Chapter 7: Wedding Drums and Secret Plans

So the marriage swap was settled.

Na so peace enter house, but na secret peace. Only three of us know.

The four families started preparing for the weddings.

Palm wine dey flow, goat dey bleat for backyard, tailor dey measure everybody—even small pikin dey run up and down with new shoes. Marriage for Igbo land na festival.

Musa was still at the battlefield, and would only return the day before the wedding.

Even his own people dey worry, but war na war. People dey pray for am every evening.

But before the wedding, Tunde came with a big crowd, bringing boxes full of things.

Dem march for street like say na king dey come. Drummers follow for back, praise singer dey shout his name.

Papa welcomed him with a smile. “Tunde, why you dey come again? You don already send bride price and gifts.”

Papa voice dey jolly. Even palm wine flow for table. All the elders dey gather, dey expect more kola nut.

Only my mama, Ifeoma, and her mama knew about the marriage swap. Nobody else, so wahala no go enter.

If rumor leak, na fight fit scatter everywhere. So we tie mouth like people wey swallow key.

Ifeoma and her mama fear make the plan spoil, so them no go talk.

If you see their face—quiet, dey peep left and right. Even when small pikin dey cry, dem no answer.

Tunde paused, looking a bit embarrassed.

His mouth twist, eye dey dodge my papa own. Even his friend dey whisper for back.

“Uncle, you misunderstand. These no be for eldest Miss, na gifts for second Miss.”

People begin dey whisper. Even Uncle Ikenna scratch head. For custom, this one strange.

He turned to Ifeoma, who just came in, his eyes soft. “Second Miss, you don dey better? Your face still pale. If you finish the medicine, tell me, I go hospital get more.”

He dey act like say na Ifeoma be wife already. Even the village women dey nod.

“You save my life. If you suffer for Musa family, just tell me. I go come help you.”

This one na open promise. If dem write am for sand, even rain no go wash am.

Ifeoma’s face turned red. When she saw the 108 loads of gifts, she quickly waved her hand.

People dey count am, dey whisper numbers. Ifeoma just dey blush, dey shy.

“Brother Tunde, this one too much. I no fit collect.”

She dey form humility, but her eye dey shine.

She looked at me, hesitated, and lowered her head. “Big Sister go vex.”

She dey use my name do shield. She sabi politics.