The Secret Lives of Baba Segi's Wives (23 page)

T
HE DECISION WAS EASY
and was met, as I expected, with understanding. I knew Baba Segi didn’t want me to leave but the recent revelations had left him without a viable alternative. It was more important to him, as Iya Segi had sussed, that his manhood be protected. An agreement was drawn: you can stay if you promise to be the wives
I
want you to be. He promptly banned them from leaving the house without his permission. Iya Segi was instructed to close down all her shops and relinquish every kobo she had saved to him. Iya Femi was forbidden to wear makeup and there would be no more church. God hears your heart no matter where you are, he’d said. Surprisingly, he didn’t have any rules for Iya Tope. Rather, he came to favor her and now decided to spend most of his nights with her. In return, Baba Segi swore to buy them all the jewelry, all the lace, every luxury they needed
and wanted, provided these were only worn within the four walls of his home.

On the day he called a meeting to lay down these new laws, everyone was given the opportunity to respond. Iya Segi sobbed silently and said she was just grateful for Baba Segi’s graciousness. Iya Tope smiled; his words greatly satisfied her. Iya Femi launched into prayer and asked that God bless Baba Segi with the riches of Solomon. When it was my turn, I simply said I’d thought about it and decided to return to my parents’ house.

Baba Segi was taken aback; he asked if he had offended me in any way. I told him he had not and explained that there was no point staying if I wouldn’t be able to give him children. He listened attentively and promised that he would always be there to give me anything I ever needed. I saw the sadness in his eyes; it was as if it had just dawned on him that our paths had crossed for a purpose and we were never meant to be together.

Of course, I couldn’t tell him that I felt as if I’d woken up from a dream of unspeakable self-flagellation. It started a few days after Segi died. I’d walk through the house and feel like I was in the midst of strangers, people from a different time in history, a different world. I didn’t feel soiled anymore.

The other thing was that a young girl had died for sins that were not hers. Segi came to my mind too frequently. I couldn’t get the picture of her dying next to me out of my head. Perhaps she would still be alive if I’d never come to
Baba Segi’s home. Then again, Baba Segi would never have known about his wives and their deceit.

I will remember Baba Segi. I won’t miss him but I will remember him. Perhaps on some days, I will remember him with fondness. I have learned many things from the years I spent under his roof. It was being in his house that shook me awake. I should be thankful for that.

The wives will be relieved by my departure, I know. Maybe not Iya Tope, but the other two will remember me as the wicked wind that upturned the tranquillity of their home. When they talk about me, they will console one another by calling me the uppity outsider, the one who couldn’t cut it as an Alao wife. I will remember them as inmates, because what really separates us is that I have rejoined my life’s path; they are going nowhere.

One after the other, they offered to help me gather my belongings, but I told them I could manage. There wasn’t much left to pack anyway; much of it was never unpacked. Akin offered too. Even if I’d said no, he wouldn’t have listened. He helped me load up the waiting taxi. He stood alone by the gate and waved until I was out of sight.

Don’t think I can’t see the challenges ahead of me. People will say I am a secondhand woman. Men will hurt and ridicule me but I won’t let them hold me back. I will remain in the land of the living. I am back now and the world is spread before me like an egg cracked open.

I thank Olaokun for his patience, and his pleasure when things go well for me. My children—Mayowa, Kiisa, Leola and Jola—I thank because they put up with my tiredness at dawn, my tetchiness at bedtime, and my many broken promises. I thank my dad, Tinuoye Shoneyin, for his faith in me, and brother, Dele Shoneyin, for his support.

I thank Ike Anya, who has been my medical consultant on this novel. Anne Uzoigwe I thank because it was she who told me the anecdote that grew into this story. I am ever grateful to Bose Malomo, Nnorom Azuonye, Francis King, Simon Watson, Michael Peel, Emma Crewe, Diran Adebayo, Yatish Parmar, Felicia Green, Remi Raji, Pius Adesanmi, Clare Maloney, Adegoke Odukoya, Mojisola Ani, Ikhide Ikheloa and Abiodun Idowu.

I extend my deepest gratitude to my ace agents, Jessica Woolard and Ayesha Pande; and to my editors, Bibi Bakare, Carrie Feron and Rebecca Gray.

LOLA SHONEYIN
was born in Ibadan, Nigeria, but spent most of her childhood at boarding school in Edinburgh, Scotland. She studied English at Ogun State University and lives in Abuja, Nigeria, where she teaches English and drama at an international school. She is married to Olaokun Soyinka, the son of Nobel Prize winner Wole Soyinka. They have four children and four dogs. Shoneyin reckons she could survive an entire year eating nothing but pineapples.

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