Chapter 3: Snakes for Bride Price

Strange thing begin happen after the spirit marriage. Groups of snakes—three, five together—begin curl for our goat pen.

Every morning, my mama go find snakes wey curl like sleeping children for backyard. People begin dey fear our compound, some even dey cross road when dem reach our house.

If my mama go catch them, dem no dey even move.

She go bend, use long stick, but the snakes just dey there, no bite, no struggle. Some neighbours begin whisper say na jazz.

With big grin wey almost tear her mouth, my mama talk say, "These meat snakes na bride price from my son-in-law. Good to take build body."

My mama dey shine teeth, she talk say, “If dem like, make dem bring cow next time. I go chop am!”

Mama no dey hide her joy. She go dance small, use hand rub her belly, eyes twinkle. She dey dance, say, “God don butter my bread!” "Ehen! At least person go chop for this hard time. My son-in-law get sense."

She dey cook pot after pot of snake meat soup, the aroma dey make person salivate.

The whole street go smell like pepper soup joint. Even people wey swear never to chop snake dey peep fence, dey ask for taste.

My belle dey rumble.

My stomach dey drum like talking drum anytime aroma jam my nose. Hunger dey wire me, mouth dey water.

Every time, my sister go hold my hand tight, shake head: "No chop those snakes. Not even one bite."

She go grab my wrist, look me for eye, voice low but serious. Sometimes, I dey fear the way she talk am.

I look am, confuse. "Why now?"

I dey reason am, because which kind wahala be this one? Everybody dey enjoy, but me, she dey ban.

My sister hiss, talk with cold voice: "Na survival of the fittest. This world na big fish chop small fish, small fish chop shrimp. But who be fish, who be shrimp? Who sabi for sure?"

She talk like person wey see things pass her age. Her eyes far, like she dey look another world. I shiver small.

I scratch my head, I still no understand.

For my mind, everything just dey twist. I want ask more, but words no gree come out.

She sigh, rub my head. "Just no ever chop those snakes. Not even one, you hear?"

She rub my head soft, like say she dey bless me. Her hand dey gentle, voice softer. She smile small, but e no reach her eyes.

I nod, serious.

Na that kind nod wey you do when you know say matter pass your power. I lock my lips, gree for her.

For this world, na only my sister dey treat me well. Anything wey she talk, I go hear am.

From small, na she dey shield me. If I dey cry, na her lap I go run. She dey patch my torn shirt, share her food with me, even when she hungry. If she say make I avoid snake, na so I go do.