Chapter 8: New Family

I go greet Mama Musa.

Her room full of prayer mat, perfume smell everywhere. She dey rub her bead, face full of sleep, but she smile when she see me.

Musa don already sit near her.

He sit quiet, back straight, but cough still dey come out small. He hold newspaper, but I know say e no dey read am.

She smile for me, but as Musa cough, her face change.

Her joy disappear, worry return sharp sharp. She hold chest, look Musa like hen wey guard chick.

“Musa, I wan talk private with Halima. Go rest small.”

She wave Musa, her voice soft but sure. Musa nod, stand up, waka out gently.

Musa waka go.

He close door behind am. Only me and Mama Musa remain.

Mama Musa call me come sit.

She pat chair, motion me near. Her hand warm, even as her body dey shake small.

She hold my hand, her eyes dey red as she look me. “Good child, Musa lucky to marry you. With how he be now, na big thing you do.”

Her voice quiver. I see gratitude for her face. She squeeze my hand like say she dey pass strength to me.

Smile disappear from her face, her voice get small pain: “Doctor talk say his life dey weak, we no know how long he go live. Some family people dey talk make he adopt pikin, so family name no go end. But that one go spoil your life.”

Her words heavy, like stone for my chest. I see say she dey fight her own family because of me. Na real mother heart be this.

“I dey thank you say you come bring luck for am. I no go let you waste your whole life. I don think am—if Musa reach that stage, I go make am give you release letter. I go still give you land and property, so your life go better.”

Her promise strong. For our side, na big thing for in-law to give land and property. I bow head, thank her from my heart.

I use hand clean her tears, my heart dey pain me.

I wipe her cheek, my own tears dey threaten. I hold her hand tighter.

“Mama, thank you for remembering me.”

My voice break, I whisper am. I never get this kind kindness for long.

I just think say I dey come be maid, I no know say she dey plan for me reach like this.

I dey reason all the times wey people just use me do errand. This one na real family talk.

I remember my real mama wey I never see.

I dey imagine her face, her smile, the way she for call me "my baby girl." My chest tight.

If she dey, maybe I for no suffer reach this level.

Maybe I for dey school now, dey plan my future. Tears choke me.

Mama Musa smile inside tears. “See as I make you cry join. Halima, no dey do like stranger. Just call me Mama, like Musa dey do.”

Her voice soft, laugh enter inside, even as she wipe own tears. I try smile back.

“Mama.”

I call am. E sweet my mouth.

“Good daughter, I get one more request. Rukayat talk say you sabi cook medicine food. From today, Musa food dey your hand. Na small selfish thing—make he fit live longer.”

She look my face, trust full her eye. For our culture, to hand over husband food na big thing. She just give me key to Musa life.

Her voice choke at the end.

She cover mouth, try swallow own tears. I pat her back, nod.

I nod.

"I go do am, Mama. I go try my best." My heart dey swell with responsibility.

“Thank you, Halima.”

She sigh relief. Her hand pat my cheek. For that moment, I feel love wey I no see since small.