Chapter 3: Market Secrets

I be pig butcher daughter. If I raise knife, something must die. Men from everywhere dey run from me.

Na so my hand strong reach. From small pikin, na for abattoir I dey help papa cut meat. Even elders for market dey greet me, "Ezi nwaanyi, you get hand!" But e come mean say men dey fear me, call me "man-woman."

That day for market, I see where dem dey sell male servants. Na so I reason: if men fit buy wife, why I no fit buy husband to serve me?

I dey stand for market, dey watch as women dey price men like goat. Some dey laugh, some dey size chest. Na there I see am, my mind just click—na husband I go buy.

That time, Ikenna full of blood and dirt, no get contract. He just slump for iron cage, collar for neck, eyes closed, lips white like him face. Only him long, shaking eyelashes show say life still dey. Him side profile cold, sharp, but broken—dirty, but still stand proud like flower wey manage bloom for harmattan.

Even for all him suffering, the boy still dey shine small. People dey pity am but no one wan carry wahala for head. I just dey watch am, my heart dey beat different.

Inside all the healthy, strong, well-documented male servants, na him my eye jam.

Other women dey drag for bouncer-looking men, but na this one weak, pale, but proud, catch my eye. Na so I talk myself—who no like better soup?

Lucky say he nearly die. Nobody wan buy am. E cheap well well.

The trader self dey thank me, say I save him headache. "Madam, carry am go, no let am die here."

I use two silver buy am, then use my last money nurse am back.

I buy herbs from Mama Ngozi, buy small fish, cook porridge, even rub am with shea butter. Na my last kobo I use, my stomach dey run, but I no let am show.

He tall. As he dey recover, he no dey hear word, so I no ever comot the collar for him neck—to make am calm.

If I comot collar, e go turn lion, na so I believe. I dey watch am, dey warn am, "If you try nonsense, I go return you to that trader."

Later, as him wound heal, him stubbornness come worse. Out of vex, I just lock am inside.

The first time e try break window, na broom I use chase am. All my neighbors dey laugh say I buy wahala join body.

But see as him fine. Like moon wey dey hide for cloud, come drop for this world.

Even my friends dey jealous, dey gossip say na charm I use. I just dey smile for them, dey chop my own.

I even suspect say he no be ordinary person. Him spirit stubborn, body full of strong bone wey you no fit beat comot. Him face dey hard, mouth dey sharp, but he no dey talk plenty. If he talk, na so so "Igbo this, Igbo that," like say na secret code. This one ground am well for Naija—e nor be oyibo wahala.

I ask am once, "Na which tribe you from?" He say, "Gu, madam." I laugh tire. Maybe na spirit name.

I dey always use am joke say maybe na chicken he be before, always dey "coo coo."

If he wake for night, e go dey hum one kind song, sound like fowl wey dey find mate. I go just dey tease am.

Who go believe say na chief’s son of Palm Grove Estate he be?

If I tell people, dem go think say na lie. But some kain pride, you no fit hide am for body.