Chapter 4: Dog for the Oga

Na my sister burial, but na Adeyemi family dey run the show. Dem arrange chairs, decorate tent with white cloth, DJ dey play slow gospel, but na Sade family name full everywhere.

Everybody dey greet Sade papa, while Sade dey boast for door with her friends. The pikin dem wear lace and gold, dey shine teeth, dey point at coffin like say na TV show.

Her friends dey surprise, dey ask, “Na true say person die for you?” Dem dey poke Sade, dey try see whether she go cry, but she just dey shine eye.

Sade point my sister coffin, dey proud, “Of course! If una no believe, I go call my papa open coffin show una.” Her voice loud, her laugh dey wicked, like say na fun and game.

The friends just fear, talk say make she no bother. Dem dey pretend say dem brave, but na lie.

Dem come dey talk say Sade na real TV drama princess, person die for am. One girl even snap picture, dey send to her WhatsApp group—one girl even type "See as Sade dey enjoy, person die for am." Another one whisper, say Sade get luck, say e mean say she go get better destiny.

Sade just smile, come talk with vex, “My papa give their family two million naira.” Her eye dey shine, as if money fit wipe away death.

That time, when normal salary na few thousand naira, her friends just open mouth. Dem dey calculate how many wig and phone wey fit buy with that money. Some dey jealous, some dey act like say dem no send.

Me, I no vex. I just dey for corner, dey look, dey count cloud for sky. My face dry, but my mind dey bitter like bitterleaf.

Because mama talk say I must smile. I dey remember her voice, the grip for my shoulder. I dey smile, but my teeth dey grind.

Mama also talk say make I never forget today. I dey repeat am for my mind, like prayer wey priest dey chant for midnight.

During the burial rites, to make e look good, Sade papa tell her make she be the first to kneel at the family altar, say make she thank my sister for saving her life. Dem drag out big white cloth, kneel for ground, elders dey clap, dey bless Sade head.

I kneel by coffin, dey wait Sade. She no want, but she kneel down. Her lace dress brush ground, her face dey squeeze as if pepper enter her eye.

I hear her dey mumble, “Jehovah, God dey here, Jehovah.” The words soft, almost like song, but she no dey pray for my sister. She dey use the moment beg her own God, as if na only her life matter.

She no dey pray for my sister. She just dey remind heaven say na God she dey worship, no be my sister. Her hand dey tremble, her face dey look up, as if make heaven remember who be real pikin for this place.

My sister die, but Adeyemi family no show her any respect. For all their plenty money, na show dem dey do, not real sorrow. The elders dey do like say dem dey mourn, but for their eye, na Sade dem dey celebrate.

Sade papa, as if e dey show off, bring big bundle of condolence money, but e no gree give me, so e ask, “Where your mama?” E raise voice, dey talk like say e care, but everybody know say na perform dem dey perform.

Na that time people remember say na my family burial be this. Dem turn look me, some dey whisper, “Who be this pikin? Where im mama?”

Somebody rush go find my mama, when shout burst from back hall. The scream loud, scatter everybody. Even elders jump, women begin run go back.

I see dem carry my mama come out. She don vomit blood, she don die finish. For her hand, she still dey clutch my sister body, as if she fit drag am go another world.

She still dey hold my sister tight. People try separate them, carry her go hospital, but dem no fit loose her hand. Nurse, doctor, even pastor try—her grip strong pass cement, as if her soul dey inside that small hand.

Inside all the wahala, I just waka go where my mama dey. My leg dey weak, but I push myself reach her side. I no cry, I just stand there, dey watch as the world turn upside down.

I hear Sade dey whisper for back, dey tell her friends, “Good, she don die. My papa wan buy her Range Rover, now e no need again.” Her voice low, but the wickedness dey strong for ear.

Her friends shout, “Range Rover!” Dem eye dey shine, dem dey talk as if car better pass pikin life. The gossip quick, dem no care who dey hear.

I look my mama. She never close her eyes, still dey look my sister. Her face peaceful, like person wey finally rest after long battle. I dey wonder if she dey see us, or if she don go.

I think, Mama wise o. She go meet my sister first, but she want make I live well. Her last words still dey ring for my head, like church bell for Sunday morning.

I hear guests dey gossip:

“See as e good—promotion, money, wife die, everything dey work for am.”

“He wicked, fit even use im own pikin do sacrifice.”

I just see say everything na nonsense. Their talk dey empty, like plastic cup after party. All the praise, the envy, the insult—na dust for wind.

My papa kill him own pikin as sacrifice. Na im own way of blow, but the cost too high.

At last, e oga no rate am, people wey dey work with am no respect am. Even houseboy dey look am with corner eye, like say na common labourer.

True true, Sade talk am well. Na just dog wey Adeyemi family dey raise my papa be. For their house, na only when dem need wahala fixer dem dey call am.