Chapter 1: Pattern of Death

My great-grandfather lived till sixty, my grandfather made it to fifty, my papa only reached forty—so how long I go live?

Na my pikin homework question be that, but as I see am, cold catch me for body. Rain dey threaten for sky, wind dey slap zinc roof. Because na exactly the same thing dey happen for my family.

1

"Thirty, abi? No be clear like daylight? You still dey reason am?" My wife just bend look the book, talk am like say na joke. "I see as you dey stare that paper since, I think say na some hard question dey worry you."

The way she take dismiss the matter, you go think say na beans. She just waka commot, tie wrapper tight for her chest, one hand rest for waist like market woman ready for quarrel. Her voice sharp, the kind wey dey make person chest cold. As she dey talk, she use one hand scatter small fly wey dey disturb, like say nothing dey for this life reach her.

"Where you see this kind question from?" My hand dey shake. God abeg, make e just be coincidence. After all, na thirty I dey this year.

My voice low, like person wey dey talk with mouth full of hot pepper soup. Sweat dey roll for my armpit, like say I run Okada race, even as I try hide am with fake smile. Fear dey press my throat, but I no wan show am.

"Na the lesson teacher for the lesson centre give am, I think." My wife no even send. I just take one deep breath, carry the exercise book check. Apart from that question, the rest na normal primary school maths.

She just continue dey arrange kitchen things, no even look my face. The smell of maggi and crayfish wey dey come from pot dey make my stomach grumble, even as fear dey dance for my mind. Na only me dey see as this thing dey strange so?

But this one—e resemble ordinary pattern question, but e just dey somehow.

Na so goosebumps run my skin. The words dey my head dey dance round and round, like masquerade for New Yam festival. Ordinary pattern, but the pattern get as e be.

"This your lesson centre no try. We go find another one." I try act like say e no be anything, but the next day, my pikin bring homework from him main school—na the same strange question again:

My heart do kpim. I hold the book tight, fingers dey shake. My eye no fit blink. How question go waka reach two different place like this? I dey suspect wahala.

"My great-grandfather lived till sixty, my grandfather to fifty, my papa only reach forty—so how long I go live?"

Answer still na thirty. I no fit hold am again, I vex:

"Which kain nonsense question be this? Wetin be the meaning of all this one wey dem dey show small pikin?"

I bang table small, so the biro for my hand fall. My voice get crack, like person wey dey cough since morning. Head dey hot, chest dey jump.

But my wife just squeeze face. "No be just pattern question? Wetin come dey worry you? If you no wan help your pikin do homework, talk am. No come dey find quarrel. I dey take care of this boy everyday—I don tire. I no get strength for your wahala."

She remove scarf, use am wipe sweat for face, hiss for under her breath. She face window, dey arrange curtain. My wahala dey worry am pass her own, I know.

As I see my wife dey vex, I just swallow my own words.

I force smile, shift chair back small, begin arrange pikin book as if nothing dey. My belle dey make small noise like frog wey dey rain. I just keep quiet make wahala no pass like this.

But the truth be say, I really dey near thirty—just three months remain make I clock am. My papa, my grandpapa, my great-grandpapa—all of them die for their birthday, for the exact age dem reach.

I dey count the years for my head, dey remember the way each person for family waka pass. Even the small photograph wey we keep for parlour dey look me as if dem know wetin dey my mind.

I no believe say na just coincidence these questions dey show. As e be, PTA meeting dey come soon, I plan ask the maths teacher about am, make I hear the koko.

I dey rehearse question for my mind, how I go take approach teacher without making myself look like mumu. My heart dey beat anyhow each time I remember am.

As I don decide, I go online dey find the question, but for where—I no see am anywhere. I try all the homework app, e no dey. E be like say the question no dey any question bank at all.

I search Google, try type question in full, even use my junior brother for help. We search reach midnight, nothing show. The thing dey worry me pass as NEPA dey take light for our area.

That one mean say na rare question, so how come both the lesson teacher and the main teacher give am as homework?

E get as e be. For my mind, I dey calculate if somebody dey play with me. Abi na coincidence? Abi dem dey test me for somewhere I no know?

The more I reason am, the more e dey somehow. I run go my village that night, go check our family record book.

Na Okada I use fly go, no tell anybody. The breeze for night cold, even my teeth dey shake as I reach village. Moon dey shine, everywhere quiet, only sound of cricket dey. Cricket dey sing, goat dey cough for backyard, night breeze dey carry scent of burning firewood.

As I open the book, na from my great-grandpapa time dem start to dey write record.

The book old well, the smell be like old paper and camphor. My hand dey shake as I dey flip the page, fear dey press my chest.

