Chapter 2: Childhood Love, Adult Wahala

Make we divorce.

I talk am like say I dey talk about NEPA bill. Voice no shake, nothing. I no even raise my voice, I just talk am.

For the parlour, Morayo bend over her laptop, dey work on some files.

Light from the screen dey shine for her face, make her look older. She dey type with two fingers—Morayo never sabi use ten fingers, no matter how I try teach her. Small small beads of sweat for her forehead, she wipe am with the back of her hand and glance at the old family photo wey dey hang for wall. Our old standing fan dey blow, but e dey blow more hot air than cold. Na so Naija be, even for small comfort you go struggle.

As she hear wetin I talk, her fingers just freeze, typing stop sharp-sharp.

You for think say na stone I throw for window. She pause, look up, eyebrow high, lips open a little, like say she dey wait make I laugh say na play.

Divorce.

She repeat the word, her face full of shock.

You go think say I just talk make we pack commot for Nigeria. Her mouth open, eye red. The word heavy for air.

Yes. Divorce.

I talk am again, voice steady. I no want story.

[This supporting guy sef, you no dey shame?]

[The babe just get belle—her mind dey shake, and you still dey do like say you no send?]

[This one na classic case of person wey no value wetin e get until e lose am. Supporting guy, you be real wahala.]

[For wedding, you talk say you go always love the babe and no go let her suffer. At the end, all men na the same.]

The bullet comments just dey fly.

I see everything with my koro-koro eyes.

My mind dey replay all our years together—her laughter, the way she dey sing for bathroom, even the time she cook efo riro wey nearly burn the whole house. All of them dey flash for my head. Na me cause all this?

True, I talk all those things when we marry.

I remember my vow, voice steady, my people nod, her mama dey wipe tear for face. That time, I mean am with my full chest. E pain me now as I remember.

Me and Morayo don know ourselves since we small.

She dey play suwe for my compound, her laugh dey wake the whole street. My mama dey always tell me, “Morayo na good girl, take care of am.” Dem dey say childhood love no dey last, but we dey prove dem wrong.

Our families dey the same compound for Ibadan, so you fit call us childhood friends.

Na inside that red mud compound wey our mama dey wash clothes for same tap, we grow. Sango road dey not far, palm wine seller dey greet us every morning. We know each other finish—her stubbornness, my wahala. Sometimes, after rain, the whole place go dey muddy, red sand go stain leg, and distant mosque call go wake us for dawn. Sometimes, smell of fried akara from neighbour stall go enter our window.

First year for secondary school, Morayo papa lose plenty money for business, owe people scatter, then run go Port Harcourt.

I remember when her papa pack their load enter one night bus, the whole compound quiet. I see Morayo eye red as she dey wave goodbye, her little bag for hand.

Debt people dey block their house every day, wahala too much for her and her mama.

Area boys dey always shout for their window, sometimes dem go break empty bottle for gutter. Even my papa dey talk say e no good make small pikin dey see that kind thing.

After one year, her mama no fit bear am again—she leave Morayo, go remarry.

People gossip, call her mama all sorts of names. Morayo just dey lost, she no talk to anybody again. She go school, come back, enter room, lock door.

Just like that, Morayo turn to pikin wey nobody want.

Na only me go knock her door, bring her food, tell her joke make she smile. Even teachers for school begin forget her, say her own don spoil.

Girls for school begin avoid her, dey call her bad luck.

Some even call am 'Orisirisi.' For assembly ground, nobody dey stand near her. She dey walk alone, head down.

I no fit watch her suffer, so after I talk with my parents, I carry her come live for our house, even change school with her.

Na real wahala. My mama fight my papa tire before he gree. But last last, we welcome Morayo. I start dey use my pocket money buy her small things—biro, sweet. Sometimes, I see her smile. E dey make my heart soft.

After secondary school, we agree to enter University of Ilorin together so we fit dey take care of each other.

I help her fill JAMB form, make sure say our courses go fit match timetable. Na so we start the Unilorin journey—one mattress, one pot, two spoons. We dey struggle but we dey together.

Four years, I just dey protect her quietly, make sure she no suffer.

I dey run errands for her, cook indomie, help her cram for exam. Any boy wey try disturb her, I go warn am. She dey call me her 'bodyguard'.

After university, na she first ask whether we fit date.

That day still dey fresh for my mind. She shy small, but her eye no lie. I laugh, hug her, I nearly cry. For once, na her come meet me, no be me dey chase.

I happy no be small, hug her well, carry her go gold shop buy two gold bangles for her.

The shop attendant think say na engagement ring I wan buy. I just smile—Morayo dey blush like small pikin. As we waka go home, she no stop to look her wrist.

We date for two years before we marry.

Those two years sweet and bitter. E get days we fight, e get days we laugh tire. But we dey together. My people begin call her 'our wife' even before I propose.

For our wedding day, I promise her: "Morayo, thank you for loving me. No worry, from now, I go hustle make money. You just relax, be Mrs. Tunde. I no go let you suffer at all. I go love you forever."

Her mama dey wipe tears, my papa dey nod. Everybody dey happy. Morayo dey look me, eyes shine like say na me be her whole world.

I think say she go always be my own.

I think say nothing dey wrong with that kind promise for my own wife.

I just no ever reason say one day, my own wife fit cheat on me.

Me wey carry her for head, me wey dey pray for her every night. Na so life be? My chest dey tight. I begin feel like person wey dey drown for river wey no get rescue.