Chapter 6: The Price of Survival

We negotiate tire. I bargain well, and because of his nephew, final price na 600 naira per kilo.

The wahala na say everybody dey look their own pocket. I fight for best price. My friend dey help, but e collect him share too. Na so Naija dey work.

He frown, tell me say he fit approve 600 naira, even get permission from up, but I no fit tell villagers the real price.

E warn me, say if I talk, business go spoil. "No be everything wey eyes see, mouth dey talk," he advice me. I nod.

This na the highest price he fit give, but I no fit use all buy the village orange.

He say, "If I buy everything, next year dem go block me. I must balance am." I gree, make e no spoil next year business.

At first, I no too understand.

I dey wonder why e dey hide mouth. Later, I understand. Na system be that.

He take long drag of cigarette, break am down.

He blow smoke, cross leg. "For this Nigeria, if you no arrange well, you go lose. Everybody dey find their own."

“You still dey young, you never see market wahala. You get plenty orange, but our factory big. E no go make sense if na only your people we dey buy from, abi?”

He tap table. "I must buy from North, East, West, make everybody happy. If not, wahala go burst."

“Na so e be for here. Supplier go set aside small money for sales people. Think am, we no be charity. We dey work for oga, but apart from salary, we need make something too. If all go well, next year we fit work together again...”

He wink. I gree. If I stubborn, business fit spoil. I humble myself.

He really stress ‘we’ and ‘boss’.

Na sign say, if I mess up, both of us go lose. Everybody dey guard him own.

I no be mumu—I understand sharp sharp.

My mind dey calculate. For Naija, if you no dey wise, you go lose both money and friendship.

Just like my classmate, na kickback he dey talk. For this Naija, everybody dey find their own brown envelope.

No be bribe per se, na 'arrangement.' If you like call am gift, the thing na the same.

I understand am. Who wan work free except mumu like me?

I even remember those days for NYSC camp—everybody dey run package. Na so e be.

As he see me dey reason, he blow smoke.

He look me eye to eye, dey test if I go gree. I show face, I no argue.

“As for how much, use your head. I don tell you. No be only you, na so we dey do for everybody. We small factory, cost dey. If we no make something, how we go pay millions? How we go pay others?”

He arrange paper, stand up. Talk finish. I gree, collect hand, no look back.

As I leave, I ask my classmate, and he confirm say na so dem dey run things for factory.

He say, "Bros, welcome to Nigeria." We both laugh. No be only me dey see am.

After month or two, as collection date near, I no get choice but to gree.

I dey reason, but at the end, na only me go chop blame if oranges waste. I humble, gree.

If you think am well, we still lose small.

But for village, small gain better pass empty farm. At least, Christmas go sweet.

But wetin man go do? To make million or two still better pass make everything waste.

I tell papa, "If we no sell, na only fly go chop am." He nod, gree.

Apart from their ‘benefit fee’, other expenses dey. I calculate, the price wey I fit give villagers na 400 naira.

Transport, loading, market people, even chief go chop his own. Everybody dey collect small-small.

Four hundred naira no too high, but among the 300 and 350 naira people dey offer, na the best, and e double the 200 naira from that wicked merchant. At least, everybody fit chop Christmas rice. I believe say nobody go vex.

I tell mama, "This Christmas, soup go dey." She dance, thank God.

After I settle everything, I call papa, tell am.

My voice shake, but I talk am strong. "Na four hundred o."

He quiet for phone. After small time, he talk slow.

His voice low, but I fit hear relief. Even small, better pass none. I fit hear mama dey pray for background, her voice low, but e sweet my belle.

“So na 400 naira be the highest? You no fit try more?”

I swallow spit. "Papa, I try all way. E no work."

I nod, talk loud,

"I swear, if I wan add more, na my own salary go enter."

“If I wan try more, na to use my own salary add join, make am 500 or 600 naira per kilo, pay the extra myself.”

The line silent, I dey fear. Small time, I hear him laugh.

Papa no talk.

He sigh. "No worry, Ifedike. You do your best. God dey."

“You this boy... We dey help people, no be say we dey do charity. Why you go lose money? Four hundred naira dey okay, I go tell chief..."

He sound proud. For our side, man no dey show finish. I gree.

I no know wetin he tell them, but days after, he call, ask when we go start picking and loading. Villagers all agree.

Na so word spread. Every family dey happy. Even chief call me, say, "You try."

Four hundred naira na four hundred naira—better pass nothing.

Old women dey dance for compound, children dey sing. Na better news.

I breathe out. At least I no spoil the matter.

I thank God, send small change home, make dem buy food. Everybody dey prepare.

Even if e no perfect, e no bad. After all this help, maybe people go remember me well for village.

Some people go always grumble, but the ones wey understand, dem go bless me. Na so life be.

By end of November, the oranges ready. Before I go home for Christmas, villagers don pick, pack, weigh, and store everything, just dey wait for buyer.

Oranges full everywhere—sacks, baskets, even wheelbarrow. Papa dey supervise, mama dey count. Na so village dey work together.

As I finish work, I realize say the time wey we agree to collect the orange don near.

I dey restless for office, dey check calendar every minute. Village people dey call, dey remind me, "No fall our hand!"

Plenty things still remain—plus weighing, counting, payment. Before money enter, e fit even reach last week of December.

I dey warn papa, say make nobody spend money wey never enter. For Naija, cash and carry best.

No time to waste.

As December breeze blow, I dey pack bag. Mama dey call every day, papa dey shout my name for phone. I dey ready.

As I think am, I rush enter bus go home, ready to finish this matter once and for all.

On my way home, I dey pray say everything go smooth. Village dey wait, hope dey high. If this one work, e go be better Christmas for everybody. As bus enter my village road, I see orange trees line both sides, sun dey set, breeze dey blow. I just smile, but my mind dey ready—if this one fail, na my name go spoil for village. But if e work, Christmas go sweet like fresh orange juice.