Chapter 3: The Mountain Wey No Level

Na for mountaineering club I meet Gu Yan.

That time, work dey show me shege, na only money dey my mind, I dey do overtime anyhow, na weekend hiking dey help me cool down.

Lagos wahala too much, so I use mountain climbing hold my sanity. For my head, na only hustle dey important. Every Saturday na me dey first reach meeting point, sport shoe dusty, face cap bend for side.

Gu Yan join the club for my second year. At first, na just member e be, but because na me and am dey always first reach top, we begin relate.

We go climb, sometimes rain go beat us, sometimes sun go burn. But na me and am dey always first snap selfie for peak. Na so friendship start small small.

E dey work for finance. Me, na tech.

E sabi numbers, dey talk Excel like language. Me, na code and deadline dey my head. But for mountain, all of us na just climber.

E like sports, hiking. Me too.

We dey gist about all the places wey we wan go for Naija – Idanre Hills, Olumo Rock, Jos Plateau. We dey dream together, no wahala for mind.

After every climb, we go chop gala and drink La Casera for roadside before we go house. That small joy dey sweet pass salary sometimes.

So, when we climb our hundredth mountain together, na so e just yan:

E no even wait make sun set finish, e just look me for eye say, "Ifeoma, make we date."

"Ifeoma, make we date."

The thing shock me small, but na the calm way e talk am make me nod. No drama, no grammar, just plain talk. Na that kind steady hand I dey look for.

No be say e do any special thing – just talk am straight.

Na real Naija man, no dey form Shakespeare. E just go straight to the point.

But I agree.

I smile, say make we try am. My heart no dey beat kpokpo, but I like peace pass trouble.

My papa na person wey like drama – when e dey chase my mama, e set fireworks for half the city, police even catch am.

Dem still dey talk the gist for my village till today, say na love carry man do madness. But that one no change anything.

But that one no stop am from dey disturb my mama for boy pikin after marriage, give her herbal medicine drink tire, until she kpai as she dey born.

That memory still dey pain my chest. My mama drink bitter leaf and agbo sotey her belle no gree rest. All because my papa dey find boy, dem rush her for labour room, but God call her and my brother.

So for me, I no send romance or big big show – na stability I dey find.

After all, Naija woman wey don see pain just wan rest. Na cool breeze I dey look for, no be fire.

And Gu Yan steady die.

E get gentle heart. If I vex, e go laugh am off. If I cry, e go hold my hand. Na that kind man fit cool my wahala.

E no dey late for date. E gifts no dey surprise, but e no dey forget. E no dey rush come pick me for rain, but if I call, e go show.

Na real man, no too dey form. E dey do things on time, even if e simple. Na so my mind dey settle.

So, after three years, we marry.

We no do big wedding. Just small family, jollof rice, and dundun. I wear my white lace, tie gele, my friends dance for me. Happiness full my head.

For reception, dem serve chilled zobo with plenty ginger, everybody dey yarn say love sweet. Life after marriage just dey go as before.

Everyday be like Sunday. Small quarrel here, small laughter there. But peace dey reign for house.

I cook, e wash plate. I buy foodstuff, e dey rush come house early cook rice.

We share duty. Sometimes, e go make stew, I go fry plantain. No be Instagram marriage, but love dey show for small things.

All those soft, peaceful days make me believe say Gu Yan fit me pass anybody.

I even dey tell my friends say I lucky. Na only few women fit get man wey no dey find trouble.

Until three years ago, when Gu Yan carry me go e school mate wedding.

That day, I dress well, wear new wig. Gu Yan look me with pride as we waka enter hall. I feel important.

For bachelor party, Gu Yan friend drunk, hold e hand dey cry:

The guy red for face, voice loud pass generator. "Brother Gu, as I see you dey live like this, e dey pain me."

"Now your guy don marry dey enjoy, but you, the thing dey worry me."

Everybody dey look us. I just dey form smile, dey sip chilled zobo with plenty ginger for cup.

"If to say Jumoke no travel go be war reporter, you for no close your heart like this."

Na so everywhere freeze. Even DJ stop music small. My hand shake, but I keep face straight.

Gu Yan sharply look me, like e dey fear.

E eyes beg me make I no vex, but I just keep my cool. That silence stretch sotey breeze pass us.

"No mind am, e don high."

I just smile, no talk.

I do like say I no hear. For this life, silence sometimes dey talk pass mouth.

But as we reach house, I hint am: "Gu Yan, I get plenty wahala, but one thing wey I sabi, na to cut feelings sharp sharp."

I say am with cool voice, no vex, just as warning. If e no ready, make e talk now.

E stand for dark, I no see e face.

Only street light dey throw shadow for wall. For my mind, I dey hope say e go choose us.

But after that day, Jumoke waka from our life.

Na so things return to normal. I think say e don bury the matter. Marriage sweet again, small small.

Until now.

Everything wey I bury for chest begin dey rise again, like bad debt wey refuse to die.