Chapter 2: The Echo in the Wall

I see the photo for my WhatsApp status.

E late, that kind midnight wey even dog no dey bark. My phone vibrate, small ping for the dark. I click the status as usual, no know say wetin I go see fit scatter my world again.

Na Tunde, my old neighbour and cousin, post am. We dey get along well, even as family scatter everywhere.

Me and Tunde grow together—play ball, share akara for roadside. Back then, na only him I fit trust with spare key or secret. Life carry us go different places, but family still dey tie us together.

I stare that face-shaped stain for wall for long. The more I look, the more uneasy I feel.

The eyes for that stain dey follow me—stubborn, sad. My heart dey beat hard, like e wan break my ribs. I zoom the picture, dey find explanation—maybe na shadow, maybe old patch—but the more I look, the more e resemble Ifeoma. Even the way her cheek curve, her small mouth.

Because I remember something: One time, my son wake from nightmare, dey mumble,

"Sis dey cry inside wall..."

That voice, small and scared, make me shiver that night. I remember—Ebuka, sweating, bedsheet wrap am, dey cry that word, as if e hear something wey no be anybody fit hear. His eyes wild, refuse to sleep near any wall for days.

That time, I just think say na because he miss him sister. But now, as I look this photo, cold just catch me.

I hush Ebuka then, rub him head, say dream na only tired mind dey do. But with this photo, my blood just cold, my head dey prick. The boy fit dey see wetin adult dey pretend no dey.

Back then, she vanish without trace. We search everywhere, not even one clue.

I remember every second—we turn dustbin, jump fence, knock every flat, call Ifeoma till my throat pain. Me and my wife sit for DPO office, beg for help, neighbours just dey look from window with pity and fear.

But now, clue don show.

E be like world shift, as if the spirit of that compound finally vomit secret wey e hide too long. I hold my phone tight, heart dey run.

The reason we no fit find her that time be say—

She dey inside the wall.

Those words bitter for my mouth, like first time I chew kola nut. Old story come back—children wey get lost between world, spirit wey hide for wall and tree. My own pikin don enter those kind story?

That midnight, goosebumps just cover my body.

My skin just dey tingle, hair stand. I off my phone, but the image no gree leave my eye. I whisper prayer for under my breath—God, no let sorrow finish us—hoping say ancestor go forgive any wrong wey don happen.