The Secret Lives of Baba Segi's Wives (20 page)

I
YA
S
EGI DECIDED TO BATHE
her daughter today. It is good because since Segi went to the hospital, both she and Iya Femi have been behaving as if they do not remember how to be mothers.

Akin came to my room and told me that their school uniforms were dirty. I told him to take the washing bowls outside. I gave them soap and sat outside with them. There was sadness in the home and it is good for them to do something that they normally enjoy. Like all children, they like to play with water.

They formed a ring around a giant heap of laundry and squatted before the white basins but they did not talk like they used to. Segi was not there to flick soap suds at them. She was not there to start the songs they all knew and loved to sing.

Femi was still angry because his mother wouldn’t give him money for sweets, so he sank his hands in his basin and
refused to scrub. Like his mother, he only thinks about himself. He just sat there with snot running from his nose. Every so often, he stretched out the tip of his tongue and licked the mucous into his mouth.

Any other time, the other children would have ignored him, but Akin stood up from his basin and slapped him across the face. The older boy left a streak of soap suds across Femi’s cheek. When he recovered from the shock, he began rubbing his clothes together.

It is a wonder that a good boy like Akin could have come out of Iya Segi’s belly. I have been watching him since he was young. One day, he will grow up to be a good father. He does not spoil the children like Segi does. He cares for them but he is firm. He knows what is wrong and what is just. I remember one day when they were all sitting at the dining table to do their homework. That day, Bolanle passed and asked if they needed any help but Segi’s voice was unyielding. When it is Bolanle, she knows how to raise her shoulders, but she lets the children ride her like a donkey. No, she said. That is my job, she said. Who would have thought that one day Bolanle would suckle her? This world is full of mysteries!

So on that day by the dining table, Femi started his usual stubbornness. First, he sat and looked at his pencil as if he did not know what to do with it. Then he started to cry like an eight-day-old baby. He said he didn’t understand anything, not even his name. He shifted his seat close to Segi and begged her to do his homework for him. Why wouldn’t he expect people to do everything for him when his mother gives before he
asks? Iya Femi has ruined him. He is so rotten that maggots fall from his body!

If Akin had not been there that day, Segi would have abandoned her own work to write for him. She would have held his hand and written the answers. Akin did not allow it. He looked hard at his sister and told her to leave. “That boy does not deserve the caressing you give him,” he said.

Segi laughed and told him that not everyone was lucky enough to be born with great cleverness. Akin did not stop. He hardened his face at Femi. “How is it that you manage to remember every character on every TV program and the name of every football player, yet your brain falls asleep when you are asked to write one-two-three?” he asked.

What wisdom from a young head, I thought.

Segi warned Akin to keep his voice down so that Iya Femi didn’t come through the door to give him a tongue lashing.

“If she comes, I will tell her how lazy her son is,” he said. His voice did not shake. He was not afraid. I marveled at his courage because even I, a wife, could not consider saying such words to Iya Femi. That Akin will grow up to be a good man.

B
EFORE THE SUN CAME DOWN
, Iya Segi called a meeting. Without looking up, she told Iya Femi and me about the bathroom talk with Segi. If I said I understood what she was saying, I would be lying. Where would Segi get the boldness to speak to her mother that way? But the more she spoke, the clearer
the work of their hands became. So
they
did it! They stole Segi’s spirit! If only I were braver. If I knew how to stop my tears, I wouldn’t have cried so many. I listened to Iya Segi’s words but I could not say anything. Words would not form in my tongue. I could only pray that the gods would open the eyes of mercy on our home.

All the time Iya Segi was speaking, I could see that Iya Femi’s palms were itching. When she couldn’t keep the question down anymore, she turned to Iya Segi. “Tell me,” she said. “How do we know that she will not tell her father what you said? Since she’s been back from the hospital, she refuses to eat unless her father is seated before her. And who knows what she may tell Bolanle? Or have you forgotten that they sleep together? I only ask this because we might as well start packing our belongings now.”

“We deserve to be thrown onto the streets,” I said. “There isn’t one thing that flies to the skies that will not eventually drop with rain. Our time here is finished.”

“Speak for yourself, Iya Tope.” I could not believe that Iya Femi’s mouth could be so sharp after all the evil she had done. “If you want to sweep the streets with your children, start packing,” she said. “Is it not Iya Segi who has divulged our secrets to her daughter? Since it was she who killed us, she will have to bury us. And besides, how do you know that it is not prison you will go to? Segi is the egg of Baba Segi’s eye.”

