The Secret Lives of Baba Segi's Wives

by Lola Shoneyin

  Back to my own illness. Mama said there was a spirit that snuck behind the door every time she entered the room. She said she could feel its presence. She whispered in my ear that the smell of her husband’s sweat was unmistakable, so she called the medicine man to come and banish it.

  “Do not let him take my son from me,” she pleaded. “Make him return to his resting place.” She knew the dangers of calling a spirit by its name.

  The old medicine man whispered to the cowries and threw them in the center of the cloth they came wrapped in. “Hmm. This spirit has come for revenge.”

  “But what have I done to anger it?”

  “It is not you; it is the boy.”

  “What has the boy done?”

  “He walks on his grave like the chief who strides the palace and neglects to pay his respects to the king.”

  “But the boy does not even know where he was buried. The men refused to take even me there!”

  “It is not your place or mine to question the spirits. Tell your son to abandon the forests or he will leave the land of the living. And as soon as he is of age, send him away from here to protect his own unborn sons.”

  “I have heard your words and they are full of wisdom. Take these yards of cloth for your wives.” My mother handed him a pile of beautifully embroidered tie-dyed fabric.

  As soon as he stooped through the threshold, Mama knelt beside me and held my right hand in both of hers. “Son, did you hear the words of the wise man?”

  “Only some,” I said, but I’d heard everything.

  “Then listen. Soon, you must go far from here. Go to Ibadan, where forests are few and palaces are plentiful. Go far from these roots that threaten to knot themselves round your feet and drag you into their tombs.”

  The swelling around my neck went down within weeks. I swore to my mother that I would never go to the forests again, not to fetch firewood, nor even to hunt. But they say a hunter’s child is not trained but born. Though I resisted, the leaves of the forests beckoned to me. The roots formed a path and branches begged me to perch upon them. Before I knew it, I was pressing my ears against solemn trees, listening to the hoot of guinea fowls I would never set eyes on. My disappearances did not go unnoticed. My mother heard my feet stomping on the doorsill and she knew straightaway that I was disobeying her. One day, she tied a wad of notes in a handkerchief, placed it in my pocket and sent me off to Ibadan with journey mercies. I was to work as an apprentice in a store where they sold plumbing materials.

  I worked for many years not knowing the scent of women until the spirit of Ayikara found me and sucked me into its belly. That is how I met Teacher—the noble one whose rays of wisdom have guided me through darkness. If the gods took the form of men, they would fight for Teacher’s body. It was he who told me that I should return home and marry the woman my mother had found for me, lest the women of Ayikara bitter my blood with their bile. It was Teacher who pointed me in the direction of the medicine man when it seemed Iya Segi’s back would be permanently gummed to our matrimonial mat. Within months, she was forced on her side, her belly bulbous like the back end of an earthen pot drunk on rainwater. Segi, my daughter, was named by my mother. My mother looked into her face and died a contented death.

  Lust points its finger at every man and soon after I married, the women of Ayikara began to look like princesses and goddesses. I was happy to have these women on the side, but Teacher said, “Two women at home are better than ten in a bush. They are Jezebels. A man whose house is full of birth will never want for mirth.” And this from a man whose penis they say has never known the moistness of a woman! You see, the gods are always merciful: what they took away from the bottom they added to the top. The man is full of wisdom. I took a second wife, a peace offering from a desperate farmer. I took the third because she offered herself with humility. What kind of human being rejects the fullness of a woman? Would the gods themselves not have been angered if I had forgone the opportunity to show mercy upon another human being?

  I chose Bolanle, I cannot lie; I set my mind on her, the way a thirsty child sets his eyes on a cup filling from a spout. Teacher said I was right to possess her. He bought me two shots of whiskey and patted me on the shoulder. Not a fleck of jealousy, not a speck of envy. I tell you, the man is to be admired.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  HOMECOMING

  THERE IS SOMETHING SPECIAL about a mother bathing her child, so I have decided to bathe my daughter. I want to wipe away that woman’s handprints and reclaim my daughter. This Segi was not the daughter who left that night.

  We had been waiting impatiently for her return. The children’s foreheads were pressed against the glass sliding door. I could not sit so I perched on the edge of my armchair. When the pickup drove into the compound, the windscreen brought a piece of the sun with it. The children jumped up and down as if their feet were made of rubber. Baba Segi had hardly opened the door of the pickup when they covered Segi with their hands. They all wanted to touch my Segi, as if to confirm that it was really her. Segi looked at them all and touched their foreheads the way she liked to do. She smiled but her lips were cracked and full of pus. Her father carried her into the sitting room and eased her into his armchair. Iya Tope rushed to her side and propped her up with cushions but as soon as her back touched them, her head dropped onto the armrest.

  She looked like a ghost. Her face had lost its fullness and her forehead was full of scales. Her eyeballs were yellow like they had been bathed in urine. Even her breasts were flattened against her chest. What used to be firm, supple skin sagged like beaten leather. All her hair was gone; her scalp shone like a marble.

