As with all journeys, Jesse's long trek home came to an eventual end.
He paused three houses down, clutching tightly onto the handles of his heavy backpack.
The sun had already begun to dip low below rooftops, painting the world vivid shades of bright orange colours.
Jesse stared up ahead at the unconfined compound of the building he and his mother shared home with a dozen or so other groups of tenants, packed like sardines in tiny rooms.
The building was cramped, old, and basic — much like the sort of thing kindergarteners would put together when asked by their teachers to make a drawing of a house. Except this one had a second floor and verandas that jutted out like crooked teeth from its front.
Reaching the compound, he noticed Papa Taiwo, the building's self appointed patriach, holding court on his usual perch: a splintered low wooden bench beneath the first-floor veranda. He sat there, shirtless, wearing nothing but the wrapper tied tightly around his waist and rubber slippers on his feet as he enjoyed the evening's cool breeze. His stomach bulged with the roundness of a pregnant woman's, and his heavily pregnant wife was there with him too, lying on a straw mat by his feet, fast asleep and snoring softly.
With how large her stomach was, maybe she would do Papa Taiwo one better this time around and give birth to triplets.
Or maybe even quadruplets...
How Mr. and Mrs. Taiwo would take care of them, however, Jesse did not know. It seemed customary here for a lot of people to think about that after the child was born, and not before.
"Children are a blessing from God," "Make children first, and then the money will come," "Fulfill God's duty — be fruitful and multiply." Etcetera, etcetera.
As for why the couple relaxed outside like this every evening — well, all the rooms in the building, except from the one the landlady's, basically had single windows, crisscrossed with torn and old netting. Without cross-ventilation and with the lack of constant electricity, it could get pretty hot indoors a lot of the times.
So, because of that, the couple always relaxed outside instead.
For some reason, even with the cool breeze, Papa Taiwo still held a plastic hand fan, blowing air towards himself with vigor.
When he caught sight of Jesse with his milky eyes, he briefly scanned him before his lips split apart with a mischievous glint, revealing his widely spaced, yellow teeth with several empty gaps like windowless panes.
Papa Taiwo chuckled loudly. "Heh heh heh. Well done, Lionel Messi. Your mother will show you no mercy today."
Jesse sighed as he walked past.
Yep. He didn't need anyone to tell him.
If even Papa Taiwo could see it despite being partially blind from cataracts, then he was doomed.
His footsteps echoed in the dark, quiet hallway as he made his way past several doors — each adorned with peeling posters of Pentecostal preachers — to the room at the end where he lived in with his mum.
Standing in front of it, Jesse took several deep breaths, steeling himself for the inevitable. Then, he took off his shoes, pushed the door open, and stepped inside the room.
A single kerosene lamp lit up the room from a corner, casting shadows over the cracked linoleum flooring.
"Good evening, Ma," he greeted nervously as he shut the creaking door behind him.
His mother was sat on the edge of their foam mattress, her back to him, hunched over a cracked plastic basin of soaked garri. The sour tang of fermenting cassava clung to the air, mixing with the sharp citrus of lemon peels drying on the windowsill.
His mother turned slowly, her gaze raking over him — and then her eyes went wide they looked like they might pop out from their sockets. It almost comical, cartoonish even.
Normally, such a silly expression would have made him laugh, but Jesse didn't have a funny bone present in his body at the moment.
Instead, something was telling him he was going to have a broken bone or two by the time this was over.
"Oluwa o," she breathed, rising to her feet. The garri water sloshed over the basin's edge. "Is this a uniform or a rag?"
"Umm... W-We had P.E., so it got dirty."
"P.E.? P.E. on a Friday?"
His school only had P.E. on Wednesdays, so that was just a poor excuse. Why couldn't he think of anything better? Why was his mind so blank and panicked? He couldn't seem to calm his racing heart.
"It-It was impromptu, so those of us who didn't bring our P.E. wear had to use our uniforms." Jesse tried.
"Really?" His mother arched a brow. "So you won't mind me confirming that with your headmistress on Monday?"
The words froze on Jesse's lips. He was boxed into a corner. Sweat beaded on his forehead and it had nothing to do with the sweltering heat.
"Sola," she started, her voice deceptively light, "have you been playing football again?"
Jesse said nothing. What was there to say? He was caught in 4K.
With that poor lie he had told, if there was any chance of saving his skin, that ship had already sailed.
Not even Jesus could save him now.
His mother soon began to pace with anger. "Your head is just like the ball, Sola. Nothing but air inside!"
"M-Mummy calm down."
She stopped pacing and slowly reached for one of the slippers on her feet. "Didn't I tell you to stop playing football? Do you think I'm Otedola, buying uniforms and paying for medical bills like puff-puff?"
Alarm bells blared loudly in Jesse's head. "Wait, mummy, I can explain!"
Slipper in hand, she folded her arms and waited with a grim expression. "Oya, explain."
Jesse opened his mouth, but his mind was blank. He stood there, gaping like a fish, before finally scratching the back of his head nervously.
"...Okay, I can't explain, but—"
His mother took slow, menacing steps towards him, lips downturned as she raised her slipper like the fatal blade of Excalibur.
"Sola, can you see your life dangling from ceiling fan?"
Jesse shuddered, waving his hands frantically. He backed up until his spine hit the wall and there was nowhere left to run.
"W-Wait! Mummy, please! Put down the weapon! Let's discuss this cordially like two civil adults — no, like loving mother and son! No, mummy, WAIT—"
His mother did not wait.
And not long after, Jesse's voice shifted from alto to soprano as several sharp thwacking sounds echoed throughout the building.