The Secret Lives of Baba Segi's Wives

by Lola Shoneyin

  Bolanle, who had been staring at Segi’s face, untied the wrapper from her bosom and laid it gently over Segi’s body.

  “Cover her face!” Iya Tope yelled. “A mother must not see her child’s eyes after life has left them!”

  Bolanle lifted the cloth at the hem and pulled it over Segi’s face, thus unveiling delicate yellow feet. She marveled at the handsomeness of each toe and turned to the sound of Baba Segi’s strident snoring.

  Every so often, a grunt escaped Baba Segi’s mouth, but the women of the Alao household could not sleep. When fatigue threatened to take them, grief prodded them awake and tears rolled down their faces in an unending stream. Also, since none of them had the courage to move Segi’s body, their children woke to find her stiffened beneath a tie-dye wrapper in the center of the sitting room. The older children huddled in twos and watched the younger ones defeat the urge to ask why their sister had a cloth over her head. Akin sat by his sister’s feet and stared and sobbed.

  At about six A.M., Baba Segi blinked and was confronted by ten pairs of probing, bloodshot eyes. He shut his eyes as if to do a private appraisal of the situation but when he opened them again his gaze moved from the veiled mound on the floor to Iya Segi’s face. Without speaking, he hauled himself out of his chair and headed for his bedroom, followed by a stream of warm urine.

  He must have believed no one could hear him because he let out consecutive howls so haunting that the neighbors hurried to their gates. By the time Akin had found the keys and let them in, Baba Segi had returned to his seat fully dressed, except his trousers were inside out. No one cared to mention it. Careful to avoid the mound in the center of the room, he fixed his eyes on one of the visibly concerned neighbors and asked where he could buy a coffin. His words were punctuated by hiccups.

  “They sell them by the roadside between Sabo and Oritamerin. But please, Baba Segi, my husband will go and buy it.”

  As if the directions were all she’d uttered, Baba Segi walked out, leaving his family gaping at the hem of his trousers.

  A doctor was called to certify Segi dead and Iya Segi was led away to their neighbor’s house. With fear and great sadness, the other wives prepared to change Segi’s clothes. Halfway through the process, Iya Femi fled to the guest toilet and threatened to kill herself if anyone tried to persuade her to come out.

  Akin helped to lift his sister’s weightless body onto the soft cushioning of the small coffin. The neighbor drove carefully but the potholes made the coffin tip and slide against the metal. Akin held the varnished gray box through the entire journey to the cemetery.

  Everything was arranged by the time they got there; a favor from another kind neighbor. Akin, Bolanle, Iya Tope and the neighbor lugged the coffin past the cemetery gates and forced it into a shallow grave between two headstones. The inscription on the one on the right had been grated away by the elements. Knowing his sister would be buried in an unmarked grave, Akin cast the words on the small marble slab to memory:

  Dola Oladeji

  Much loved & greatly missed

  It wasn’t much of a burial. It was taboo for parents to attend their children’s funerals so there was no mother to wail for her. Understandably, also, there were no priests, no prayers, no graveside blessing to set her on her way. There was only a smirking gravedigger leaning against a tree, hoping to receive a sizable tip for a space well found and a grave hastily dug. Akin and Bolanle bowed away from Segi’s gravesite, arm in arm, knock-kneed and dumb with sadness.

  When they returned to their street, the words “may she be forgiven” echoed from every window and every door. Segi had defied the course of nature and spat out the milk from her mother’s breast. It was a sin but a forgivable one. A verdict nevertheless left to the gods.

  Together, they entered Baba Segi’s bedroom, Bolanle one step behind Akin.

  “Is it done?” he asked.

  “It is,” Bolanle replied, turning to leave. She didn’t want to be there; she wanted to mourn in private.

  Akin blinked back tears. “My father, I want to be a man about this but I fear I am weak.”

  Baba Segi looked at the tall, gangly boy sitting hunched on the edge of his bed. The word “father” made every other word echo. It was distinct and comforting to his ears.

  “Akin, you are more than a man, for it is only a true man who acknowledges his weakness. Your sister will watch over you from the spirit world. Know this and let it strengthen you.”

  “Was there something I could have done, Baba? Was there some way I could have saved her?”

  Baba Segi hummed uncomfortably and shook his head. He felt tears heating the backs of his eyes. “You are not a god, so strike that from your mind. We are mere mortals who must humbly accept our destinies.”

  “Baba, I am tired but I am afraid to sleep. I don’t want to wake up and remember she is no longer with me. Where will I find the strength to live on?”

  “You will find the strength. We must all find the strength. That is the way it is for men: we wake up to find that things are not the way we imagined them. But what can we do?” Baba Segi’s thoughts claimed him. He covered his mouth with his palm and looked up at the ceiling.

  “My father, let me go and ensure that my brothers and sisters are fine. I have been away from the house for a few hours now.”

  “Before you go, child, I have some words for you.” Baba Segi started abruptly, his eyes unnaturally eager. “Keep these words in your left hand lest you wash them away after eating with your right. When the time comes for you to marry, take one wife and one wife alone. And when she causes you pain, as all women do, remember it is better that your pain comes from one source alone. Listen to your wife’s words, listen to the words she doesn’t speak so that you will be prepared. A man must always be prepared.”

