For five days, the children returned with five hundred naira notes given to them by this ‘woman’ and it troubled the entire neighborhood. It was even more upsetting that nobody but the little children had come across this woman. Everyone suddenly became vigilant. Theo, the rest of the gang and me stopped working. We hung around every corner trying to get a hold of her. Parents prevented their children from playing any longer, they were all locked inside or under their mothers’ watch. The parents decided that the money the children received should not be spent but kept carefully in case there was any need to return or discard it. We were poor but, we were not beggars.
I sat on top of a three-legged table with Meks (as he is commonly called). We held its fourth part up with a five litres jerican. We were supposed to be on ‘the watch’ for the strange woman but we talked and laughed instead. I was happy that Meks spoke to me like his age mate. He talked about girls and how they always liked to be around him. “Sometimes I dey tire sef.” he said and we both laughed. I laughed not because what he was saying was funny or true, I laughed because I knew he was lying. Meks was one of the ugliest youths in No Go Area. Everyone knew him to be ugly inside and outside. He was really short and had made the mistake of trying to make his too-dark skin light by bleaching it. Now, he was a multicolored short thief to everyone. If anything got missing, the first suspect in everyone’s mind would be Meks. He was a part of Theo’s gang because Theo felt everyone in the hood needed a click or group to be part of and if he (Theo) did not accept him, who would?
“Na so the girl con dey ask me how much I get for pocket. Na him I con dey laugh. The girl think say I be mumu oo…” Meks kept talking, but my attention was caught by a quick flash of light from the left side. I had seen it a while before but it was more obvious now. I looked slowly to the left and standing there was a man holding a camera to his face and taking pictures.
Quickly, Meks and I got down the table and walked towards him. He left the camera hanging on his neck and smiled and waved at us. “Hey,” he said timidly like a child who had been caught about to steal meat from the pot.
“Who you be?” Meks asked looking up at the man. He was a tall man and one could easily tell he was not from the area. He looked clean in his white T-shirt and well ironed cream trousers.
“Hi, my name is Fiyin.”
“Okay? Wetin you dey snap our picture for?”
The man let out a short laugh. “Picture?”
Meks and I exchanged looks. “You sure sey dis man well? Go call Theo sharp sharp.”
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me and even before I said anything, Theo and the boys ran back with me to the spot where Meks and the man stood.
Meks began to explain to Theo immediately we got there. “We just dey sit down for that table when we see sey dis man dey snap us oo. I dey ask am why he dey snap us and he no wan talk.”
“Good evening oga,” Theo said to the man gently.
“Hi, good evening. I’m Fiyin.” The man’s smile reappeared.
“Fiyin, from where?”
“It’s no issue, really. We just needed some pictures of the place for a project. That’s all.”
“Which people be the we? Na government project you dey talk?”
The man laughed again and it began to anger us. “No no, we don’t work for the government at all.”
Theo was about to ask another question when a woman, whose perfume scent reached us before she walked up to us. She was wearing a light blue top and a knickers. She looked very simple yet, she looked very ‘fine’. Instantly, I knew she was the “we” the man had been referring to and the mysterious woman who had been giving out money to the children.
Seeing her, the man let out a sigh of relief and introduced her to us. “Guys, this is Aisha, we work together.”
“Good evening everyone, how are you guys doing?” She sounded very confident, more confident than the man was.
“Who you people be?” Thoe asked her. “We catch your man as him dey snap us. He talk sey na for project. Abeg na which kain project be that one?”
“Well, we were still going to have to approach you guys anyway.” She said under her breath before speaking out. “We just need a few pictures for our magazine.”
“Which magazine be that? And why you need our picture?”
The man was still smiling as she spoke. “It’s called The Everyday magazine and we wanted to write a feature story about this neighborhood. We just need a few pictures for it.”
“You want to write about us for wetin?” I noticed that Theo was trying to brush up his English a little. He was trying not to give them the impression that we were complete illiterates.
“It’s not a big deal, really. We just need you guys to go on with your daily activities, to pretend like we aren’t here. Trust me, you won’t feel our presence.” The woman was still the one speaking.