  I went to my daughter and knelt down before her. I put one hand to her bosom and I caressed Segi’s head with the other. It was as if she was deafened by the sound but my daughter did not want to tell me to stop. She looked at me and said, “Mama, I am here. I am alive.”

  “Yes, my child,” I told her. “You left me but you have returned.” I stood and turned to all the faces around us. “My daughter has returned.” My voice was no louder than a whisper but it reached every ear. Even Taju wept tears of joy on the veranda.

  I would not have left her side but Baba Segi asked for his food. “My belly is ringing its bell,” he said. “Bring food for me and my daughter. This is a day of joy. The doctors said it was the speed with which we rushed her to the hospital that saved her life. She was at death’s door but the gods took mercy on me and sent her back. A million slaves and a thousand servants cannot equal the value of a child. When a man dies, only his children can truly mourn him. The gods have saved me from burying my daughter and I am grateful. Let everybody in the house drink a bottle of Coca-Cola!”

  The children skipped around the room with glee. Seeing my husband in such high spirits gave me great hope. His affection for Segi was clear and unwavering.

  When I returned with his food, I found Bolanle in the sitting room. She was at my daughter’s side. She touched Segi’s cheek with the tip of her finger. To my surprise, Segi clutched Bolanle’s hand and drew it to her breast. They traded words I could not hear. That was when Segi spoke the words that burned my heart. “My father,” she said, “it would please me greatly if you allow me to recuperate in Auntie Bolanle’s room.”

  A whirlwind may as well have blown into the room and rained hailstones on all who were present. Every eye turned to me. What could I do when I knew it was my daughter’s sickness that was speaking? Whatever Bolanle had done to bewitch her was still working, but it was not the time to fight. Bolanle shook her head and covered her face with her hand.

  It was the rumbling from Baba Segi’s belly that broke the silence. He looked fondly into his daughter’s eyes. “As you wish, my daughter,” he said. “As you wish.” He also knew it was not the time to ask questions but he did not just leave the matter like that. He called me to his side and told me to bring my ear. When I knelt by him, he said, “Your child will always be your child, and you will always be her moth
er.”

  THE FIRST THING I DID before preparing bathwater was to make sure Bolanle had left the house. I did not want anyone to come between us. I was a woman and I knew where to sponge and where not to apply any pressure at all. I knew also that there would be no scrubbing. Segi was molting like a viper and the new skin was tender and raw.

  I took off all her clothes and helped her onto the stool that I had placed in the bath. She sat there like a hunchback and I poured bowlfuls of tepid water down her back.

  “Daughter, why don’t you speak to me?” I asked.

  Segi raised her head to look at me. Her eyes were accusing eyes but she said nothing. I could tell that her stomach was full of words.

  “Is it your hair? Is that why you are so silent? It will grow back, you’ll see.”

  Segi shook her head from right to left and bowed her head.

  “Then it must be your breasts. The fullness will return.”

  Segi looked at her breasts and lifted them one at a time as if she was weighing them.

  “Then why won’t you talk to me? There is no shame in illness.”

  “Is there shame in death?” She did not even have the strength to clear her throat.

  “Daughter, why would you say such a thing?” I was perplexed. “You will not die. I will not mourn my own child.”

  “But other mothers can mourn their daughters. That would please you, wouldn’t it?”

  “What goes on in other homes is no concern of mine, Segi. You are my concern.”

  “No, Mama. What I asked was if it would please you if another mother had to mourn her daughter.” She coughed and grabbed the pail for support. Blood trickled from one of her nostrils.

  I reached out to rinse away the blood but Segi brushed my hand aside.

  “Mama, the doctors said I was poisoned. They said I could have died. Why would there be poison in our house? It was the food I ate the night I went to Auntie Bolanle’s room, wasn’t it?”

  I dropped the small washbowl into the pail and reached for a towel. “Segi, do not delve into matters that do not concern you!” I said firmly.

  Segi stood up and stretched out her arms, exhibiting what remained of her. “Mama, look at me and tell me again that this matter does not concern me.”

  I looked away and swallowed the lump in my throat. Segi looked like she had been in the ground for weeks. Her skin clung to her bones. “You are provoking me, Segi.”

  “Then let the daughter who provokes you die!” she said. “If someone in this house is serving poisonous food and my own mother will not find out who it is, how is my life worth living?”

  “Let me cover you, child. The wind has teeth today.” I tried to spread the towel around Segi’s shoulders but she flung it into the bucket with all the strength in her wasted arms.

  “No, let me die!” she screamed. By the time she closed her mouth, she was breathless and spent.

  “The food was not meant for you, child! It wasn’t meant for you!” It was as if I had gone mad. She watched me as I tore my dress from the neck to the hem. I slapped the walls and scratched my face. I boxed my breasts and pulled my hair. I could not control myself.

  Segi knelt in the bathtub, slowly shaking her head. Then, as quietly as when she started, she said, “Mama, I am cold. Please bring me a dry towel.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  WASHING DAY

  IYA SEGI 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.

  BEFORE 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 i
s 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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  VICTOR

  THE 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.