Chapter 3: Kitchen Assignment

The first day my wife first love—her first man—come back from abroad, na she cook by herself for house to welcome am.

My chest dey pain small, because na so women dey try for men wey dem love. I just waka enter kitchen, dey help, dey look like houseboy wey dey find bonus. The air full of fried fish smell, pepper soup dey steam for corner, and one old Fuji song dey play for radio. If you see as she dey measure rice, garnish soup, you go know say na special guest dey come.

I dey help her wash ugu leaf, she just fling face mask give me, order me:

"Wear am. He no know say I don marry. I no wan make e reason rubbish."

The thing shock me, but na so life be. I just collect the mask, look am well. If my guys for street see me now, dem go laugh taya—me, husband, dey wear mask like security. E remain make I bend like person wey dey salute chief for village meeting. I still dey look her, I know say trouble dey.

"When we dey chop later, just stand one side, behave like security, you hear?"

Na the instruction choke pass. Me, husband, go turn security? But Naija man no too dey argue for woman wey fit run you street. I swallow my pride, nod head.

I nod sharp sharp. "Okay."

Anything Madam Sewa talk, I dey always get only one answer: na yes.

Inside my mind, I dey wonder when my own time go reach. But for now, na yes na the only answer wey fit save me.