Chapter 1: Rain on Zinc

In the third year of my marriage to Olumide—the so-called 'church golden boy' among Abuja’s big men—I discovered I was pregnant. Rain dey tap zinc roof, Abuja sun never reach yet.

I remember the day like yesterday. I dey inside bathroom, still dey wear wrapper, when I see the two bold lines for that cheap test kit I buy from chemist. My heart dey do kpai-kpai, like generator wey no wan start. Hope and worry mix together. For Abuja, especially among big men, woman wey get belle dey always bring story. As I clean my face for the mirror, I imagine how Olumide go dance, maybe even kneel, if I surprise am with the news. I dey smile small as I dey plan am for my head, like say na better film.

Just when I was planning to surprise him, a photo landed on my phone: clear, no room for doubt.

The photo no be filter work o. As I see am, I freeze. Olumide and Halima, my best friend, half-naked for hotel bed. I open my mouth, phone nearly fall from my hand. No be rumor or gist—e clear die.

"I slept with your best friend."

Message sharp follow the picture, as if person dey rub salt inside open wound. No shame, no fear, just plain talk like say na simple matter for street.

"Honestly, it felt sweet."

Another one land, this one cut me deeper. I feel my stomach twist. The words bite like mosquito for harmattan night—no pity, no cover face.

Before I fit even digest the shock, WhatsApp group messages rush me like I dey live inside Nollywood drama, whole Facebook dey watch, everybody drop their own opinion. Voice notes dey ping, some even drop prayer emoji as if prayer fit fix betrayal.

I no even get chance to cry small before all those family WhatsApp aunties, uncles and friends begin drop their opinions. Some dey add voice note, some dey type like their own marriage na heaven. Even church group people join, dey analyze my life as if na Saturday market gist.

"He no really sleep with her—our oga just dey do all this to make you jealous, so you go love am more."

I dey look the message, dey wonder if na me dey mad or the world just dey play with my head. Na so dem dey talk for our side—man misbehave, na woman dem go still blame. One aunty even call me, say na love test. Dem say, "Na woman wey bend, na im man go ride."

"Abeg, you too dey work. You don neglect our oga. He just want make you resign, so you go depend on am—so you no go ever leave."

As I read this one, I shake my head. Like say woman wey hustle dey do crime. Some even say na because I dey chop money pass Olumide, he wan humble me.

"Madam, beg am na! Just drop small tears, tell am say you dey jealous—he fit even give you him life."

Na so dem dey see am. Cry small, beg man, life go balance. I feel my eye hot, but the tears no gree fall. I wonder which kain world be this, where woman go dey beg for respect wey suppose natural.

But me, I no want his life. Instead, I went to the health centre.

I wake up early, tie scarf, waka go health centre for Garki. Nurse dey look me with that their knowing look, but I no send. My mind dey set. The pikin wey dey my belle na innocent, but I no fit keep am for this kind wahala.

"Doctor, I no want the pikin."

My voice low but steady. The doctor look me with pity, but I no blink. My mind dey made up, even if my chest dey tight, like scarf tie am, but my mind dey made up. As I dey talk, the waiting room dey full—radio dey play old Fuji song, smell of dettol and jollof rice dey mix for air. One woman dey breastfeed, another dey cough. I blend in, but inside, I dey different.

That same barrage wey dey push me to patch things with am now burst:

Family group chat explode again. Everybody get opinion, nobody send my pain. Even pastor wife send message, dey quote Bible.

"The pikin never do anything! Our oga never even do anything wey bad reach that—wetin you dey do na wickedness."

Like say na me kill person. I dey wonder if I fit ever win for their eyes.

"E reach like that? The man just use wrong method because him love you too much. Why you wan punish innocent pikin? Just give am chance, e no go kill you."

Love no be say you go dey use person head do dribble. But for Naija, dem go talk say woman get strong mind. I squeeze my bag, ignore all the side eyes.

"Chai, see as our oga jam this kain woman. She dey act like villain o."

They dey paint me black, like say na me be witch. I hear my name for group chat, gossip dey fly. If dem fit gather for junction, I for hear am for their mouth.

"I talk am before—the man never sleep with any other woman before, na only you dey move am."

I wan laugh—na so dem dey defend man for this country. Even when evidence dey, dem go cover am.

I ignored all the noise, squeezed the hospital slip in my hand, and threw it inside dustbin.

Na that slip be my last hope. I squeeze am, my palm dey sweat. As I waka comot, I throw am for dustbin, tears gather for my eye. But no one see am—everybody dey look phone.

