Chapter 2: Ghost Life Na Wahala

First day as ghost, I siddon for bay window, dey watch all the house lights till day break.

Na so spirit life be—no sleep, just dey float dey observe. I dey count people wey their light dey on pass midnight. Some dey pray, some dey chop, some dey watch old Yoruba film. Naija get wahala, but people no dey gree sleep early.

The phone for the bathroom only dey get those mass-sent Happy New Year messages. More than hundred people dey my contact, but not even one person message me for New Year’s Eve.

E pain me deep, because for Naija, New Year na family matter. People dey do midnight prayer, dey send love, dey wish each other new blessing. My phone dry like old firewood.

As the midnight fireworks finish, my old brick phone finally ring. I float go check—na that yeye ex-husband of mine.

He send photo: one carton box with small clothes and used makeup inside. He write: "Your rubbish. You get one day to come carry am. No use dirty my house."

I just hiss for inside spirit mouth. This one no get shame, after all the years, na so he dey talk to me. Even death no fit humble am.

My ex-husband name na Kunle Bankole. As him name sound, na so him be—cold, no feelings, real oga type. He dey wear correct agbada for wedding, beads for wrist, but heart cold like harmattan night.

People dey fear am for business, even old staff dey call am small lion. If he just clear throat, everybody go quiet. For house, na the same steeze—hard man everywhere.

He take over him papa business early, and in just few years, the company blow. People dey call am business genius.

If to say he dey contest for governor, na landslide he go win. People respect am for Lagos, Ogun, everywhere.

For looks, nothing to complain. When he just take over, people even dey joke say make he go do Nollywood. E fine die. Tall, dark, correct suit, beard always neat. Women dey eye am, but na only business he dey follow talk.

But nobody perfect. Him own wahala be say: he no love me.

Na so heart dey be sometimes. If to say love fit buy, I for pay for am since. Him get one childhood sweetheart, the one wey dey shine for him heart since small, while me, na just arranged marriage from our mamas.

My own story just dey like waka pass for film. E pain me as I dey remember the way dem arrange everything like yam for market.

My family get money when I small, but everything scatter my last year for secondary school. That time, our house still dey GRA. By final year, dem don change lock, landlord dey threaten. Life turn upside down.

I get senior sister wey dey do ajebo, small brother wey dey spoil, and papa and mama wey like boy pass girl. Na so dem dey treat boy like king, girl like spare tyre. I just dey survive as second pikin.

After we go bankrupt, my sister—wey dey UK—no even feel am at all. She dey form accent, dey snap for Instagram, no send who dey house dey drink garri.

My parents go dey talk, "Business bad, you need wise up." Everyday na warning, but if money land, na only my brother dem go remember.

I hustle scholarship, finish school, dey do part-time job—make I no add wahala join family own. I work for Mr Biggs, chop leftover meatpie as lunch, just dey survive. Sometimes I dey think say even God don forget me.

But dem still send my useless brother abroad, dey spend two, three million naira every year like water.

As I dey hawk handout, my brother dey snap picture for Dubai, dey pop champagne for Instagram. Life truly no balance. When I dey work for Mr Biggs for small change, my brother dey party for cruise ship.

I dey waka for sun dey distribute flyer, dey sweat like person wey dey carry cement, he dey snap for swimming pool. When I dey under hot sun dey share flyer inside mascot costume, my sister dey ski for foreign mountain.

I even get sunburn that year, dem laugh me say I resemble roasted plantain. See life. E be like say na only me the bankruptcy affect. All the burden land for my head, even my own childhood just vanish.

For final year for university, my parents hold Kunle Bankole like say na iroko tree wey dey give shade. If dem talk about hope, na Bankole family dem dey refer to.

When Kunle Bankole mama get belle, she get accident. My parents see her, rush am hospital, save her and the pikin. That thing dem never let anybody forget, like say na them be angel wey come earth.

As my mama sef get belle, and both parents fine, Kunle Bankole mama suggest say make dem two unborn pikin marry when dem grow. All those Naija kind promise—everybody laugh that time, but for elders, promise na blood pact.

Everybody think na joke that time, but when Kunle Bankole mama nearly die, she remember the promise, come find my family. She show up with wrapper tie, old photograph, say she dey fulfill old vow.

For my broke family, na like win jackpot. Dem dey thank God, dey call pastor for night vigil. To them, na God butter their bread.

The marriage suppose be for my sister, but she don get boyfriend for abroad, no gree marry—especially as Kunle Bankole just start to run company, and people think say na only fine face he get. My sister no gree at all. She talk say, "I no fit marry person wey no get groove." She no even send say money go land tomorrow. Na so the slot fall on me.

So na me, the unfortunate one, dem push go front. If to say I get mouth, I for protest, but for Naija, last born dey chop last. I just bone, do as dem say.

I collect marriage certificate before graduation certificate. When dem dey count points for graduation, the marriage certificate even give me two extra points. My classmates dey tease me say I get double degree. I force smile, carry my load.

I force myself smile. Maybe na blessing in disguise. I console myself say things fit better. I dey hope say after rain, sun go shine.

I know from beginning say Kunle Bankole no like me. Na so e be. From the first day, the gap clear. When we go collect marriage certificate, na him mama hold my hand wait for am almost one hour for outside registry office.

Him mama dey gist, dey pet me, dey look time. Sun dey roast my face, but I gree wait. When he finally show, he just look me, tell him mama, "Something hold me, that’s why I late." Him face hard like stone, no apology, no smile. After that, he no look my face again.

Na only his mama try console me that day. I just dey there like bag of cement. So from the start, I know say he no love me. I just dey hope say maybe time go melt him heart, but my spirit self know say e go hard.

Suddenly, I just wan ask: for this world and the next, who really get my back?