Opening my eyes was harder than it should be, but when I did, I heard voices. Both within and outside my head. I was in a tent like structure made of wood. The floor was clay and the roof was aluminium sheets. A Danfo bus was packed infront of me.
My mouth was dry and tongue heavy. I was lying on a piece of rag. The clothes I was in, I couldnt remember having. I didnt know where I was, then it dawned on me me……I didnt know who I was.
I sat up with a probing pain in my head telling me it was a bad idea. Then the voices got clearer, I was in a motor park. The people outside were screaming ‘Abuja’, ‘okene’, ‘Auchi’…I passed out.
When I woke up, it was pretty dark. Some people sat beside me. While some were eating, others were smoking, a few had little bottles of gin with them. They seemed to ignore me as I looked at them. I had my eyes fixated at one in particular. He had ugly tribal marks and spoke really fast. They all seemed to listen to him as spoke.
I tried to talk but I couldnt. My throat hurt. My head was still hurting too, running my hands through my head I felt stitches and something that could have been a gash. Touching it hurt but it looked like the only link to my past. I guess it was really late because some of the guys around started leaving, others slept on benches and some on the floor. A couple of others entered d danfo dat I had seen earlier.
That was when she came in.
I didnt know who she was but I knew she was coming straight for me. She held a plate in her right hand and a satchet of water on her left. She was brown in complexion, with full bosoms and piercing eyes with heavily applied Tiro.
‘Eat’, she said gently like I was a kid. I had a million questions to ask her but I couldnt talk just yet. What came out of my mouth was incoherent. Even my goddam name would have been fine. Why cant she just say my name?
She noticed my pain as she placed her hand on d stitches on my head n caressed it.
‘Please eat, you will say everything you want to later, we have more questions for you then you have for us’, she said in Yoruba.
I freaking knew she was speaking yoruba, I could also perfectly understand her. That was d first clue I had of my past. I was a Yoruba boy or I have lived in yoruba land for a while. Secondly and a little troubling, I liked bosoms.