The Chief’s Wife Stole My Lover / Chapter 5: Last Chance
The Chief’s Wife Stole My Lover

The Chief’s Wife Stole My Lover

Author: Christopher Martin


Chapter 5: Last Chance

2

I dig my nail for my palm, come talk cold:

“Yes, na real men I like, not… fine but useless steward.”

Auwalu gentle and fine, so I no dey mind say e dey cold for bed.

But that booklet pain me reach bone.

I no fit bear say e still dey hide another person for him heart.

Auwalu quiet small, then e kneel half for ground, dey beg me soft soft, like e don do many nights before:

“Madam dey vex again?”

“This servant don learn new… way to make you happy. You go try am?”

Na so e dey always pet me, and before, I dey always gree.

But now, I just turn face, dey do as if I no care.

Auwalu talk again:

“Madam talk before say, even if you tire for me, you go still give me chance to win your heart back.”

“Even prisoner dey get chance defend himself. How madam go do me like this?”

E eye dey shine, tears full am—like early July rain, fit make person pity am.

Before, I dey always fall for that look.

Truth be say, even if e no get two naira below, e sabi make my body sweet like sugarcane.

And e dey always give me plenty emotional value.

E be like my own flower of understanding.

If no be for those gist and that booklet,

I no go ever fit leave am.

Auwalu bury e face for my palm, dey rub am, first small, then strong—

Like pet dey find owner touch.

My heart begin soft, I use finger clean the water for corner of e eye.

“I go give you last chance. Remove your cloth. I wan see your…”

True or fake.

Just one look go settle am.

Gist begin fly again:

As I dey talk am, my voice shake, but I try hide am. For compound, once steward kneel like that, na big thing. Tears for him eye be like rain for beginning of planting season—na so e dey touch heart. I remember say, even though e dey call himself servant, the way e dey look me be like person wey get real love. As I rub e face, I feel my hand dey tremble, the softness for my heart dey struggle with the hard story wey I dey hear. But still, I want know—who e really be? Maybe this last look go free my mind from all the wahala.

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