Chapter 1: Police Matter No Be Play

For police station interrogation room, one policeman dey question me like say we dey gist:

“How you and your wife take meet? When una first jam?”

His biro tap table, like say e dey count time. The room no get AC, only one old fan dey blow hot air for corner, making the place smell like sweat and disinfectant. The walls even get old poster of Inspector-General, face already dey peel. The policeman talk with that kind easy Lagos Pidgin, his voice soft, almost as if he wan gist with me, but I know say under the calm, na work he dey do. His uniform shirt don fade small, but e still iron am sharp.

Another officer, wey serious, dey write notes and dey look me up and down.

This other officer na one of those wey dey chew pen like e dey find meat for inside. He adjust him spectacles every few minutes, the biro dey tap the table anytime he write. Him eye dey sharp, no dey miss anything, like say na examination hall we dey.

I rub my face. For days now, I never sleep well.

My eyes dey red, my skin dey pepper me from lack of sleep. My head dey pound. If I close eye, na my wife face I dey see, pale for hospital bed. For this Naija, where wahala no dey ever finish, e be like say na my own wahala reach market this time. Every time I try close eye, nightmare go wake me.

From the time my wife get accident, hospital matter, me selling car and house to save her, her death, to burial arrangement—everything just dey like Nollywood film wey no get happy ending. My head still dey turn.

I dey try remember wetin really happen, everything just dey mix for my mind. Na one event after another, no breathing space. I dey even wonder if all this na real or na one kain Nollywood movie dem dey act and I no sabi.

I try smile, but e bitter me:

“I meet her last year April 16th, for blind date.”

Blind date no be my style, but pressure from church people and office aunties no gree. As I talk am, my mouth dry. I lick my lips, but e still dry like harmattan. I remember that day well, as if e happen yesterday. Na small buka for Ikeja, aroma of efo riro and fried plantain dey choke the air. My shirt still dey smell starch. My mind dey run.

The policeman ask again, “How you take remember the date like that?”

“That na my daughter birthday.” My face nearly break down.

I try hold my face well, but small tear dey hide for corner of my eye. I blink fast, no wan make police see man dey cry. That date, e get meaning for me now pass before. Even if na pain, I still remember.

The policeman look surprised, then joke:

“You too young, na top university you finish, you dey civil service now—why you need blind date?”

I be six foot, not too fine, not too ugly—just that kind face wey conductor fit forget for danfo.

People dey always say I get that kind average look, you fit forget my face if you see me for crowd, but my smile dey make people relax. My voice get calmness wey dey make people trust me sharp-sharp, but inside me, na worry full.

I get graduate degree, get civil servant work for Land Office immediately after school.

That Land Office wey people dey rush government work, so to get job there after NYSC na big deal. My family do thanksgiving for church, pastor even pour anointing oil for my head.

Small shame catch me, I explain:

“I no be from here. Na school bring me come, then I join government work, so people dey try help me. E just be like—” I pause, then talk, “People really dey helpful, especially all those aunties and uncles.”

For Abuja, if you no get people, na you go dey stranded. All those office aunties, dem sabi everybody story, dem go find who be who, carry your matter for head like gala. Sometimes e dey sweet, sometimes e dey turn wahala.

The policeman nod, “I sabi. Those aunties wey dey civil service like to play matchmaker for we wey dey young.”

His own mouth even bend in small smile. E be like say he get him own story with those type of aunties.

Then he ask, “So, when una marry?”

“Last year July 5th.”

That date still dey for my mind, na the day wey my life change, for better or for worse. My mama call pastor that morning make he pray for us.

“So, na just two months plus una know each other before marriage? Why una rush?”

He sound shocked.

Even the officer writing look up for a second, pen stop for air. For Nigeria, people dey rush marriage but this one short even for Naija standard. People dey talk say sharp-sharp marriage dey cause wahala.

I shift for chair, look ground, my hand dey sweat. I smile bitterly. “She get belle.”

The thing choke me as I talk am. My eyes dey dodge their own. Na that kind mistake wey go turn to blessing, but e come get wahala join.

