as e dey travel go di wildaness. E go sidan under one big tree kon sey make God kill-am. E sey, “My Oga God, my eye don si wetin big pass mi, I beg, make Yu kill mi. I nor even betta pass my papa dem.”
But as I sidan dey tink of evritin wey I don do, I si sey all of dem dey yuzles. Dem bi like wen pesin dey porshu breeze! E nor really get anytin wey pesin fit gain for dis world.
Wen sun start to shine, God kon send one hot breeze kom from east. Di sun dey shine for Jonah head and e nearly faint. So as Jonah dey vex, bikos di plant wey kover en head don die, e kon sey, “E betta make I die, dan dis life wey I dey live so.”
Why Yu allow mi dey face dis kind trobol? Must I si all dis wahala wey dey happen to mi? Anywhere wey I look, na only wahala and distroshon I dey si. Na pipol wey love to kworel and fight, dey round mi.