Pauly is not aware of any masquerade festivals at this time of the year he takes a small step back, contemplating the out-of-context figures. But today, a few steps into the bush, he stalls, almost tripping, because here are three masquerades swaying in front of him, blocking his path. He doesn’t doubt that the rotting planks will hold his weight, and across the makeshift bridge he goes. Pauly whispers an apology, not slowing down. The man stills, following Pauly’s path through the backyard as his head hovers inches above the mat. Behind the mosque, he startles a man at his prayers. He stayed too long, playing ball with his cousins, Ekene and John, in their huge backyard bordered by coconut trees. Pauly is trying to get home quickly today. The security guards at Alele’s main gate never question his passage they wave at his sweaty forehead and smile at the grass stains he’s accumulated on the shorts his mother makes for him. If he dips behind the mosque down the street from his cousins’ house, scurries across the gutter bridge made of two wooden planks, slashes through some distance of overgrown bush, then hops over the abandoned rusty back gate of Alele Estate, he will burst out two streets away from home.

And when Pauly doesn’t want to take this leisurely walk home, there is a shortcut. Pauly knows more scenic routes home, less noisy paths that wind between large houses they’ll never afford and parks his mother has no time to take him to. He’s tried to take the major roads home, but they are so noisy with the grumbling trucks and the plaintive honks from all the cars competing to get ahead. He always nods yes, but in this one thing, he is a disobedient son. That’s what his mother warns, abstractly, routinely, every morning of this summer holiday when she drops him off. Pauly should stick to the major roads when walking home from his cousins’ house.

But when his mother begins asking favors of his Masquerades, he realizes that being a good son sometimes means disobeying. When he brings home three beautiful Masquerades, he’s expecting that his mother will be proud of him.

Masquerade Season by Pemi Aguda