Chapter 4: Musa’s True Colour

As I reach my desk, Manager Musa dey gist with others. As he see me, he just talk anyhow, "Ifeanyi, no vex abeg. Na normal staff adjustment be this, you understand, abi? You know as e be for this country—today na you, tomorrow fit be me."

E dey pain me say person wey suppose stand for me dey talk like stranger. He no even lower voice. People dey hear am. The way he dey form gentle, e be like when NEPA take light but gen never on—everywhere dull.

Na your mama leg I understand.

For my mind I dey curse am. If no be say I dey respect my family, I for yarn am direct. But I hold myself—no be every battle you dey fight for public.

Everybody for the team already know say dem don sack me—their faces just dey somehow.

I see as some dey shift eye, some dey pretend dey busy. Nobody wan talk, nobody wan look me for eye. For Naija, when dem sack person, people dey fear make e no reach their turn, so dem dey distance. Wetin man go do?

And I see that yeye proud look for Musa eye.

His eye dey shine like person wey win awoof. Even as he dey form pity, the pride dey his face. I know am.

Na wa.

If I tell you say I never see this kain thing before, I dey lie. But e still dey shock me, because na my own turn.

This old man don dey wait for this day since.

Maybe na my stubbornness, maybe na him envy, but the man don dey keep am for chest. You go know person wey dey wait make you fall. Today na him day.