Chapter 1: The Weight of Second Chances

Halima and I come back to this life at the same time—like say the ancestors themselves dey watch, dey wait to see how we go use this second chance.

E get as e be, to wake up for morning and just know deep inside say you don waka this road before. The harmattan breeze dey slap your skin in a different way, the smell of yam porridge and fried plantain dey strong for air. Neighbours dey shout, “Sade, come chop before food cold!” Even memory from another life go dey flash for your mind like shadow for evening time. But for me and Halima, na so fate give us this second chance together, as if the ancestors wan check how we go use am.

We been love ourselves well for our last life.

For our village that time, dem dey call us iya-oko ati oko mi—the woman and man wey no dey quarrel at all. Our laughter dey shake the whole compound every evening, when moonlight dey climb on top thatched roof. Neighbours go talk, “See as love sweet these ones!” Even mosquito wey dey their room go tire for their laughter.

But this time…

From the moment Halima become best student for national exam, climb up fast for life, I wait five years full—he no come my papa house to ask for my hand.

Sometimes I go sit for window, dey hear how rain dey drum small small for zinc roof. I go dey count how many times rain go knock for zinc, praying say maybe today, I go hear Halima footsteps. I go dey watch as pikin dey play ten-ten for compound, dey wait for him to show face. But he no come—he no even reach my papa house with kolanut or palm wine for hand to greet.

Na that time I understand.

The truth land for my body like old Ankara wrapper wey don soak sweat—heavy, stubborn. My heart wey dey wait, dey hope, just freeze like that. So na so e be.

Halima want make e follow another road for this life.