Chapter 3: Arranged Wahala and Suya Tension

Me and Timi, our engagement na since we small, na our parents arrange am. For our side, e no too strange—if dem see say una families fit blend, dem go just fix una. But me, my own be say I no get say for the matter.

But I know say he no get plans to marry me. Na clear eye I take look am. I no dey deceive myself. As I land for Naija, everything change.

First, before I return from UK, I never even see am before. No feelings dey between us. Na so dem dey do—send you go school for obodo oyibo, return, expect say you go follow agreement wey dem set since you small. But na my people wahala put me here.

Second, my family don bankrupt. Na only because Timi mama dey remember her friendship with my mama, dem never break the engagement.

E pain me say na pity dey keep me for this thing. My mama and Timi mama na old friends—dem even dey do society meeting together, so e hard for dem to break am. Dem just dey do as if everything dey okay, dey wait make I mature, make I talk break up by myself.

As dem dey reason am, me I just dey act my part. I no wan lose face for village, so I dey comport. Even my younger ones dey pray make I manage am reach next year.

Before, I really plan to act mature and gentle about am. For my mind, I tell myself say I no go make wahala. I wan respect my mama, keep her dignity for their women meeting.

But the first day we meet, Timi just sit down, bring out him phone, begin chat with another person, ignore me. Chei! As we dey that suya spot, he just bone, face phone. The air dey smell of roasted pepper and burning charcoal, suya man dey fan meat for corner. Even the waiter sef dey look us, wonder wetin dey happen. I sef dey reason, na so this life hard?

Na after five good minutes, he raise head. He come talk, “I know say I fine, but you go just dey look me like that? You no feel say you dey too lovesick?”

Na so he drop am. E get as e dey do, all this Lagos boys too dey form. I just stare am.

Me: “……”

My mind dey boil. I get mind slap am, but I swallow spit, just dey look. Person no fit lose control for public, especially as my mama don warn me.

I hold myself make I no slap am, swallow the words wey dey my mind: “Make we just break up gently.”

If na another time, I for show am pepper. But I hold am, dey respect myself. Na so all the things wey I plan talk just disappear.

No wahala, since you no wan follow the easy road, no blame me if I open the door of gold-digging for you.

For this Lagos, person no dey dull. Since you wan dey do hard man, I go use style run my own. E no go pain me if I chop your money join. Na compensation.