“So na wetin you will give us for the pictures?”
The two of them were shocked. “Give? We aren’t asking you guys to do anything. We just need you to carry on with your life.” She paused then continued. “The only thing we would have to involve you guys is the documentary.”
I had no idea what a documentary was and I was sure most, if not all, members of the already gathered crowd did not know either. But trust my brother, the wisest person I had ever known. He knew what it meant and asked, “Documentary on wetin? Us? The neighborhood?”
“Ehm, yes. It’s not going to take anyone’s time, I promise. We’ll just have to ask some people some questions. That’s all. You won’t even notice the camera, I promise.”
She was promising so many things and it got me angry. It made me feel like she was lying. I began to imagine cameras lined up at every corner of the hood. I imagined the man taking pictures of us through the window as we drank ogi at night. I imagined pictures of me and the other boys peeping to watch movies at Mama Shekina’s taken. I could imagine the woman asking me questions about my family. I could imagine them everywhere.
Theo looked around the crowd as if to ask them if they were okay with the idea. No one said anything, it was as if they said, “Na your hand e dey Theo.”
“Why you dey give our small children money?” Theo asked all of a sudden.
She looked lost for a moment before she smiled and said, “Oh, that. It’s nothing, I promise. I just felt I should give them and they looked so cute and so…”
Theo interrupted her. “We are not beggars’ oo. We no need you to dey give us money. Abeg. We will give you back all the money you don give us. Our mothers don keep it, we will give you.”
Disappointment appeared on the faces of some women who had probably spent it or were not willing to return it but, they all chorused yes and went to their houses to get the money.
“No no no, they don’t have to return it. It’s a gift. Gifts shouldn’t be returned.” The woman protested.
“No worry, we will return it. You and your people can do wetin you wan do. But abeg, is picture you sey you wan snap oo. We are trusting you now oo. If I hear sey una… If I hear say you people do anything funny, hmmm, you no go like it oo.”
She smiled a sincere smile then. “I promise you, we are only here for pictures and the documentary.” She turned to the man and they exchanged a high five.
“So how we go see the magazine and documentary after you people finish?”
Again, she was surprised. “You would like to see them?”
“Yes na, before nko.” The crowd laughed this time.
“Ehm, it’s no problem. I’ll find a way to get the magazine for you guys.” She said nothing about the documentary but Theo nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.” she said to Theo but he ignored her and walked away. When Theo was not interested, no one was. So, the crowd dispersed immediately he left.
For the three days the woman and her crew were present in No Go Area, nothing was the same. After our baths the next day, Mummy brought out our ‘special occasion clothes’ and asked that we put them on. Daddy shaved his head and the already shaved head of Sunday was shaved again. He asked me to sit for mine to be done too but Theo did not allow it. “Just comb the hair. Na big boy hairstyle be dat.” I smiled and let him comb my hair like he did his own.
Rita applied Mummy’s red lipstick lightly and dabbed powder on her face before setting out to sell ogi. Sunday put on his one and only shoe just to play outside with friends. I noticed Daddy lingering around the house before going to work. I was sure he walked as slowly as was possible. Mummy tied her gele just to sit outside by her grinding machine. Theo and I, with our combed hairs and neat clothes, strolled through the streets, members of the gang joining up as we passed by their houses. We had nowhere to go in particular but we definitely knew we were not going out of No Go Area— not until our pictures had been taken.
One time, we saw a camera pointed towards us and we all smiled at it. Rita passed us once and I noticed she did not carry the ogi in a bowl on her head this time. She placed them orderly in a transparent bucket and carried it with her right hand. Her catwalk was even more obvious and she smiled gingerly and even waved at us. The boys waved back and I did so too even though I was annoyed with what she was doing. A picture was not going capture her catwalk!
It was later I discovered that not only pictures were being taken, videos too. That was what the documentary was all about, Theo explained to me. “Maybe dey go show am for tele.” he said nonchalantly.
“Tele?” I asked in surprise.
“Yes. E go be like the film we they dey watch for Mama Shekina’s bar.”
