Chapter 2: Who Send Me?

Three questions just land, my head begin spin.

For my mind, I dey calculate—how I go escape this wahala now?

Wetin be this one? This man really think say I be student?

The kain confidence wey he get, I dey wonder whether I truly short reach like small pikin.

But I don old pass that—24 years, abeg! I no fit pass for student like that.

My spirit wan shout, "Bros, abeg, I dey old school!"

He scan me from head to toe.

E do am like principal dey check for code of conduct. E even look my feet well, like say him dey count my toes.

Finally, e nod: “You no be student, abi?”

As him nod, small relief enter my body. But I no wan show am.

I begin cough anyhow.

The cough come from nowhere, but e help me hide my shame. Na cover up. I use am hold laughter too.

I quietly pull out my phone, open camera: black and yellow pudding hair, oversized T-shirt, torn micro-shorts, plus those ugly chicken-claw socks and primary school rubber sandals.

I check myself for camera—see as I resemble those street pikin wey dey run errand for mama put shop. My swag na cruise.

Anyhow you look am, I resemble those small agbero wey no like book.

My sandals even get one kain crack for side. My leg dey ashy, no cream—just like say I use Omo wash am. As I look myself, I dey feel say na only God understand my fashion.

So na why he think say I be student. I think say na because I too young. Na lie—na my dressing he dey shade.

E just dey find polite way talk am, but I sabi shade when I see am. My sense dey sharp.

He pull me back: “So, wetin you talk just now?”

Him hand gentle, but voice still steady. My heart dey beat, but I gats form strong.

That deep, fine voice bring me back.

E sound like those radio presenters for midnight show—calm but get authority.

I clear throat repeat: “You wan talk?”

This time, my voice steady, my mind dey ready for anything.

He reason am well. I notice one small mole for his neck wey dey move when he dey talk. See ehn, that thing just fine die.

I dey peep am, dey reason say, e be like say this teacher get secret admirers for this school.

After small time, he answer serious: “Okay, make we talk.”

He adjust glass, him voice come down. E clear throat too, as if e dey prepare for big speech.

“My name na Mr. Folarin. You fit call me Teacher Folarin.”

The way e talk am, e get pride inside. Na man wey respect him name.

I raise eyebrow, surprise small. See as him look gentle, but e get one kind sharpness for body.

E get that calm pride, as if e know say e dey do the right thing.

After Teacher Folarin talk my ear off for half hour about community values, na there I know say the ‘talk’ wey I mean and the one wey he dey talk no be the same.

The way e dey go, I dey reason say maybe na social studies teacher. E carry matter from neighbor wahala, reach why pikin suppose dey greet elder for morning.

He start from ‘respect and harmony’ reach ‘integrity and kindness’, even carry am go national development.

I dey count topics for my mind—if e continue, e go reach ‘unity in diversity’. My leg dey pain me, but I gats endure.

I stand for fence till my leg dey pain me, I just cut am short: “Teacher Folarin, abeg, wetin you dey try talk?”

I no fit hold am again. My back dey wet, leg dey shake. Hunger even dey catch me again.

Teacher Folarin face come serious.

E adjust glass, as if e wan read person mind.

He look me well: “You bully our classmate, Chibuzor?”

As he mention Chibuzor, my mind wake. I dey wonder, "So na my wahala reach staff room?"

Chibuzor?

I think of that stubborn boy face, just reply normal: “Yes, so?”

No fear, no explanation. If dem like make dem invite principal, I no send.

No be only bully, I dey beat am since we small. No lie—Chibuzor don chop slap more than the food wey I don chop.

E get one time, e chop slap, run tell Mummy. But after, e still dey follow me drag remote. Na so we dey grow.

Teacher Folarin face come dark.

E frown small. I fit see as e dey reason if I get home training.

“Madam, no matter which school you dey, if you dey bully my student, I go report you sharp-sharp.”

His voice get that warning tone—like say e dey talk to serious criminal.

Me: ......

I just dey blank. If to say my papa see me so, he go say, "So you dey disgrace family for school?"

So now, to beat my own junior brother na crime?

For my mind, I dey laugh. Which kain Nigeria be this?

He continue: “No force Chibuzor to dey buy you food again. If you dey suffer, I fit help you.”

E talk am as if e wan adopt me. If na movie, na here dem go play soft music.

I just roll my eyes, then smile.

You know that kain smile wey you use talk say, "You never see anything."

“Okay, Teacher Folarin, make we exchange number. If hunger wire me again, maybe you fit help me.”

Na cruise I dey. But I wan see if e go accept. Maybe e go buy me correct jollof.

Teacher Folarin shock, but still nod.

E look me like say e no sure if I dey serious, but e no wan lose guard.

Before I waka, I clear myself: “Teacher Folarin, I no be student o. I don old.”

I use style adjust my slippers, show am my true age.