Chapter 1: The Trade

I was born with a full chest.

People always dey look my body anyhow, especially for compound. Since I small, na so mama dey warn me, say, “Halima, you no dey hide your blessing?” But wetin I fit do? Even to market, tailors dey point me for back. The smell of fried akara and dust dey follow me as I waka pass. The way I carry my body, even my shadow sef get extra curve.

Aunty dey fear say oga pikin no go fit hold himself, so she come promise me to General Musa, wey dem say wound serious for battlefield.

She talk am like say na trade she dey do. You go think say I be bag of garri, not person. Even as she dey try package the matter, her eye no fit meet mine. For her voice, I fit hear small guilt, like say she dey convince herself say she dey do me good.

As she dey push me commot for house, she con dey try calm me with guilty voice: “Even though Musa no fit do man work, at least you no go suffer born pikin.”

She touch my shoulder small, as if say e go wipe away my fear. For her mind, na consolation be that. For my mind, I dey wonder if she ever hear my real cry, or if na just her own peace of mind she dey chase.

“No worry, men wey no dey strong for that side, sometimes sabi another thing pass.”

She raise eyebrow join, as if she dey try encourage me, but me I just dey look am, no word dey come out from my mouth. I think say this woman sef dey try hard to make me accept fate, like say na only womanhood dem dey sell for this world.

Later, every night I dey beg make e pity me.

I dey toss for bed, beg God under my breath. My heart dey heavy like person wey swallow stone. Even the moonlight for my mat no dey sweet me again.

I really wan ask Aunty:

Why General Musa sabi every every?

Sometimes, for night, I dey look ceiling, dey wonder if this marriage na really my destiny. Why my life just dey run like story for village gist?