Who Dey Chop My Husband? / Chapter 4: The Price of Loyalty
Who Dey Chop My Husband?

Who Dey Chop My Husband?

Author: Hailey Bryant


Chapter 4: The Price of Loyalty

Morenikeji na steward daughter, but she grow with me—

From small, we dey play ten-ten and suwe together for backyard. When rain dey fall, na her hand I hold run enter veranda. Even as servant, she dey chop my mama special soup, dey wear my old clothes. I no fit lie, she get luck.

She dey enjoy life wey pass normal people own.

If you see her school bag, you go think say na big girl pikin. She dey follow me go party, even chop jollof rice before some family members.

All because her papa once risk him life for me.

The matter no be small. Na one night, thief enter house. As dem point gun, na her papa jump stand for front, use body block bullet for me. Rain dey fall, generator dey roar, but that night, na only gunshot cut the noise. The scar still dey for him hand till today.

Me, nothing do me.

Dem rush me inside, but I no even wound. Na Morenikeji papa take the pain, my own just na small scare.

But na her papa dey bed, paralyzed from waist down.

The thing pain everybody for house. My mama cry tire. Since then, na we dey take care of them.

As I look am, I ask:

“How you want make I pay you back?”

Na day after the accident, when everybody dey cry, I sit for chair near the bed, ask the question with small voice.

Morenikeji papa say: “I no want anything, just make my wife and pikin dey chop, dey okay.”

The man voice dey break, but him face still dey strong. You go see say na true man he be. Tears dey hide for him eye, but pride no let am fall.

Na that time I know—

I tell myself say, e good to help who help you. Loyalty dey sweet if you meet am for better place.

The man risk him life because him know say he go soon die.

Even Morenikeji mama talk am later—say her husband don dey plan, say e no want make dem suffer after e go.

He use him life arrange better future for him family.

No be today o. He do am with full chest. Even though e fit die, him head still dey ground.

And e work.

Today, Morenikeji fit stand, dey talk big. Her pikin dey chop well, her mama dey rest. No be all servant get that kin luck.

Because of this, even though I sabi from the comments say Morenikeji dey plan another thing, I no fit just push am aside.

Even my mama talk am—say you no dey bite hand wey feed you. I hold am for mind.

If I do am, people go talk anyhow.

People wey no even know how e start go talk say I be wicked girl. I no want that kind wahala for my head. For Lagos, gist dey fly too much.

Morenikeji know this one too.

She wise. Sometimes, she dey use am do shakara, but I no blame her. She know say I no go easily throw her out.

Next day, she come beg me.

She wear one ankara wey I dash her. Voice low, eye dey ground. "Madam, abeg, forgive me."

“Madam, I sorry. I no suppose talk to you anyhow yesterday.”

She twist wrapper, dey shift leg. For my mind, I dey watch if na true her sorry dey.

She dey act like say she really regret.

Her voice low, she wan cry, but she hold am. I know say na pride dey make am try small.

Before, I for just leave am.

If na before, I fit just nod and waka pass. But today, I want show say I be boss. No dey do anyhow.

But this time, I reply, “And?”

I raise brow, face strong. I want hear wetin go come out from her mouth.

“…And, I no suppose dey guess wetin you dey reason.”

She pause, voice break. Her leg dey shake. I almost pity her, but I hold face.

She pause, no fit talk more.

I just deny am. “Wrong.”

My voice firm. Her face freeze. Even mosquito no buzz for room.

Morenikeji freeze.

She open mouth, but no word come out. Shame full her face. I fit see small sweat for her forehead.

I bend, pat her cheek small, remind her:

I use my French-tipped finger touch her cheek small. My voice low but sharp. "Morenikeji, even though your papa help me, you still be steward daughter."

“For olden days, na servant you go be—and servant no get right to put mouth for madam matter.”

I add, "No dey forget where you come from, no matter how my mama treat you. Na me be madam for here."

“Who I like, who I choose—na your own to talk?”

I pause, eye dey her face. My words enter her like cane. I no dey joke.

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