Chapter 5: Police and Street Sense

I think say after I refuse her, e go end. Next day, same time, same place, she dey wait again, grab me as I pass—

She no dey tire. For morning, for evening, she go dey lie wait like say na vigil she dey observe. Me sef begin dey avoid that side, but she sharp.

“My pikin, abeg, pity me. My son no too correct, my husband na street sweeper, we dey survive by my recycling. Now both of them dey hospital, I no get money, hospital wan pursue us.”

Her mouth dey run, tears dey flow. Some people dey gather, dey shake head. You go pity am if you no sabi her true colour.

She cry sotey everywhere gather. People wey no know the story begin talk.

Everybody begin dey drop advice. Some dey record video, some dey gossip. E be like say I be wicked person for the drama.

“Na true, young man, abeg forget am. She don admit say she wrong—just give her the receipt.”

One man, wey dey always wear native and slippers, dey play elder: “Abeg, show mercy. Na old woman, her hand no fit reach trouble.”

“Talk am now, but if na your own loss, you go understand!”

Another voice for back, sharp, “If dem thief you, you go dey smile? Make dem try am for your shop first!”

“Na karma be that.”

One aboki, wey dey sell suya for junction, drop am with finality. Everybody laugh, but na only me e pain.

...

Everybody dey talk. The woman face dey change, but she no gree leave my hand.

Her grip tight like person wey dey hold last bus fare. I dey sweat, dey look for escape.

Suddenly, one woman for the crowd shout: “Ah, no be Mama Rabi be that? Wetin, stealing package for your own house no do you, you come dey thief battery too?”

Na so everywhere scatter. People mouth sharp, matter wey dem no know, dem sabi pass the owner.

The woman quick drop the pity show, jump up, face the person: “Who be that? You dey insult elder? Your mama no teach you?”

Her eyes red, voice sharp. She don forget say she dey beg just now. Na so Lagos dey expose person.

She and the woman begin quarrel, everywhere scatter, I use style waka commot.

As dem dey drag themselves, I just slide out, no look back. If you stay, dem fit use you rehearse fight.

Second day, third day, fourth day... Everyday, she dey block me like that, dey beg for receipt, dey cry make I help her family.

I dey dodge left, dodge right. Sometimes, I go use back gate, sometimes, I go dey run. For this Lagos, person fit run marathon for wahala.

The more she disturb me, the more fear dey catch me. After I finally strong my mind refuse her, she vex, call police—say make dem come punish me say I no get conscience.

My heart jump. I dey wonder how police go reason the matter. For Naija, sometimes na who shout pass dey win.

No wahala. Make dem come. I never see where thief dey cry say na victim before.

I just bone, dey ready for anything. If dem wan carry me go station, make dem try. My mind don strong, e no go break.

Soon, police show.

Na so crowd gather again. Some dey whisper, some dey point. Police van park, two officers come down, dey eye everywhere like say dem dey watch for action film. Their boot jam ground, dust fly. Everybody hold breath.

One old, one young. By that time, Mama Rabi don tire to kneel, she sit for ground. I follow her, sit down too.

The ground rough, but as I sit, I cross my hand for chest. If wahala go start, make e start well.

The police look us, frown: “Why una two dey sit for ground? Wetin happen?”

The old officer rub im belly, the young one dey check him phone. You fit tell say dem no too send, but dem ready hear gist.

Before I talk, the old woman crawl go their leg, sharp sharp: “Oga police, abeg help us old women wey dey pick trash! This boy dey follow me reach my house—e too wicked!”

Her voice loud, her hand dey beg. She dey act like say I be criminal. Some people for compound dey video.

As she talk finish, the younger officer rush help her up, dey look me anyhow.

The officer eye me from head to toe. E be like say my short sleeve no help my case. I just dey calm, dey wait my turn.

I just fold hand, dey look her, dey wait for the next drama.

Na that day I learn say, for Lagos, anybody fit turn your matter upside down. Na so thief dey turn victim, victim dey turn suspect. My only prayer na make God no shame me.

No wahala, make we see how thief go turn victim today.

As I dey wait, my mind dey flash all the battery thief wey never pay for their sins. But I know say for this Naija, even if person dey act film for your head, you must get your own sense. Street wise, no be book wise. E remain small, dem for carry my name go mosque and church join, beg for me head. But God pass them.

I just dey pray, "God, make my name no spoil for street."