And walk, ko-ka-ko
You must go to plenty, plenty school
I take the thick newspaper that been sitting under the lantern on top the tee-vee, fold it this way and that until it look kind of like the paper lawyer-wig I sometimes see inside the tee-vee. I put it on top my head, hold it down with one hand. Then I stand on the tip of my toes as if I am wearing a too-high shoes on my feets. I begin to walk on my toes up and down the parlor, singing:
Walk, ko-ka-ko
In your high, high shoe!
As I say “ko-ka-ko,” I stop my walking a moment to twist my buttocks left and right to the beat, then I keep walking on my toes, swinging one hand up and down, the other pressing the newspaper to my head so it don’t fall off.
My voice is happy and clear like a early-morning bird, and I don’t even see Khadija peeping her head into the parlor, looking me with the newspaper on my head, laughing silent.
“Adunni!” she say.
I shock, stop singing, then give her a big smile when I see that she didn’t angry.
“Sorry,” I say, “I was just—”
“Did you finish your morning work?” she ask.
“I finish it all,” I say as I remove the newspaper from my head, fold it, and keep it back on the tee-vee. “I make up a song about a girl wanting to become a lawyer. You want me to sing it for you? Hello, fine girl—”
She wave her hand to stop my singing and rub her stomach. “No, not now. I am still feeling a little sick. Maybe at nighttime.”
“Okay,” I say. “Did you see the okra I cook for you this morning?”
“I will drink some now,” she say. “Thank you.”
I look around the parlor, then nod my head yes. “All of this place is very clean. Now, let me go and start washing—”
“No,” Khadija say. “Leave the cloth in the backyard, I will wash it for you when I am better. The rains of last week must have swell up the river. Can you go and bring water from Ikati river for me? My clay pot is beside the well. Use it.”
“You want me to go to Ikati river?” I press a hand to my chest, blink. “Me?”
Morufu don’t ever allow me to go anywhere far like the river. He say that new wifes is didn’t suppose to be going up and down everywhere until after one year, after I have born a baby boy for him.
Khadija nod her head yes, then smile soft. “Adunni, I know your friends be always playing in the river around this time. The house is free of Labake and Morufu. It been too long since you seen them all. So go quick. Come back before afternoon.”
“Oh, Khadija,” I say, jumping up and down and clapping my hand. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
* * *
I don’t think I ever run so fast since the day my mama born me.
I skip on my feets, jumping the rocks on the floor, not stopping to greet some of the womens carrying firewood on their head as I pass them on the way, or the childrens selling morning bread in a tray on their head. I keep my eyes to my front, holding Khadija’s clay pot in one hand, my wrapper tight in the other hand until I am near. Afar off, near the fence of banana leafs by the edge of the river, I see Ruka and Enitan.
There are five or six boys in the other far end of the river, playing a boxing match and shouting and laughing, but I keep my eye on Enitan, who is drawing a square in the wet sand with a stick. Her bucket is on the ground beside her, and Ruka is perching her buttocks on the back of her feets, watching what Enitan is drawing.
I stand there a moment, feeling my heart swell as I am thinking back to the time when I didn’t have a husband, when I was free to be playing like this.
Enitan is now drawing another square. I know she will draw about six or seven squares in the sand for a game we are calling suwe, which is my best-of-all game. I will throw a stone inside one of the square, then be jumping on every square with only one leg, trying to not fall until I pick the stone, while Enitan and Ruka will be clapping and singing “Suwe! Suwe! Suwe!” from outside the box. But all of that was all before in the past.
I set down Khadija’s clay pot, shout, “Enitan! Ruka!”
Ruka turn her head to where I am standing, wide her eyes, and smile a big smile. “Look! Adunni!”
Me and Enitan and Ruka, we run to embrace ourselfs and begin to laugh and talk all at once.
“Our wife,” Enitan say, pulling my hand to sit down on a rock by the river edge. Ruka sit on the other side of me so that I am in the middle of the two both of them. I feel as if my heart will just burst from the smile on their face, the bouncing happy in their eyes.
“How is life as a wife?” Enitan ask, eyes shining as if a bulb light is inside her head. “Tell us everything, tell us everything!”
“Look your cheeks!” Ruka say, pinching my left cheeks. “Adunni, you been eating too much bread and milk. You are living well!”
“There is plenty to eat there,” I say.
“And how is your senior wifes?” Enitan ask. “Morufu? How is he doing to you?”
“Wait, let me ask her one too!” Ruka say. “Tell us, Adunni, did you do that thing with your husband?” She wink her eye like something gum her eyeslids together. “Did it pain you or was it sweet?”
“Are you cooking every day?” Enitan ask.
“Tell us about that thing!” Ruka say. “I want to hear it!”
“Too many questions,” I say, laughing at Ruka, who is still winking. “The first wife, Labake, she is just a very wicked somebody. She always be painting her face with white powder like a ghost. She keep fighting everybody too.”
“Kike’s mama?” Enitan say, pulling her wrapper to cover her knees as a quick cold breeze blow us. “I know that woman. She is always doing like something is worrying her. What of the second wife? What is her name?”
“Khadija.” I touch my chest, look my friends left to right. “She is just like us. Only six years more old, but she have three childrens and a new one on the way. She is so kind. She cook for me, teach me plenty things. I sing for her too, at night. She likes to hear my singing. She be just like another mama to me.”
My eyes pinch with tears as I am thinking of it. Khadija be like another mama to me. A mama! I been praying long for God to bring back my mama, even though I know she don’t ever be coming back, but for the first time since then, I think that maybe Khadija be the answer to my prayer.
“See!” Enitan is saying, clapping. “It is not so bad to be a wife!”
“No,” I say, talking slow, “it is not so bad, but only because of Khadija. About that thing you ask of me—” I turn to Ruka with a twist in my stomach. Maybe if I tell them how it is, they will not be hurrying so much to marry. “It is too much pain, make it hard to walk sometimes. I even bleed blood after, and many times, it make me feel so sick. Don’t rush and marry, I tell you!”