“No, Iya Femi.
You
will go to prison,” I said. I do not know where I got the boldness but I spoke my mind for once. “Was I there when you were cooking your enemy’s last meal? Don’t
you dare drag me into your murderous plot! If you had God in you, you’d be praying for the child who barely clings to life. But no, you sit here wondering how to remain in the house that you have used your hands to burn! How many times have you visited Segi to ask her where she aches? How many times have you inquired how she hears, now that her right ear is deaf? Never! You prefer to hide than to do a good deed that may wipe away your sins! Continue hiding,” I told her. “You are not worthy of that child you have soiled.” I left them there in the sitting room. My words were for Iya Segi’s ears as well.

T
HE WIVES SIGH AND STARE
into emptiness. They act as if a fist of stone has been stuffed into their throats. They don’t swallow; they just sit and stare. They don’t even seem to be bothered with
me
anymore, which is in itself confusing. I liked it better when they were predictable. Now I can’t tell who has left food outside my door. It used to be so easy. Iya Femi always left the burned scum from the bottom of the pot and topped it with a small piece of meat that had been chewed off at the corners, while Iya Tope left a mound of dazzling white rice with an extra cube of beef hidden underneath. Now there are just two identical plates of food—one for me and one for Segi.

I suppose it is Segi’s illness. She has not put on any weight and blood trickles from her nose relentlessly. I would never say so but her breath is foul, even when it is exhaled from her nostrils. It’s a stubborn, unpleasant smell. It hangs in my
room at night and I can hardly breathe. It bitters the back of the throat and clings to the beddings as if the corpse of a small beast is buried there. It’s as if Segi is rotting from the inside out.

She has hidden a small mirror under her pillow and she weeps every time she looks at it. A few days ago, she asked me to swear on my life that I wouldn’t tell Baba Segi about it. Perhaps a few weeks ago I would have obliged her, but now I can’t bring myself to swear on my life. Not for her, not now, not for anyone. I just said, “I swear,” and that was all there was to it.

When she’s asleep, I can’t help but look at her. I feel like I know what troubles her. The illness has ravaged her and left her bare. She has lost control of her body yet she wouldn’t know what to do if she regained it. She knows the illness will do with her as it pleases, cease only when it decides to. It’s strange, but Segi makes me feel strong. When I’m in her presence, I feel a sturdiness within me. Her fear makes me feel like there is nothing more for me to be afraid of. She said an odd thing yesterday. She said, “Auntie, you are a victor.” I thought she was hallucinating. “Victor?” I asked, but she had drifted into one of her three-minute naps. She wakes from them a little agitated, asking questions like “Where are my wings?” I left the victor matter alone and did not return to it.

Victor. Nobody has called me a victor before. Even as a name, it’s forceful, packed with hard, uncompromising consonants. It’s impossible to say it without snarling and baring
your teeth. I liked that she’d said it, even if it was born of some abstract notion.

She says the oddest things to her father too. Sometimes, she talks but no sounds come out of her mouth. Then when he tires and heads for the door, her voice returns. “Won’t you hear what I have to say, Father?” she asks. Baba Segi returns to her side and the wordless chatter begins again.

“The doctors say it is to be expected,” he mutters, his voice heavy with gloom.

I
YA
S
EGI SAT CALMLY
in the pickup but there was madness crawling beneath her skin. She had heard that people on the verge of traipsing naked into the streets often complained of a persistent march of ants all over their bodies. The truth was that it was Baba Segi’s joy that nibbled at her limbs, his smile, pure and trusting, like that of the lamb skipping to the slaughterhouse.

The instructions had not been complicated: take this appointment card; wake up early on Wednesday morning; dress yourself and accompany me to the doctors; if they ask you any questions, keep nothing from them.

Iya Segi had etched out her own plan. There would be no questions, only answers. She wouldn’t wait for the long rope of truth to be pulled from her; she would volunteer it willingly and without persuasion, even if it made Baba Segi force his head through the hospital walls. The truth, they say, can
not hide itself forever. Even if it conceals itself at the bottom of a well, one day, drought will reveal it. Bolanle’s barrenness had brought drought.

