Chapter 3: Dreams, Disappointments, and Lagos Wahala

The year we graduate, my parents dey beg me make I come back. But if I go, no job go dey for me. I tell Halima.

I dey sit for her hostel bed, dey twist my hand. The room dey smell of Milo and body spray. My papa dey call me steady, say, “You go come home this month?”

She hold my hand, worry dey show. “No, you no fit go.”

She squeeze my palm sotay my knuckles dey pain. She nor wan make I run go my village forget her.

“But to live here dey cost, I no sure say I fit manage.”

I dey look my account balance, e be like say ATM dey laugh me. House rent na wahala.

She hug me tight. “No worry. I go beg my papa make e find you small work. Money na my wahala. You just do Mrs. Musa.”

She dey talk like say e easy, but her eyes dey soft. She rub my back, dey whisper say, “Na we two dey for this Lagos.”

That time, all my wahala just disappear.

Her words be like balm for my chest. E sweet me as she dey plan with me. Na small thing remain, I for dance azonto inside her room.

No be say I need her papa to find job for me. I just wan know say if wahala come, I get where I go run enter. My course even make am easier for me to find work pass Halima.

But for my chest, na assurance I dey collect. As long as she dey my side, naija nor fit show me pepper pass my own village witches.

At last, Halima get HR work for one company wey be her papa friend own. After plenty interview, I land product manager work for top tech company for Victoria Island.

Na two of us dey hustle, dey grow. Sometimes, she go yarn me for night about her office wahala. We go dey compare notes, dey form power couple.

I stay for this town.

I dey pay for my own small self-con. Life start to make small sense. I even dey send money go house.

But all those fine moments for life no mean say na the end. To be best for secondary school no mean na the end. To enter better university no mean na the end. To dey with am no mean na the end. To marry no mean na the end. Even to born pikin no be the end.

E get as Naija life be—e nor dey ever finish. If you dey chop today, tomorrow still dey wait for junction. Every level get e own wahala.

Heat dey press body, keke dey blow smoke for road, but I still dey push.