Chapter 5: Gossip and Goodbye

For Ibadan, to give wife to another person no be new thing—

Everybody sabi the way e dey go. For family wey hold chieftaincy, woman na asset, marriage na business.

especially among people wey dey work together.

Council elders dey always arrange wives for peace and profit. Sometimes, na to keep land, sometimes to cure quarrel.

But to give wife wey don born many children, e rare.

Gossipers for mosque side dey whisper—'Which kind thing be this? E never reach two moon, chief dey pass woman like yam?' Even palmwine tapper for back yard dey shake head. One dey lick agbalumo, the other dey peel groundnut.

To give am to fiancée uncle, e even rare pass.

That one na taboo small, but for chief house, money and pride dey cover sin.

First son, wey don get sense, clap hand as he see say I dey go.

Him teeth shine, he no even look my face. His happiness dey loud, like say pikin wey win football match.

"Better! Bad woman dey go. Now, I go chop purple yam cake tire."

The way he lick mouth, you go think say I dey deny am food before. I just look am, heart dey heavy.

Second son happy: "I no go practice taekwondo again!"

The boy dey jump. Since Morayo come, every small thing na new reason to vex for me.

I too dey quick get belle; once two months reach, my belle don show.

Old madam dey always check my stomach. If I cough, she go count calendar.

But that time, Chief Femi no get feeling for me, think say e too early. Him fear say if Morayo hear, she go vex, so him force me drink medicine, make I remove the belle.

The medicine bitter. The pain, I no fit forget. I hold bedframe, cry till sleep carry me. Next day, he no talk anything.

After that, many more I no fit keep.

Belly dey come, belly dey go. My heart dey dry. My hope dey small like needle eye.

Fifth time, old madam no gree. For the fifth child, she carry me herself, sick but still care for me.

She rub my back, cook herbs, call pastor come pray. Her own wahala dey, but that time, she treat me like true daughter.

I dey cook herbal medicine for her every day.

Even if my head dey hot, I go wake early, pound leaves, boil ginger. She go say, 'My Chichi, God go see you.'

She dey chase young chief anytime he come.

She no want make him wahala spoil my health. Her cane still dey her hand, even with sickness.

My pikin born, not up to two months, old madam die join.

Her burial big, but my tears bigger. That day, I realise say my only shield don go.

The sixth one, the second son, na during my recovery I get belle.

Na rush rush, I no fit hide. My body weak, but baby strong.

Before dem notice, belle don big. If I take medicine that time, both me and pikin fit die.

I hear doctor voice: 'Madam, leave am for God.' So I hold faith, even as fear dey bite me.

I manage born am.

E no easy. I see death, but God pass all.

But after two times blood loss,

My body weak like soaked cloth. My eyes dey see double. Old nurse for house dey pray for me daily.

the children weak.

Their bones dey soft, skin pale. I dey look for herbs, I dey beg God.

When dem small, to make dem strong, I dey control their food, beg nanny to help discipline them.

I measure pap, fry fish, hide sweet. But nanny no care. The children learn to hide from me.

Later, as dem grow, dem know who I be, shame catch them.

When dem dey with friends, dem go point me from far, whisper. My heart dey tear small small.

All my advice, dem begin hate.

I say 'no play for sun,' dem go play pass. I talk 'no climb mango tree,' dem go climb higher.

When dem hear their real mama dey come, the two boys just happy.

Their faces bright, no fear, no sorrow. I fit read their mind: 'Freedom don land.'

Now, dem no fit wait make I go.

The way dem dey bounce, no look back. My hands empty.

As I dey look sad,

I try hold my face strong, but my body dey betray me. My hand dey shake as I touch my pouch.

Chief Femi talk: "E don do, no follow children drag."

His face hard, but I see small regret. He no fit look my eye.

He look me last time: "Chichi, as you dey go there, no dey stubborn again. No be every oga dey soft like me. Behave yourself. When I get time, I go visit you."

Visit? My chest squeeze. Na so love dey end? I just nod. No tears again.

I no answer am, I just kneel down, dey pick my ten pouch wey scatter for ground.

Each pouch I pick, I dey remember name—Sade, Nifemi, Dele, Anike, Tola, all lost. My fingers dey tremble.

As I dey go, servants dey gossip:

Their whispers sharp, I hear every word. Na fried plantain smell dey follow their talk. Yoruba house no get secret.

"Miss Chichi love chief too much. E go hard for am now."

Another one add: 'Her luck don finish. Time to start from zero.'

"Dem say na Morayo plan am, send her go Morayo family widower. Our new madam get sense. If chief miss am, he no go fit do anything, Morayo family go hold her tight."

"E fit true o. Marriage na politics for this place."

"Dem say Morayo family no too get level, but plenty wives and maids full house. She don old, e no go easy."

Some dey laugh, but small fear dey their eyes. Nobody wan end like me.

"No wonder she hold those pouch tight. She no wan leave."

One maid add: 'Those pouches get power. Maybe she hide secret inside.'

"No wan leave no mean anything. Na just stand-in, she resemble Morayo small. Now the real one don come, who get her time?"

Na so life be. If you resemble, na until the real one come.

"Even if she marry again, she never born. Chichi don born tire, her body don weak. How she wan match real madam?"

Na the same question everybody dey ask. My body dey fail, but my spirit still dey fight.

"No talk so. When I see those ten pikin pouch, my eye nearly cry. Na wah o. If luck better, how she go born twelve, only two survive?"

The pain for my chest rise. I squeeze pouch tighter. Only God understand wetin I carry.

I touch the pouch for my hand.

I count am again, sure say nothing loss.

Dem full.

The box dey complete, no one miss.

Good, all dey here.

As I dey touch each pouch, I dey pray small prayer. 'God, carry my pain, let peace follow me.'

Wetin I no fit leave behind, no be chief, but all these my precious pearls and gold beads wey dey hide inside the ashes.

Na my pikin, my hope, my tomorrow. Wetin I dey carry go, na memory wey nobody fit thief.