Chapter 3: Princess Hall Wahala

Princess Hall na private group wey Aunty Morayo create. The group na coded level. Na only confirmed girls dey there—if you no sharp, dem no go add you. For inside, na real Naija drama. Dem dey gossip as dem dey chop puff-puff and drink Zobo.

Na only girls from our team dey there. All of us dey familiar, but e get clique for inside. For that group, anything fit happen. Dem dey judge your matter quick.

That time, about seven or eight of them dey para for me:

"You really wan play with her because of two skins? So you fit sell your sisters like this?"

Dem dey use big grammar shame me. Na so Naija girls dey—you cross small line, dem turn am to committee of inquiry.

"Gold-digger, wetin we talk yesterday?"

You know say for here, if you no follow clique rules, na betrayal. As dem call me gold-digger, my mind weak.

"Quickly delete your message, make we act like we no see am. If not, no blame us if we pursue you."

Na warning o. That kind soft threat wey dey sweet for group, but e get teeth for real life.

I just hiss.

Abeg, na who dem be? Life too short to dey beg for friendship wey no sweet.

"JollofQueen" never even join team reach.

Dem dey fear her money, but e never too reach to judge.

Our team na second for whole country.

No be small thing o. That kind position, if you no get mind, you no fit enter. Only the sharpest dey last.

Any babe wey fit join na either she sabi game well or she get serious money.

E mean say you no fit dull. Either you get hand, or you get level.

JollofQueen na the money type.

E clear for eyes. She no dey form, she just dey do her own jeje.

She just enter, drop 200k naira as chop money.

Dem never see am before. Na so boys begin hail, girls dey reason her source.

Boys plenty pass girls for team, most na students or dey find work.

Na real Naija matter—everybody dey hustle. For here, any small help, boys dey grab am with two hands.

Of course dem go dey lick big girl shoe.

Boys sabi where butter dey, dem dey rush am. Na normal for this side.

The other girls no gree at all.

Dem dey vex. You know say competition dey everywhere for here.

Aunty Morayo and her clique just dey form high class.

Dem dey act as if dem pass everybody, dey set standard for group. If you no belong, dem go show you pepper.

For small group, dem just dey badmouth her, dey lead all the girls to isolate her.

The bad-belle get committee, dem dey organize silent treatment like say na ritual. If you no follow dem, wahala go reach you.

Dem wan make she commot by herself.

Dem believe say if everybody ignore her, she go tire, waka comot.

Last time, to avoid wahala, I just follow Aunty Morayo dey keep quiet.

I no want trouble. Sometimes for Naija, e better to blend than to stand out—especially if your money no long.

But later, for offline meetup—

She begin dey toast vice-captain, na so him wife catch dem.

The way wife show ehn, you go think say Nollywood dey shoot movie. Everywhere scatter. Everybody dey look me like say I be devil.

But she push all blame give me.

She sabi twist story. Before you talk, she don point finger—"Na Shanli cause am." Just like that.

Vice-captain wife use flower vase finish me. Na so I just dey collect insult like NIN slip. Na so vase meet my head—wahala burst. Na only me carry the blame.

Aunty Morayo collect hush money, go house, buy land and car.

True to Naija style, as wahala settle, she chop her own share, use am arrange her life. People wey dey form innocent, na dem dey sharp pass.

My parents beg her to talk true.

You know as elders dey behave—dem go kneel, beg, cry, just to clear their pikin name.

She just roll eye talk:

"Na your daughter seduce man, na she cause her own wahala. Wetin concern me?"

That kind heartless answer wey go pain you for bone. If you no get power, your own don finish.

As I remember how my papa and mama just old overnight after I kpai—

I just dey see their face, the wrinkles, how dem begin weak. Na only pikin wey don see poverty for home go understand.

I no even get time for them again.

Now, I dey run my own matter. Life na jeje.

I sharply leave group chat.

For my mind, e better make peace run than make trouble finish you.