Chapter 5: Old Walls, Old Wounds

I go down, enter Tunde house. I just act like nothing happen, dey gist about normal things.

Voice steady, but hand dey shake. Tunde pour hot tea, steam dey rise, fill room with small warmth. Air dey heavy, but I force smile, ask about old friends, pretend say na nostalgia carry me come.

Na then I hear say old building go soon demolish. Na why Tunde dey move, even though e pain am.

Tunde eyes sad. ‘This building get memory, good and bad. But place don old—nobody wan repair am. New landlord dey come build shopping complex.’ He shake head, swallow regret with tea.

I ask if dem do any repair since I move, especially common area.

‘Dem patch small small,’ he say. ‘Rain spoil wall, wire dey show, dem fix am. But building no get future.’

Tunde think, then talk,

"After you go, dem do wall repair... I no too remember when."

He scratch beard, eye far. ‘Fit be five or six years ago, I no sure. Dem just patch where water dey enter.’

My mind blank.

Thoughts scatter like broken bottle. Ifeoma hair clip, hide behind new plaster. Who wall am in—wicked or careless? Mouth dry.

Only one thought dey my head—

Dem wall Ifeoma inside during repair.

Pulse dey run, sweat dey break for neck. Old story—children wall in by mistake or evil, spirit wey no rest. E fit happen for my house?

Tunde still dey talk, but I no hear.

Words fade, just roar for my ear. I look tea, no fit taste, lost for pain and suspicion.

After tea, I tell am,

"Tunde, abeg help me do something."

My voice low, urgent. Tunde look me, brow wrinkle.

He frown,

"Brother Sani, no dey formal. Just talk wetin you want."

He move closer, worry for eye. Tunde always man of action.

I wan talk say I wan find Ifeoma. Even if na her remains, I must find am. Na only then I fit go police. Na only then I fit...

Throat tight. How person go beg another make dem dig old ghost? I fumble word, pain fresh as yesterday.

Find who kill am that time.

Justice. Peace. Revenge. My heart dey beat with the need for answer.

But I fear say Tunde no go understand. So I change mouth:

"Abeg follow me break that wall. No ask me why."

I look am for eye, beg with silence. Tunde pause, then nod—him understand pass wetin word fit talk.

Na old walk-up building, no caretaker. Lucky say nobody dey live there, breaking wall easy.

Hall dey echo, dust dey fly. We carry small hammer, chisel—Tunde toolbox. Nobody around, we work fast, heart dey run with every hit.

But disappointment catch me again—

Wall crumble, show only more block, more silence. Sweat soak shirt, plaster full my nail. Big hole show, but nothing answer.

We follow crack for stain, break big hole. Almost reach other side.

Plaster fall, sound dey echo. Arm dey pain, but I no stop. Each strike na prayer, demand for truth.

But inside, na only block. Nothing.

No bone, no cloth, no trace of life or death. Just empty, dey mock my hope.

No sign of Ifeoma remains. Not even one cloth.

Tears dey my eye, frustration and sorrow mix. Seven years wait, still nothing.

Tunde finally ask,

"Brother Sani... wetin you dey find? We no fit just dey break wall like this."

He look tired, dust for face. Voice soft, almost sorry. I wipe brow, shake head, no fit answer.

I nod, give up.

Fight leave my body. Shoulder drop, heavy. Even Tunde pity far.

So, I don mistake again.

Truth dey run from my hand, like ogbono soup, the more you try hold am, the more e slip.

Ifeoma no dey inside wall after all.

No matter how I search, she still dey hide for my mind shadow.

But that hair clip nko?

I turn am for hand, dey find answer for faded pink. How e take reach there?

And that voice—na just my mind dey play?

I press am for chest, close eye, dey beg memory. Na real or na my longing echo?

After we clean, I ready go. Sun dey go down, street almost empty.

World dey orange and gold, shadow long. I look empty yard, old swing dey rust, dey creak. Past and present dey mix.

But I see old man, dirty cloth. E resemble scavenger, maybe mad.

He sit for gate, over scrap. Hair wild, cloth tear, smell of old sweat and smoke. Eye dey run, but settle for me.

Him hair scatter, beard long reach chest, I no see face well. He just dey look me, I no know if I sabi am.

He grin, lips cracked, teeth yellow. I shiver, no sure if na friend or wahala. Eye dey shine—madness, wisdom or both.

As we pass, I hear am mumble,

"Every year, pikin dey waka comot... dem no dey see am again... every year... dem miss..."

Voice rough, words tumble like curse. I stop, heart dey beat. Na warning or just mad talk?

I stop, wan ask am.

I open mouth, word no come. He turn, stare me, eye shine with strange light.

He grin, show yellow, bent teeth, wicked smile.

Smile wide, dey mock. My skin crawl, sense dey shout make I shift.

I shock.

For one moment, fear hold me. E be like say I dey for edge of something dangerous, old and deep.

Then he begin laugh one kain, voice crack like old radio, and run go fast.

"Heh heh... ha ha... heh heh heh..."

Laugh echo for wall, sharp, wild. Before I fit react, he jump up, run disappear, nimble for age.

He run so fast, I no fit catch am even if I try.

I watch am go, pulse dey run. Leg refuse move, fear and curiosity tie me.

As I dey look am go, I frown.

Something about his word stick for me, like oil wey no wash. I wonder if na fate bring am or I dey chase another dead end.

Who be this man?

Mind dey run, dey try fit face to old memory. Spirit, messenger, or just lost soul?

Wetin he mean by ‘children dey miss’? E fit get anything to do with Ifeoma?

I turn the question, pain for chest dey sharp. Hope and fear dey fight, no let me rest.