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I Ran From My Father’s House / Chapter 4: Abuja Hustle and Broken Bottles
I Ran From My Father’s House

I Ran From My Father’s House

Author: Jessica Beck


Chapter 4: Abuja Hustle and Broken Bottles

After I settle my mama, I run go business centre sharp sharp, wan find out who be the richest man for Abuja, as bullet comment talk.

I tie my slippers, rush cross road, dodge okada wey dey speed. Sun dey hot, sweat dey run for my chest, but my mind dey strong. As I reach, I dey pant like goat.

But as I enter, oga for counter chase me comot say I be small pikin.

"Na who dey dash you permission enter here? Go find your mama, you no dey see say this na adult place?" He eye me like say I be rat.

"Small pikin like you, why you dey here? Go house go do your homework."

People for business centre just dey look me, some dey shake head. Small girl dey type, she cover mouth, dey hide laugh. E dey pain me say dem dey look me down because I small.

Even the woman wey dey sell recharge card for gate dey point me, dey gossip for Igbo.

I hold him hand, give am fifty naira.

My hand dey sweat as I press the money for his palm, dey beg with my eyes.

"Abeg, bros, help me check who be the richest man for Abuja."

The man eye the money, then look me up and down. He no gree smile, just cross him leg, dey bounce pen for finger.

Oga for counter hold the money, think small, then ask me why I need am.

His eyebrow raise, he talk low, "Who send you? Wetin you wan use the info do?"

I tell am say my mama na the daughter of Abuja richest man, but now her head don dey touch, and I wan help her find her people.

People for the shop just pause, dey look me. I fit see surprise for their face, like say I dey talk one big lie. I dey almost whisper, voice small.

Next thing, oga for counter give me one correct kick for yansh, bend hand, yarn, "Na me be Dangote pikin, abeg! Abi make I help you find am for inside Guinness bottle?"

Na so laughter scatter everywhere. One girl for counter almost fall for chair. The way I talk am, e pain am well. Some people for back dey clap, dey shout 'See pikin!' Oga face red, but e no fit talk.

Oga just insult me, throw my money back, chase me comot.

"Get out, abeg! Na small pikin dey disturb customer now? Go learn book, no dey reason big man wahala!"

As I dey vex, bullet comments pop up again.

The street no even send me. Sun dey burn, but na bullet comment dey run my mind.

[Wetin! How Chijioke take know say na him grandpapa be Abuja richest man?]

[I get one mad idea... Chijioke, if you dey see this, type 1.]

I just turn head, confuse, ask out loud:

My voice crack, "Abeg, wetin be type 1?" Even small pikin beside me dey look me like say I don craze.

"Abeg, wetin be type 1?"

For my head, I dey reason maybe na new code for computer. I dey lost, but I no wan shame.

After one long silence, bullet comments just burst.

Na like crowd dey shout for stadium. The comment dey plenty, my eye dey turn.

[See am! Fourth wall don break! This na interactive novel?]

[He don turn NPC, na wa o!]

[Quick, make I give you correct gist. Chijioke, your grandpapa name na Lin Nwachukwu, chairman of Lin Group for Abuja. Go find am if you wan survive!]

[If you no quick go treat your mama, her sickness go show face in half month. Your papa no go help—na drag he go drag your mama die! You self go suffer die!]

My body cold. Lin Nwachukwu. That name ring for my ear like thunder.

My heart miss one beat for fear.

I nearly collapse. My chest dey shake, leg dey weak. I dey reason say, if na true, I fit be big man pikin!

I no fit let my mama die!

I look sky, pray inside, 'God abeg, help me make this hustle work.'

But Abuja far, and I get only fifty naira. How I go reach there?

I stand for road dey calculate, dey check inside pocket, dey see say fifty naira no fit even carry me reach Jabi park, talk less of Abuja main town. Tears dey my eye, but my mind dey work.

As I waka pass suya spot, the pepper smoke burn my nose, but I no fit stop—mission dey.

I see one old baba dey pick bottle.

Him back bend, shirt tear, but e dey serious for work. I look am, e dey arrange bottle for sack with speed, like say him dey chase time.

No even reason am, I rush go another dustbin, begin pack bottle, can, carton—no even send if e dirty.

