Chapter 2: ICU Dey Chop Money Like Fire

“That time, na just thirty-something thousand naira remain for my hand. The rest dey for stock market. Doctor talk say her case bad, even if she survive, na vegetable she go be. But I no send—I just wan make she live, make she dey alive at all.”

E pain me to talk am. For Naija, if sickness hook person, na money be matter. ICU dey chop money like fire, no mercy. I borrow here, borrow there... Even my church people begin avoid my call.

I break down, shout. As I touch my face, I realize say I dey cry.

My voice scatter, my eyes swell. I never cry like this since my papa die. I no fit even hide from police. One of them even shift tissue give me, as if na film dem dey watch.

After small time, I calm down, continue:

I draw long breath, voice low. I try control my nose, use hand clean tears.

“She enter ICU. You know say that place, na one million naira up per day. My money finish quick. Even money wey I borrow from friends finish. No choice, I sell car and house.”

I dey calculate the bills for head. Every time doctor call, my hand dey shake. The hospital sef dey rush, no be small. I dey price everything, from drip to paracetamol, like say I dey buy pepper for market. Sometimes I dey borrow money from okada man just to buy recharge card call family.

“You no know say your wife get money?”

“After we marry, we no join money together. She dey handle her own, I dey handle my own. For house expenses, I dey pay mortgage and bills, she dey handle social things and house renovation.”

Na so we run am—everybody hold him own. For Naija, joint account fit cause war. That one na how our marriage be, e get people wey dey say we suppose join everything, but my wife get her own way. E no cause quarrel, na so we dey run am.

“Renovation?”

“She pay for all the renovations, buy furniture and appliances for our house,” I talk, small shame catch me.

Na her taste full that house. If you see the parlour, you go know say woman hand touch am. All those imported curtains, even fridge na smart one.

The policeman nod, then ask:

“With your wife condition, you no think to tell your parents or ask them for help?”

“She bad well. I no wan make my parents worry too much. I wan wait till her condition better before I tell them. I dey fear say dem no fit take am, especially her mama. My in-laws love her die.”

If I call my mama, she go faint. Na prayer warrior she be. Her own wahala dey different from my own.

“As we see, your father-in-law no be your wife real papa.”

“Yes, na stepfather, but e treat her well. Before we marry, na him give her house—the one we dey live for.”

For my place, step papa dey always form distance, but this one dey carry her matter for head. He even dey send food come sometimes, dey check on us.

Another policeman hiss, “Na house give you say you treat person well?”

I shock, then talk serious:

“We be normal people. House wey worth millions, you give your stepdaughter—if that one no good, wetin remain?”

No be everybody fit do that kind thing. For my place, na only blood pikin dey get that kind blessing.

He quiet.

The officer just look ground, no talk again. E be like say him mind dey run another matter.

Another officer smile, try calm the place:

“You really dey defend your wife and her people. You dey call them steady?”

“I dey call the elders two times every month. My wife, I believe say she dey call too.”

For my place, respect to elders na everything. If you marry person daughter, you go dey greet am steady or wahala go burst.

“What of your wife real papa?”

I feel small guilt:

“I never meet her real papa. Last year, we no do wedding, but both families chop together. My wife talk say she never see her papa for years, no fit reach am, so I never meet the man.”

I even ask about am one time, but my wife change topic. I no push am, say maybe e pain her.

Then the policeman talk:

“She no tell you say her papa don die?”

“Eh?” I shock.

My eye open, my mouth wide. I dey try recall if she talk am before. My head dey run like generator.

“Her papa na miner. E work for her stepfather quarry, get accident, die.”

“I really no know. Why dem hide am from me?”

That one pain me, because if to say I know, I for do different.

The two policemen look each other, then one ask:

“Why you sell all the houses and cars that time?” The officer pause. “Even your wife three houses before marriage.”

“I need money sharp-sharp, but as you know, house market no good now. I fear say dem no go sell, so I put all of them up, hope say at least one go sell quick.”

The agent wey help me sef dey complain say no buyer, but I beg am, say make he try. I no want hear story when hospital call.

“But after you sell one and get the money, why sell the rest?”

“The first one wey sell na my wife big house for Palm Grove Estate, but the buyer need mortgage, so cash no go come fast. Our own house na the second to sell. Maybe because I set price low and want cash, e sell quick, money land fast. But that time, my wife still dey critical, pikin dey sick, so I ask colleague help me run the house sale. Later, after I finish with my wife and pikin, buyers of the other two houses send the money. If I no sell, I go pay penalty, plus I go offend my colleagues. Buyers na relatives of oga for office. You know, I just join the work..."

Na wahala if you no sell to oga people, dem fit spoil your work. I gats do wetin I fit, no get time to argue.

I no talk again.

The policeman understand. Two houses for main town, sell at loss—people dey rush am, but I no get choice.

That loss pain me, but life na priority. Hospital no dey hear story, dem just dey collect.

When oga relatives wan buy, you must sell, no argument.

If you talk no, dem go carry your matter go management. Better make peace than fight dem.

“After you sell all, where you dey live now?”

“The house we dey now—the oga relative never move in, so dem rent am back to me.”

I dey pay small rent, just to stay till I fit sort myself. Dem even collect caution fee on top.

“Why you sell your wife car last?”

“I get classmate wey get money, dey do car business. As I dey sell house and car, I carry the car go him place for check. One of him boys carry the car go, jam accident. E no get choice, he buy the car from me.”

Na God save me that the boy no wound, if not, wahala for double.

“Car accident?”

“Yes.”

“How e happen?”

“I no too sure. Traffic police get record.”

For Naija, if car jam, story dey long. I just dey thank God say no be my head the wahala land.

“Off topic—when you dey sell car and house, you no think of your future?”

I shock, no understand, until he say:

“You know how hard e be to take care of person wey be vegetable?”

For my mind, I dey remember all the stories of people wey their wife dey hospital for years, family dey suffer.

Another policeman, see say I confuse, talk plain:

“You marry her because she fit help your life standard. But if she turn vegetable, after you sell car and house, your life go fall. You no think am?”

That one hit me like slap. I just dey look ground, no fit talk.

I smile bitterly: “I think am, but na life matter. You—if na you, you go leave am like that?”

I dey look the policeman, eye to eye. Make he tell me say he go do different.