Chapter 4: Rain, Pride, and Surrender

4

At first, Obinna dey come every day, dey bring funny things from everywhere to make me happy.

He go show with mango from far, silk from north, even music box from oyinbo. Each gift heavy pass the last—remind me say some things no fit repair.

But I throw everything away, no one survive.

House girls sabi hide the gift behind kitchen. Even my pikin no dey ask if I go keep anything.

He try come close, but I dodge, face inside Bible.

I go dey read Psalm, dey whisper prayer I no sure I believe. My body just dey turn from am like stone.

One day, he come drunk, force himself on me.

Ogogoro for breath, hand dey rough. I lie down, eyes open, dey wait make e finish. Something inside me break that night.

That day, I use kerosene lamp break him head.

Glass scatter, blood run for him cheek. He stagger, shock, hold wound. First time he see how deep my anger reach.

After that, Obinna no come again, and the back flat finally get peace—no more Obinna wahala, just me and my children.

Peace return—shaky one. Compound get new routine, everybody dey pretend.

I hear say he bring Jumoke enter compound, two of them dey enjoy every day.

Their laughter dey float for night, wall thick but no fit block am. Sometimes I hear Jumoke dey sing hymn for morning, voice soft like say nothing dey worry am.

Later, Obinna collect household right, say I no behave. I happy to free myself from stress.

He give account to him mama, wey like power. I feel light, happy to drop quarrel about food and servant.

I just dey for back flat, dey stay with my son and daughter—na so my life waka.

Our world small—just two room, book, laughter, secret. I pour my energy for Zubair and Nnenna, we form island.

Until Zubair catch high fever. Obinna no dey, maids find doctor, no way.

Body hot like fire, eyes dey roll, voice low. Compound small, panic dey spread.

Dem try get doctor from outside, but no keke fit move.

Rain fall scatter road, red mud everywhere. Drivers no gree drive, compound be like prison.

Zubair dey burn, dey call:

"Mama, Mama, Zubair dey suffer."

Cry soft, desperate, kind wey haunt mother. I feel helpless, heart break.

Desperate, I kneel outside Jumoke room, beg her to help Zubair.

Rain soak me reach bone, but pride no gree me stand up. I beg tire, but that door no open.

Jumoke no come out. I kneel for heavy rain, mind jump back to that year.

Water soak wrapper, hair stick for face. I wait, dey pray she go open door. House silent—na only rain dey answer me.

Aunty Kemi, before she die, yarn me again and again:

"Woman favour dey for her husband hand."

Her words dey echo for ear, heavy. I remember her eye—warning, sadness.

Aunty Kemi na my mama for this world, but I only fit call her "Aunty Kemi," no be "Mama."

Even as pikin, gap between us wide pass river. I dey find embrace, praise—na lesson and silence I get.

Back then, I no understand, just dey nod.

I think her talk na old school, relic of past. I no know say e true pass as e be.

I stubborn small. After all, I modern woman, twenty years of independence. How I go depend on man?

Old self laugh her advice—sure say I fit carve my own road. Independence na my shield, na the only thing I own.

Until I carry Zubair for arm, nowhere to go for rain, truth land.

That night, I cry as I rock am, pride break. Truth settle: for this world, woman wey no get husband favour, na tree wey dem cut root.

For here, woman survival dey man hand.

No matter how smart, hardworking, loved—I safe only as Obinna gree. Bitter truth, but e keep me alive.

Because Obinna leave me, I no fit protect my own pikin.

Heart harden. Pride too costly, I vow never risk my pikin safety again.

Thank God, Zubair survive.

Fever break for morning. I sing thanks, promise God say I no go tempt fate. From that day, I pick survival over pride.