Chapter 7: Thunder for Family House

“I give Mama the book.” I stand for front of her. “You no go fit bully Mama.” My voice strong, I no shake, I dey ready to protect her.

Mama say, “No shout for the pikin.” She pull me back small, try shield me with her body.

Papa look Mama, look me, face just cold as he close door. He sigh, eye dey dark, silence heavy for room.

He dey somehow. The way he look us, e be like say we be strangers for him house.

We treat am like this, he no even vex? I dey expect him to shout, but he just dey calm, e make me fear.

I think say maybe Papa still get hope—maybe no be only Mama suppose change, Papa too need change. My mind dey open small, I dey wish say maybe e go hear word.

I use my pocket money, tell Aunty Kemi buy plenty books: ‘How to Be a Good Husband’, ‘Busy Dad, Good Dad’, ‘9 Rules for Being a Good Husband’… I choose better ones, dey make sure say e go help.

I put all the books for study, wait for door, as Papa come, I drag am enter. I dey smile, dey pray say he go read am.

He surprise. E no expect say I fit plan like this, his eyebrow high.

I never talk to am for a while, not to talk of hold him hand. The shock dey show for his face.

He soft, carry me, enter study. His grip gentle, his voice low.

Then he see the books. E scan all the title, mouth open small.

He just laugh. The laugh dry, but e dey real.

He kiss my forehead. “Na you buy these ones, or na Mama? Na because you think say Papa no good?” His voice dey tease, but eye dey search my face.

My eye red, all my pain just come out. Tears rush down, I no fit hold am.

Papa no know wetin to do, he quickly wipe my tears. He dey panic, try pet me, his hand dey shake.

Then he beg me:

“Sorry, Yaya. I dey sorry. Na my fault. I no suppose ignore you and Mama.” His voice low, he dey try hard.

He read those books, try to be better Papa, try explain to Mama:

“Ijeoma na pikin wey Aisha born after she suffer. She no well, no fit take care of Ijeoma, she no wan see her, so she leave her with nanny. Ijeoma dey pity, she dey fear, so I just pretend say I be her papa.” His eye dey beg, his words dey soft.

Mama calm small, but still stand her ground. She dey reason, but she no gree surrender.

“You for tell me, no keep am from me, make I dey find out by myself. Ijeoma dey pity, but her wahala no be my fault. And you let Yaya see all this—e pain her.” Her voice strong, pain dey leak for edge.

Papa just nod, face serious. “Mm.” He no fit look her eye.

“E no go happen again. I no go hide anything from you.” He dey swear, his face dey honest.

Dem begin dey better—like say things dey return to normal. Small small, peace dey show, laughter dey return for house.

But when things too sweet, wahala dey come. Na so life be for Naija—if sun shine too much, rain go soon fall.

Not long, Aisha return from health centre. Her face pale, her voice low, but her wahala never finish.

Papa go pick her by himself. He carry bag, dey talk soft, dey pet her.

She dey smile, but as she see Mama, her face change. Her eyebrow rise, her mouth bend, trouble dey come.

“Mingze be wetin to you? You be him sister? Abeg leave me—I no fit live for house with rapist sister!” Her voice loud, echo for corridor. Everybody freeze—everybody dey wait for next thunder to strike.