Chapter 5: Loss and Oath

Last-last, I gather the money for surgery, but e no still save my wife. As she dey die, she hold my hand talk, "Chukwudi, no blame yourself. Musa Tang wicked, e no get heart—no use your kindness or even hate for am. Take care of the children, run from Musa Tang. No use your strength do pass yourself, no kill yourself."

Her hand cold, but her voice dey calm like church mother. Tears just dey pour for my eye, I no fit talk. I dey beg God, dey pray make she just wake, call me "dear" like before. The hospital room quiet, only drip dey drop small small. My son and daughter dey wait outside, dem no know wetin dey happen. The pain heavy—e no get measure for English or Igbo.

I lie for her hand dey cry like small pikin. That morning, food no enter my mouth, even water bitter. I wan curse God, but I no fit open mouth. As sun rise, I don lose another family member.

Musa Tang, dey do like man but na dog e be, open e own logistics company, while me I sell everything I get, still carry mountain of debt. I know say I no fit do anyhow—I still get son, daughter and old mama-in-law to look after. But for my mind, I swear: one day, I go balance Musa Tang.

That kind oath, na only God and ancestor dey hear. I no fit talk am out. I just dey wait for my day.