Chapter 3: Secrets and Surprises

As I hear Musa name, na like thunder hit my chest. That trip—I no even wan remember am. Na still Director Musa group: four men, four women, three prey. Musa na one of the men—strong, stubborn, manly die. That night for Okpoko Hill, he get one woman, Damilola, she dey run training school, big madam, maybe early thirties, mature, fine, always wear gold-rimmed glasses, skin fair, beautiful.

Even as I remember, na so my hand dey shake. That Damilola matter, e still dey haunt me. Her voice, her tears, e dey echo for my mind like drum during new yam festival.

"...I gree be your temporary wife..."

"...I gree be your dog, e reach? You happy now? Abeg just kill me..."

Damilola voice still dey ring for my ear. That night na nightmare wey never leave me.

I dey see her face for my dream sometimes, her glasses crooked, her pride broken. For this kind place, na only people wey never see wahala go dey boast. Musa strong, but Damilola na real woman. E pain me how everything take end.

"Me and Musa suppose marry, before I find out say e dey cheat, dey do rubbish, dey join una for this adventure nonsense," Ifunanya talk am calmly.

As she talk, her face no shake, no tears, nothing. For my mind, I dey reason whether na plan she bring come, or na true. But the way her eye dey shine, e clear say she no dey here for joke.

I reason say she come to find trouble for us. But I quickly see say I dey wrong.

My chest for dey swell if na normal day, but this one different. She no come find fight, her voice too level. She get that confidence wey only person wey don see finish fit get.

"No worry, I no come make wahala. From that day, I stop to love am. I just wan enjoy my youth small. If he fit enjoy life, why I no fit? I wan experience the happiness wey him get. I wan know wetyn pass love for pleasure."

I nearly choke on my own spit—no be small thing for woman mouth. As she talk, I dey watch her mouth move. The thing surprise me, because no be every woman go open mouth talk like that for front of men. In this our side, na only woman wey get liver fit talk this kind thing. She no even blink.

My cousin just snap, "Why I go believe you?"

Ifunanya stand up, waka near my cousin, grab him hand, put am for her chest.

Na so Seyi hand stiff, as if juju catch am. She no even fear, her chest rise small, her eye lock on his own. For this Naija, na taboo for woman to near man this way, unless she sure say she get upper hand. I see goosebumps for Seyi hand.

"Tell me, wetyn go make you believe?"

She no smile, she no frown. Her tone just dey steady, like rain wey dey fall for corrugated zinc.

My cousin lower him voice, "Here no pure, make we enter inside."

His voice low like when elders dey warn pikin make e no disgrace family for public. Him dey look left and right, as if he dey fear neighbors go hear.

I know wetyn my cousin mean. No woman dey gree for this kind open talk. But again, I miss am. Ifunanya just pull my cousin go inner room, close the door, leave me for outside dey catch breeze like mumu. Abeg, na so woman fit hate man reach to give up everything?

Mosquitoes don dey gather for my leg, but I no move. I dey wonder: if woman fit scatter herself like this for one reason, wetin remain for this world? I fit hear faint voice from inside, laughter mix with small quarrel. For our compound, things dey change, but tonight pass ordinary.