Chapter 1: Wahala Wife No Dey Tire
To keep up my act, I wipe my tears inside the basement, look up at the tall man, and talk:
As tears dey roll for my cheek, I use back of my hand take clean am quick before e go stain my powder. Basement air heavy, smell of damp mix with that soap scent wey dey come from the compound laundry. I look up at Chidi, as light catch him face, jaw stubborn like old landlord, and I gather mind to talk:
"Hello, husband, abeg, we fit move go another place?"
I try hold my voice steady, but e come out like small pikin wey chop pepper. I feel him cold eye, the thing dey burn me like say ice dey my chest. My heart dey drum, but I no wan show say fear dey catch me. So I add small shakara—just like my aunties dey do when dem wan collect money from my uncle.
Afraid say he go talk no, I try sound as threatening as I fit:
I square my shoulders, remember as my mama go face my papa when wahala too much. If soft voice no work, sometimes you gas use small gra-gra. So I raise my chin and try sound tough:
"If you no gree, I fit just pack my load—no look back!"
My voice echo for basement, the threat hang for air like unripe plantain. My hand dey shake small, but I keep face straight, dey act like say I mean am.
E shock me say e work. The very next day, I waka go new house.
Na God o! Just like that, next morning, I pack my small Ghana-Must-Go and we commot. The house no too fine, but e clean pass the old one. I even fit breathe well, no fear say cockroach go fly touch me at night. I dance inside the small parlour, my heart light for the first time in months.
But even after he turn big man, we no ever divorce.
Even as money start to enter, as Chidi begin dey turn big man, the divorce story na just empty threat. I still dey the house, still dey chop him food, still dey collect his small attention—even if e dey act stubborn most times. Sometimes I go reason am, say maybe na my wahala dey pepper our soup, na im dey make am sweet.
Later, when person ask am the secret to him success, he just smile, eyes full of love, yarn say:
For one naming ceremony, as dem dey do toasting, person ask am, "Chidi, how you take blow like this?" Na so my guy just look me, give that him sharp, proud smile, and answer:
"My wife too delicate. If I no hustle, how I go allow her dey throw her small wahala?"
Everybody laugh, some clap, others shake head. But me, I just blush, dey press my phone, make dem no see as joy dey bubble for my belle.
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