Chapter 2: Cell Shadows and Silent Battles

After Aunty Shola waka commot, I hide for my room, cry so tey breath wan finish me.

I curl for my mat, cover face with wrapper, dey sob. The room small, hot, but I no even feel am. My tears dey soak my pillow. For every cry wey I cry, na so my chest dey light small small.

All my life as chief pikin—no suffer reach me before.

I remember the way dem dey treat me for village—everybody dey greet me, dey hail my papa. My mama dey always say, "Nneka, you be star." Now, na only my shadow dey answer me.

But three months ago, everything scatter.

As if one evil wind blow enter our house. The news reach us like thunder—my papa and mama just vanish. All the respect, all the laughter, all the land—everything disappear like mist.

My papa and mama disappear for Makurdi as dem go inspect project.

Nobody find them. Instead, dem accuse my family say we join enemy, na betrayal.

The way people turn face, I still dey see am. Even my cousins no gree answer my call again. Na only God know wetin really happen that day for Makurdi.

Government order land, dem seize our house, hundreds of us turn prisoner.

Soldiers enter compound, carry everybody. All my papa workers, all the small children—dem pack us like beans for lorry. My chest dey pain as I remember the shouting, the confusion, the crying.

Dem lock me inside dark cell.

The cell smell like old beans and rat piss—dark, hot, no breeze, just me and my shadow. No light, no air, just me and my thoughts. I dey count the days, dey pray for miracle.

Na then Musa show.

His shadow first enter, then him deep voice. I no believe am at first. The way e stand, you go know say na person wey don see battle. My heart dey beat, but I still manage look up.

E talk say my papa save am before, so to pay back, e gree marry me.

For that moment, na like say God answer my prayer. I no get choice, but at least I dey see outside again. The marriage na quick one—elders, small kola, soldier gun for corner.

From there, I turn commander wife.

But the man no even like me at all.

E dey treat me like say I be stranger for him house. If no be for night, we no dey even cross each other path. I dey try talk, e dey shut me up with one look.

E cold like block wey dem bring out from freezer. Even when sun dey burn, e still dey cold—no smile, no laugh, just command.

Na only for bed we dey talk—and even that one na the same old command:

"Climb up."

"Turn around."

"Raise your waist."

I dey count the instructions for my head like school homework. Sometimes I go dey wonder if na me be soldier, or na him.

But, after all, I be him wife. How e go take give me to another man?

I dey reason am, dey look my wedding ring. For my mind, I dey ask God, "Na so marriage suppose be?" But fear still dey hold my heart.

I squeeze my hand, dey worry, but still dey reason am.

My fingers dey dig into my palm. I dey think, dey calculate. If true true e wan give me out, how I go survive? Wetin I go tell my people if I ever see them again?

Aunty Shola na Musa person—dem don face wahala together. Wetin she talk fit true.

I dey try remember how she and Musa dey relate—sometimes e dey laugh with her, sometimes e dey give her sharp eye. My mind dey twist, I no even know who to trust again.

As I dey think am, I touch my yansh wey still dey pain me from beating.

The pain dey remind me say this place no be home. I dey rub my side, dey wish say I fit disappear. The mark still dey burn, like pepper rub.

Musa pay bride price, elders bless am, even soldier oga stand for gate. I fit manage the beating. But to follow another man? God forbid.

I swear for myself, even if na to chop beating, I no go gree let another man touch me. My mama voice dey my ear: "Nneka, protect your dignity."

I must run.

Na only running fit save me. I dey plot, dey plan, dey wait for chance.

I don dey reason to find my papa and mama for Makurdi since.

Every night, I dey dream say I dey see them for bush, dey call my name. I dey wake up with sweat, dey pray say make I fit see them again before I die.

But as I wipe my tears, pack my small bag, na so comments just show again.

As I dey bend, dey arrange my wrapper and small purse, na so my head begin buzz with all those voices again. E be like say my guardian spirit dey use Facebook.

[LOL, oga dey practice eighteen styles, dey do two hundred push-ups before bed, script don tire, but for babe e just be suffering—some dey dry, some dey drown.]

[Na bad friend tell am say to catch woman, show her strength.]

[No skill, na just gra-gra—the guy for bed be like blind goat dey turn yam pounder. If you no stop am, you no see say the babe dey suffer?]

[Sigh, na because dem no dey talk true. Why the babe dey suffer? If she just call am 'husband', the guy go do anything for her.]