Chapter 5: Surrender and Secrets

5

After that day, sense enter my body—or maybe na fate I just accept.

I learn to swallow anger, play role dem expect. Submission become my wrapper, I wear am well.

I write poem full of pain, longing, send am to Obinna.

Every word wound, cover with sugar. I sabi say he go read, feel important, come back. Na woman way to call husband home without lose face.

That night, after six months, Obinna enter back flat again.

Him footstep slow, perfume choke. Other wives clear road, balance shift.

I wear him favourite green iro and buba, wait for corridor.

Cloth hold my waist, colour shine for lamp. Hair oiled, eye line, face calm.

I look up, no talk—just let tears fall.

Silence yarn everything. Tears wey I hide for months flow, wet my blouse. First time he see price of him wahala for my face.

As I expect, Obinna hug me.

Arm warm, hold me tight. I lean, pretend comfort dey enough.

He gently console me:

"I go treat you well, forever and ever."

Words sweet, like honey with small gin. I wan believe, but stone don cover something for my heart.

He promise me. Otunba wey fit shake council, almost reckless this night.

Guard drop, let me see boy I love before.

He kiss every part of my body, like say I be rare treasure.

Touch hot, desperate—like say time fit repair all. I close eye, pretend say na only me dey his world.

He make me call am, call am, till my voice crack—like say the name fit heal old wound.

He dey whisper, "Call me," again and again, as if say e go clean all the wahala between us.

So I call am, call am—and he answer, answer—until our voice tire.

I smile quiet, soft like water. But when he waka go, I hold mango tree for compound, vomit badly.

Nausea rush me, body weak. I hold tree, dey smell earth, dey pray say I fit wash my soul like I dey wash mouth.

Afraid to carry belle again, I boil bitter leaf, squeeze am inside enamel cup, drink am sharp-sharp—no pikin go tie me down again.

Bitter taste linger, sharp for mouth. I pray leaf go work, make no child born from that night.

After that, life sweet like early years.

Compound lively again—music, laughter, everywhere. For outsider, we be perfect family, mended and full.

Jumoke chop family punishment, dem send her church retreat—her days now na prayer.

She waka fast, bag pack with hymn and regret. Elders say prayer go clean her spirit. I dey wonder if e ever do.

Later, na me dey pick junior wife for Obinna, dey choose well.

I become matchmaker, dey weigh beauty, character, family. I choose wife wey no go threaten me, wey go bring peace.

Gentle, loving, sabi proverb, sabi music—person to share dream.

I pick girls wey dey sing folk song, quote Yoruba proverb, play ajẹlè for moonlight. On paper, dem perfect—balm for Otunba spirit.

But that day, Obinna vex, eye cold like ice.

He look me like say I betray am, voice sharp, strange.

"You really be good wife."

Words full of sarcasm, pain pass slap. I stare, no sure if na praise or punishment.

He voice dey mock. I look am, confused.

He stare back, eye hard, empty. I realize say he want wetin I no fit give.

He say I jealous—now he too no happy.

He talk say I dey cold, dey plan. I wonder if we ever go understand each other, or if marriage na long war wey nobody dey win.

Man mind be like water for calabash—nobody fit know finish.

My granny yarn: "You fit stir am, you no fit see bottom." Obinna na so—always dey change, always hide something.

I think maybe the wife I pick no good, I pick more.

I dey search, dey hope one go sweet am, balance go return. Effort become ritual—every new wife new sacrifice.

Fat, slim, lively, quiet, fine—any kind.

Compound full of faces, laughter everywhere. Air thick with perfume, secret, and jealousy.

That day, Obinna eye strange, but he talk nothing, spend night with new junior wife.

He avoid my face, silence heavy like curse. Wall dey close, every shadow dey whisper wetin I no wan hear.

After, compound lively, plenty pikin from junior wives.

Boys, girls, black, yellow, dey run for yard. Laughter full air, cry dey echo.

All of them call me "Mama," greet me every day, I smile back.

I sabi each name, dey share treat for festival, dey make sure nobody feel left out. Smile become shield, laughter na mask.

But each time I hear "Mama," my mind dey remind me—these pikin na proof of Obinna closeness with other women.

Their eye—just like am—remind me of every betrayal. Each hug, each gift, dey taste like ash for my mouth.

No matter how long I stay for this kingdom, I never fit get used to am.

Pain no dey dull. E dey inside, quiet but sharp, like thorn under skin.

Everybody say I kind, capable madam—never harsh to junior wife pikin, always plan good future.

Town dey praise me, mothers dey send their daughters learn from me. For them, I be example of womanhood, patience, strength.

Only me sabi the disgust wey rise every time I see them.

I hide my shame, dey swallow am like medicine. Nobody see my crack, the ache wey never heal.

I hate Obinna, so I hate them too.

Ugly truth, I never talk am. My love turn to resentment, dey poison everything.

Now, I dey finally die.

Death be like freedom, open door at the end of dark corridor. I welcome am, no fear.