The truth I never told (part three)

The men who were trying to put out the fire had already called the firefighters. I think everyone knew deep down that, by the time they arrived, there probably wouldn’t be much of the house left to save. Even so, nobody gave up. They kept passing buckets of water from one person to another, hoping to slow the flames. A few men ran to the back of the house to see if the fire had reached the kitchen. When they came back, they said it hadn’t. Just like that, the rumor that Mum had forgotten something on the stove began to die down. Then one of the men said something that made my heart skip. He said the electricity NEPA had restored that evening seemed unusually high. He mentioned that one of his light bulbs had burst the moment the power came back and that his freezer had sparked and stopped working. The moment he said those words, the atmosphere changed. People stopped blaming Mum so confidently. Their attention shifted from careless cooking to the possibility that a power surge might have caused the fire. As I listened, a tiny part of me wanted to believe him. For the first time since the fire started, I felt the smallest flicker of hope. I kept looking from one face to another, but I still couldn’t bring myself to speak. The shock hadn’t worn off. Then, from down the street, I saw Tomiwa running toward the house. The moment he saw the smoke and flames, he threw both hands onto his head. “Ahhh!” “Gbemi! What happened?” His voice trembled, and he looked as though he was about to cry. I finally found my voice. I told him that when NEPA restored the electricity, the socket had sparked and caught fire. I said I had tried to put it out, but the flames had spread too quickly. He didn’t even wait for me to finish explaining. He immediately rushed over and joined the other men who were desperately trying to put out the fire. I was terrified. Terrified of being scolded. Terrified of being judged if I told the truth. Somewhere in the middle of all that fear, my mind began to create a different version of what had happened. NEPA caused all this. NEPA ruined my father’s house. NEPA ruined everything. The lie slowly became the truth in my own mind. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if that man hadn’t suggested that the power surge was responsible. Once he said it, everyone started believing it, and so did I.Besides, people complained about NEPA every single day. They cursed the officials whenever the electricity went out or when power damaged their appliances. Blaming NEPA didn’t seem impossible, so I convinced myself it wasn’t entirely wrong. As terrible as everything was, I felt two completely different emotions at the same time. I felt relieved because I thought I might escape without anyone ever finding out that I had started the fire. But I also felt deeply sad as I watched our belongings disappear into the flames, knowing that my family was losing so much. The men did something I never forgot that day. They worked together without thinking twice, risking their own safety to save a house that didn’t even belong to them. Watching them made me believe that people could be incredibly kind. For the first time, I realized that complete strangers were willing to put themselves in danger just to protect another person’s life and property. By the time the fire was almost under control, Mum and Dad finally arrived. The thing was, after Mum saw her friend off at the bus stop, Dad called her to say he was almost home. Instead of coming back immediately, she decided to wait for him so they could walk home together. The moment Dad saw the smoke and the crowd, he reacted just like Tomiwa had. He rushed straight toward the house and joined the men who were still pouring water over the remaining flames. As he worked, he asked Tomiwa what had happened. “The light was too full,” Tomiwa replied. “The socket exploded.” Mum’s reaction was completely different. The moment she saw the damage, she collapsed onto the ground, crying and rolling from side to side. “Owo cooperative o!” “Owo cooperative o!” She wasn’t crying over the walls or the furniture. She was crying over the cooperative funds, the money and items that had been entrusted to her for the upcoming meeting, now at risk of being lost in the fire. I walked over to Mum and tried to comfort her. I was crying too. The other women gathered around her, pleading with her to calm down, but nothing they said seemed to help.

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