Chapter 2: Blood and Ashes

My pikin, my own daughter, suffer assault from one eighteen-year-old boy.

The day wey everything scatter, na like say the ground open swallow me. My leg almost fail me as I run enter hospital. Nurse dey run up and down. Blood dey everywhere. My hand dey shake, I dey pray under my breath, "Chineke, abeg, no let anything happen to my pikin."

When I rush go hospital, my pikin face don pale. She don mess herself, dey ICU, dey struggle for life.

Her small hands cold, her lips dey tremble. The nurses dey clean her up, dey try arrange drip. The smell of antiseptic choke for the air. Her favourite wrapper dey one side, stained with blood. She dey struggle to breathe, her eyes dey roll. My chest heavy, as if stone dey press am.

Doctor tell me say my daughter lose plenty blood for her lower body, her life dey hang for thread. The wound for her private part bad well well.

The doctor be one slim, gentle Yoruba woman, eyes red from lack of sleep. She drag me go one side, talk low so others no go hear. Her voice crack small. As she dey talk, I dey see tears wey she dey force herself to hold. "Oga, you gats strong o. Na God hand we dey." Even the matron wey dey there, just dey shake head, dey whisper prayer.

Them talk say the boy no just wan do bad thing, e be like say na wickedness and humiliation dey inside.

Nurse look me for face, eyes full of pity. "Some people no dey fear God again, oga. This kain evil, na devil hand dey inside."

Before I fit ask doctor more questions, police call me: dem don catch the person wey do am.

My phone dey vibrate for hand, na those police number wey dey always start with zero. As I pick am, police voice dry, no get emotion: "Oga, abeg come station. We don catch the suspect."

I rush go station, wan see the devil wey touch my pikin.

My shoe no fit stay ground as I dey enter station. Even ordinary air for police station dey smell different—fear, sweat, frustration. Some people dey for counter, dey argue over money matter. Everybody dey look me, like say them sabi wetin I come do. I no even greet anybody.

As I enter, I see one middle-aged couple dey disturb police officer, dey talk dey go:

Their cloths fine, the woman tie expensive scarf, the man face be like person wey never smile since last year. Their voice dey sharp, dem dey speak English sometimes, sometimes dey switch to Efik. The woman dey squeeze her face like say na market quarrel she dey settle.

"Our pikin get psychiatric report."

The police just hiss. "Una sabi the way. Una bring the paper? How many times una don come here now?"

One policewoman for counter dey chew gum, she just shake her head, whisper to her colleague, "Oga, na dem again o."

The couple just dey smile like say nothing dey happen. "Na for the boy own good now."

Dem even dey try bribe the officer with small brown envelope, but the man just push am back.

The officer look back, see as I stand behind am, my face dark. E ask if na me be Chika papa.

My eyes no blink, I just nod slow. The officer shift, clear throat, as if im self dey fear wetin I go do. Im face strong, like bricklayer wey no dey smile.

I nod. He frown, drag me one side.

He pull me to one corner where nobody go hear, voice low. "Oga, abeg, just calm down. Wetin happen na big case."

He tell me say those two, with their wicked face, na the parents of the boy wey hurt my pikin.

He point them out, shake head like say im don tire for their matter. "No mind all this their gra-gra. Dem sabi use paper cover evil."

The devil wey touch my pikin na Efe Okon, 18 years, just finish WAEC.

I hear the name, my body cold. Efe Okon—na that kain name wey dem dey hear for big man side. The officer talk say the boy no even show fear, just dey look around, dey whistle one funny tune.

Efe and im friends see my daughter as she dey go house. To show say dem be men, dem drag her enter one corner, do wicked things to am.

Even ordinary street dog for my area no dey behave like that. The officer voice low, he no wan talk too loud make the other people no hear all the dirty detail. But I see the pain for im eye, like say e dey imagine im own daughter.

The officer sigh, talk softly: "We sabi as you dey feel. But Efe don dey trouble since small. No be today. The parents get money—dem sabi the system pass us. Dem don already bring psychiatric report. Abeg, prepare your mind."

He pat my back, like say he dey try share small courage. "Oga, na Nigeria we dey. Abeg, just ready your mind."

I no talk, just look the couple. Dem dey eye me, don already know say na me be Chika papa.

The woman purse lips, dey size me from head to toe. The man adjust im glasses, shift leg. I fit see pride for their eye, like say na dem get world.

After all wetin dem do, dem still dey hide behind paper—person go pay for this thing.

My chest dey beat, but my face no show am. The memory of my daughter dey ICU, dey fight for life, dey burn me.

I think say dem go break down, say sorry, admit say dem fail as parents, that dem regret as their pikin turn monster.

But no.

Dem bone face. Na like say na I offend dem. Nobody say sorry, nobody even shift ground. The woman adjust her gold wristwatch, the man dey fidget with his phone.

The papa, Mr. Okon, no talk anything. E just give me business card—big oga for oil company for Port Harcourt.

The card thick, fine logo, im name big for the front. E act like say na normal meeting. The way e pass the card, e be like say e dey sign contract.

I collect the card, tear am for their front. I match am with my shoe before I throw the pieces.

