Chapter 2: Small Chops, Big Decisions

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Three days after that wahala, Olumide post picture for him WhatsApp status: my best friend dey form pout for am, him dey throw V sign for camera.

I see the picture for WhatsApp status—Halima dey pose like celebrity, lips poke out, Olumide dey shine teeth. I feel my blood run cold. Dem dey do as if nothing dey happen, as if my pain na entertainment.

"I like women wey dey jealous for my sake. Dem dey sweet."

Caption come join am. My phone vibrate, my spirit sink. Jealousy na trophy for him, my pain na his own sweet.

I drop my phone, bury myself inside work. After the procedure, I go need at least half month to recover, so I need clear everything now.

I push my phone aside, face my laptop. I get deadline, project to close. My office dey my only escape. I dey plan how I go manage myself after everything. Work na my sanity—if I break, nobody go fix me.

The online crowd vex:

People dey roast me for everywhere. Twitter, Facebook, even for my work group. Everybody get opinion, nobody get understanding.

"This woman dey craze? Na now she still dey work? She really wan throway her husband because of work?"

Na so dem dey see am—woman with ambition na taboo. If I sit down dey cry, dem go still talk.

"Oga love am scatter, but she dey form ice queen—she no deserve am."

I dey read, shake my head. Love don turn to punishment for this country. Ice queen because I no wan beg? Wonders.

"If she just admit say she dey jealous, everything go soft. Why she dey do strong head? Family of three no better pass?"

Dem dey calculate my life, count family like say na mathematics. My happiness no dey for their score card.

I just nod for my mind. Yes, e hard.

I close my eyes, exhale. Na true, e hard. But nobody fit dey my skin.

Just then, Olumide elder brother call, voice dey shake.

My phone ring, big bro’s name flash. I answer, my hand dey shake small.

"Sister-in-law, abeg come quick, Olu don enter wahala!"

His voice urgent, background noise loud. Fear grip me small, my leg weak.

I hear crash for background—like say bottle break—then call cut.

My heart skip, hand dey shake. I grab my bag, run come downstairs. I no even lock gate, just jump inside keke.

I rush go the address wey Olumide post. As I reach the private room, I hear laughter inside:

I reach the address, heart dey pound, sweat dey my palm. I hear men dey shout, dey laugh loud, Naija men wahala.

"Olu, e don tey. Your workaholic wife go really show face?"

Dem dey yarn, dey toast Olumide, as if say I be ghost for my own marriage.

"She pursue Olu for twenty years before she catch am. She go come."

Dem dey gossip my matter, no even know I dey outside dey listen. My story dey their mouth like suya for roundabout.

"She no even answer that post. If Olu lose, he no fit back out—he go give me that Maitama project."

Maitama project—na me run am for one year, even go work with drip when malaria hold me, just to make sure e no spoil. He sabi all this, yet for bet, he wan dash am away.

As dem dey bet with my work, my spirit break. I remember those late nights, office lights bright, mosquito bite my leg. I dey sick, still dey type proposal. Now, na game for their table.

I peep small, see Olumide look tense, dey stare him phone.

His face no dey happy—he dey wait, hope say I go show. I see worry for his eyes, pride dey hide under.

As I push enter, everybody look my side—some face fall, some surprise. Olumide just breathe out.

Room go silent, drinks pause mid-air. Some men dey surprise, some dey pity me, others dey size me up. I stand tall, face strong.

"All of una don lose."

Olumide voice steady, pride dey his chest. He point table.

Luxury car keys, yacht keys, big watches, all dey scatter for table. Olumide lips twist small. "All these things plenty for me—wetin concern me?"

Everybody dey laugh, dey hail am. For Naija, material things dey talk. But me, my heart dey ache. I see my hard work for table like toy.

"Na true, na you get wife wey love you pass her life. We no get."

Dem dey hail am, dey envy am. I dey there, object of their bet, no voice.

"Just make sure you no use your hand pursue am."

Old man for corner yarn wisdom. Everybody laugh, but his words get weight. For our place, na woman always dey blamed if marriage spoil.

Olumide face darken. Like say he wan prove point, he carry hand put for my best friend Halima waist, wave me come.

My heart twist, but I hold myself. Halima dey smile like say she win lottery. Na so dem dey do for Naija—competition everywhere.

Online crowd:

Online gossip no dey end. Social media dey buzz, everybody dey expect fight, drama, slap.

"Madam suppose scatter ground, fight with side chick for oga. E go make am shine for him guys."