Both doctors were waiting in the consultation room. Breaking the news to Baba Segi was a tricky task and Dr. Dibia wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. Did he just say it matter-of-factly? Bend his tone as if someone had died? Or was he to say it like Baba Segi should be grateful that he was born in the age of medical advancement? After all, he could have gone through his life not knowing.

As Dr. Usman reached for the door handle, Dr. Dibia said he might learn something if he stayed and listened in. Dr. Usman smelled the fear behind his colleague’s arrogance so he retraced his steps to the examining table and folded his arms. He concealed a wry smile when Dr. Dibia poked his head out of the door to invite Baba Segi and Iya Segi in.

“Doctors, this is my first wife. No man could have a better one.” His face shone with pride.

“Very good. Mrs. Alao, thank you for coming. Please sit comfortably.” Dr. Dibia was slightly embarrassed by his patient’s effervescence. Things would have been so much easier if he had been in a more subdued mood. He decided to dive right in. “Mrs. Alao, I’m sure you are aware of the investigation we have been doing into the younger Mrs. Alao’s difficulties with conceiving.”

“Mrs.
Bolanle
Alao,” Dr. Usman offered.

Iya Segi carefully undid the knot in her head-tie and unraveled it to reveal a head of uneven, graying hair. Then
she painstakingly folded the scarf into eight equal parts and laid it carefully on the doctor’s table so it jutted out no further than any of the books. With equal precision, she stood and dropped to her knees. The doctors looked at each other. Baba Segi’s cheerfulness dissolved into embarrassment.

“My lord”—she turned to her husband—“words do not decide whether or not they will be uttered but our people say the day always comes when words themselves will have their say.” Her gaze returned to the doctors.

Again, the doctors glanced at each other. Dr. Dibia sat back in his chair and sniffed, making his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose.

“
I
know the reason why Bolanle has not conceived,” she continued, “and it is not one that a thousand doctors can cure. Yam cannot cook itself. It needs a careful hand that will slice it and expose it to raging heat.”

Baba Segi gasped in confusion.

“I am not quite sure I understand you.” Dr. Dibia wanted Iya Segi to spell things out for her husband.

“That is because you are young and do not know the ways of the world. I was a young wife when I found myself in a cloud of sadness. I was childless and restless. Every time I saw a mother rocking a baby on her back, my nipples would itch to be suckled. My husband and I tried everything. He did not let my thighs rest but leaped between them every time dusk descended upon us. Even his mother was hungry for his seed to become fruit. Then, I had an idea. It was a sinful idea but I knew it would bring my sadness to an end. In fact, it was
more than an idea; it promised to be a solution. If my husband did not have seed, then what harm could it do to seek it elsewhere?” She shrugged her shoulders. “So, I found seed and planted it in my belly.”

Baba Segi turned his side to his wife and looked at her through one eye only. His arm was raised in defense as if to shield him from the odious suggestions hidden in her parables.

“Are you saying your husband is not the biological father of your first child?” Dr. Dibia asked. Eureka!

“Not my first, not my second.”

Baba Segi ducked as if someone had taken a swing at his face. “Woe! It cannot be!”

“And the other wives? What about
their
children?” Dr. Dibia asked. It might as well come out in one big gush; better that than in dribs and drabs.

“
I
misled them. Perhaps if I had not shown the second one my way, this shame would have come out sooner. But you see, they were so desperate to be fruitful. They knew that my husband valued children above all things, so when I saw their desperation, I took pity on them and shared my secret. They also followed the same path.”

Baba Segi whined like a dog caught wolfing down his master’s dinner.

“So you are saying
none
of Mr. Alao’s children are his?”

“Not one of them.” She reached out her hand to touch her husband but he leaped from it.

Dr. Usman stood up straight. “Mrs. Alao, you have said
quite enough. Thank you. Perhaps it is better that you head home now.” He could see that Baba Segi was set to explode.

Iya Segi rose and left the room with peace in her eyes.

Baba Segi’s head was bowed, bent right over like a dying branch before it offers its leaves to the next gust of wind. His tears hit the floor with a quiet splat.

“Is there anything we can offer you, sir? A soft drink, perhaps?” Dr. Dibia asked.

Dr. Usman mouthed the words “Let’s leave him” to his colleague and tiptoed out of the room. Dr. Dibia took all the sharp instruments from his table and hurried after him.