I remember last Christmas.
My husband Samuel and I had been married six months but were yet to go on our honeymoon.
We decided to seize the opportunity of the Christmas holiday to have it. Usually we travel to places where I just do a lot of shopping and we end up with no time to sightsee. We therefore decided on a change in travel style. We chose to go up north of Nigeria and settled for a week’s holiday at the Yankari Games Reserve in Bauchi State.
We drove our car on the over thirteen hour drive from Port Harcourt where we lived and arrived at our destination at about six o clock.
I was four months pregnant then and always hungry. So much that I had singlehandedly eaten up all the pastries and chicken that we had bought along the way to be eaten as our dinner. Yet by the time we arrived I was still very hungry.
We therefore had to drive around the neighbouring villages looking for a decent place to get food.
It was just past six in the evening yet the few shops we came across and even the occasional restaurant were already closed down for the day.
I was at the end of my tether when we arrived at an open market. It had few stalls and people were going about buying and selling. There were a number of convenience stores scattered around and we walked into the biggest one that we could see.
Inside it was a Hausa man dusting the shelves of his cramped store with a piece of horse tail while a small transistor radio gave a running commentary in the Hausa language.
‘Good day’ my husband said to him. ‘We will like to buy some supplies.’
‘Me ne ne suffrice?’ said the man quizzically.
He was obviously asking us a question because he kept flipping his palms up and down.
‘Ni ban san suffrice ba. Da’allah ku tafi,’ he said pointing at the door.
We stood there looking at the door and trying to figure out what he meant.
‘Perhaps he is asking us to go back and knock at the door before coming in,’ I whispered.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ whispered my husband back. ‘He’s probably asking us to pick what we want and then come to him for payment.’
‘Da’allah ku tafi,’ repeated the man in a louder tone, he was beginning to look annoyed.
‘I think we had better pick what we want and quickly too, it seems that this man is not in a good mood’ I whispered again.
My husband nodded in agreement and started picking some boxes of cereal from the shelf.
I also joined in and while picking some cans of fruit juices happen on an inviting pack of ‘chin chin’. Unable to resist, I started munching away thinking that after all we were going to pay for it.
‘You should have waited until we paid, woman,’ my husband hissed.
‘Are you the only pregnant woman in the world?’
It was then that the man noticed and charged at us screaming
‘I be thief. I be thief’.
‘You are a thief?’ asked my husband uncomprehendingly, his brows creasing in a frown.
‘Well for a thief I must say you have a well organised business on the side. Or is thieving the side business?
Anyway if you don’t mind we will like to pay now’ he concluded.
‘Fey?’ shouted the hausa man indignantly.
‘No, I no fey! I be thief! I call am po folis.’
We stood there transfixed. We knew that something was amiss but we could not understand what he was going on about.
‘E say una be thief. E wan go call police’ shouted a young woman from across the road. She was manning a stall of pirated CDs opposite from where we were.
It was then that everything dawned on us and Samuel began to earnestly plead with the man.
‘We are really sorry. It is because she’s pregnant otherwise she is better behaved than this.’ He had said pointing at the half eaten pack of chin chin.
‘I will pay double the price of the chin chin please. Sorry,’ he concluded, resting his hand on the man’s shoulder in an appeasing manner.
His apology must have fallen on deaf ears because the man replied as before.
‘No! I no fey. I call am po folis’ and so saying jerked his arm out of my husband’s grip and run out of the store, his kaftan swinging to the left and to the right behind him as he ran.
‘Aboki, please come back’ shouted my husband after him.
‘Oga, we no dey call dem aboki for here, na mallam we dey call dem,’ shouted the girl, above the blaring sounds of P Square’s ‘Chop my money.’
‘Ballaam’ shouted my husband desperately. ‘Please come back.’
But the man did not; he continued to run down the road and was soon out of sight.
‘See what you’ve caused’ my husband thundered. ‘Couldn’t you just wait till we paid?’
‘I don’t even know why I agreed to this stupid arrangement anyway.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I replied, stung by his words.
‘Is it not because of your stinginess that you suggested we come here? It is because you do not want to spend money that you brought me to this dead end.’
‘Is that so?’ replied my husband, incensed.’ Since you knew that for a fact, why didn’t you offer to pay for a better holiday? After all we earn about the same salary.’
‘1-1’ shouted the CD girl who had been listening in all the while.
‘And so what about that?’ I asked him, ignoring her.
‘You better man up and face your responsibilities and take your eyes off my salary’ I retorted.
He looked at me fiercely. I could see that he would have loved to harm me. His next words confirmed my suspicion.
‘If not for your pregnancy, I would have slapped that sharp mouth of yours.’
‘Slap it now,’ I dared him, ‘and I will slap you somewhere you will never recover from.’
‘Opari,’ shouted the girl.
‘SHUT UP,’ my husband shouted back and returned his attention to me, his eyes blazing.
‘Slap it if you can,’ he replied and added more softly ‘and we will see who will suffer more.’
‘Me? Suffer when there are many men out there? ‘I let out a long drawn hiss to show how little I cared.
He placed his right hand on his waist and cupped his chin with the left, staring at the wall behind me.
After a moment of deep thinking, he brought his phone out of his breast pocket and started making a call.
‘Your people and my people must hear what you just told me’ he said finally.
I was beginning to feel bad at that point, I could not imagine that we were having our first major quarrel, and on our honeymoon for that matter.
‘I really didn’t mean-‘ I began to say.
‘You are all under arrest’ we both hear someone say from behind.
Standing at the doorway was the Hausa man and with him were two policemen.
Suffice it to say, we spent last Christmas behind bars.
As for my relationship with my husband, I am still ‘atoning for my sins.’
N V- Nigerian Version
Menene Suffrice? – What is Suffrice?
Ni ban san suffrice ba – I don’t know any suffrice (supplies).
Da’allah ku tafi – Please go away.
I call am po folis – I am going to call the police.
Opari – a slang borrowed from the Yoruba language signifying the seriousness of a matter etc.
Kaftan – Long robe worn by the Hausas
Chin chin – snack made from fried dough
Ayibu Makolo 