Some dey root for violence, like say na show. If I no para, dem go say I dey weak.

"Oga don too much. E never reach, he get wife, woman dey pregnant."

Small voice of reason, but e lost inside noise.

"You no understand. Na love be this. If madam no stubborn, oga no go dey do all this."

Dem dey excuse bad behaviour, twist everything to fit tradition.

"Our oga na virgin before two months ago, still never touch madam since then."

Gossip full everywhere. Dem dey use me count score for bedroom.

Three years marriage. Na two months ago he first touch me—na so I carry belle sharp sharp.

I never forget that night. Rain dey fall, NEPA take light, we dey use small lamp. Na that day he finally touch me, as if he dey do me favour. Next thing, belle land. Wonders.

I hold my belly, fingers grip tight.

My palm press my stomach, silent anger dey boil inside. My mind dey race.

Dem dey look me, dey wait make I scatter, cry, beg am.

All eyes on me—who go break first? Dem want see woman drama.

But I just look am, calm.

I steady myself, voice calm. I refuse to give dem show.

"Olumide, how old you be? You never tire for all this childish play?"

My voice soft but cold. I fit hear pin drop. Everybody shock.

---

After half month of silent war, na just Party A signature remain, and the project wey my company sweat for one year go finally click.

Two weeks waka pass. Me and Olumide dey live like strangers for house, no talk, no touch. Only tension dey move for corridor. But finally, na only one signature remain. This project na my last hope.

But that day, Olumide carry Halima come the dinner.

As I dey dress for dinner, I see Halima step in with Olumide. My chest squeeze. She dey wear red dress, face full of fake smile. My heart dey beat.

"Halima don join company now—she no be outsider. After this project sign, make she follow you learn."

Olumide dey talk as if na small play. My hand dey shake, but I keep smile. Halima dey beam teeth, eye dey shine.

Halima give me that her fake smile. "Aisha, we fit be best friends again."

She stretch hand, but my hand heavy. I squeeze smile. For this Abuja, woman dey hustle friendship just to collect man. Me, I sabi her game.

My face squeeze small.

I try compose myself, but my lips dey betray me. For my mind, I dey curse.

For uni, me and Halima dey close, until I find out say she dey near me because of Olumide. Even after three years marriage, she still dey wedge between us.

I remember those days for hostel—she dey borrow my powder, dey gist me about boys. I no know say na Olumide be her real target. Marriage no drive am comot, e even make am more stubborn.

Anytime she show, wahala dey follow. I wan para, tell Olumide make he carry am commot, but Party A arrive.

I dey bite my lip, dey rehearse hot words for my head, but as Party A enter, I lock everything inside. Business first.

I breathe in, force smile, greet Party A.

I put on my CEO face, raise shoulders, greet am with respect. My Yoruba dey show small—respect dey important.

During drinks, I try signal Olumide make he help me block one round, but he just bone, act like say Party A owe am money.

I look am with eye, but he just dey scroll phone. For Naija, man wey dey vex go act like say world dey owe am. I wan vex.

Waiter dey pass with small chops—puff-puff, samosa—but my appetite don die.

Online crowd:

People online dey notice everything, dey analyze every move. Twitter dey hot.

"Oga dey jealous—him wife dey smile for another man!"

Na wahala, even when na business.

"Abeg, na Party A be that."

Some people still get sense, but dem plenty small.

I keep my cool, handle Party A myself. As he see say I get sense and I fit put pride aside, Party A happy after two drinks.

I toast with Party A, my voice sure. He begin dey laugh, dey praise my work. Respect dey my side.

"President Aisha, your company design make sense this time. I believe say you get integrity. Make we run this money together."

I feel pride rise inside me. After all the wahala, my work still shine.

I raise my glass, confidence catch me small. "No wahala."

I raise glass, big smile for face. Small hope dey my body.

But next thing, Halima shout, pour wine for Party A face.

I shock. Halima dey do drama—wine pour everywhere, Party A jump. My heart fall.

"I no be any hostess."

She shout am, voice sharp. Room go cold, everybody stare.

She look me up and down with contempt.

Her eyes cut me, like say I be low-class. For Abuja, woman wey dey hustle dey see plenty insult.

I bite my lip, glare Halima, then quickly bend, dey apologize, give Party A tissue.

I rush to Party A, dey clean shirt, dey talk sorry, my hand dey shake. My Yoruba accent come out strong.

But Olumide grip my wrist, face dark like thunder. "Aisha, you be married woman. No dey do anyhow."