In the pit of my belly, I began to feel a mixture of excitement and anxiety. If I got featured on the documentary they would show me on the tele and people will watch me? I would be like the man those drunk men had called Mr Ibu and the woman they called Mama G?
I walked home slowly thinking of this and surprisingly, I saw our neighbour and his wife, in front of their house, all dressed up and speaking to the man that had been taking our pictures the other day. A camera man with a camera was in front of them. This was the documentary. I stood fixed to the ground, imagining our neighbours’ on tele and some little children thinking they lived inside it. I noticed Mummy strolling back and forth behind them and I could not but smile.
I hurried over to her and like on cue, she took my hand and we pretended to be having a conversation. We laughed and stole occasional glances at the camera. I felt like Mr Ibu and Mummy was Mama G. We were going to be on tele.
The next day, Theo was interviewed. The woman had told him earlier and so, even Daddy did not go to work. The previous night, for the first time in ages, we didn’t have dinner because we had all been too busy paying attention to the documentary and pictures. We gulped hot ogi hurriedly before we rushed out behind Theo to meet the interviewer and cameraman.
“We only want to interview you Mr. Theo, you alone.”
Theo shrugged. “Na only me you dey interview na. Just leave my family to do wetin they wan do.”
Daddy sat at the front of the door, directly behind where the camera was facing. Rita and Sunday struggled for the broom as both suddenly wanted to sweep the muddy ground. Mummy, like she did when our neighbours’ were being interviewed, strolled slowly back and forth. I started looking for what position to take when Theo called for me. “Abeg make this one stay with me. He fit answer question too.” I looked up at Theo and felt the urge to hug him. He was the best big brother in the entire world.
“How does it feel like living here?”
“Ahh,” Theo began. “Is very nice o. The people in the hood na one large family. We take care of one another. You give your neighbour food if he no have. You help your neighbour back her pikin. Like that like that. The people wey dey call it No Go Area no know anything about it oo.”
The interviewer shook his head and raised his hand to the camera man to pause it. “This is not what we want.” he said as if provoked.
“I no understand.”
“I need you to say the truth.”
“Who tell you sey I dey lie?” Theo looked confused.
“You’re talking like this place is a good place and you’re happy to be here. That’s not what…”
“See this man oo,” Theo interrupted. “You want make I talk wetin no true? You dey live for here? No! So you suppose leave me make I answer the question the way I wan answer am.
The man shook his head. “You are misunderstanding me. You guys are just getting things wrong. Aisha asked you guys to behave normally but you people start acting weird. Now, you’re giving answers that we are not looking for.”
“Wait oo… All the people wey you don already interview, wetin they talk?“
“Ehm…they gave us the answers we asked for.”
Theo turned to me. “Can you imagine the people for this hood?” I understood what he was trying to say. I was proud of myself that I had known from the start that something was wrong about people. That they would not be good for the hood. They do not mean entirely well for us.
“In fact sef, I no do again!” Theo exclaimed. “Carry your camera and people out of here now now before I vex.” He began to pace back and forth. “Go and call the boys for me.” he said this to no one in particular but I took to my heels to call Meks and the guys.
When we returned, the woman and two other men were already at our house. “I say we no do again.” Theo said stubbornly. “Na me mess up na. If to sey I know, I for no allow una that time. I for just say make una leave us alone.”
“Theo wetin dey happen?” Meks asked.
“No be dis people?! The man dey interview me oo, he con dey tell me wetin he wan make I talk. Him say make I talk sey we dey suffer for here.”
“On top wetin na? Who tell una sey we dey suffer? Na because we even give una face? Na because we leave our work con dey answer your question, na why you no regard us.”
“That’s not what we asked you guys to do!” The interviewer exclaimed. “No one asked you to stop going to work or to wear fine clothes. We just asked that you live your lives as you did before, normally. That’s all we asked for but you guys decided to step out of your way and…”
“Stop talking!” the woman said to him, touching him on his shoulder.
“Abeg come dey go,” Rita simply said.
The woman shook her head. “Please don’t send us away. We just need one more day to take few pictures and videos. We won’t bother you, I promise.”
“No promise us anything!” Everyone stared at me and I was surprised myself that I had said that.
