Chapter 1: Old Promises, New Wahala

I stayed with Auwalu for seven years, using my sharp mouth and sweet talk to make am spend plenty money for my head.

Those years pass like one long Sallah celebration—every market run for Wuse, every birthday for my mama house in Zaria, na Auwalu dey buy the gold, the Ankara, even that perfume wey dey make people ask my name for street. Sometimes, after shopping, I go catch the scent of fried akara or suya smoke for the evening air—na so enjoyment sweet. If I vex for am, na just small phone call, next day bank alert go land. For inside all the enjoyment, I sabi say na my mouth dey do the work, na my sense dey package story.

Later, when e wan do engagement, he give me two options: either I collect the money and waka, or I go stay as him side chick.

He talk am for one corner, no even blink. You know those big men wey no dey waste time? Auwalu just set face like say na business meeting, voice low, no dey shake. If person dey look us, dem go think say na small contract we dey discuss. My heart heavy, but I no show am for face. Inside me, I remember how my mama warn me about men wey get two wives—"Halima, dem go just turn you to side dish." My own fear sef dey choke me: I no wan end up as extra for anybody table.

I no choose any. I waka comot like person wey dey run from masquerade, no even touch the fat envelope wey he drop. The only thing wey I ask from am be one promise:

Na real wahala dey that day, as I sidon for one black keke dey reason my life. The keke dey bounce anyhow for Makurdi pothole, breeze dey slap my face, but my mind still dey heavy. As I waka comot from Auwalu side, my body dey do me somehow. But before I go, I tell am with my clear eye, "No matter wetin I fit face for future, as long as I come meet am, he must help me."

Some years later, one powerful rich pikin begin dey disturb me—no let me rest at all.

This Kabiru boy, na one of those wey e papa get plenty trucks, e mama dey run women fellowship for church, but e own wahala reach sky. Dem dey gist for women fellowship say the boy dey spray money for club like rain, and e dey reckless anyhow. E dey pursue me like say na national cake e dey chase. My mind no rest again. Person fit think say na only for Lagos you go see mad boys, but see as my own dey find me for Makurdi.

As e be say I no get choice, I carry phone call Auwalu.

Before I dial, I squeeze my old prayer bead, mutter small prayer: "God abeg, nor let shame catch me." My hand dey shake small as I dey dial. For that moment, na only him fit reason this kind matter. I look window, dey pray make network no mess up.

"Why you dey always reject am?"

For phone, his voice dey lively: "Na because you no like am, abi?"

E dey laugh like say we dey gist old gist for suya joint, but I know say he dey wait for my answer. Na this kind voice dey make person remember the years wey I spend dey do madam.

I just sigh. "I don marry already."

My voice low, no carry any gra-gra. I talk am like say na confession for church. Even as I dey talk, my chest dey tight. Na the truth, but e dey pain me small say na so my life take waka.