Chapter 1: The Lesson Teacher

After seven years of marriage, my husband, the Local Council Secretary, went and hired a female lesson teacher for our two children.

The morning he brought her, I still remember the way he adjusted his agbada and cleared his throat before speaking, as if he dey announce some big government contract. The sun never really come up, harmattan dust dey hang for air, and the compound dey wake up with shout from neighbours. I eye am, my heart already dey pick sense, but I hold my tongue.

He said, "Inside this compound, e no good make men dey waka anyhow. As dem dey talk, na woman wey guard her house tight fit sleep well at night."

His tone no get space for argument. I just look am—this same man wey go rather chop outside than make another man enter our gate. Na wa o, who dey trust who for this Lagos? His face strong like pastor quoting scripture. I just nod, but my spirit dey shine eye.

I felt for the wahala women dey face, so I even doubled the tutor’s salary!

I no want make any woman suffer for my hand. Abi, who know wetin she dey go through? I call her inside, offer her cold Fanta with chin chin. The Fanta cold reach bone, sweat still dey the bottle. I tell her, “Aunty, abeg, manage with us. If you get any wahala, tell me.” I double her money without Tunde knowing, thinking say if God dey watch, my kindness go pay one day.

Every day, I dey prepare food and clothes for the children, always fearing say dem fit hungry or catch cold.

Even as early as 5am, you go hear my pestle for kitchen—knocking yam, preparing stew for lunch, laying out the small ankara jackets for the children. I dey check their socks, tie their wrapper when breeze blow, even give house girls warning: "No let them step outside if rain dey fall o!" I dey fear like say dem be egg, and my heart no dey rest until I see them safe every evening.

But then, on the tutor’s birthday, my husband secretly carry the children go Mama Kemi’s bukka to celebrate for her.

I hear later from Mama Kemi herself: "Ah, madam, your husband sabi celebrate person o! Dem just chop jollof, small stout dey table." Aroma of fried fish and jollof rice dey hang for air, with small stout bottle sweating for table. My body cold that day, because I no remember any time Tunde ever plan birthday for me, even ordinary puff-puff. Na wa!

Na that day I come find out: this female tutor na him childhood sweetheart, his former girlfriend wey suffer with am when dem never get anything!

You know that kain pain when your chest tight like wrapper? As I dey wash plates that evening, I hear them laughing in the parlour, old memories filling the air. I peep small—see Tunde and Lan dey gist, eyes shining like old flame. My hand begin shake, water pour for ground. So, na old love dem dey renew?

Even my own children join them hide am from me.

My own pikin, Bisi, dey giggle, hiding behind Lan. Qi just dey follow them up and down. House girls dey talk, "Madam, the children dey play with Aunty Lan inside o," but me, I just dey pretend say I no see.

"Daddy, when you go marry Aunty Lan? That time we go be one family!"

The words enter my ears like thunder. I almost drop the bowl wey I dey carry. Na who dey teach these children all this talk?

"Mummy just dey house dey control us. She no sabi anything. If Aunty Lan fit be my mama, e for better!"

I just stand for passage, my back pressed to the wall, hearing my own pikin dey run mouth as if I no get value. My spirit wan come out my body.

Qi voice come dey full of laughter.

His laughter be like knife, sharp, cutting through the small respect wey I manage hold in this house. Even the house girls come dey peep, face cover small, but dem dey hear everything.

"Very soon, I go ask for chief’s council make she become my equal wife. I no go let your mama dey bully Lan."

Tunde voice get pride, like person wey just win local government election. That confidence choke me. Equal wife? So this is how you take reward woman wey follow you suffer?

"Daddy, you go live long o!"

Dem dey hail am, like say na coronation dey happen. My own pikin dey praise their father for my downfall.

I stand outside the door, my heart just tear like person use knife slice am. I gather myself, turn back, and go straight palace to see the Queen Mother.

My feet heavy as I waka go palace. I no greet anybody for road. Sun dey beat my head, but I no feel am. For inside, na only one thing dey my mind: I must find peace, no matter how e go pain.

"Aunty, abeg, give me divorce letter!"

My voice crack, but my mind dey strong. I look Queen Mother for eye, the way woman wey don reach her limit go look. I no beg for pity, only freedom.

"But what of your two children?"

Her voice soft, like water wey dey try quench fire. But my fire too much, e no dey quench easily. Even as her question hang for air, my mind dey race, thinking of all the times I carry these children for back, feed dem from my own hand.

I raise my head, tears full my eyes, but I talk with strong mind, "I no want even one!"

My tears heavy, but I keep my voice strong—make she know say I mean am. Sometimes, person go gree lose everything just to find small peace for this life.