Chapter 6: Street Sense

I vex, I fear join.

The pain bite me. Eye dey red. If e enter well, I for land hospital.

If that plastic bullet climb small, e for enter my eye proper. This na real wahala.

Na so Lagos wahala fit end person career. For play wey suppose dey funny, see as e nearly blind me.

But for this kind dangerous play, Musa Garba no even talk, instead he raise thumb for am. “Correct boy! You try!”

Instead make he warn pikin, na so e dey encourage am. This kind upbringing, e fit breed another sharp guy tomorrow.

I just dey boil, wan teach that pikin lesson.

If to say my hand free, I for grip that boy. But see as dem dey form gang.

The wife rush come, block her pikin.

She glare me like say I be thief. She no talk, just grab her son, whisper for his ear.

Musa Garba point finger for my face. “Wetin you wan do? I dey warn you—no touch my son!”

He spit for ground, chest dey out. If to say na compound meeting, fight for burst.

I dey shake with anger. If to say murder no dey illegal, e for red.

My body dey vibrate. Lagos fit push man reach that point. But I remember my family.

As he see say my head dey hot, Musa Garba change mouth. “Oga, make I tell you true, my pikin don dey school since last year. Compulsory education law dey, dem no fit pursue am. Even if you vex, nothing you fit do. How about this: I go give you small compensation, we go end am there. Two hundred thousand naira—how you see am? No be small money.”

The way he talk am, e be like say na market haggling. Two hundred thousand, for wahala wey swallow millions?

Two hundred thousand naira.

Na this one pain me pass. He dey price my future. E pain.

This man get mind.

The nerve! He dey talk like say I be beggar wey dey disturb him. Some people no just get conscience.

“You dey dream.”

I talk am calm, but I ready to break wall. This money na insult.

Musa Garba face change. “Abi you dey find two million?”

He dey mock me, voice dey high. Wife dey join mouth.

The wife spit for ground. “You look responsible, but na scam you come scam us so.”

She twist mouth, eye me from head reach toe. Na real Lagos woman wahala.

Before I come, I think say I don imagine all the possible wahala, but I no believe say dem go turn am back, accuse me instead.

If to say na film, I for change channel. But this one na my life.

Dem talk say na me dey try scam them?

This country na cruise. Victim turn suspect.

I say, “I don already call police, talk to lawyer.”

I make sure dem know, I no dey play. My evidence strong.

“Do as you like. My pikin family registration dey with you, so to use your slot na normal. Even if you go complain reach heaven, e no go change anything.”

He spread hand, lean for wall. Arrogance no let am see road.

“Abeg, make we leave this man. We don try.”

The wife drag pikin, jam door. E loud for my ear.

The whole family jam door.

The slam echo for corridor. Neighbors just sigh, shake head, close window.

E take me time to calm myself make I no faint for vex.

I dey sweat like goat wey escape Sallah. My shirt soak. My head dey ring.

People wey no get shame, law no even dey enough for them.

I reason am—some people no just get conscience. For their mind, na street sharpness.

Ibrahim Musa no fit comot for school now.

For their plan, dem sure say na only dem get sense. But I get plan.

But compulsory education law no talk say dem no fit transfer person.

I remember wetin lawyer talk. "Oga, as guardian, you get right to transfer your ward, if e dey under your registration."

Early morning, I waka go local government registry office, print new family registration booklet.

Fan dey blow hot air, generator noise dey hum for backyard, people dey sweat under faded poster of Mr Governor.

I reach office before dem sweep compound. Sun never rise finish. I dey first for queue.

From another angle, I be Ibrahim Musa legal and proper guardian now.

I look the document well. My mind calm small. This life, na who sharp pass.

If guardian wan show stubborn pikin say life hard for remote village for Taraba wey dey for map but road no reach, who go say e no fit?

Na so my spirit rise. Lagos no fit finish me. I go fight my own, I swear for my papa grave.

Who born dem? For this Lagos, if you no sabi street, street go sabi you.