Chapter 3: Wedding Day Shadows

When I open eye again, morning never reach.

First cock never even crow. I hear people dey tiptoe outside, and that familiar smell of camphor soap and rice water dey for air.

Maids enter to dress me. The room full, everybody dey praise me.

Dem dey run commentary for everything—my hair, my skin, even my slippers.

"Madam, you too lucky o. Second Young Master Peter na big man for everywhere. No girl for Makurdi wey no go wan marry am."

Even one junior maid sidon near window, dey eye me like say I be Nollywood star. Dem dey pray make my kind luck reach dem family too.

True true, Peter Sulaiman na good man—straight, get sense, sabi book and sabi fight. Even when e hear say I be widow, e no look me down. E go just look me well and talk,

"Madam, you get heart like nurse. You be the strongest woman wey I don ever meet.

To marry you na the biggest blessing for my life."

He no dey do big man, no dey show muscle. If person get problem, na him first go ask, "Hope you dey okay?"

As I remember this, I just smile, all those worries wey dey my mind just waka.

Na so peace enter my heart. I rub my neck, remember say e get people wey still sabi treat woman right for this world.

I dey think too much before.

I shake head small, dey laugh at myself. Na fear nearly make me lose better thing. As my aunty go talk—fear no dey cook soup.

For all the years wey I stay Okpoko Palace, I no dey come out. Even if I come out, I dey cover face with scarf. Nobody sabi my real face.

I dey waka like ghost for day, dey hide for night. If sun too hot, I go stay inside. Only small children go ask, "Aunty, why you dey tie scarf for face like say you be village masquerade?"

Even if this big guest don see me before, e no go recognize me.

People dey forget quick for this world. Palace na place wey faces plenty, but na only big wahala dem dey remember.

As for that person—

E dey like person wey the sky dey on top am, everybody dey under am. Every day, plenty government wahala. How e wan take come Makurdi, wey far reach one thousand miles?

If to say dem tell me say that person go waka enter Makurdi, I for laugh them. Who dey leave Abuja comfort come bush? My own wahala too small for am.

When I first come here, no be because I no wan see am again for this life?

Na true. My leg dey run pass my shadow, I swear. Na only God save me from Okpoko palace drama.

As I stand for wedding hall,

I hold the red cloth, my palm dey sweat small.

My hand dey shake, but I grip am tight. This red cloth na tradition—no be every woman dey lucky wear am.

Everywhere full.

People wey I no sabi, family from far place, even neighbours wey never talk to me before dey wave as if na dem train me.

That big guest sef dey, but e no talk. I just dey hear people dey whisper about am.

Dem dey eye am like say na king. Some dey bend neck try peep, others dey use phone snap anyhow. Makurdi people no dey hide their wonder.

"Who be that? How Makurdi go get man wey dey like this?"

One mama with wrapper shout. Her friend hush am, whisper quick quick, "Abeg, lower your voice. Dem say na big government person."

"I never see am before o, but as Peter family dey behave, e sure say na big man or rich person."

One guy dey argue with his sister for corner, "Abeg, na only person from Abuja dey make family shake like this."

"E don marry? I get nephew wey fine well…"

Na so hope dey fly for air. Some people just wan use connect. Makurdi people sabi hustle.

"E don marry jare. I see one fine lady follow am enter, but she waka go back yard."

"E don marry? E for be better catch. Anyway, God go provide."

I just dey listen, but I no let am bother me. I just dey think: after tonight, I go be Peter family wife. If the man and e wife stay long, I go just dey careful.

For my mind, I dey pray say wahala no go come from that direction. After all, wedding na only one day, marriage dey long like river.

Very soon, wedding finish.

Pastor talk blessing, people clap, music start. Na so I begin dey see light for my own side.

As I dey go, crowd full everywhere, I stumble, almost fall.

My mind dey on top food wey dem serve, na so I almost disgrace myself before all my in-laws. If no be for the strong hand wey catch me, I for land for ground, chop full shame.

Na that time,

one hand hold me, strong and steady—then e leave me quick.

The hand warm, steady. For small moment, na like say time stop. I look up, try see the face.

Even through wedding dress, I feel the heat for my skin.

The touch pass ordinary, e get memory inside.

I quick talk, "Thank you."

I no fit show too much gratitude before dem go begin ask question. My voice low, but na respect I use talk am.

The man wey help me no answer sharp sharp. E just dey look me. Even with scarf for my face, I feel as if e dey press me with e eye.

E eyes dey sharp, the kind way only people wey don see battle dey look. I shift for chair, wrapper tight for my waist, dey pray make my secret no leak. Still I feel e dey weigh my spirit.

After small time, e talk:

"Madam, you resemble person wey I know before."

The tone serious, no be joke. I dey hear small tension for e voice.

My heart dey drum, sweat dey my palm—if this man remember me, wahala go blow.

My chest grip like say rope tie am. Old memories begin dey pour for my mind.

This voice—I don hear am for years, e dey my bone.

For palace corridor, for late-night talk, for days wey rain dey fall and we dey alone. I no fit forget am.

Na him.

Na really him.

No mistake for that voice. Even if years pass, e still dey ring for my ear like church bell.

I just thank God say after I comot Abuja, I fall sick well well, my voice spoil. Now, if I talk, e no really sound like before.

Na so fate dey play. Sometimes na small sickness dey save person from big wahala.

So, my voice no match—na only face fit look familiar.

I dey pray make scarf hide me well. I just lower my head, dey blend with the crowd.

Everywhere quiet.

People dey look as if dem dey wait for drama. Even music people lower sound.

Until somebody talk, "Aunty Zainab na nurse from Palm Grove Clinic, e sabi medicine well. Maybe na there you see am."

Na one bold woman talk am, she get voice wey fit wake sleeping goat.

Everybody for hall laugh.

"True, last year my sister nearly die. If no be Aunty Zainab, she for don go.

Yes o, all of us don benefit from aunty. She na real angel."

People dey clap, some dey hail me, some dey gossip for back. My face red but I still dey smile like say everything dey alright.

The man finally remove eye from me. E voice come normal, like say na just ordinary talk.

E compose himself, wipe face with handkerchief. If e suspect before, e no show am again.

"Oh. Madam name na Zainab? You sabi medicine? Maybe I mistake you for another person."

E add small smile, then turn go meet another guest.

Peter Sulaiman laugh for my side.

He squeeze my hand, voice low. "You see as people love you? Even big guest dey confuse."

"Plenty women dey for this world. If dem resemble, e no too strange."

Na so he end matter, no allow anybody drag am.

E lead me comot for hall.

E walk slow, hand for my back, as if e dey shield me from trouble. I dey grateful for small mercies.

I breathe out, but fear still dey hide for my belly—old wahala no dey die quick.