Chapter 5: Sword and Veil

Mama Musa no fall her hand.

She arrange special wrapper, buy plenty yam, bring real cow for bride price. All her people come, sing song. Even my Aunty smile for once.

She package better bride price for me.

The money plenty, dem spread am for mat. Women dey count, children dey peep, everywhere dey bubble. Mama Musa hug me, say, "You be real daughter."

Aunty choose day wey oga pikin no dey house, come send me go.

She wan avoid wahala. If oga pikin see me, maybe he go vex, spoil her plan. So, na secret movement she plan, sharp sharp.

She press my contract for my hand, dey talk with guilty voice: “Even though Musa no fit do man work, at least you no go suffer born pikin.”

She press the paper for my palm, hold my hand small. Her eyes dey run away from my face. Even as she dey talk am, I know say small pity still dey her heart.

“No worry, men wey no too get power for that side, dey sabi another thing well.”

She wink, try give me hope. I no even sure if she dey encourage me or dey console herself.

Truth be say, I no even think of all those things—na just change of oga for me.

For my mind, na just another madam, another kitchen, another bed. My life na always service. I just dey follow river where e flow.

When wedding keke reach, na matchmaker carry me enter General Mansion.

The keke tire sef. My heart dey do gbim gbim. My wrapper dey shake. Matchmaker woman dey rub powder, dey sing. For my mind, I just dey pray, "God, make this journey better than last one."

General Musa dey sick, so na his sword I bow to for wedding.

Them say tradition na tradition. If husband no fit stand, bride go bow to his sword, as symbol. I do am, my head touch ground. The sword cold, shiny—fear catch me small.

One aunty for back mutter, “God bind this union with peace, as kola nut dey bind friendship.”

For wedding night, other bride go sit dey wait for husband to lift red veil.

Na so dem teach us for compound. But me, na another matter.

But as I open door, my husband, wear red, don already half-lie for bed.

He cover with wrapper, head rest for pillow, eye half-open. The whole room smell of balm and new bedsheet.

“General,” I call softly, no wan shout make e no disturb am.

My voice dey shake small. I tiptoe enter, hold my wrapper tight. Na tradition say woman must greet husband first, even if na sick bed.

He turn. Face fine die, but no blood for am.

His skin pale like person wey malaria hold for long, lips dry. But eye sharp, deep.

“I no plan to marry. If you no mind, make we dey call each other brother and sister.” He point chair beside am. “Make my mama no worry tonight, manage sleep there. Tomorrow, you fit move enter guest room.”

He no even look my body. He just arrange chair for me, talk with voice wey get small tiredness but respect. I surprise. For my mind, I reason say this man get sense pass the rest.

“Okay.”

I answer quick, voice low. My mind calm small. I sit for chair, arrange wrapper for leg.

He arrange everything finish, not as I think.

No hand touch me. No wahala. Just peace. I breathe relief, my heart slow down.