Chapter 4: Humiliation Show

Bayo come close, dey do like boss. "You get anything to tell me?"

He dey intimidate me, I no gree show weakness. For Naija, if you show fear, dem go finish you.

"Nothing. I just get call—my mama get heart attack. Hospital talk say ambulance no dey. We gats drive her ourselves—"

My voice loud, I dey beg. But nobody gree reason me. Na like say dem dey act movie.

"Wetin! Your family sabi choose time for heart attack sha."

Everybody laugh. That babe wey hide phone talk, "Na so, every time you show, na so e mama dey get heart attack."

She dey yarn dust, dey form comedian. The laughter fill the whole parlour. Some even slap table, dey roll for chair.

"You—" I wan talk, but shout cut me off.

Dem shout "cut!" like movie director. The whole thing dey turn comedy for dem.

"Enough! No talk again!" Bayo bark. "No go anywhere. I get something for you."

E voice carry weight, even the air still. Some people pause drink, some drop phone. Everybody dey wait wetin go happen.

I no send again. I shove am commot, run go door.

Na adrenaline push me. I waka like man wey dey fight for life. Dem try hold me, I sidon dem.

But as I open am, shock hold me. Two security guards stand for outside, block road.

Dem big, dey wear black. Cross arm, face straight. This one pass play. E be like say na plan dem plan am.

"Lock the door. Nobody dey go anywhere," Bayo command.

He snap finger, security close door. Key turn. My heart sink. Dem turn this reunion to prison.

My pulse dey hammer, sweat dey roll for my back, the air thick with fear and perfume.

"Sade!" I point my wife, vex. "Person life dey on the line. Wetin you dey do?"

I shout, spit fly. My voice break, pain dey my chest. Everybody dey look, but nobody gree move.

"Wetin I dey do? For once, I wan be myself." Her eyes just full tears. "I don marry you almost two years. Talk true— I no try as wife? Wetin I gain?"

Her voice dey shake, tears dey run cheek. The party pause, people dey feel am. For Naija, woman wey dey cry for public, matter don big.

That question choke me.

I stand, mouth open. All the old wahala come my mind. Na true she talk—she dey try, but sometimes wahala dey plenty.

We date three years, marry two. She dey ask me wetin she gain for five years.

I replay our old memories—first date, fights, makeup, family drama. My chest dey tight. Na five years I put for this matter. Wetin I give am really?

As I keep quiet, she vex more.

She stomp foot, wipe face. "Talk now! Wetin I dey do for myself?"

"Kunle, talk true. I dey materialistic? I ever ask for latest phone? Designer bag?

My youth, my life, everything—na marriage, na you. But you sabi wetin I really want? You no care.

Kunle, today I go talk everything. Just today. If I fit start again, na to forget marriage, forget family."

The words hang for air. Her friends dey hug her, some dey wipe own eye. E dey pain me say na here she drop all these.

Her talk just weak me.

My body just soft. I remember when we dey do love, plan future. How we dey manage, dey laugh. Now, na stranger I dey see.

Truth be say, na me chase her. I love her. Five years now, e no change.

I remember how I dey run enter rain, buy suya for her. How I dey do surprise birthday, how she dey smile that time. I no fit deny—na me run her matter.

Truth be say, she no dey materialistic. She never beg for phone or big bag.

Even when I get small change, na me dey buy extra. She go dey manage her old things. Na contentment dey her body, I gree.

But if she just complain say phone dey hang, or bag don old, I go buy new one for her.

Na so e be for Naija—if your woman hint, you go rush provide. I dey try balance things, make she no lack.

Truth be say, she give marriage and me everything—but no be because she no get work? Her parents beg am find something do, even office work, she no gree.

She stubborn, e true. Her parents call, advise, but Sade no gree. Sometimes I go worry, but I still dey support her.

But as e be, if I fit choose again, I go still say forget marriage.

I sigh, face ground. Maybe na both of us dey wrong. The pain too much. I dey wish say I fit just vanish.

My silence give Sade ginger. She look around. "Una go protect me, abi?"

Her friends chorus, "Yes!" Some dey stand by her, one even slap chest like say dem dey vote for Big Brother.

Except one short babe for corner, the rest dey dab eye, hug Sade, dey murmur, "Love yourself, no fear."

That short babe just dey side dey look ground, e be like say she know say this matter don pass play. Others dey form squad, dey hype Sade.

I just weak.

My leg dey shake. My eye dey red. I dey feel alone inside crowd. Na my own wife dey form group against me.

With person life at stake—her own mama—she still dey emotional?

My voice low, I dey ask myself, "Na which kind wife be this?" My hand dey tremble. Tears wan fall, but pride no gree.