His grip pain me. For Naija, man fit embarrass woman anywhere. I feel my face burn, shame and anger dey wrestle inside.

Party A vex. "President Aisha, I no think say we fit work together again."

His face stone. My dreams dey crash like broken plate.

Just like that, one year sweat scatter.

Tears dey my eye, but I no fit cry here. I feel as if ground fit open swallow me.

I slump for seat. Halima still dey run her mouth:

I sit down, chest tight. Halima dey yarn rubbish, dey act victim.

"E better like this. I no like all these men. If na me get husband, I no go dey fake smile outside."

Her voice sharp, she dey form woman of principle. My head dey spin.

"Olu, no vex. Halima go always dey for you."

She dey pet am like puppy. My anger dey boil.

Anger boil for my body. I stand, give Halima one hot slap.

My palm land for her face—sound loud like NEPA transformer blow. Room freeze, even air condition stop.

"Carry your wahala commot."

My voice shake, but e loud. I no dey act again—enough is enough.

For my mind, I dey shake, but my face no show am. Na years of endurance dey burst out.

Her face red sharp, eyes dey water. She look so pitiful.

Halima dey sob, her fake pride don melt. For once, she look human.

"Olu..."

She reach for Olumide, tears full face. She wan play victim till the end.

I raise hand again, but Olumide grab my wrist.

He hold me tight, his eyes soft. I see small worry inside.

His face soften small as he look me.

He try to calm me, voice low, eyes dey beg.

"Why you slap am?"

His tone mix with surprise and small fear. He no expect am from me.

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After long silence, I look am, numb.

The air thick. I dey numb, like say my soul waka come out body. I dey remember all the sacrifices, the nights I cry alone. I look Olumide, see stranger.

"Olumide, the project the whole company work for one year don spoil. You happy now, seeing me lose control?"

My voice low, broken. I dey look for small pity, but e no dey his face.

He still no rest, dey press me, "You slap am because of me, or because of company?"

He dey search for validation, like say everything be competition. My head dey swell.

I shake off his hand, force myself calm, talk with tired voice.

I pull my hand free, adjust my dress. My spirit dey weak, but I hold my own.

"Because of company."

My voice dry, eyes empty. Na the truth—my dreams dey pain me pass him drama.

He vex again, voice cold. "Then go marry your work."

He hiss, turn face. The way he talk am, pain me reach bone. For Naija, woman with ambition dey pay price.

Halima waka come, dey pet am. "Olu, no vex. No let this thing affect your health."

She dey rub his back, dey whisper. My anger turn to stone. I dey invisible for my own marriage.

He look me long.

He dey wait, hope say I go change mind. His eyes dey soft small, pride dey fade.

"Aisha, you know why I dey keep Halima? Because she sabi pet me, dey jealous for my sake, dey act like babe wey need man."

His voice dey shake. He dey open up small, but e late. For Naija, dem dey praise woman wey dey act baby.

I just tired, my voice don crack. "Then go stay with am."

I stand my ground, voice no dey loud, but e firm. I dey choose myself at last.

Olumide anger burst. "Aisha!"

He shout, but I no flinch. His voice echo for room, but my heart dey blank.

I look am, face blank.

I just dey look, empty. I no get tears again to drop.

"Olumide, wetin you really want?"

I ask am for the last time. My spirit dey tired, my hope finish.

The online crowd roll by:

Online people dey talk as if dem dey watch Big Brother. Comments dey fly—some dey blame me, some dey pity me.

"He want make you calm down, show say you weak for am, let your emotions dey shake for am."

Dem want me to beg, to kneel, to play the game.

"Babe, na love dey worry am—he just dey insecure. Try understand am."

Advice full everywhere—Naija people dey see insecurity as love.

"Oga look strong, but na small thing dey break am. Every night wey you dey work late, na only blanket he dey hug, dey reason: Why my babe never come back? She no love me again?"

Dem dey try balance story, but e no dey balance for me.

"No be madam dey suffer? Just because he dey insecure, na she dey bear all the pain. I no fit reason am."

Small voice of reason. I wish say more people fit understand.

Olumide pause, then talk softly, "Think am well."

His voice low, but pride still dey. He hope say I go change my mind.

I no answer, my mind just dey roam.

My thoughts dey travel far—back to when we dey uni, when love still sweet. Now, na only bitterness remain.

Do I love am?

I ask myself, search my heart. The answer no dey quick.

Maybe before. But now, all I want na to run.

I sigh. My chest feel lighter with the decision. To run no be crime.

As for whether he love me—I no send again.

