Chapter 2: Cold Mornings and Bitter Truths

1

"You fit go now."

The guard voice rough, like person wey just chop pepper. One stick knock the iron door, the sound sharp and urgent, dey echo for the place.

I jump small as the stick hit the door, my heart skip. For a second, I remember how Papa go use cane knock ground when pikin stubborn. I look up, see the guard stand for the door of the back room, look me finish, no even try hide the way she dey look down on me.

She just dey like the rest of them outside.

Her face dey strong, chin raised like say na me dey owe am money. She fold her hand, toe tap ground. E clear say for her mind, my own don finish. Dem no even send my title as wife for this house.

From her heart, she see me—Mrs. Ajibade—finish.

I wan vex, but wetin I fit do? I just swallow spit, try gather my wrapper proper. The way she dey look me, I fit see say e dey sweet her to see me like this.

I try stand up, body dey pain me. Na after one long minute I come realize: the me wey die under mudslide don come back to life.

My waist still dey shake, leg dey tremble. But as I manage stand, I feel say spirit from old women for my family just enter me: I no go gree. This world never finish for me.

Just like before, Musa Ajibade dey wait for me outside the main gate.

Na so e dey stand for there, arms folded, face hard, but eyes dey look ground. As I waka come, e raise head, but e no smile. Harmattan breeze blow small, carry my head tie shift for back. I fit see for him eyes say e dey wait make I talk first.

2

"Why you dey cry?"

I look up, see him fine face, the way I sabi am well.

Him skin still smooth, that small scar near his eyebrow wey I dey tease am about. Under sun, the dimple for his left cheek faintly show as e try smile. I remember how e go press my palm gently, whisper, "Amina, no vex." But today, no tenderness.

I even remember how I dey touch his brow and nose every night.

Sometimes, I go draw imaginary line from his forehead reach nose, play with the tiny bump. Those nights when breeze dey blow, I go snuggle near am, try catch small warmth. All that na before this wahala start.

Now wey I don come back, our eyes jam, everywhere just quiet.

Na like sound for film don pause. The whole street silent, only crow dey cry for distance. My own voice no fit come out. My mind dey flash all the times wey I think say love dey true.

Na true, I don come back to life.

I want smile, but the thing just stick for my throat. If not for Allah, I for don die that day.

I sniff, waka go down the steps, no talk anything.

Tears still dey for my eye corner, but I no gree wipe am. If Musa wan see me cry, make e see am well. If I talk now, my voice fit shake, so I just bone, focus on my footstep.

Harmattan cold for December ehn.

So cold, e be like say my heart dey freeze join.

As I waka, dust from ground dey enter my slippers. Cold dey bite my fingers. E remain small, I for use wrapper tie head, but pride no go let me beg. Na the kind cold wey dey make your nose block, your skin crack.

Musa Ajibade, as e dey do before, remove him coat, put am for my shoulder.

"No go catch cold o."

Na so e just drape the coat for my back, no talk much. That small gesture dey remind me of when we first start, before marriage wahala. E fit act like hard man, but sometimes, small care go show.

The warmth wey I don miss, plus that small scent of palm oil and powder soap.

I sabi the smell—na the soap wey Halima dey use for her room.

The smell choke me, like pepper enter my nose, memory rush me. I remember as I dey sweep corridor that year, I notice the same soap for Halima window. Na cheap soap, but the way the smell cling to Musa shirt, I dey wonder wetin dey go on. For this moment, the memory and reality jam for my nose.

I remember for my last life, when I question am, Musa gentle face turn cold, him eyes dey boil with anger wey e dey try hold.

E no ever shout for me, but that day, I see real fire for his eyes. E hold jaw tight, fist clenched, voice flat as e answer my question. For my mind, I dey pray make e just talk true, but e choose silence. That day, I learn say silence fit heavy pass shout.

My hand dey shake as I try talk, anger dey build for my chest, but my mouth stubborn, words dey hide. I dey struggle to keep my voice steady, no wan disgrace myself.

"Amina, you dey locked up for three days now. You never calm down?"

"Abeg, no dey cause wahala again."

E talk am with tiredness, like say my pain dey disturb am. As if my own no dey important. I just bone, carry eye face wall.

That time, my heart full of pain.

I dey feel like person wey water dey pour for head, but I no fit move.

As Halima dey find my trouble, Musa just dey look away. I dey fight alone, nobody for my side, last last, everybody just dey laugh me.

Na so dem go gather for veranda, dey whisper, dey throw eye. Some neighbours go make mouth for corner, "See Amina. Na she get husband, but see as e dey be." I for like make ground open swallow me, but pride no go let me run.

Musa Ajibade, for this life, abeg love your real woman well. Me, I no dey do again.

My spirit just tire. If e no fit love me, make e hold him woman well. Me, I go find my own way. I dey talk am inside my chest, as if prayer fit change anything.

I swallow my tears, waka strong, commot the coat from my body, no even mention the smell.

"Carry your coat, I no cold."

Na so I fling the coat back, chest high, eye dry. I no want make am think say I still dey beg for love. E shock small, collect the coat, stand for there dey look me, like say I don turn stranger for him eye.

I walk away, but for back of my mind, I dey hear my own name echo, empty like abandoned well.