Chapter 3: Fifty Slaps and No Mercy

For the plain white handkerchief, na only one waterleaf I sew for corner.

My hand dey shake, mouth open. I wan talk, but fear hold my tongue.

I shock, wan explain, but slap land my head go one side.

The slap hot, my ear dey ring. Tears rush my eye. The housegirls hiss, some dey look away, others dey squeeze face.

"Shameless girl!"

Her voice thunder for air. Everybody dey watch, silence heavy like harmattan dust.

"You dey use handkerchief dey try make young master remember you—who you be?"

I see spit for her mouth. Her finger dey point my nose like spear.

Mama Ifeoma rush forward, point my nose, her words sharp like knife. Madam just sit down for up, dey look me like say I be nothing.

She cross her leg, her gold bangle jingle. She no send my pain. The other women dey nod, like say dem dey watch masquerade.

I dey shake inside, wan explain: "Madam, I no get any bad mind, this handkerchief na for... for..."

My voice break. Tears dey my eye. My heart dey race.

Na true, na my own personal handkerchief. No be to take find young master. Even though Nnamdi Okoye dey act cold for public, for private e get as e be...

For night, after everything finish, na this cloth I dey use clean myself—na only small dignity I fit hold. I dey hide am under my wrapper, make nobody see.

Every time I commot from young master room, I dey always dirty. For my own dignity, I dey hide keep the handkerchief to clean myself.

But shame no let me talk am.

If I talk, dem go laugh me, call me bush. For this house, secret na better friend.

Madam no even care for my story. She just look me with disgust, wave hand: "Give her fifty slap, make she get sense."

Her face cold, her voice sharp. "Make everybody learn."

"If Nnamdi bring anything again come find person, all of una go follow this useless girl commot!"

Her threat loud, clear. The other maids' face change—fear, anger, jealousy. Nobody wan lose place for Okoye house.

Everybody kneel beg. When dem look me again, hate full their eye.

Some dey whisper, some dey hiss. I fit feel the gap between me and them big pass river Niger.

Dem drag me out like trash.

My leg dey drag for ground, my back dey pain. No tears, my heart just dey empty.

Na midnight before I reach my room. The small maid, Kemi, wey dey stay with me, look my swollen face dey laugh small-small.

She turn back, but I hear the small snicker. Her mat dey close to mine, her foot dey tap for floor.

"So? No be young master dey like you? See your face, ehn? Madam no send—she fit break you, young master go still get another."

Her voice low, but I hear the wahala inside. For her mind, I dey block her own chance.

Madam no dey fear anything. Every time I serve, my face dey under veil. Young master no even know how I look—how e wan see my injury? For half-bed wife, na your body dem no wan see mark. Face no concern anybody.

Kemi adjust her wrapper, her leg dey shake. She dey vex, but she hide am under smile.

My cheek dey pain me. I no even get strength to answer, but Kemi still come dey poke me:

Her finger dey tap my shoulder, her eye dey sharp. She dey wait for me to vex.

"You fine, yes, but young master fit no send you. When young madam come, your own go finish."

Her words sting. Everybody for house dey count days until young master marry—then all this arrangement go scatter.

Kemi suppose be chief maid for Nnamdi Okoye room. If no be me, she for don turn side woman—oga’s personal girl. E sure for am before, but now e don spoil. So she dey vex for me.

She don dey Okoye house since small. She sabi all the corners, all the tricks. Now, me wey dem just bring, don spoil her run.

But I just smile. "Sister Kemi, you talk true. How I go get your luck?"

I fit only dream say my luck go shine like her own one day. My voice dey low, but small hope dey for my chest.

Even if she no become side woman, when she old reach, she fit collect her freedom and go. Me, dem go use finish, dump for this house.

Kemi eye stop small, she just bone, no talk again. I get small peace.

The silence sweet me. For once, my heart rest. I no need fight, no need defend.

She sabi too—maid or slave, na me low pass for this house. Who worse pass me?

Na so e be for some of us—no voice, no power, only prayer.

But wetin I fit do?

My mama say, "One day river go dry, fish go waka." I dey wait for that day.