Chapter 2: New Home, New Wahala

I be cat.

I dey live for village with Grandma.

One week ago, Grandma pikin find me—small kitten wey no get strength—carry me come house.

E baff me, give me sausage chop, come cuddle me sleep.

That time, my name no too sweet: Mimi.

But Grandma son no like me. E talk say to raise cat for city dey wahala, say kittens dey carry different germs and lice.

So, na so dem bundle me, send me go village.

The goodbye pain me.

The small pikin cry scatter, hold Grandma wrapper, dey shout, “Grandma, her name na Mimi. Abeg, take care of am well!”

“Papa talk say I fit come visit Mimi for Christmas holiday…”

Grandma just dey look am like say she shock. “Call Didi? No be your papa drive come?”

“Big pikin, abeg, no call Didi—na waste of credit.”

Grandma ear no too good.

If person talk ‘front gate building,’ she go hear ‘hip bone elbow.’

The small pikin cry louder. “No be Didi! Na Mimi! Mimi! Mimi na the kitten!”

Grandma face change. She pat him for sleeve, promise, “Chop suya together? No wahala, next time you come, Grandma go buy suya for you.”

The pikin nearly die, cry, “Ah! Grandma don deaf finish!”

Grandma knock table. “You want puff-puff again? No wahala!”

No be only say Grandma ear dey bad, she sabi rhyme join.

She rush comfort am, pack sweet for him pocket.

Even as dem carry am go car, e still dey shout, “Mimi!”

After everywhere calm, the compound quiet.

Grandma and me just dey look each other.

She bone face talk, “Hear me well, I no go take care of you. E hard for this old woman to feed herself, talk less of small wahala like you.”

As she talk am, my body begin shake.

I no even get mind follow her enter house. I just siddon for yard, dey look.

Grandma get some chickens for yard, plus one mango tree.

The chickens dey make noise, the shadow of the tree long and dark.

Grandma dey sift beans for veranda. Her hand dey shake, beans dey fall everywhere.

Beans roll everywhere. Grandma sigh, “See waste. I go pick am, I go pick am.”

Grandma leg no too good—she dey waka slow, no fit match my four paws. So, I help am chase the beans.

Any one wey I find, I carry am for mouth, drop am for her hand.

Grandma look me again.

She still form hard woman: “No think say because you pick some beans, I go keep you. Wetin I talk, I talk—no food for you this night.”

After she finish with beans, she talk say she dey go buy fish.

So, I follow am.

She ride her keke napep, I dey run behind, dey follow the tyre with my small leg.

Village road no smooth. My paw don dirty—self, I step inside goat shit join.

I no fit bear am.

The ground dey bite my leg, every step I go stop, shake paw.

Keke enter town, Grandma begin quarrel with person.

“You no dey see say your dog dey piss everywhere? I dey wash my keke everyday, once I go buy fish, your dog go piss on top!”

The man dey form say he no hear, dey drag him dog dey go.

Grandma hold him hand. “You no dey hear me? Clean am before you go!”

The man shake her off, point her nose, shout, “Why you dey hold me, old woman? Which eye see my dog piss?”

“So if my dog piss nko? You sabi which kain dog be this? Na boerboel wey dey chop better yam!”

The man voice loud, the yeye dog bark join—man and dog, both dey show muscle.

“My dog cost pass your keke. If e piss for your tyre, you suppose happy.”