My mind dey clear—his love na burden, not blessing.

As I watch them waka commot, I call my lawyer.

I dial am sharp-sharp. His ringtone na Fela song, but today, no time for dance.

"Abeg, draft divorce agreement. I wan divorce. We go talk how to share property for office tomorrow."

I drop phone, inhale deep. The air for my chest sweet small. For Naija, divorce na taboo, but I no care again.

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For house, I collapse for bed, body weak.

House cold, night deep. I fall for bed like tree wey dem just cut. My pillow soak, but I no cry.

Online crowd rush again:

Group chat dey hot. Everybody get opinion—some dey say I wicked, others dey say I strong.

"E no go happen—if dem really divorce, oga go craze. He love madam die."

Some dey root for love reunion, dey hope say film go end well.

"Dem get pikin already. She no fit just endure for the pikin sake? I no understand why she dey do strong head. Oga just dey wait make she pet am."

Sacrifice na the anthem for woman. Endure, endure, until you no get self again.

I close my eyes, ignore them. I just too tired. I need sleep.

I bury head inside pillow, block ear. Sleep finally catch me.

When I wake, I chop small, then help my mama arrange flowers for afternoon.

Sun high for sky, heat dey my skin. I dey help Mama arrange flowers for parlour—her own small business for church women. Mama dey hum church chorus, smell of hibiscus and wet earth dey calm my spirit.

Mother and pikin dey always connect. She sigh, "Aisha, una quarrel?"

Mama dey watch me, eye sharp. For Naija, mama sabi pikin mood pass anybody. Her voice soft.

I pause.

I dey pick petals, hand freeze. I know say question dey come.

"No quarrel wey husband and wife no fit settle before day break. If one person calm down, everything go soft. No push am enter another woman hand."

She sip zobo from old plastic cup, voice low: "Marriage na marathon, no be sprint."

Her words heavy, wisdom of old. For our place, dem believe say woman suppose hold house. Her own marriage na cautionary tale.

"All men be the same. Once pikin land, he go calm."

She dey try give me hope, but I see pain for her eyes. She dey talk from experience, I sabi.

I drop the flowers. "Wetin of Dad, then?"

I ask, voice low. Her eyes dodge, but I press.

As I talk, my papa waka enter, hand around one woman wey chest big.

Gate creak, Papa enter. He no even look our side. The woman follow am dey laugh, gold chain dey jangle. My heart sink for Mama.

My parents na business marriage, no real love. But when dem first marry, papa treat mama like gold. Later, as she fall in love, her wahala start.

I remember Mama dey gist me how Papa use to bring flowers, write small notes. But as time pass, he begin dey chase women, Mama dey cry. Love na gamble for this country.

The pikin no hold am down—na only trap she enter.

Mama think say pikin go tie man, but e no work. She dey regret, but pride no let her talk am loud.

Soon, noise from his enjoyment dey come from upstairs. Mama face just blank.

Laughter from upstairs loud, Mama face harden. I see pain she no fit talk. I wan hug her, but she stiff.

Online crowd:

Dem dey say woman suppose endure, that man na man. Some dey blame woman, say na she push am outside.

"Oga no be like other men. If you pet am, he go turn to your puppy."

Dem dey sell hope wey no dey real. Naija women too dey endure.

Mama talk am too, "You and Olumide na childhood friends. Maybe him different."

Mama dey smile, but e no reach her eyes. She dey hope say my story go better.

I look down, one tear drop for my hand.

Tear cold, wet my hand. My chest dey squeeze. I remember my own pain, and Mama’s own join.

"But Mama, wetin I do wrong?"

I ask, my voice break. For Naija, dem dey blame woman for everything. I dey tired.

Three years marriage, Olumide only dey do anyhow. I don spend three years dey pet am. Even the first time, na him raise chin, talk with pride, "Since you love me like this, I go manage satisfy you."

His words still dey ring for my ear. All the times I cook, wash, kneel—na me dey chase love, na him dey decide when to show small affection. My spirit don break.

I dey run company alone, still dey try please am, dey play lover role.

My hands dey full, but I still dey find space to make marriage work. Yet, e no ever enough.

I get my own life. I no wan dey circle one man and pikin forever.

I dey remember my dreams—travel, build company, see world. But for Naija, dem say woman destiny end for house.

So, I go divorce. I no go keep this pikin.

I talk am for myself, voice calm. My decision strong, my heart no dey shake again.

He no worth am at all.

I hold my chest, deep breath. I ready to start again—even if whole Abuja go carry my matter for head like gala.