Chapter 1: The Marriage Agreement

To clear his father’s name, Tunde left his first love and married me—a village girl who no even sabi read her own name. Sometimes I dey ask myself if my whole life na just sacrifice for another person wahala. But for this our land, e dey normal to carry family matter for head like basket wey no get handle.

On our wedding night, we set three rules:

No crossing line, no touching, no falling in love.

Once Baba Tunde wahala clear, everybody go go their way, marry as dem like.

As elders dey talk, nothing dey last forever. True to word, for the third year of our marriage, dem clear Chief Tunde name at last.

1

From the very beginning, my marriage to Tunde na mistake.

Even wind sabi talk say I no suppose enter this kind union. The day I waka enter Olumide family gate three years ago, barefoot, dust full my leg, e still dey my mind. Na so dem look me that day, like lost property wey harmattan return. That na when I find out say I no be just the forgotten village girl, Ebere, but the third daughter of Olumide compound, with correct name—

Amarachi Olumide.

That name heavy for my tongue the first time I hear am—Amarachi! Who go believe? But by then, I don already reach thirteen.

I no sabi read, no fit sing hymn, ayo game sef I no fit play. My manners no pure. For every family gathering wey Mama drag me go, na so I go dey disgrace myself.

See ehn, when everybody dey speak big grammar and dey quote Bible, na so I go just dey look ceiling, dey count boards. Sometimes, I go spill egusi soup for body, or answer question with my thick village accent, while the aroma of fried plantain dey fill the parlour. All my aunties go just dey shake head.

To stop me from spoiling my younger sisters’ marriage chances, Grandma tell Mama make she marry me off quick-quick, before I use hand block blessing.

My grandma sharp well, her voice no dey loud but e dey command. "Do am fast, before this your third pikin use hand close door for others," she talk.

But even as I carry new status, wahala still dey. Good match no come easy again.

Suddenly, all the boys wey dey chase me for village disappear. Now, as Olumide pikin, dem talk say my eye don too open. Wahala!

First candidate na Papa mentee. Fine boy, handwriting sweet, but no shishi for pocket. Mama say she go dash me fat dowry, make I no suffer.

I go see am myself.

As I enter their parlour, chair don peel, air smell like bitters and hot balm. I see cousin try hide face as she serve me water.

As I hear am dey promise, I just turn am down.

E pain me, but I know say hope no dey there. Better make I chop garri with pride than enter that kind struggle.

Second candidate na widower, thirty-five, three wives don waka, six or seven sons dey ground.

The man beard thick, and as I greet am, im sons dey size me like market goat. I imagine say if e kpai before me, na fight for property with pikin remain. My chest cold, I reject am.

Mama no gree. She beg, she cry, but I hold my ground. I tell her, "Mama, abeg, no push me enter wahala because you dey fear shame."

After all the failed try, Mama worry reach where sore burst for her lips.

Every night she dey rub ori, dey mutter, "Amarachi, you wan shame me for this village?"

Na that time Tunde show.

His papa, Baba Tunde, get big wahala—cheating scandal for federal recruitment test. Everybody drag their name, whole family run enter village. Only Tunde, wey dey school, escape by luck.

People begin gossip. Some say Baba Tunde innocent, some call am disgrace. Anyway, dem pack leave city, dey lick wound. Only Tunde hold him head high for university, act like nothing dey happen.

Tunde marry me, no be love push am.

Me sef, I no marry for love.

He wan use Olumide name shine, climb up.

I, through this marriage, fit collect fat dowry, so Mama no go carry me dash anybody by force within three months.

At least, I no go end up for convent, dey shave head, dey sing Alleluia with candle for company.

Those reverend sisters dey fear me. I imagine myself—head bald, no powder, no wrapper, only hymn for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

So, after just one meeting, marriage set.

Family gather, kola nut break, palm wine flow. No time for love letter. By Sunday, I don become wife.

On our wedding night, Tunde stay outside bedroom door long, no wan enter.

He just dey waka up and down, new wrapper Mama tie for am don dey loose. I sit inside, dey hear cricket, dey pray make im no change mind last minute.

I lift my own veil, open door, call am:

"Tunde, I know say you marry me to clear Baba Tunde name, I sef no marry for love. Make we run this as agreement. Three things—

No crossing line, no touching, no falling in love.

Once Baba Tunde name clear, we go split peacefully, remarry as we want."

I look Tunde, my heart dey beat anyhow. If I gree, my life fit change, but if I refuse, wetin go happen to my mama? My hands dey shake as I nod small.

He press lips, raise hand, we clap palm three times. Deal seal.

"All right."

Na so marriage start. No love, just agreement and silent understanding for dark.