Chapter 6: Songs and Small Joy

All those online novels na lie!

I dey remember all the books wey I read for university. All na sugar for belle, na salt for wound. Reality bitter pass.

Other people transmigrate, na to fly high, do war, enter palace, find love wey go break heart.

For this side, na hospital bed, na prison cell. Love story na for people wey get hope. For here, person just dey find how to survive.

My own na nurse work manual.

I dey carry myself like matron for general hospital. For this cell, na me be chief nurse.

Chapter one: how to dress big wound?

I dey struggle bandage, dey use my wrapper clean blood, dey dey pray make the wound no open again.

Chapter two: how to reduce fever fast?

Na wet cloth I dey use, dey fan am, dey blow air with mouth. I dey find paracetamol for memory, but nothing.

Chapter three: how to stop infection for dirty place?

Soap no dey, water na luxury. Sometimes I use small ogogoro, dey clean the wound like village nurse.

Chapter four: how to give food and water to person wey no fit move?

I dey feed am like baby. I dey sing for am, dey beg make e open mouth.

I dey busy, my head dey turn—open eye to change medicine, feed drug, cool fever, close eye collapse.

Even sleep dey run from me. But I no dey give up.

Nursing dey suck person energy. Doctor go write prescription for ten minutes, but me go nurse for ten days.

I dey learn on top job. Every mistake dey pain me. I dey pray make God guide my hand.

I learn wrap bandage, learn clean wound, even sew am when wound open, use needle and thread borrow from tailor.

My needle work no be fine, but e dey hold body together. Anything to stop blood.

Before, if button fall for shirt, na tailor I dey go—now, na me dey sew by myself.

I dey remember how I go run find Mama Ifeoma for street. Now, na my own hand dey work.

Life no balance.

For this life, na only suffering dey balance pass for everybody.

I touch him head.

Him body dey hot like pepper soup for August. I dey reason how fever fit kill person quick.

"I no be doctor, I no sabi nurse, na only common sense I dey use. We dey try our luck—if I kill you, abeg no come haunt me."

Na play I dey play, but my heart dey heavy.

Small sound come from him chest—maybe hum or grunt, I no sure.

If na olden days, I for think say na spirit dey talk. But this one be real padi.

Cell dirty, leg wound need ogogoro to clean every day. First time, the pain knock am out.

I dey fear, but e dey push me to try again.

He sweat for pain, I sweat for fear—my hand dey shake, no fit continue.

I dey wipe sweat with my wrapper, dey beg God for strength.

He wake, grab my hand, gently pour rest ogogoro for leg, muscle tight like bow.

E dey show say e no wan drag me suffer. E get pride, even for sick bed.

I force laugh: "Oga, I suppose sing hero song for you."

I dey tease, but na way to calm my own mind too.

"Big river dey flow go east~

Stars for sky dey waka with Big Dipper~

Hehe, dey waka with Big Dipper~

One bowl palm wine for friend wey fit die together~

If we go, we go~

With you, everything dey~

Fire or water, we no dey look back~"

I dey sing dey go, my chest dey rise.

The melody no sweet, but for this place, na gold. My own Naija remix join the chorus.

No be to brag, but since primary school, na me dey lead song for assembly. I sabi all the old songs—“Sweet Mother”, “Onyeoma”, even “National Anthem” I dey remix with Igbo flavor. That time, I just get big voice, learn flute for two years, sabi read music, dey use all my pocket money go karaoke with mama.

I remember as my mama go dey clap, papa go dey shake head say I dey waste talent. But na the small small joy dey keep person spirit alive.

My papa and mama say e too cost, so dem buy karaoke machine for house—equipment cheap but dem spend plenty for soundproof.

Na so my compound become concert ground every weekend. My siblings go dey hide for their room.

Other children dey do maths and English for weekend, me I dey lock myself for house dey do concert.

I dey imagine say I dey sing for crowd. The memory dey sweet me, even as I dey sweat inside prison cell.

...

That time, e be like normal thing.

Life sweet that year. I dey remember my pikin time, the smell of akara for morning, the laughter for compound.

Now, e be like past life.

Prison dey show person real side of life. Happiness dey run from here like thief.

I wipe small tears, my mind dey heavy.

I dey tell myself, say one day, this suffering go pass. I go gist this story for people, dem go think say na joke.

I hear one rough voice for my side: "...Which song be that?"

E shock me. The voice croak like old frog, but e sweet my belle.

I freeze.

My hand stop for air. I dey look back, hope dey my eye.

I jump up.

Happiness just catch me. Na so I dey dance small, dey shout: "Ah ah, you talk!"

For this prison, to hear another voice na like to win lottery. My own joy no get limit that day.

But for Kuje Prison, happiness dey last small—danger dey always hide for next corner.