Chapter 5: Breaking the Cycle

"And she too like to dey play. She dey smile with dispatch rider."

Him voice dey carry that envy wey dey hide for small mind. The way e talk am, e mean say happiness no suppose reach woman hand, unless man gree. This kain talk dey pain well well.

My sister dey shake with anger, lips don white. "Kunle... so na so you see me? You, that time, that time..."

Her voice break, e be like say old pain just wake up. I fit see the way her eyes dey search for answer, for small justice. If to say I fit swallow her tears for her, I go do am.

"Forget past things," he hiss. "I just manage you because you born me pikin. Who wan woman like you?"

That kain hiss, e fit scatter heart. For Naija, when man dey talk that way to wife, e mean say love don die, even respect pack go. My body dey shake, but I dey hold myself.

"Na you seduce am," old woman join mouth. "You just dey like all these women—no dey behave, always dey find man attention. If you no dey wear tight cloth dey waka for house, old man no go dey look you."

Her own voice dey sharp like knife. She dey talk as if to say woman suppose dey invisible. For our culture, some mothers-in-law dey see daughter-in-law as competition, na so dem dey pour their own pain as venom.

If I ever pity that old woman before, e don finish.

My mind don clear—no more soft heart for her matter. I dey see am now, her own pain don turn weapon, e dey cut everybody around her.

The worst thing for some people wey suffer be say, when dem turn bad, na dem wicked pass.

E dey shock me how person fit carry own suffering, come turn am arrow shoot others. Instead make dem break the chain, dem dey pass am round.

She don suffer for men hand, e turn normal for am. Now she wan make everybody dey suffer, dey turn around men, so she go feel say she no be the only mumu.

Na true talk, generational wahala dey circulate for this kind house. The cycle dey tight like wrapper, unless person break am by force.

My sister just quiet, tears dey flow.

I dey hear her sob, low and soft. For my chest, something dey break. I dey feel her pain as if na me dem slap. My hand dey fist, my jaw dey lock.

My nephew dey wipe her tears, dey cry, "Mummy, no cry. Na my fault. Mummy, abeg no cry."

If you see the boy, you go pity am. Small pikin wey no suppose carry wahala for head, na im dey beg, dey wipe tears. For Naija, children dey quick blame themselves when adults dey fight. E pain me deep.

Old man waka come, drag my nephew, push am enter room. "Good boy, go inside. Make big people settle big people wahala."

Him hand rough, no care for pikin emotion. He just dey move am as if na goat. My nephew dey look back, tears for eye, but no voice.

Then he begin push me. "Commot! You no dey welcome here!"

He dey bark like dog wey dey guard bone. Him hand dey point, body dey shake, but I no gree move.

Next thing, he slap my sister. "You dey craze? You call police! Who teach you that one? You call police for me!"

The slap loud—red hand mark just show for my sister face.

Everybody freeze. For that one second, all the noise quiet, as if house dey listen. My blood rush enter head, my eye dey red.

E happen too fast.

Na the kain speed wey only wickedness fit deliver. The whole room dey watch, nobody fit believe. E shock everybody.

I no believe say he go fit touch my sister for my front.

All my life, I dey protect her. I feel like say I fail am. My heart dey pound, my hand dey sweat, but my body no fit move yet.

My parents pikin, dem pamper am since small, dem no even fit shout for am—this one come dey raise hand?

Na that pain dey sting me pass. My parents wey dey treat am like egg, now one yeye old man dey break am like chin chin. I dey see red.

How he take get mind...

For small seconds, I dey wonder, wetin dey give man power to become monster inside him own house? Wetin be the joy wey he dey find for pain?