Chapter 5: Compound Palava

"Doctor talk say her wound don heal finish. She just dey pretend say e serious so that general go pity and love her more."

"Na trick she dey use, I hear say na she waka go that bandit place herself—maybe na set up."

"But she nearly die na."

"Wetin you sabi? She just dey act—she dey alright."

"You never hear wetin people dey talk for outside? If na real tradition, she for don carry white cloth go tie for mango tree."

Na so gist dey fly for Nigerian compound. Even old mama for kitchen dey carry rumour like headtie. I just dey pass, hear dem talk, but my mind strong. Na only God go judge.

Because of the way Musa dey treat me, the servants for the general house no dey respect me at all.

For Naija, if oga no give you face, nobody go regard you. Even small children fit use your name shine for compound. I dey see am, but I just dey keep my cool.

I go outside to breathe. Zainab bring me my favourite fruit. As Musa enter, I mistakenly drop the fruit, e land for the old woman wey dey gossip. He pick am, tell all of them make dem comot.

His voice loud, like thunder. As he talk, everybody scatter—some even forget their slippers. I just look down, dey hide my smile.

"Why you still dey act stubborn?"

E bend face, voice soft, but warning dey inside. Na so he dey show say e still care, even if pride dey block am.

I no answer am, just tell Zainab say the fruit sour well well. He come near, bring out coral bracelet, put am for my wrist without asking.

The bead heavy for my wrist, cold, smell like old prayer room. For this part of Naija, coral beads na sign of royalty. For him to give me, e mean respect and apology. But my mind no dey there.

"This bracelet na rare one, e soak for fine perfume—sweet and gentle. E fit you well."

I look up at am. For his deep eyes, I see small hope. If na before, I for don happy till tears full my eye, but now, I no fit smell anything, and my blind eye no fit red again.

If na before, I for dance sef. But now, nothing dey move me. My heart dry, eyes empty, like old well.

I remove the bracelet.

I take am gentle, no throway. "General, abeg, give am to Miss Halima."

He frown, I prepare say he go shout for me, but instead, he just grit his teeth.

The tension hang for air, like say e fit cut with knife. He no talk, just look away, stubborn as goat.

"No wahala, I go find something wey you go like."

Voice come out small, but I sabi say e dey carry guilt. For Naija man, sorry dey hide inside action. I just look away, no answer.

I know say, because of that arrow for city gate, he dey feel guilty—that’s why he dey behave like this.

For our culture, guilt na heavy load. Sometimes person fit overcompensate, dey do wetin e no fit do before. I just dey watch am—time go tell.