“Na run-belle marriage be that,” he nod.

The way he talk am, e no judge me, but you go know say for inside him mind, na normal Naija gist.

“She senior me by over two years, she don reach thirty that time. She dey fear say if she wait, e go hard to born. She wan keep the pikin. We reason am, say since we go marry anyway, make we just do marriage certificate sharp-sharp.”

For our side, if woman don pass thirty, family pressure go dey. Dem dey talk say, "woman wey reach thirty, time no dey wait am." If pikin come enter, matter don settle.

“So you think say you really know her?”

I no understand the question but I answer true:

“She be correct babe—sharp, gentle, dey respect people, treat me well. I... I never meet person like her before. And—”

My chest squeeze as I dey talk. She fit dey stubborn sometimes, but her heart pure, e dey show for everything she do for house. My friends even dey jealous, say I dey lucky.

To talk about my wife dey shame me, but to remember say she don die, pain hold my chest. My throat block, I no fit talk again.

I just dey look ceiling, like say answer go drop from there. My hand dey shake. The whole room quiet small. The officer with glasses adjust him chair, maybe to give me space.

He push one cold sachet water my way—the type wey dey leak for one corner. I nod, manage sip am, my hand still dey shake.

After small time, he ask:

“And what else?”

“Her condition sef dey okay,” I no hide mouth.

For Nigeria, condition na everything. Person fit fine, but if condition bad, wahala.

“How?”

“She get good work, fine, dey earn pass me. Our marriage be like partnership, no be say one dey carry another. In fact, I gain from her, my life standard rise well.”

Her work na those kind big company for VI, with AC, driver, the whole package. Sometimes she dey come house, bring small thing for me and my pikin, her own way to show love.

“Our check show say your family no too bad. When you marry, dem buy you house for here, abi?”

“Yes, my papa and mama don save money since. When I wan marry, to show seriousness, we buy house after marriage certificate, give her half of the house. She no ask for bride price. My mama wan do wedding for village, but my wife understand say since we just buy house, elders no too get money, so we fit wait for wedding.”

Na big thing for my family to buy house, so my people do party for our compound that day. My wife just dey smile, say house na better foundation than big wedding.

“Two-bedroom for here na at least twenty million naira.”

For my area, if you get two-bedroom, dem dey look you like small oga. All my friends dey hail me that period.

I blush small. “No be all cash o. We borrow more than ten million, use my housing fund.”

My mama even beg cooperative for loan, say e no fit shame us. Up till now, we still dey pay small-small.

“Family wey fit drop over ten million no simple o.”

“My people dey run small business. I no be indigene—even though I get government work, my family no dey here, so to find correct person no easy.”

For Abuja, if you no get family for here, you dey on your own. To make friends, na work. Na church people dey help me settle first.

“Your level better pass many people own.”

“I no wan reduce my life because of marriage. I be adult, I know wetin I want.” I no dodge the matter wey people dey hide.

My uncle go always yarn, "No let woman drag you down, but no drag am down too, Tunde." I hold that one for chest.

“So, even though she senior you almost three years, you still marry her,” the policeman summarize.

“Her age no even be issue. She na the best woman I ever meet. To marry her na pure luck for me.”

Age just be number for my eye. My friends even dey laugh, call me "small boy wey sabi road." If only dem know say na woman build my life, dem go understand.

I vex small for the way the officer dey talk about my wife.

My eye shine small, I adjust my chair, show say I dey ready stand for my own.

“Okay, okay, calm down.”

After a while, I calm.

He ask me normal questions about where I dey and wetin I do during my wife accident. I answer true, then ask, tired:

All the routine questions come, I give dem straight answer. I no fit lie, my voice don dey weak. I just dey look window, dey pray make this wahala finish.

“Why my in-laws go think say I fit kill my wife?”

The policeman see say I dey vex, tell me make I sit down, calm myself.

I just fold my hand for chest, my leg dey shake. I dey try control my mouth, make I no shout for police station.

“Why you rush sell car and house after your wife accident?”

He look me straight for eye, like say na last question before dem bring evidence. I feel sweat for my back.