Chapter 3: Under Canopy and Candlelight

For village, dem dey do party for roadside. Just arrange canopy, people chop, drink, dey happy. Everywhere dey lively, but their bad custom spoil everything. Goats dey waka near firewood, small pikin dey lick suya stick, old women dey fan themselves with Ankara cloth.

Na so e dey be for these northern hill towns. Open canopy, goats dey pass back, children dey dance to bata drum. Old men dey smoke, dey play draughts. If person no sabi their true face, e fit think say happiness full ground. But the evil dey hide under the celebration.

I enter the big canopy. The groomsmen dey play drinking game with the groom, faces red, voice don dey slur. As dem see me, dem dey look each other, dey smile, wan make I join drink.

I dey walk slow, dey measure their face. Na dem I dey watch pass, especially the tall one wey get scar for eyebrow. Some dey hail me, one even try pull my sleeve make I join their circle.

I just dodge, collect one bottle of ogogoro, pour each person full glass. The groom don almost sleep on top table.

I fill their glass reach brim, use the strong smell cover my own fear. Groom head dey fall for table, best man dey fan am, everybody dey shout, "Groomy, drink, drink!"

As I pour for the last groomsman, he look me with wicked smile. “Brother, that bridesmaid na your sister, abi?”

He lean close, spit dey fly. His breath smell like fermented burukutu. The way he look me, e be like say he dey size me up for fight.

“Yes, any problem?”

I no show fear. I hold my own. I dey ready, my eye no blink. Small silence enter group.

“No wahala. She fine sha.”

He chuckle, others follow. Their laughter get meaning, but nobody say am for mouth. I just carry face like stone, no let them see my plan.