When a national strike shuts Nigerian public universities and millions of students return home, where is Joy's brother?
Joy has two parts of the day she never thought could change. Mornings, when She and her flat neighbor Faith would turn the apartm...
The church has a teens' section, and we arrive late for the praise and worship session. I dance my hardest during these parts of the service, which occur at the start and end of the service. The pastor of today's service announces that we have an artist in the house. He will perform in the place of our closing praise session.
Turning my head back, I see who she was talking about before turning my face to the altar.
"Everyone clap your hands as I introduce your fellow teenager - Michael, the gospel rapper."
I cover my mouth when he climbs the altar with his head high and picks up the microphone.
"Hello, everyone. Are you ready to get blessed?"
"Yes." Many shout at the top of their voice.
The people around me clap, even when his voice does not align with the song. Yet, some act like they cannot hear the screeching.
"I love you!" One yells before laughing with her friend.
In a seat near the window behind me, Brian claps his hands.
I am sure my dad will not let me teach a boy in his house. Mrs. Ifeoma's money can answer many problems. It can, but not when with my dad.
Dad's like a mountain because if there is a way to convince him, we will not go to Sunday service without him.
At home that afternoon, I have not removed all my church clothes when mom's scream reaches my room.
"What happened? Who gave you money?" I enter the living room to see her with dad on a couch.
"This child, you are a blessing. Mrs. Ifeoma dashed your dad 300 dollars."
"What?" I hold the back of my head. "But why would she do such a thing? Mrs. Ifeoma never dashes us money."
She doesn't. Not even during festive periods like Christmas.
"Something to persuade you into teaching her child. That boy is failing mathematics."
I sit down next to her.
"See why your wife has sense?" She points at my dad.
"What are you showing me? Can you not see that as I let her accept the offer, she will have to focus on her academics and others?" He keeps a straight face.
"Well, it is up to Joy to get serious with her life," She stares at me. "You will have to start reading other subjects, not only mathematics. Teachers have told me how you are failing,"
My dad laughs in disbelief.
"But it is not only me that failed. We all – "
"Shut up. Do not follow those rich kids; their parents have the connections to help them if they fail. With that mindset, I hope you do not waste our money on your final examinations,"
I grit my teeth. "Yes, dad."
"You should try and see Mrs. Ifeoma this week," He focuses on my mom.
"Does that mean I can pay the university acceptance fee?" My mom beams.
"Look, I will not pay for a child who is already failing to do the same abroad," He leaves our company. "I will send you money, go and buy turkey and chicken for us to eat."
Mom follows him to the bedroom.
What will it take for this man to change his mind?
I know that I will have to consult my brother, Osas.
"Why do you want to study abroad so much? Even if everyone wants to leave the country does not mean you should join the wagon," He tells me on the phone.
"You and dad are so patriotic. I may not be as intelligent as they want me to be. That does not mean I did not get that admission fair and square. So it is not passing me by," I watch the corners of the door in case someone is eavesdropping.
A heavy sigh filters through the phone as Osas does not speak.
"Osas? Are you still there?"
"Yes. Do you know the gossip that has been spreading here?"
I yawn. "No, what is it?"
"People are saying there will be a national university strike."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that most Nigerian public universities will close."
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