THE SCARS OF DUTY

The Cost of Secrets

Chapter 3:

The Cost of Secrets

The air in Port Harcourt’s Diobu slum was heavy with the stench of burning refuse and the distant hum of oil rigs, a constant reminder of the wealth that never reached Dikume’s world. It was late 2012, and at 17, Dikume felt older than his years, his lanky frame bowed under the weight of expectations that never eased. Months had passed since Ibinabo’s rejection, her words “My family needs more than dreams” still a knife in his chest. The memory of Chidi’s taunts and the spilled fish in the market haunted him, fueling a quiet anger that simmered beneath his reserved nature. But duty kept him moving: Afie’s worsening cough, Richard’s slide into street life, Golden’s silent hope for school, and Rhema’s innocent questions about their future. As the first son, Dikume was their anchor, but the chain was fraying.

Tonight, he sat on a stool outside their cramped tenement, a flickering kerosene lamp casting shadows on the cracked wall. Afie was inside, her breathing labored, the medicine Dikume bought with his market earnings barely keeping her afloat. The letter from Ikodi, demanding he return to settle the family land dispute, lay crumpled in his pocket. He hadn’t gone school exams and market runs left no time, and Uncle Tamunotonye had promised to “handle it.” But Tam’s promises, like those of a better life in Port Harcourt, were starting to feel hollow. Dikume’s dream of university, once a beacon lit by his father Matthew’s words, was fading in the grind of survival.

The alley buzzed with life children shouting, a radio blaring highlife music, the occasional roar of an okada. Dikume’s thoughts drifted to Ibinabo, now rarely seen at school, her laughter replaced by whispers that she was with Chidi, whose flashy clothes hinted at money from dark corners. The heartbreak had hardened Dikume, his optimism bruised but not broken. He still studied late into the night, his father’s tattered textbooks his only escape, but the weight of being the first son was suffocating. Afie’s words echoed: “You’re the man now.” So did Uncle Tam’s grumbling about rent and Richard’s defiance, each a reminder of his role.

A shadow fell across the lamp’s glow. Dikume looked up to see Golden, his 13-year-old brother, clutching a crumpled note, his eyes wide with fear. “Diki, you need to see this,” Golden whispered, handing him the paper. It was a receipt, scribbled in Tam’s messy handwriting, detailing a payment to a “Chief Okoro” for “land consultation.” The amount was staggering far more than Tam’s job as a mechanic could cover. Dikume’s stomach twisted. The family land in Ikodi, a small plot Matthew had fought to keep, was at the heart of the dispute with village elders. Why was Tam paying someone, and with what money?

Before he could process it, Tam’s heavy footsteps echoed in the alley. His uncle, broad-shouldered and perpetually sweaty, appeared, his face darkening at the sight of the receipt. “Where’d you get that?” Tam snapped, snatching the paper from Dikume’s hand. Golden shrank back, but Dikume stood, his voice steady despite the fear in his chest. “What’s this about, Uncle? The land in Ikodi didn’t you say you’d handle it?”

Tam’s eyes darted, his usual bluster replaced by something cagey. “Mind your business, boy. This is bigger than you.” But Dikume pressed, the betrayal stinging. “That’s our land. My father’s land. Why are you paying this Chief Okoro?” Tam’s silence was answer enough, but his next words cut deeper. “You think you can question me? I took you in, fed you, when your mother couldn’t. Stay out of this, or you’ll regret it.”

The twist hit like a blow: Uncle Tam was entangled in a corrupt deal. Dikume later pieced it together from whispers in the tenement Chief Okoro was a local politician with ties to oil companies eyeing Ikodi’s land for a pipeline project. Tam had been bribed to sway the elders, promising to “settle” the dispute by selling the land, pocketing a cut while betraying the family’s legacy. Matthew’s dream of preserving the land for his children, a symbol of their roots, was being bartered away. Dikume’s trust in Tam, already fragile, shattered. As the first son, the land was his responsibility, but how could he fight a system stacked with money and power?

The emotional toll was crushing. That night, Dikume lay on the thin mattress he shared with Golden, his mind racing. He’d believed in Tam, clung to the hope that Port Harcourt would be their salvation. Now, betrayal layered over heartbreak. Ibinabo’s face flashed in his mind, her rejection a wound that hadn’t healed. He wondered if she’d known about Chidi’s ties to men like Okoro, if her choice was less about love and more about survival. The thought twisted the knife deeper.

The next day, trouble found him. At school, Chidi cornered him near the toilets, his smirk sharper than ever. “Heard you’re poking into land business, bookworm,” he said, his voice low. “Chief Okoro don’t like that.” Dikume froze how did Chidi know? The realization hit: Chidi was a runner for Okoro’s crew, a small-time thug in a bigger game. Before Dikume could respond, Chidi’s fist slammed into his stomach, doubling him over. “Stay out, or your family pays,” Chidi hissed, leaving Dikume gasping on the ground. The humiliation burned, echoing the night in the market, but now it carried a darker threat.

Dikume’s world felt like it was collapsing. Afie’s health was failing, Richard was missing for days, and Rhema’s questions “Why’s everyone angry, Diki?” tore at him. He couldn’t tell Afie about Tam’s betrayal; her heart couldn’t take it. But silence felt like complicity. At school, his grades faltered, his teachers’ praise turning to concern. The dream of university seemed like a cruel joke, mocked by the city’s corruption and his family’s poverty.

Then, a flicker of light appeared. At the market, Dikume ran into Tari, a former classmate who’d dropped out to work as a mechanic. Tari, wiry and sharp-eyed, had always been kind, slipping Dikume extra fish when he could. “Heard about your uncle,” Tari said, his voice low. “Okoro’s dangerous, but there’s people fighting him. Community folks, organizing quietly. You want in?” Tari’s offer was a lifeline, but it came with risk joining a resistance meant defying Tam, Okoro, and the system, putting his family in danger. Yet it also meant fighting for Matthew’s legacy, for the land that held his father’s memory.

That night, by the riverfront, Dikume sat alone, the polluted water reflecting the city’s glow. He thought of Matthew, of Christmas Eve fishing trips, his father’s voice promising a better life. He thought of Ibinabo, now a ghost in his heart, and Tam’s betrayal, a fresh scar. The weight of duty pressed harder save the land, protect his family, be the man his father expected. But Tari’s words stirred something new: rebellion, a chance to fight back. Tears stung his eyes as he clutched the crumpled receipt, torn between loyalty to his family and the need to stand up for what was right. The city’s noise swallowed his resolve, but deep inside, a spark ignited. The scars of duty were deep, but maybe, just maybe, they could fuel a fight worth having.