Just then, Olumide waka come, block my way.

His perfume choke air, and he dress sharp, as if nothing dey happen. I smell his aftershave, see his fake concern.

"Aisha, wetin carry you come here this early morning? You dey hide something?"

His voice low but sharp. People for corridor turn look us, small drama dey sweet Naija people. I no shake.

I pinch my nose bridge. "I no sleep well last night. My head dey pain me."

My lie no even sweet, but I no care. If I talk true, he go twist am. My eyes dey red, but na from tiredness. The ground feel cold under my slippers, but I stand well.

That photo and those messages land for my phone. I sit for parlour all night, dey call am back to back, but he no pick.

I remember last night—I dey sit for parlour, light off, only phone screen dey glow. I call and call, my finger dey pain, but he just dey cut my call. My chest dey heavy, tears dey threaten. Abuja night dey silent, only my heart dey knock.

According to the online crowd, Olumide too no sleep—he just dey swirl wine glass, dey listen to my ringtone, dey wait make I call, then cut, dey enjoy my wahala, my pain, my worry. Like say na only my suffering fit show say I love am.

Online people dey make am look like say he dey enjoy my pain, dey use am catch cruise with his friends. Dem say na game, na test—like Naija man no dey satisfied until woman cry for am.

Hearing my excuse, Olumide lips just twist like person wey dey satisfied. He talk as if na big favour: "Okay, I promise you—I no go sleep outside again."

His face get that pride, like say he do me better thing. His voice low, almost playful. He dey expect me to jump, hug am. For this Abuja, men dey behave like dem be king.

I no answer am, just rub my head wey dey knock.

I dey rub my forehead, wish say painkiller go fit cure this one. My silence heavy for the room, but he no notice.

As I dey go, I feel him eyes dey on me, like say he dey wait for something.

I feel his gaze follow me, stubborn like stubborn fly. He dey expect one kind drama wey go stroke him ego.

That barrage start again:

Group chat people no rest. Everybody dey wait make I kneel, shed tears, make peace sweet.

"Quick, shed tears! Hug am, red eyes, talk say you dey jealous—tell am say e dey pain you to see am with another woman."

Advice full everywhere—na so dem want make woman dey behave, dey do as tradition say.

"See as oga eyes dey shine—he dey beg you for am."

Some dey say na now I suppose pet am, that tears go melt his heart. Dem dey root for romance like say na film.

"Just talk say you love am now, you go see as e go happy."

Love dey hungry everybody for this country—even when e dey choke woman.

I just breathe deep, act like say I no notice, continue waka.

I inhale deeply, shoulders high, waka pass am like say na ordinary man. I no get strength to perform.

Suddenly, Olumide grab my hand, face serious.

His grip strong, his palm dey sweat. The tension thick like ogbono soup. I feel his pride dey poke me, as if na crime to ignore am.

"Aisha, you no get anything to talk give me?"

His voice loud enough, some people for health centre dey peep. He wan force reaction.

I look am. "Wetin you want make I talk?"

I stare am down, my eyes cold. I no wan give am the show wey him dey find.

He vex. "You be stone? I dey talk, you dey look me like wall. Sometimes I dey wonder wetin dey your heart."

He hiss, hand still tight, pride full face. For Nigeria, woman wey no dey act drama, dem go call am wood or witch.

Barrage again:

People for group chat dey remind me say na love dey cause pain, say I suppose show am I care.

"Just talk say na only am dey your heart, everything go settle."

Dem dey turn my pain to competition. Who go love pass? Who go beg pass? My ears dey full.

No smile, I bring out my phone, show am the bed photo.

My hand no dey shake as I open phone gallery, flash am the picture. I watch am close.

"Olumide, wetin you really want?"

I talk am slow, voice steady. My heart dey break, but I hold my ground. His eyes flash, pride drop small.

He pause, raise eyebrow.

He shock, like say he no expect me to get mind.

"Na just game—truth or dare. If you dey jealous, then next time…"

He brush off the matter, mouth twist. Na so dem dey do—turn pain to play, like woman feeling no matter.

"You don ever think of how I dey feel?" I cut am, chest heavy with pain.

Tears prick my eyes, but I hold am. I want am make he understand say I be human being, not furniture.

He come dey smile small, voice get small play. "Na prank, na joke. You no suppose carry am for head like that."

His laugh no reach him eyes. In Nigeria, dem dey use play take cover wahala. Na so he dey dodge accountability.