Chapter 4: Numbers Fly Like Harmattan Breeze

"So young, but e don master multiplication, don reach third grade—this kind talent, na once in a century!" people dey hail.

Some elders dey nod head. One small boy beside me dey jump, dey repeat the answer as if e get prize.

As I dey hear all the talk around me, my mind just full with question mark.

I dey wonder if na only me sabi say 2×3 no be big deal. Abi I dey craze?

Una never learn multiplication table before?

For Umuola, dem go flog you well if you miss am. My aunty go say, "Ifedike, no disgrace my name!"

Before I fit finish my complain, Elder Brother Tunde catch him breathe, throw another one:

The man no gree give up. E eyes dey red. E shout like say e dey call thunder.

"3×4, 5×8, 7×9?"

Three wind blades, sharper than before, fly go meet Seyi.

The wind dey sharp, e fit cut broom. I see small leaves fly for air.

Seyi no even shake, just raise hand reply:

"Twelve, forty, sixty-three."

E answer steady, no fear for e voice. I begin dey sweat for Tunde side.

The three wind blades just disappear one by one.

One by one, e just vanish, no sound, no dust. Seyi just dey smile like teacher.

Elder Brother Tunde don dey pant, sweat dey drop for him face.

E hand dey shake small. Even Baba Musa begin look ground, e no fit look the stage again.

Seyi come step forward, eyes sharp, do one hand sign.

E bend two fingers, draw small circle for air. Everywhere come quiet.

"What is 4×8÷2−9?"

As e talk, im hand glow small, like lamp for NEPA blackout. The question hang for air.

Na so one powerful sword spirit just fly go meet Elder Brother Tunde.

The sword na like light, e make small sound—shiiiii—dey come straight.

E face white, you go know say the answer no reach him head. Panic catch am, e try defend, but the sword spirit just break through like say na paper.

Tunde try block am, but e too slow. The sword cut im sleeve, mark im chest. The crowd hiss small.

Elder Brother Tunde shout, fall back, body full of sword marks.

E land with thud. One junior disciple help am stand, but e just dey shake head. The shame no be here.

People begin shout:

"Na mixed multiplication and division!"

"E don reach fourth grade level!"

"This kind young fourth grade expert—fear catch me!"

The crowd dey shout, dey raise Seyi hand like champion. Some elders dey wipe sweat, dey nod.

Me: ...

I just dey look ground, dey imagine if na so my own match go be, make dem no go ask me 'spell yam' make I collapse for stage.

So, all of una for this place, na only primary school una reach?

For my mind, I dey laugh small, but my chest dey heavy. This life, ehn—wahala no dey finish.