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First the Unegbus, who lived behind us, our backyards separated by the half-fallen fence my friends and I dubbed ‘the wall of China’, won the American visa lottery. So, in the weeks following the end, we watched as family after family rebounded. Indeed, it had been rumored for some time that the bank might soon close. It seemed many of them had seen this coming. We lived on an estate, and some of our neighbors also worked at the bank. The stupid boy, he hadn’t understood why we were only having boiled corn and groundnuts for dinner that night. Once, I saw Mama spoon-feeding him when he broke down one day, after Folu, my six-year-old brother, told him he wanted a bicycle like our neighbor’s sons had. He liked to be consoled, petted and comforted by Mama, as if he were one of the children.
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Don’t do this to yourself, ni to ri olohun.’ I suspect in those days that Papa liked to hear this. Often, Mama would shake her head and say, ‘No, no, Nathan. ‘I should have gone back to school,’ he would say in those days, mostly to Mama. His uncle was dead and gone, and Papa had missed the chance to improve himself. He’d gone on to become a chief clerk, but there was nothing else he could do when the bank closed. Papa had gotten a job there as a junior clerk through the help of his uncle, even though all he had was a secondary school certificate. The story of how my father became rich starts in 2002, shortly after Savannah bank, where he worked for nearly twenty years, closed down.