Chapter 2: The Public Shame

Captain Garba lead him light cavalry go deep behind enemy line, for two months, nobody hear from am.

During those two months, women gather early for city gate, bring kola nut, dey pour libation, dey beg ancestors make news reach. Town crier bell silent every morning; no letters, no gist—just waiting pain.

Nobody believe say e go come back alive.

Old men dey shake head for mosque, dey talk say war no dey return all im sons. My stepmother don start to dey wear mourning wrapper, her sighs heavy with fake tears.

But the shocker—

First thing wey e do when e return na to marry my elder sister, Halima, sharp sharp.

Before the dust of him horse settle, marriage drums start for Halima. Women begin tie their best Ankara wrappers, gist fly everywhere like fire. My chest tight, my dreams dry up like old okra.

Sun dey burn for head.

Sweat dey drip for my face, mix with tears wey I no fit let fall. My wedding lace dey itch, dey stick for my back as afternoon heat dey bite. Smell of fried groundnut from hawker dey make me wan vomit.

Garba words just cut me like knife, catch me where I no expect.

He no look me, voice loud pass drummers, but cold like harmattan wind. Crowd quiet, all eyes on me, like say dem dey wait make I disgrace myself.

Inside noisy crowd, I swallow the vomit wey dey climb my throat.

My hands dey shake, I grip my wrapper edge, dey pray make ground swallow me. My mouth bitter, heart dey beat like masquerade drum.

With serious force, I try talk, to confirm:

"Captain Garba, but I get... That night, you talk am yourself..."

I try sound bold, but my voice thin, dey tremble like goat under rain. All the aunties’ eyes dey burn my back, dey wait if I go shame myself more.

He talk say if he return, even if na cripple or sick, he go marry me as him wife.

Those words now far, like thunder for memory. I remember his face, sweat-soaked, when he vow that thing with the moon dey shine.

For a moment, Garba face blank, like say he dey remember those three mad days and nights.

He look me quick, then shift eye. Mouth dey move, but nothing come out. I see confusion, guilt, maybe fear for him face.

My elder sister dab her eye corner, voice low:

"Younger sister, even if you dey rush marry enter commander house as junior wife, you no fit wear my red coral crown and wedding lace."

She talk am sweet, lips bend like she dey pity me, but venom dey hide for her tone. Women for crowd nod, some dey hide smirk behind their fan.

Her talk make everybody look me again.

Ripple pass through people, faces dey turn, mouth dey twist. My shame don turn city entertainment, the gist wey go last for market.

Suddenly, my body dey shake, I no know wetin to do.

My knees dey fail me, skin dey crawl under their eyes. I wish say I fit disappear.

People around dey whisper, dey gossip, eyes full of mockery.

"She no even get shame, see as she dey stand!" one woman hiss. "After this, who go fit marry am again?" another join, their laugh hot like slap.

The red wedding lace hot me like fire—I just dey wish make I tear am comot.

Lace dey scratch my skin, the beauty dey mock me. I want scatter am, run far, no look back.

So na me misunderstand everything.

I realise, say the story wey I tell myself na only my own. To them, I be foolish, greedy sister. I bite my lip to hold tears.

Seven days ago, Garba send urgent letter.

Paper rough, ink rush. My hands dey shake as I read, heart dey pound with hope.

The tone harsh, say make I carry my wedding lace come city gate come welcome am today.

I wear my best wrapper, oil my hair, pray. I picture procession, my name clear, my child future bright.

I think say he wan keep him promise, my mind sweet me.

That morning, I dance alone, whisper thanks to my mama spirit. I believe say my life go better.

But na only disgrace dey wait for me.

Instead, na scorn I meet, my hope scatter like chaff. The drums beat just to drive me away.

Na like person slap me for public, I no get where to hide my shame.

Pain sting pass cane. Even small pikin dey point, dey whisper my name like curse.

Garba finally notice me, him voice full of impatience:

"Halima and I don already dey together. First wife position suppose return to am."

His tone sharp, dismissive. Like I be afterthought, something he no even wan remember.

"Even though you no pure again, if you behave, e no too hard to keep you as junior wife."

The words hit me like stone. My cheeks dey burn. Crowd dey murmur, some dey pity, most dey shame me. My heart dey squeeze, but I keep head up, no gree make dem see me break.

For a brief second, as I turn to go, the sun glare catch the tears for my eye. I rub my belle, pain deep. I waka pass the gate, the wedding drums still dey beat, but for my ear, na only my heart dey shout. I no look back, but my tears dey soak my wrapper.