Idris chuckles when you enter the room. “Shebi you talk say you no wan join us. Wetin you dey do for here?”

When you hesitate, he cocks his rifle. Your words become a waterfall gushing about Amina and the pregnancy—you just learned about it.

You speak of dried lakes. Wilted leaves. Of low earnings.

You speak of love. Sacrifice. Of your willingness to fight the government so that your family can survive.

You talk and talk and talk, and when you’re done, he trains the gun on you. “You dey lie. Better talk true before I count five! One—”

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