Chapter 4: Lagos No Dey Smile

Me and my wife rush contact every public school for the area.

We waka like people wey dey run for election. From one gate to another. Sun dey beat us, shoes dey gather dust.

But everywhere, na the same story.

For every reception, na the same thing: "Sorry, slot don full." Dem go even look us with pity eyes.

All the slots don full. Even schools we never reason before no dey collect again.

Some schools ask for bribe, but even at that, the queue long reach road. Lagos life no dey smile.

My wife worry sotey she begin cry. “How Ifeoma go take go school now?”

She sit for kitchen floor, head inside her wrapper. Even my mother-in-law call, dey pray for us on phone. The pain deep.

I just quiet for some time.

I no even get strength talk. My mind dey blank. I dey count tiles for parlor.

“Only one way remain: Ifeoma go wait one year. As we dey wait, we go fight for the slot—court or anything.”

Even as I talk, my voice low. I no believe am myself.

But lawyer don warn us: to fight for our right go chop time and energy, and we fit still lose.

Lagos lawyer na straight talker. "Oga, e fit take one, two years. No guarantee."

If we fail, my daughter no just miss Royal Heritage Primary School, she go waste one whole year for nothing.

As I think am, my chest dey tight. I dey imagine Ifeoma dey play with neighbor pikin, dey look dem go school. Heartbreak.

I just feel helpless.

Na only God fit judge this case. Ifeoma too young to dey suffer for adult wahala.

Na that time my guy call.

My phone vibrate for trouser pocket. I jump pick up.

He don get Ibrahim Musa parents’ name and address.

As he drop the info, my body get small ginger.

I jump. “Who be dem?”

Na so my voice high. The whole house hear me.

“The pikin papa na Musa Garba. Dem dey stay for Flat 301, Block 5, Rainbow Estate.”

That address, e shock me. E mean say na my area—na so sharp guys dey hide in plain sight.

Rainbow Estate—na my area be that!

My mind dey boil. So na dem dey run my street?

Good. Very good.

This one sweet me. I ready for am.

I wan see the kind people wey fit do this kind thing without shame.

I tie wrapper, carry phone, pocket key, my mind made up.

Hold my anger, I rush go Rainbow Estate.

I fit swear say my heart dey beat like drum. I dey rehearse what I go tell dem.

I whisper, “Make God hold my hand—no let me disgrace my family today.”

I knock tire, sharp-faced woman with curly hair open door.

She just open door small, look me up and down.

“Who dey there? You dey knock like say you wan break door! You know what time e be?”

Madam, abeg, I dodge third mainland traffic because of this matter.

The way she dey look me, you go think say na NEPA dey cut wire.

I try calm. “You be Ibrahim Musa mama?”

I talk am with respect, no insult. My body dey shake.

“Who you be? Wetin you find for here?”

She dey block door, her eye sharp like market woman.

I no fit hold am. “Your pikin dey use my apartment school slot go school. Wetin you expect make I come do?”

Na so her mouth twist. Her face change sharp sharp. Next thing, she jam door for my face.

My heart cut. Even breeze wey blow for corridor, no fit cool me.