

“Morayo, everybody still dey work.”

I look around. “Okay, I go first, abeg.”

E just look me, shake head, lower voice: “MD never comot o. If you waka now, no bother come tomorrow.”

I raise voice: “I dey collect three thousand per month, una still wan make I do overtime?”

The whole office quiet, my voice just loud. I hear one coworker whisper: 'This girl get liver o.' Abeg, I just wan chop my asun, na wahala?

Na so MD office door open with one loud sound.

My heart fly, na so office people begin dey use eye look me, as if say wahala don set. Na Naija office, if you get mind talk back, dem go just dey wonder who dey give you ginger. Me, na hunger dey drive o!