Chapter 23: Patience and Restlessness

Soon, I notice something.

The world dey change, the old man dey plan, but my own heart dey restless. Something dey drag me, whisper say time no dey.

“Master, this cutlass thing hard o. When I go fit get power like you?”

The question stubborn, but the hope dey real. I dey beg for shortcut, even as I know say life no dey work like that.

Master smile.

His teeth white, eyes kind. He dey talk say patience na best medicine, but for my own mind, time dey run.

“Martial arts na patience. If you rush, you no go learn.”

His words steady, full of old people wisdom. But for me, patience dey hard, especially when pain dey push me.

I press lips, hold cutlass tight.

The grip strong, knuckles white. For my heart, I dey vow say no matter how long e take, I go learn, I go fight.

Mama no fit wait.

Her pain dey call me. Each night, I dey hear her voice for dream, dey beg me come back. The urgency dey swallow my patience.

Those Fulani people no fit wait either...

Their own hunger, their own plan, dey move quick. For my mind, danger dey grow.

So, one night, as everybody relax, I sneak commot army camp, run go grassland.

Legs dey move, heart dey beat. I no look back. Hope and fear dey mix, but my mind dey clear—na mama I dey go meet.

This time, I make am.

For the first time, my stubbornness pay. I reach the grassland, dust for leg, hope for heart.