From that time: sixty, fifty, forty. E just dey line up like that.

The ink old, but the numbers clear. My eye dey shine, I dey count the years with finger. The thing just dey fear person.

As my mama see me rush come house, she surprise. "Wetin happen? You dey alright?"

She drop the basin wey she dey carry, come close touch my shoulder. The lantern for corner dey cast long shadow for wall, make everywhere dey spooky.

I no hide anything. I tell her wetin I see for the book and my fear. My mama shock small, then she just laugh:

She slap her lap, shake head, her wrapper shift. "Kai! My son, you dey worry yourself for nothing. Life na luck. Everybody get him own time."

She laugh, say, "If death dey fear person, old woman for no sleep."

"Ah-ah, see as you don old reach, you still dey believe all this kind thing? Your great-grandpapa suffer that time—sixty sef na long life for am. Your grandpapa get serious sickness for fifty, na im kill am. Your papa—na accident you know na. Na just coincidence."

She adjust her head tie, use back of hand tap me for chest. Her laugh dey loud, wahala for her face turn to pity. She no dey fear all these kind thing at all, she believe say village juju no fit touch her son.

"But dem all die for their birthday. Exact day."

I talk am slow, look her for eye. My mind dey race, dey search for hope for her face.

"That one get reason too." My mama pat my hand. "Your papa tell me say, your great-grandpapa no even sabi him real birthday. Na your grandpapa write the record, just put the birthday and death day as the same."

She try calm me with that her motherly touch. The kind touch wey dey cure fever when I small. Her voice low, gentle, as if she dey tell me bedtime story.

"Na my grandpapa write the record?"

My eyebrow raise, I dey try fit all the story together. Light dey flicker small, as if the spirit of the house wan join our talk.

"Yes na."

She look me like say I no sabi simple thing. Her smile get small mischief, as if she dey remember better gist.

"But I see say na my great-grandpapa name start am, I think say na him do am."

I dey press her for answer, try get every small detail. Na so I dey always do since I small—question never finish for my mouth.

"No be so. Na your grandpapa time things better small, so na him do the record. He no even sabi the names of people before your great-grandpapa, so na there him start."

She use finger point each name for the book, explain slow, like teacher wey dey break mathematics for slow learner. The air dey thick with memory, as if ancestors dey peep us from wall.

"Okay, I hear."

I nod, close mouth. I try make sense of everything. My mind dey turn like small generator wey dey start with rope.

As I don understand how the book start, my mama come dey talk about how my grandpapa die:

She draw stool near, rest hand for her lap, eyes dey distant. "Your grandpapa get strong head. When the sickness hold am, im talk say im no go die before im birthday. Everybody come dey look time, dey beg God. Im manage reach am, come chop that long life yam wey all elder for village dey chop on big day. Na that small chop e take go meet ancestors."

"That time, your grandpapa sick well-well. Dem even dey fear say he no go reach fifty. Your papa don prepare birthday, your grandpapa just try manage reach the day, chop small long life yam, then die."

Her voice dey shake small, memory heavy for air. That yam she mention, I remember how dem dey cook am, use palm oil and fresh utazi leaf. Village believe say if elder chop am, e fit add extra years—if God agree.

"Your papa own, even though na for him fortieth birthday he die, na because he go buy cake that day, motor jam am. Na just coincidence, abeg no think am."

She wave hand for air, like person wey dey chase stubborn fly. She no want make I dwell for sadness. I dey see the pain for her eye, but she dey try cover am.

Even as my mama talk am, my mind no still rest. I come tell her about my pikin homework.

I clear throat, shift for chair. My hand dey sweat, but I still talk. The fear no wan commot for body.

But she react like my wife: "Na just pattern question, but the person wey set am no get sense—dey use life and death play. You dey think am too much."

She hiss, stand up go kitchen. The pot for fire dey boil, the smell of ogiri fill the house. She no wan make I carry bad luck enter her own mind.

I just sigh. Since when I small open that family book, I don notice this pattern.

I remember the first day I open am, as small pikin, how I dey fear even go toilet alone after. The numbers no ever commot for my head. The pattern dey follow me like shadow.

All these years, fear just dey hide for my mind. As my thirtieth birthday dey near, the fear dey grow. Those two homework questions just remind me again, scare me no be small.

I dey wake up for night, sweat dey my body. I dey dream say person dey count my years with bottle cap, dey remove one by one.

My mama try calm me: "No fear, my pikin. I no go ever do you bad. If I say e go better, e go better."

She rub my back, sing that small lullaby wey she dey use for me when I dey sick as baby. The comfort wey dey her voice, e dey try pursue my fear, but inside me, the pattern dey chase me for dream—like shadow wey no dey tire.