Chapter 1: The Ritual of Lots

The way my papa and mama arrange the lots that morning, e resemble ritual for our parlour. The air thick like harmattan, tension full everywhere as dem pass the folded papers round. Even the radio for corner keep quiet, as if e sabi say serious matter dey. My mama just hold her wrapper tight, eyes dey jump from me to my brother, while papa dey look us with that 'no nonsense' face.

My brother pick the lot to drop out, so na me be the only person for family wey finish university.

E still dey my mind like yesterday—the way my brother hand dey shake small, my own heart dey beat like talking drum. That small paper just carry our whole future. As my brother open am see 'dropout,' e just hiss, turn face. Me, as I see 'continue,' my belle sweet and fear dey inside at the same time. I no even sure if I suppose happy or pity am.

But from that day, my parents begin remind me steady say I must give my brother money and look after am, always saying I dey owe am for life.

From first day I carry my bag go university, na so my mama dey hammer, 'No forget your brother o! Remember say na him make you fit go school.' If my brother wan buy phone or fix gen, dem go call me, say 'Help am, he sacrifice for you.' Sometimes, e be like say invisible chain dey my neck, always dragging me back to family wahala.

When my brother marry, dem force me buy am big house for town centre, always talk say if no be say I take his chance to succeed, e for don buy even bigger.

That wedding matter still dey pain me for chest. Na so family meeting gather, begin count my achievements, then say, 'You must show your gratitude.' I buy house for city centre—better flat with POP ceiling—yet dem still complain say e no reach. My uncle even toast me for reception, 'If na your brother get your opportunity, e go get house for Lekki by now.' I just dey smile, but inside, my blood dey boil.

When my brother fight lose him job, dem force me bring am into my company, say if e go school, e no go stubborn reach like that.

E no tay after wedding, my brother begin do wahala for office. When dem sack am, papa call me, 'Blood is thicker than water.' Before I know, my brother dey my company, dey do anyhow, but na me dem dey blame. My own staff dey gossip, say I dey run family charity. But for house, if I complain, na war.

Even when I wan marry, my wedding must small pass my brother own. If not, dem say I dey show off and I go hurt him feelings.

You see, when I dey plan my own wedding, dem talk say, 'No do pass your brother, o.' Na so we do small ceremony, my wife even complain say her people no chop well. But my mama clap hand, 'This is how elder brother should behave—be humble.' Dem no even let me spray better money for dance floor. I just swallow am like bitterleaf.

But the truth be say, even if we no draw lots that time, with my brother results, e no fit even enter polytechnic.

To talk true, my brother no sabi book. For secondary school, na miracle pass. If no be say family dey run things with principal, e no fit see result. Polytechnic self get standard, so who e wan deceive?

Na my brother actually push the study lot for my hand, but then use am hold me for neck till today.

As I think back, I remember clear: na my brother sharp hand swap the paper, then later cry say e sacrifice for me. All na big plan to tie me down. Sometimes, when cold dey night, I go just dey look ceiling dey wonder, how person fit wicked like this?

As I open my eyes again, na that same day of the lots I find myself.

As I open eye, everything just reset—like Nollywood rewind. My hand dey shake, but this time, my mind clear. If God give me another chance, I no go waste am.

This time, I grab the dropout lot without even think and refuse to swap.

The way I grab am, no time for mago-mago. My brother try sharp, but I hold tight. This life, na me get steering now.

Go study anywhere you like—but as for me, I no fit remain for this family again.

As I stand, I look everybody for house—my brother, my mama, my papa. I just talk for my mind: 'Oya, una fit do as una like, but me, I don waka.'