Chapter 4: Shame and Showdown

Who go believe say e go reach like this?

If person tell me this story before, I for swear say na lie. But Naija life dey show us every day say evil dey for backyard.

Over fifty years, still no fit control himself—na him own daughter-in-law join.

This kind old man, e shame old age. Instead make he dey advice youth, na him dey scatter family. For that moment, I feel say ground fit open swallow am, e no go do.

Thirty minutes later, I reach my sister house, heart dey beat like drum.

I park anyhow for junction, no even off engine, just run go house. Even neighbours dey peep through window, dey wonder wetin dey happen.

Stairs na the only way—press tire for elevator, light no dey. I climb stair, run reach top floor.

My leg nearly break, as I dey take two steps at a time. Na so NEPA dey behave, always cut light when wahala dey. My sweat dey soak my shirt, but I no care.

Door wide open.

Na sign say trouble dey. No Yoruba woman go leave door open for night, unless wahala pass normal. I take small breath, look left and right before I waka enter.

Old man and police dey near stairwell, e be like say dem dey finish their talk.

Na so Nigerian police dey behave—if dem see old man dey beg, dem go dey try balance matter. E be like dem dey discuss hush hush, voice low.

Old man dey bend, dey beg police with hand for front.

E bend like school pikin wey dem catch with stolen meat. For Naija, once elder start dey beg, dem go dey rub hand for face, dey plead with small voice.

One police, leg half inside stairwell, just nod, "No let this kind thing happen again. This kain shameful well well."

His voice carry that warning wey mean say dem no go do much, just wan make trouble stop. Police na wa, always dey quick end matter if dem see say family involved.

Old man dey promise, "I no go do am again. Na drink dey worry me tonight. I swear, e no go happen again."

You go think say na parrot, the way e dey repeat that line. For Naija, once elder blame ogogoro, everybody go try make peace—na so dem dey cover shame.

I wan go ask wetin happen, na so person block me: "Why you dey here? This night, you no suppose dey sleep?"

Voice harsh, body language dey form wall for me. He stand like police checkpoint, no allow me pass. Him eyes dey red, sweat dey face, maybe from work or wahala.

Na their son, just come back from factory, still wear work cloth.

The odour of engine oil dey follow am. Him uniform still dey stained, hand black with grease, but e face sharp—anger dey show for jaw.

I no answer am. I waka pass go find my sister.

My leg no even shake. I use my shoulder push am small, my mind dey focus only on my sister. Family first, wahala later.

She dey sofa, hold my nephew tight, eye red, hair scatter.

If you see her, e go pain you. Hair wey she always pack neat now dey scatter like basket. My nephew grip her like person wey dey hold last hope.

Her mother-in-law sit near am, dey talk, "No vex. Na drink cause am. He no mean am. Why you call police? If people hear, how we go take show face for church? Dem go talk for women fellowship, dem go gossip for market. How we go take show face for church?"

Old woman dey speak with voice like water wey no get taste. Her face dey squeeze, like say na only her shame matter pass person pain. For our place, na so dem dey fear church people more than God.

My sister talk, "How e no go mean am? Last night after I baff, e even dey whistle for me!"

Her voice dey crack, but she no gree let dem gaslight her. For Yoruba house, once woman start dey talk truth for public, e mean say pain don pass her throat.

Old woman insist, "No matter wetin, na your papa. How you go think am like that?"

She squeeze her wrapper, dey look ground, voice low, as if shame dey swallow her own sense. Some elders go rather cover evil than face community wahala.

I no fit bear am again. I push the old woman, ask my sister, "E touch you? Anybody beat you? Talk true, make I show them pepper."

I no even care if dem vex, my own be say I go defend my sister by all means. My eyes red, my hand dey ready, voice dey vibrate as if thunder dey my throat.

My sister look up, see say na me, hold my hand, begin cry scatter.

Her tears dey fall like rain. She grip me, no wan leave, body dey shake, as if na only my presence fit save her from drowning. My own eyes sef begin red.

That moment, the old man roar, "Why you dey cry? You still get mind dey cry!"

His voice thunder through the room, spit dey fly. E remind me of angry goat for farm. E dey shout as if na him be judge for court, no remorse for face.

He no be like before wey he dey beg police. He slam door, bang table, smell of drink full everywhere.

You go think say na ogogoro distillery dey the parlour. E move from beggar to tiger in two seconds, e dey show say na performance e dey do before.

"You don disgrace me finish!"

Him voice dey shake wall. If no be say people dey, e fit start to throw things. For our culture, shame dey fear old men pass death. You wan make dem carry my name reach elders’ meeting? You wan finish me?

My sister and nephew just dey shake, fear hold them.

I look dem, my heart dey cut. My nephew eye wide, hand dey cover mouth, e dey shiver for him mother body.

I shout, "Why you dey shout? You dey talk of shame, but when you dey do rubbish, you no think of your name?"

Na so I raise voice, let neighbours hear. For my place, sometimes to shout truth na to fight evil. I no fit keep quiet.

"Which rubbish? Wetin I do?" Old man stand, hand for waist, spit dey fly. "I just tell my daughter-in-law make she baff my back. Wetin bad there? If daughter-in-law no serve father-in-law, who she go serve? Go ask people—who daughter-in-law no dey serve father-in-law?"

E dey raise voice, dey form tradition. For our side, we sabi the difference between respect and evil. This one don cross line. Old people dey use "service" talk cover their wahala sometimes, but we wey know right from wrong no dey gree.

"And this one na my family matter. Wetin concern you? Commot! Commot from my house!"

He point finger like say na him be landlord for whole estate. I just dey look am, e dey funny and annoying at the same time. Him pride dey block sense.

No way to reason with this kain person.

True talk, some people don harden for evil. If you like quote Bible, quote Qur’an, dem no go hear. My spirit dey boil but I try hold myself.

I face him son. "You hear am. Your papa say make your wife baff am."

I face Kunle, look am for eye—my own blood dey drip anger. I dey wait make him react like man, defend him wife.

He cross him hand, talk coldly, "So? Na big thing? E reach to call police?"

His words land like slap. Him face straight, no emotion, like say all this wahala na small tin. For Naija, man wey no fit defend wife na big shame, but this one dey act as if dem give am stone for heart.

E shock me. My brain freeze. I no fit talk.

For small seconds, I just dey look am. E be like say world pause, I dey try understand how person fit dey so cold.

He add, "No be like say she be saint. She get boyfriend for university—she no be virgin. Now she baff person back, dey form holy?"

Him voice dey drip poison. E dey dig old wound, as if to justify evil. Some men dey always find way bring woman down, even when na dem wrong pass. I just dey look am, my hand dey shake.