The way the card tear, sound loud for the station. Some junior officers stop dey write, dey look. Even the cleaner near the door pause mop. I throw the pieces for their face, talk for low voice, "No need for all this. Just tell me how una wan take compensate."

Mr. Okon face change small, but e no show surprise. He just adjust im suit, look me like say im dey try read my mind.

When Mr. Okon hear 'compensate,' e raise eyebrow, like say e dey happy say I dey reason like business man.

E lean small, mouth curve in small smile. "You be correct man, no time for long talk."

"I know say this thing hard you. Me sef be papa, I understand. The way you dey protect your pikin, na so I dey do for my own.

His voice dey like soft snake, e dey sweet mouth but no dey enter belle. E even try arrange chair for me, say make I sit, like say we dey do business lunch.

"We wan send our boy go abroad for school. Na important time for all the documents. We no fit let anything spoil am. So, as long as we fit afford am, just talk your price."

He talk am like say na new car e dey price, not human being life. The woman nod head, dey smile, as if na good thing dem dey do.

"But make you know: my son dey sick that time. No get control. I gas tell you as e be."

The man even try to talk like say na pity e dey beg, but I know say na cover-up dem dey do. The woman use tissue dab her face, but no single tear drop.

I look am. "And so?"

I fold my hand, dey look am steady, no blink. The tension for the air fit cut with knife.

Mr. Okon bring out cigarette, offer me. I collect am.

I nod, collect the stick. My mind dey run wild, but my hand steady. He think say e dey create brotherhood, not knowing say e dey pour petrol inside fire.

He look im wife, then talk, "So even if dem punish my boy, e no go too much. Why we no just settle? Just talk say na small love dey worry dem. Law talk say after fourteen, if dem agree, e no be rape..."

His voice low, as if e dey teach me law. The woman dey nod, dey cross leg, like person wey dey house party.

He begin find lighter. I bring out my own, raise am make e know say e no need search.

I bring my small black lighter—old, but still dey work. The way I raise am, my eye no leave im face.

Mr. Okon smile, think say I don agree.

He lean forward, mouth twist in half-smile. E think say e don win me. His hand steady, eyes dey shine, like say e dey celebrate silent victory.

But as e bend come, I grab im head with my right hand, twist im head small, so the lighter touch the edge, fire catch sharp. The small hair wey remain for im head begin burn.

The thing loud, the smell of burnt hair scatter for air. Everybody shock. One young constable nearly drop im rifle. The sound of flesh dey hiss, the fire dey catch. Mr. Okon struggle, try to break free. My grip tight like crocodile jaw.

"Ah—!"

His scream sharp. The echo ring for the station. People begin shout. The receptionist stand, her biro fall for ground.

One old woman for corner just dey cross her chest, dey whisper, “God forbid.”

Mr. Okon, wey just dey smile before, face change. "Wetin you dey do! You... Help! Off am! Quick!"

The man dey roll like yam for ground. The fire climb small for jacket, e dey slap am, try quench am. His shoe fly commot, his socks dirty with dust. Everybody just dey watch. Police no quick react; dem dey fear say na family matter.

He fall for ground, dey hold im head, fire dey catch im jacket. He dey roll for ground. I just bend, use the fire for im head take light my cigarette, puff am slow.

I drag smoke, cold face. For that moment, I no feel fear, no feel pity. Even the police dey confuse, some dey try look away, others dey try find water.

Na that time, im wife realise, tear her jacket, dey use am slap im head to quench the fire.

Her scream sharp, her gold earrings fall commot, scatter for ground. She dey beat the fire with expensive jacket. The smoke dey make everybody cough. Even the DPO rush come, but nobody fit near yet.

I just look dem coldly. When the fire almost off, I throw the half-burnt cigarette for their side like say na dirty.

The ashes fly, land for the man's trouser. I no shift leg. I just waka pass, spit for ground. My mind cold. The silence heavy like church for Good Friday.

One sergeant shout, “Wetin dey happen here? Una wan burn station?” but nobody answer.

Mr. Okon wife shout, "You dey mad! For police station front!"

Her voice crack. Some of the officers dey hold her, dey beg her to calm down. People dey video with phone, but nobody fit interfere.

I answer am, "No vex. Na mistake. I just wan give am light—I no know say im body dey catch fire like that. Una suppose dey careful."

My tone soft, but my eye hard. I use my left hand arrange my shirt, look her like say she no matter.

But as I waka go, my hand dey shake small from the rush.

The adrenaline dey pump. I use hand clean sweat from forehead. Inside my body, I dey feel alive, but my heart dey knock like generator for full load. I whisper, "Na so e dey be."

The fear for Mr. Okon face bring back old memory wey I think say I don forget.

That kind fear na only person wey don see death go sabi. E remind me of my own time for hospital—wetin trauma dey do man mind.

Ten years ago, after I comot for psychiatric hospital, I never feel alive reach like this.

I just dey mutter, “God, see me for this matter.” As I light another stick for outside, my mind flash back to those days—how I dey talk to myself for dark room, how nurse dey fear to give me injection. How madness dey smell, how pain dey sweet and bitter at the same time. For the first time since then, I feel say I fit breathe again, even if na fire bring am out.