Theo smiled at me. “You don hear the boy, abeg dey go. Thank you very much.
Two weeks after the neighborhood had made fun of herself, a car pulled up at the entrance. Theo and I had just delivered gin bottles and were returning home. The man driving the car had fear written all over his face as he stepped out of the car.
“Hey oga, wetin you want?” Theo asked him. Relief flooded his face knowing we were going into the neighborhood.
“Good evening, I was asked to drop this off at this neighborhood.” He was holding a big brown envelope and gave it to Theo and quickly turned back. “Thank you very much.”
“Wetin dey inside?“
“Na book.” The man said quickly, got into the car and sped off.
Theo and I laughed. “Fear fear man.” we chorused.
He opened the envelope and brought out a copy of The Everyday Magazine. A note came with it, it read:
Thank you very much for your time and cooperation. We are really grateful to the entire neighborhood. We hope you guys have the opportunity to watch the documentary some time later.
Fiyin.
He quickly flipped the magazine to the page that had our story. The headline read: You Do not Want to Go to the No Go Area. Theo and I exchanged looks and he shook his head sadly.
I looked at the numerous pictures and none of them featured anyone in our beautiful clothes and shoes. They all had us looking forlorn. I saw myself and Meks sitting on the three-legged table and my heart began to ache. I looked like a starving child and so did the other children. The hood even looked like gutter in the pictures. They used no picture of the hood when we cleaned it up. They used no picture of us smiling. They used no picture of the women wearing their geles. It simply meant that they had used only the pictures they had taken secretly before we had found them out.
“This people no even rate us oo. Wetin be this?!” Theo guffawed. “You dey read wetin they write? They talk sey we no dey chop, sey we no get food, sey we dey live for stagnant water and mosquito. They talk sey we dey suffer.”
We walked slowly into the neighborhood and the crowd soon gathered. “The woman been talk sey they no go give us anything for all the pictures but you know how much they go pay am for this work? Na millions of naira oo. Na why dey been want us to talk some certain things. Before they come hear, they already know wetin they wan write oo. They wan write about one sad and suffering hood. But we no dey suffer. Abi we dey suffer?”
“No!” the people chorused.
“Even if we dey suffer, e no bad like they write am for here na. Wetin be this? Why this people do us like this. All the good good things wey we talk about the hood, they no write am oo. Imagine how the documentary go come be.”
Everyone wore gloomy faces. The ever bobbling hood looked like someone had died.
“All of you wey talk wetin they ask you to talk for the interview, shebi una don see yourself. I no know how stranger go come your hood con dey tell you wetin you suppose talk and wetin you no suppose talk. E dey pain me sey we even give dem face. Somehow somehow, na our fault for minding dem.”
His words reminded me of what the woman had said to him:
“It’s not a big deal, really. We just need you guys to go on with your daily activities, to pretend like we aren’t here.”
We had not listened to her. We had made a fool of ourselves. We should have just sent them out that day. Being featured in a magazine and a documentary was of no good to us. It did not bring us money neither did it bring food. Why had we not realized this? Why had we behaved like the illiterates that they supposed us to be.
It saddened me to see myself looking like a hunger-striken child in the photos and Theo looking like he was coming from the farm. The pictures did not portray Theo’s strength and courage at all. They did not portray the hood’s love and sense of community. They did not even portray Rita’s well shaped body as it was. She just looked like a common child hawker.
I sulked when I remembered that I had felt like I was Mr Ibu. That Theo had also worn fine clothes and combed his hair for them. That we had missed dinner because of them. That Daddy had missed work because of them. That Sunday had worn his shoes to play in the mud and Mummy had to scrub them heavily before the mud could get out. It hurt me that like Mr Ibu, I had been acting and despite it all, the woman still had me looking like an impoverished and pitiable child. It hurt me that someplace, far away from here, some people were watching me on tele, as who I was not but who I was portrayed to be, in my home, where I feel the most at ease, loved and comfortable.
“Lucky,” Theo called to me. He put his arm around my shoulder and prodded me forward. “Just forget those people. No worry, we go dey alright.”
Hazel
