Chapter 1: Night Substitute

Three years I don dey do madam night work—my body don taya, my soul don bend.

E no easy, abeg. Every night, my heart dey heavy, my back dey pain like say I carry cement. Sometimes I go just dey count the wooden beams for the ceiling—mosquito dey sing for my ear, ceiling dey smell like old palm oil and dust—dey wonder if God dey see me at all. Small time, my spirit don weak, the matter don pass my power. For night breeze, I go dey hear women voice dey gossip for compound, dem go dey talk say, 'That Kaiye no dey even smile again.' How I wan smile?

On top the bed, I beg the young chief to give me proper position.

My voice low, almost like breeze wey dey blow leaf. I say, 'Chief, abeg, na me dey bear all dis thing. Make you just see me small.' My palm dey tremble as I press am for my wrapper.

He no even look my side. "You be madam’s dowry maid. If I carry you join, no be disgrace to her face?"

He just dey look ceiling, voice cold like water from clay pot for harmattan. As if say my own pain no matter. I feel as if wall dey between us. Wetin I go do? My mouth just dey open, no word wan come out.

I close my eyes, my chest just heavy.

The air for room thick, as if say something dey press my chest. I feel small tears for my eye, but I no let am drop. Who go pity me?

Everybody for the compound sabi say the young chief love madam well well.

Even the houseboy Musa, when e dey sweep compound, go dey whistle song of love anytime chief and madam waka pass. Dem dey like pepper and palm oil—dey mix well. The whole place dey respect them as couple wey God join.

The next day, I kneel for old mama front, volunteer to become spirit wife—make I marry the dying eldest young master as widow for spirit marriage.

Old mama dey her parlour, dey arrange beads for basket, her white hair like egret feather. I enter, my knees touch the cold cement, I speak from my belly. 'Mama, abeg, I ready for spirit marriage.'

Old mama nearly cry. “After this spirit marriage, you must remain widow for your husband o. My pikin, you don reason am well?”

Her voice dey tremble, she look me with eyes like person wey don see many things. She pull me close, rub my head, whisper, 'No rush enter this kain thing, e no easy.'

I knock head for ground. “I no go ever regret am.”

My voice shake, but my mind dey run. I remember Halima face, I dey beg God make this sacrifice no waste.

From corner of my eye, I see the young chief and madam face pale like white chalk.

Dem stand for corridor, no fit talk. Madam hand dey her mouth, chief just fold him hand, eyes red. Dem no believe say I fit do am.

For the first time, I fit breathe, even if na grave dey wait me.