Chapter 10 – Echoes of Redemption
Months don pass since Lekan fall. Life don start to balance small. For the first time since I leave Lagos, I fit wake up without fear say somebody go knock my door with gun. The workshop don grow — we now get banner wey read:
Seyi & Sons Electrical Repairs – From Street to Strength.
Even though I no get son yet, that name mean hope to me — say one day, boys wey we train go be like sons to me.
Samson dey handle generator section; me dey handle fan and pressing iron.
Every day, we dey open early, close late.
The air full of engine sound and small laughter. The boys — Tunde, Wasiu, Stone — don improve well.
Customers dey come from different area.
One woman, Mama Sade, always bring job come. She go always say, "Na una hand clean pass for this Ibadan."
That kind talk dey sweet person wey come from gutter.
One afternoon, we get visitor.
Clean motor stop for front of our shop — black Prado with tinted glass.
Everybody pause. Ibadan boys no dey see that kind thing daily.
Door open. One man step out — fine agbada, sunglasses, big wristwatch.
He look around small, then smile. "Who be Seyi?"
I raise hand. "Na me, sir."
He nod. "I hear of una work from the local police officer. Say una dey help street boys change life."
I just smile small, no know wetin to say.
He stretch hand. "I'm Honourable Akinlolu, special adviser on youth empowerment."
My body calm small. "You're welcome, sir."
He walk round small, inspect the place. "I like wetin I see. Lagos boys wey turn builders instead of breakers — that's rare."
He look me again. "We get government program coming up — a workshop to train youths. We need people wey get real street experience to talk to them. You fit come share your story?"
My mouth open small. "You mean… speak for event?"
He smile. "Yes. Not just as ex-street boy — but as mentor."
I no fit talk for seconds. Samson tap me. "Say yes, jare."
I finally nod. "Yes sir, I go come."
He pat my shoulder. "Good. Ibadan need stories like yours."
That night, I no fit sleep.
I keep thinking, me? speaker?
Person wey almost die for Lagos, wey police don lock twice, now dem wan make I speak for government event?
Life funny like that.
I remember mama. She always say, "Omo mi, one day your story go inspire people."
Tears almost drop as I whisper, "Mama, your prayer dey work."
The event day come fast.
They hold am for Cultural Centre.
Plenty chairs, banners, youths everywhere.
When dem call my name — "Seyi Adigun, Founder of Seyi & Sons Workshop" — my legs shake small.
I walk to mic. Lights bright. Cameras dey.
I look crowd, breathe deep.
"Good afternoon, my people," I start.
"Na for Lagos gutter my dream start. I no go lie, I don see darkness — the kind wey fit swallow man. But somehow, I survive. And today, I dey here to tell una say street no be end. E fit be beginning, if you fit learn from the scars."
Crowd quiet.
I continue.
"When people dey look at you, dem fit see failure. But me, I see potential. Even when I dey cell, even when I dey hide from gun, something still dey whisper inside me say, you never finish."
I pause small. Some people nod. Others wipe tears.
"I no perfect," I say, "but every mistake wey I make, na ladder wey carry me reach here. If I fit rise from gutter, una fit rise too."
When I finish, the whole hall clap.
One journalist shout, "God bless you, Seyi!"
My chest full. I bow small and walk off stage.
Backstage, Honourable Akinlolu hug me.
"You get gift, my brother. Nigeria need more voices like yours."
He call one of him aides. "Make sure you get his contact. We go include him for the next youth mentorship project."
I no fit believe am.
Samson later joke, "Omo, see as you don turn motivational speaker."
We both laugh, but deep down, I know this na sign of something new.
Two weeks later, one reporter come our shop.
He say, "We wan do small documentary on reformed street boys. We go feature una."
I agree. The camera dey roll, they ask me questions.
But one part hit me deep. The reporter ask, "Do you ever regret your past?"
I quiet small. Then I say,
"Regret no dey build man, reflection dey. I no fit change yesterday, but I fit use am to build better tomorrow."
The documentary air for local TV.
Suddenly, people begin recognize us for road.
Some come shake hand, others come learn work.
Even police come check our shop one day — not to arrest, but to salute.
One of them look me say, "You be example, Seyi. Keep am up."
I smile. "Thank you, officer."
I think back to the days wey dem dey handcuff me for nothing — how time don change.
But not every face wey clap for you dey clap out of joy.
One night, around 9pm, as we dey lock shop, one man walk come out from darkness.
He no talk first. Just stand for corner, watching.
Then he say quietly, "So you be the Seyi wey think say e fit wash clean from street?"
I freeze.
He step forward. "You forget me?"
When light catch am small, I recognize am — Duke, one of Baba Eko's oldest boys. The same guy wey I help escape that night before all wahala start.
He smile wickedly. "You think say Baba Eko go forgive that betrayal?"
My body cold.
"Duke, you still dey alive?"
He nod. "Alive, yes. But Lagos no forgive. Baba Eko still dey, stronger than ever."
I try calm him. "Bro, no be betrayal. I only save your life that night."
He hiss. "You save me, but you cost me family. Baba think say I turn snitch because of you. I no get choice than to disappear. You owe me, Seyi."
I step back small. "Wetin you want?"
He lean close, whisper: "Help me find Baba Eko before he find both of us."
I blink. "Wetin you mean?"
He look left and right. "He don set new boys — young, hungry, ruthless. Dem no know your face, but dem dey trace your name."
Samson come out from shop, see us, pause. "Who be this?"
Duke glance am. "Friend, enemy, I no even know anymore."
He drop small paper in my hand. "If you still value peace, meet me at Apata junction tomorrow midnight. Alone."
Then he walk off into the dark.
I stand there, paper tight for my hand. My mind scatter.
After all this peace, redemption, and new name — wahala don dey rise again.
Samson frown. "Bro, who be that really?"
I sigh deep. "Old ghost. And ghosts no dey knock for door if dem no get reason."
He cross arm. "We no dey go that meeting. Make we ignore am."
I look the paper again. The writing faint:
"Truth dey buried where blood fall."
My heart beat faster.
Maybe Duke get info about the real reason Baba Eko still dey after me. Maybe e no be only street beef — maybe something bigger dey hide beneath.
That night, I lie awake, watching ceiling. Pastor Ade words echo for my head: "Darkness never stops coming, but light must always be ready."
I whisper small prayer:
"God, if this new fire dey come again, make my heart no break."
Then I fold the note, hide am under pillow, and close my eyes.
Because I know say by tomorrow midnight, I go face the past one more time.