Chapter 6 – The Rebirth
Three days after the fire, my life smell like smoke and regret. My hands still black from trying to pull burnt metal out of the ruins. But even as I pack the ashes, my heart dey whisper one thing — "Start again."
Lagos get one way of mocking you. When you fall, e go play trumpet for your ear, but e also go clap if you rise. That's the madness and beauty of this city.
I move my burnt tools to the old man's shop for Ijesha. The place no fine — half of the roof bend, cobweb full everywhere, dust thick like powder. But when I open the door that morning, breeze blow inside, and e feel like new beginning.
I kneel small, whisper, "God, na only you fit turn this nothing to something. Help your boy."
Then I start sweeping. From morning till afternoon. Sweat soak my shirt. My back pain. But for the first time, I dey smile small. I dey rebuild.
By evening, I fix signboard again. This time, e read:
SEYI TECH REBORN – FROM ASHES WE RISE 🔧🔥
People wey pass dey laugh. One woman shout, "Ah! This your grammar don dey go viral o!"
I just wave. Inside me, I dey proud.
Next day, I go Alaba to buy small generator coil and plug. I see one young girl dey argue price with trader. Her voice sharp, confident. She look back — our eyes jam.
She smile. "You be technician?"
"Yes," I reply, shy small.
She nod. "I get one gen wey no dey start. You fit check am?"
I smile. "Na my work be that."
That's how I meet Tola.
Tola na student for Yabatech, fine and smart. The kind girl wey her eyes dey carry hope even when she dey broke. I fix her gen that same day, and she pay me more than I ask.
When I thank her, she talk one line wey stick for my head:
"When person dey rise, support am small. You never know wetin him fit become."
From that day, we begin gist often. She go bring friends' gens come repair. Sometimes she go sit near me for shop, sipping zobo, asking about my past. I no tell her everything, but she sabi say pain don live inside me before.
She talk about her own dreams too — to become architect, build affordable houses for street people. I like her spirit. She no pity me; she respect me.
Business start to grow again. The old man wey give me shop (him name na Baba Ganiyu) go come check sometimes. He go stand for door, nod, and say, "I know say you go make am."
But Lagos never go let person enjoy peace for too long. One afternoon, I dey work when small boy run enter shop, panting.
"Seyi! Dem say Baba Eko boys dey find you for market side!"
My hand stop. Sweat cold my neck.
Before I even reason next move, two bikes stop outside. Four men jump down. I see Duke among them.
He smile wickedly. "You no get sense abi? You think say we no go find you?"
Market people scatter. I raise hand. "Duke, abeg, I don leave that life!"
He move closer. "Na why Baba vex. You dey shine, you dey open shop, you dey forget who teach you hustle."
I no even talk. I just dey breathe heavy.
Then from nowhere, I hear police siren. Duke turn. Two patrol vans dey approach. Before them reach, he whisper, "This no be end, Seyi. Watch your back." Then he mount okada, disappear.
My hand still dey shake. The police stop, look around, ask wetin happen. I talk small lie say na ordinary misunderstanding. Dem warn me to stay safe.
That night, I no sleep. Tola call ask if I dey okay. I tell her, "I dey fine," but my voice no strong.
Next morning, I pack small clothes, go Mama house. I no wan risk her life again. She see me with bag and know immediately say wahala don knock.
She sigh. "Seyi, you go run again?"
I look her, tears for my eyes. "Mama, I no wan run. I wan stand, but I no wan see you hurt."
She hold my hand. "My son, lion wey dey hide no mean say e weak. Sometimes na wisdom. But if you go fight, fight like man wey know God dey behind am."
Those words enter me like bullet of courage.
Two days later, Samson show up. His face full bruise. I jump up. "Guy! Wetin happen?"
He laugh small. "I stop one of Baba Eko boys from burn your new shop again. Dem beat me, but I drag one of them tire."
I feel pain and pride same time. "You no suppose risk that kind thing!"
He wave me off. "Forget that. I don tire for them. I wan follow you build. If na mechanic you be, I go learn. I no wan die for street."
I hold his shoulder. "Welcome home, bro."
That moment, I swear, something shift inside me. For the first time, I no just dey fight for survival — I dey fight for purpose.
Weeks pass. Me and Samson turn the shop into full workshop. I dey fix gen; he dey handle fans and small electronics. We paint wall white, buy speaker wey play soft music while we work. People begin call our shop "Small Heaven."
Even police officers dey bring their gen come. That sergeant wey once help me come one day, smile say, "I talk am say you go make am."
But Lagos get long memory. Baba Eko still dey somewhere, watching.
One Sunday, I go church with Mama and Tola. Pastor dey preach about forgiveness and destiny. I close my eyes and pray say make God remove me from every chain wey tie me to street past.
When service close, we dey come out, I see one small boy pass slip into my hand. I open am — again, bullet shell. And this time, paper write:
"Sunday no go save you."
That night, I no talk to anybody. I just sit outside, look stars. Samson come sit near me.
He say, "We fit run go Ibadan, start afresh."
I shake head. "If I run again, I go keep running till I die. No, this time I go face am."
He look me deep. "You sure?"
I nod. "I no be the same Seyi wey they chase that night. I be man now. I get something to protect."
Next morning, I walk go Baba Eko base for Orile. Heart beating like drum. Boys dey everywhere — smoking, playing dice, laughing wickedly. When I enter, everybody quiet.
Baba Eko sit for center, big cigar for mouth. His face don age small, but eyes still sharp like razor.
"Seyi," he talk slowly, "you get mind come back here?"
I swallow spit. "I come make peace."
He laugh. "Peace? You spoil my line, you carry my boy, and you dey talk peace?"
"I no spoil your line," I reply steady. "I just choose better life."
He stand. "For Lagos, there's no better life, only survival."
I look am straight. "That na lie. Survival no mean evil. I dey survive clean now."
The boys whisper. Some dey look impressed.
Baba Eko walk close till our eyes near touch. He hiss small, then burst laugh. "You get heart. But heart dey attract bullet."
He turn back to his seat, wave hand. "Go. But if I hear say you cross my lane again, I no go warn you."
I no wait make second chance disappear. I walk out slow, but my legs dey shake. As I reach road, breeze blow — like freedom kiss my face.
When I return to shop, Tola hug me. "Where you go?"
I smile small. "To bury my past."
She look my eyes. "You sure say e bury, or e go rise again?"
I sigh. "If e rise, I go be ready."
That night, I sit outside my shop with Samson. We no talk for long. Just look sky.
He break silence say, "Seyi, you know say one day this story go inspire boys for street."
I smile. "Na why we must keep pushing."
Then I whisper like prayer:
"From ashes I rise, from hustle I breathe. This city fit break bone, but e no fit kill spirit."