  “I hear you, Baba.” Akin was baffled by his father’s candidness but he suspected it was his grief talking. He was only thirteen and marriage was far from his mind. He saw that Baba Segi’s eyes had closed so he rose from the mattress and tiptoed toward the door. As he placed his hand on the door handle, Baba Segi called his name and motioned for him to return to the place he had vacated. The older man reached out to place his hand on top of Akin’s head. He pressed his fingers into his hair and stroked his face. “Go to your younger ones.” He withdrew his hand and placed it flat on his chest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  STAYING POWER

  NO ONE EXPECTED BABA SEGI to call a family meeting so early into the mourning period but he was pursued by his own tragedy. One part of him wanted to weep; the other wanted to scratch the tip of his contempt to release the hardening pus within. In the three weeks his family tiptoed around the house, muffling all the symptoms of healing, his discomfort had throbbed like a boil. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he waited until the children had retired to their beds and instructed Iya Tope to summon the other wives.

  Baba Segi sat in his chair, waiting, contemplating the manliest, most honorable way to present his proposal. Iya Segi arrived first, draped in black. She had tasted her first meal just hours before and already the pleasure of nourishment filled her with guilt. She had lost a considerable amount of weight and the folds of skin she dragged around slowed her pace. No one attempted to comfort her because she rejected it outright, preferring the solitude of her room or the silent reflection she engaged in when in company.

  Iya Tope followed, her face creased with tiredness. As the second wife, the well-being of the children had now become her responsibility. A few steps behind her, Iya Femi, her head wrapped in a scarf, joined them. Segi’s death had induced an epiphany. She had lost weight too, but hers was from fervent fasting. On the day of the burial, she had flushed her mobile phone down the toilet and burned all her flamboyant items of clothing. True to her character, she hid Grandma’s gold under her bed and pretended she didn’t remember it was there when she prayed.

  Bolanle came in quietly and perched on a stool, her fingers linked to calm her nerv
es. For the first four nights after Segi passed away, she had jumped at the slightest rattle. This, coupled with the heaviness of Segi’s breath in her bedroom, disturbed her. Every day for the last two weeks, she’d washed the walls down with Dettol, but in spite of the antiseptic, the bitterness remained.

  Baba Segi’s head was propped up by his fist. “I have called you today because I am full of words, words that threaten to tear my belly apart if they remain unsaid. This is a time of mourning, but a man must be mindful when weakness threatens to take him over.” He looked at each wife and they stared back wondering if their flesh could endure any more misery. “I will not pretend the words that struck my ears at the hospital have not preyed on my mind the way hunger preys on the mind of a motherless child. I have been deeply wounded. It is not every day that a man discovers his life is a mere shadow and that there is a gulf between what he believes and reality. Neither is it every day that a man finds his children are not his own.” He raised his eyebrows in resignation and paused as if to regain his composure. The words Teacher had forced into his belly were now stuck in his throat like large orange seeds; they refused to be swallowed but were reluctant to be spat out. He took a deep breath. “I want you to know that you can go. The door is open. I will not stop you.”

  “But where? Where? Go where?” Iya Femi was terrified.

  “Wherever you please! I do not want to keep you here.”

  “But where will we go?”

  “Perhaps the father of your children will take you,” Baba Segi mumbled, shrugging his enormous shoulders.

  “My lord.” Iya Segi cleared her throat. “I have considered your words and they are wise. More than wise, they are justified.”

  Baba Segi nodded, half in appreciation that his words were understood and half in the knowledge that he knew Iya Segi could be trusted to conjure a faultless response to his proposition.

  “You talk of the father of our children. Who is the father of our children? Who was the father of the child who now rots below the ground?” Her voice broke but she continued. “There is no other but you. You named her. You named every child in this house, every one. You have nurtured them so it is your name they will bear. You may say that there are other fathers but you are the only father they know. You alone have been their father, for it takes more than shedding seed to be a father.”

  The other wives puffed their chests out in agreement, all except Bolanle, who was deep in thought about Baba Segi’s words.

  Iya Segi continued, her voice cool like balm. “I have sat for many days now, faint with grief, but my sins have been at the very top of my chest, beating over all else. I take the sins of these women onto myself. Heap them on me and let me bear them for the rest of my days. If you want to punish us for our misdeeds, let me single-handedly carry the waste bucket. Send me into the marketplace with it and then let the world smell my misfortunes. I say this because it was I who led these women into the darkness that engulfs them now. It was my eagerness to bear children that destroyed them.”

  Baba Segi nodded in concurrence but he was silent. Arms that were earlier folded over his bosom dropped to his sides.

  Iya Segi knew him better than everyone else who sat there silenced by angst, so she dealt her final card. “My lord, I know you want to send me off into the wilderness but I beseech you to have mercy on me. My eyes have already seen what no mother’s eyes should see. Forgive me, for I seek nothing else but to stay by your side, serving you as I have done all these years. Consider that I have lost one child but there is only one remaining. I give that child to you. Take him! Own him! What do I know about bringing up a son? Which words will I use to chastise him? If your heart does not forgive me, my lord, take Akin. And if your heart accepts me to serve you, receive me also.” With this, she lowered herself onto her knees, lay flat on the floor and reached out her hands until they held her husband’s feet. “My lord,” she whispered. “Let us not allow the world to see our shame. Let us keep our secrets from those who may seek to mock us.”

  She was good, Bolanle thought as she watched the other wives join her in her supplication. Only then did it all fall into place. Baba Segi’s big testicles were empty and without seed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  BOLANLE

  THE 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.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  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.

  About the Author

  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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