Chapter 16: Tears for the Living

For Morayo hand, dough turn to small balls, then round pancake, she put for small pan. She turn am, done.

The kitchen dey warm, firewood dey crackle, smoke curl for ceiling, Morayo dey sing Yoruba hymn low-low as she work.

This one too na for Jude Dangana to carry go—pancake and pepper sauce na him best food. The pepper too hot with rice or bread, but inside pancake, e just balance.

She dey fry pancake, dey look window, dey count how many day remain before Jude go come back.

People dey always forget wetin dem no dey see, even if e dey their mind.

As she dey pack the pancake, she remember one proverb: ‘If you no see person, heart fit forget, but hand no fit forget taste.’

As last pancake come off pan, Morayo just feel sad. Tears fill her eye, as she bend pick pancake, one tear drop for hot pan, e sizzle—like secret pain wey no get voice, small smoke fly up.

She hear the sound, look around—make sure nobody dey watch. Na only her and God sabi her pain.

She look the smoke long, forget herself, till e clear, pan cool again. Then she wipe her face, rush go wash pot, cook.

That pain dey deep. For this village, woman no dey show tears anyhow—she go hide am for kitchen, for night, or inside cloth.

“My wife na good woman—anytime I dey travel, she go cry for corner.”

Everybody for gathering dey nod, some dey wipe eye. E dey pain pass knife.

“But later, I find out say she dey pretend.”

People laugh small, say Morayo na strong woman—tears for kitchen, laughter for parlour.

The first one, Jude Dangana talk am five years ago.

That time, voice still dey shake, but people dey encourage am.

The second one, he talk am five years after.

This time, voice low, pain deep, memory long like road to Kaduna.

As he talk the second one, Jude Dangana just bow head, dey cry.

People dey gather, dey pray for am—make God give am peace, make Morayo soul rest for ground wey no dry.