Chapter 3: Betrayal and Labour

3

But how I no go vex for am—especially when I carry seven months belle for Nnenna.

That time feel like yesterday and another lifetime. My belle round, ankle swell, I dey waka slow for house, already mother to one, dey wait to born another.

That time, I discover say he keep junior wife for outside compound. So considerate—he keep am outside so my heart no go break too much.

Na kitchen gossip bring am reach my ear—pass from house girl to house girl, land for my body like cold rain. Some call am protection, some say na cowardice. Me, I call am betrayal.

The woman na Jumoke, that one wey swear say na only Obinna she go marry, and after I marry am, she waka go church retreat alone.

Jumoke—tall, yellow, voice soft, stubborn for prayer. She be that kind woman wey dey pray pass everybody, scarf never shift for head. I dey wonder if her prayer dey include small curse for me.

One swear say na only am, the other dey hold old feeling—correct couple.

Their story na that drama my mama warn me about. My pain join their legend, lesson for small wife dem.

With my big belle, I enter that flat and I scatter everywhere—chai! Plate, cup, even the small stool for corner.

Nothing survive my anger. Voice don disappear, only silent vex remain—self dey fear me.

Then, I carry cutlass from Obinna hand, point am for am. No tears, just dey look am well.

Blade heavy, palm dey sweat. My silence more dangerous than shout. He stand, dey look, no sure if I fit do am.

To point cutlass for husband na crime wey fit carry woman go chief’s court.

Everybody sabi law: Woman no dey lift weapon for man. Even my mama spirit for vex, but anger pass fear that day.

Jumoke stand for side, dey shake like leaf.

She press wall, eyes wide, breath stuck. For one second, I see another woman wey trap for story wey no be her own.

Obinna try calm me, dey explain:

"I be drunk. Jumoke no do anything. I no fit act like nothing happen."

He raise hand, voice dey crack, dey try yarn wetin no get head. Him words empty like calabash for sun.

Wetin be that? I just laugh, laugh wey even shock me.

Sound sharp, bitter, dey bounce for wall. Even me no recognize say na my laugh.

Obinna look me, come near, blade press am more.

He no move, like say he dey test if I fit do am. For the first time, I see fear flash for him face.

He call my name soft, pain dey show:

"Ngozi."

Voice dey tremble, softer than ever. Na beg and sorry join together.

Suddenly, sharp pain hit my belle—my water break.

World begin turn. Wetness for my leg, panic grab me. Everything fade—only pain remain.

When I born Nnenna, I labour from night till next day.

Cry dey echo for corridor. I bite rag, sweat dey rush, prayer dey fall from mouth between pain. The old midwife poured palm oil on my lips, praying in Yoruba, fanning my face with her scarf.

Obinna stay with me all through, let me squeeze hand till blood show.

He no run, no leave. For those hours, he just be man, no be Otunba, no be betrayer—just Zubair papa, Nnenna papa, dey hold me for storm.

As soon as I fit move, I chase Obinna commot compound.

Strength wey I no know I get, I gather am, point gate, shout till guards open. Compound breathe relief as he waka go, everybody dey look for tomorrow.

Na the ugliest time for my life—shout, hopeless.

Voice don scatter from curse and cry. House be like broken pot, every room dey echo our wahala.

We fight tire, say the worst things to each other.

Words be like knife, dey cut. Neighbours dey whisper, but nobody fit enter. Pride lock us both inside.

Sometimes, I remember that boy, raise hand, promise me, word for word:

"I promise you, for this life, na only you go dey."

I still dey see am for moonlight, full of hope. My heart squeeze, dey mourn the boy wey time and power don swallow.

So I trap for dead end, no road to waka.

No matter how I run, wall dey close. Love wey be river before now dey choke me, I dey wonder if I fit ever breathe free again.