Chapter 3: Chuchu Don Disappear

Morning reach, my husband go feed Chuchu.

He dey whistle, food bowl for hand. When I hear him voice, I think say na normal day.

He find everywhere, no see Chuchu.

I see am dey search under car, back of house, even dey call Chuchu name with small fear.

He turn to me, eyes red:

His eyes get tears, voice dey shake. "Wife, wetin happen?"

"How we go do, wife? Chuchu don disappear."

My heart drop. I stand up, wipe my eye. I feel cold.

As he talk, e just reason am.

He no even finish, begin run towards kitchen, slippers dey drag.

He rush go kitchen, see blood for ground.

Floor get small red, my husband leg dey weak.

Inside dustbin, black hair—just like Chuchu own.

Him hand dey shake as he touch the fur. My belle turn.

Anger catch am, he face the woman:

His eyes red like pepper, voice high.

"Talk true! Na you kill Chuchu?"

He dey pant. My heart dey beat fast.

"You this pikin! Na so you go dey talk to your grandma? You no get respect? I wake cook for you early, now I be bad person?"

Her face hard, but I see guilt for corner of her eye.

"Na you! You cook my rabbit before!"

He dey shout, voice crack. Old wounds dey open.

"Mu Jianmin, talk to your pikin! Over twenty years, still dey rude to elders!"

She dey shout for father-in-law, try shift blame.

Father-in-law show, mother-in-law follow.

Dem stand for kitchen door, eyes red. Everybody dey shake.

The woman hold mother-in-law:

She drag her small, voice high. "Abeg, talk for me!"

"Talk true—you wake pass me. You see me kill dog?"

She dey squeeze her arm, force words out.

"N-no."

Aunty Grace voice low, tears for face. She no fit look me eye.

Mother-in-law eyes don red.

Her nose dey run, she dey bite lip. E be like my spirit just dey sink.

"Abeg leave am. E no too serious. Make we chop first, then find am later. Dog no fit just lost."

She try comfort everybody, but her face betray her.

"True. Our wife get sense."

Papa-in-law try smile, but e dey forced.

For table, the woman serve me meat soup.

Soup dey hot, meat big. My hand dey shake as I hold spoon.

I smell the pepper soup from kitchen—sharp, with scent leaf and crayfish. My heart break, knowing say na my own dog dey inside.

"Wife, you get sense, no be like others wey no sabi respect. Animal na animal. Even if you raise am for years, e no fit pass human being."

She dey smile, eyes dey shine. Na like say she dey teach lesson.

"Na true."

I nod, even as my heart dey bleed.

"Everything get e own destiny. No blame me if Chuchu die and dem chop am. Maybe na him bad behaviour for last life cause am, or maybe na the owner. Wife, you know say I dey talk true, abi?"

Her philosophy strong. She talk like elder for village meeting.

I nod:

"Grandma always get point."

Voice low, but my mind dey far.

She nod, satisfied.

She happy say I gree. For her mind, na respect she win.

She wait make I finish the soup, then her face change, she smile wickedly:

Her eyes sharp, lips curve. She dey wait for reaction.

"The soup sweet, abi?"

Her voice long, like jazz.

"Very fresh."

I force smile. "Thank you, Grandma."

"Of course. Meat from animal wey dey chop expensive dog food dey sweet die~"

She rub hand, dey look everybody. Her laughter long, voice high. She talk am like say na goat wey chop yam leaf—sweet pass ordinary.

I swallow hard, pepper dey my throat. My eyes hot, but I no go let her see me cry.

My husband vex, break him bowl for ground:

Plate scatter, soup fly. "Enough!" Everybody jump.

"I know am! Na you!"

Voice crack, anger full body. Table dey shake.

"You this pikin, shut up! You dey craze? You wan chop slap?"

She raise hand. My husband stand, eyes red. Even Chuchu no fit save us now.

After she finish with him, she turn to me.

She look me, voice cold.

"And you! You dey use dog do shakara—I gree for you, you think say I dey fear you? Without that Malinois, who you be? Go look mirror. That your face fit curse husband; na only mumu go want you."

Her insult plenty, but I bone. My in-laws dey quiet. Even the air thick.

She just dey happy, dey set rule upon rule for me.

She even bring list—no slippers for corridor, no light for parlour after ten, no music for Sunday morning. Na real regime.

As she dey yarn, she even tell me to become granddaughter to the tortoise she don raise for forty years.

She bring big tortoise, rub shell. "This one wise pass you, na elder for family. Show respect."

"This tortoise wey I raise for forty years fit be your grandmother. To let you be her granddaughter na honour. No carry yourself high."

I just nod.

Inside, my mind dey run marathon. Outside, I just dey humble.

But after she search finish, she no see the forty-year-old tortoise.

She dey lift mat, check under chair, even accuse maid. Nobody fit talk.

I stand up, carry tortoise shell from the soup, wash am, dry am, give her:

I bring am with respect, kneel down. "Grandma, this your god-grandmother you dey find—no be this one?" Everybody freeze. Na true Naija wahala.

Everybody hold breath—na only her cough break the silence. For my mind, I dey wait for the real fight to start.