My hand dey dirty, but I no care. I dey pack anyhow—plastic, bottle, anything wey fit sell. I dey jump fence, dodge security, my slippers don cut.

[See, you dey pick trash—how long e go take you gather transport money? Before you get am, your mama body go cold!]

[Abeg, just beg for road. E go quick pass!]

I hear the voice for my head, but e dey pain me. Me, beg? Never! I dey tell myself say, 'Person wey dey work no dey shame.'

Begging na scam. Picking trash na better work with my hand.

Na true. At least, my sweat dey inside. My pride still dey, even if na dirty job.

That old baba self no dey beg. I get hand and leg—wetin I dey fear?

If baba fit survive, I sef go fit. Na so I reason am for my mind, dey push myself.

Half month deadline—even if I no chop, I must find transport money within one week!

My head dey count day by day. I dey write for back of old exercise book—'Day 1: 120 naira. Day 2: 300 naira.'

Next day after school, I dey waka from one compound dustbin to another, dey find bottle.

Some people go throw water for me, dey shout, 'Who be that?' But me, I no send. Mission na mission.

If security pursue me, I run.

I sharp, I sabi corner for fence, fit jump gutter like rabbit. Sometimes my heart dey beat, but I no fit stop.

If agbero threaten me, I just humble, beg, then waka.

Sometimes dem go block road, dey size my sack. I go greet, bow small, say, 'Abeg, na work I dey do.'

Busy till night, I sit for road, wipe sweat, drag my big bag of plastic go sell for recycling.

The man for shop go weigh my bag, shake head, say, 'You try, but bottle plenty, money no too much.' My hand dey black, but my mind dey hopeful.

But na so, one fine old man just grab my bag.

For one second, I no believe my eye. Man just rush, snatch my sweat, dey act like say na him own.

"You no want these again? If you no want, give me."

The way him talk, I vex. Na so I dey suffer since morning, person wan thief my hustle!

I shout quick,

My voice crack, 'I wan sell am! Why you dey thief my thing?!' People dey pass dey look, but nobody stop.

"I wan sell am! Why you dey thief my thing?!"

My heart dey beat, hand dey pull sack like say na my whole life dey inside.

Old man pull hard. "This your age, you suppose dey school, no be dey pick trash."

He strong pass me. He drag me, bag fall from my hand.

I try drag back, but him hand strong like bricklayer. Bag fall, my mind break.

I just dey look as he throw my bottles for him keke napep and drive go.

Tears gather for my eye as I see am. E pain me pass slap.

I no cry when my papa dey beat me, or when I dey treat my mama wound.

But this one touch me deep. My pride dey pain me, my spirit weak.

But now, tears just dey pour from my eye.

E rush like flood. People dey pass, but nobody stop. Even my voice no fit come out. I just sit down, dey shake.

"Na me pick those things! How my homework take concern you? You thief from small pikin—shame no catch you?"

My voice break, hand dey tremble. My leg dey weak, my chest dey pain.

One aboki for gate just hiss, shake head, dey mutter, "Na wah o, this life no balance."

One Mama Kemi see me dey cry, ask wetin happen.

She adjust her Ankara wrapper, squat beside me, her voice soft like pap. She drop her market bag, kneel for my side, wipe my face with wrapper. She soft, her face kind. 'Chijioke, wetin happen now?' she ask again.

I point the old man wey dey go, say he thief my bottles.

I dey explain, voice shaky, 'Na all my money, Mama Kemi. Now I no get anything.'

Mama Kemi use handkerchief clean my dirty face, then give me 500 naira.

She press am for my hand, say, 'No cry, my pikin. Take am, e go better.'

I no gree collect.

I dey shake head, say, 'No, Mama. E too much.'

Mama Kemi say na her husband. Him get sickness wey no get cure, just get few days remain, so he wan do one bad thing make person shout for am last time.

Her eyes red as she talk am. 'Forgive am, my pikin. Sometimes, when person know say him time near, e go do anyhow.'

She say make I no worry, make I forgive am, make I collect the money as if she buy the bottles.

She press the money again for my hand, say, 'Take am as if I buy am from you. Na God hand you dey.'

I bow well, collect the 500 naira, happy go house.

For the first time that day, my body light. I dey thank God for small mercy, even if wahala still dey.

As I waka commot for house that night, only one thing dey my mind—this war never finish.

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