Chapter 1

The wind hummed softly, touching the trees and making them sway to its caress. The smell of the gutter, spoilt fruits, ice fish and more all mixed together in the air.

All around, people were busy. The wheel barrow pusher shouted at people to clear as he approached with cartons of indomie stacked on his wheel barrow. A man selling boxers made from bedsheets was walking around calling for customers. A woman shouting, ' upstairs and downstairs!' was walking around waving pants and bras in the air.

Kamsi looked at the basin of fruits before her then her glance shifted to the vegetable leaves displayed on the table then looked around for signs of the seller who went to bring her "fresh" tomatoes. 

She knew market women well; their fresh was never actually fresh. There were tomatoes displayed there but they weren't the type she liked- she liked the hard seeds that she could easily cut to prepare her sauce. 

Kamsi felt a tug on her dress, she looked down to see a young boy with a transparent container of perrywinkles. 

"Aunty, sweet Periwinkles," the boy said.

"No, thank you."

"I go give you cheap," the boy pursued on.

She shook her head at the boy, smiling and he walked away towards where her husband was parked waiting for her. It was a little space in the market behind someone's house. Some boys used the place to make money as they collected money from each person that parked there. 

She was getting impatient from waiting. She could go to another shade but she was the seller's 'customer' - the name was more like an endearment to show that she always patronized the woman and personally too she loved the woman. She admired her strength and determination to succeed by helping herself. 

The seller finally returned with a basin of tomatoes. She was a young woman who could be in her early thirties or late twenties. Kamsi was convinced that they were in the same age bracket even though hardship and struggle had aged the other woman more. 

"My customer, I don bring am," she announced, as she dropped the basin on the floor. 

She raised her black apron to wipe sweat from her face, then smiling broadly, said to Kamsi, 

"Selate."

Kamsi bent and touched a few. She nodded, convinced they were what she wanted. She picked vegetable leaves and some fruits while Nneka, the seller got busy packing everything into a black nylon then doubled it with a stronger bag, "Walkie talkie "

"Thank you. Jisike," Kamsi said, trying to fit the three bags into her fingers. 

"Ngwanu. Thank you e hear," Nneka responded, arranging her goods properly on the wooden table.

She smiled as she walked to the car which was not far from Nneka's shade. She put the bags in the trunk of the car then got into the passenger seat. 

Mark looked at her briefly then continued to look at the windscreen. Kamsi accessed him for a while then reached for his hand on his lap. 

"What's the matter, baby? " she asked. 

He shook his head slightly then smiled as he squeezed her hands lightly. He started the car and one of the boys ran to the car. He handed him some money. It was in that same moment that Kamsi saw what her husband could have been looking at. It was a man sitting at the front stairs of a house with two little boys.

Kids. Little boys, little girls, they did not have that. Their three years anniversary was four months away. Nobody openly talked about her infertility but she could not help feeling like everyone did. Her husband's lost gaze on the children also made her feel worried.

The car was quiet. It seemed heavy and uncomfortable. Kamsi wanted to make one of her regular talks,

"It's going to be fine" or "our own would soon come " and he would smile pretending to be unbothered but one time he asked, 

"Are you pregnant now? "

Kamsi knew the water in the timer dripped slowly and one day the water would be all out. That day, she might receive a slap in place of the usual response. It was hard to see the reality though as her husband was not a violent person. 

The car came to a halt when they were stuck in Traffic. Darkness was slowly descending and it seemed everyone was in a hurry to get home. Cars were looking for every little space to maneuver the other. 

Mark kept a hand on the steering, propelling the car slowly then he used his free palm to caress her cheek. She looked at him, her lips pulled up in a smile, her eyes beaming. His eyes were still on the road even as he began to play their favorite song by the popular Nigerian singer, Tuface. 

"You are my African,

The girl of my dreams... "

They had a Benin gate man, Timothy whom Kamsi had seen on one occasion squatting to urinate. It was none of her business but she could help gossiping to her husband about it and they laughed over it. 

The gateman was also afraid of fowls or maybe he felt pity for them. On one occasion he was asked to kill a fowl, his hands kept shaking while he struggled to slit the throat. 

Timothy opened the gate immediately Mark hooted. The gateman was no lazy man and he rarely slept or he was always alert even in his sleep. He was as agile as a young man should be. 

Mark carried the bags from the trunk while Kamsi followed, holding her sling bag like a purse as the little block heels she wore slapped the ground . She could have gone up to change but she followed him majorly to remind him not to put her vegetable leaves in the fridge. 

She leaned on the cabinet while Mark put the fruits and other things in the fridge. He closed the fridge and smiled at her as he tore a nylon and spread the vegetables on it on the cupboard just like she loved. She watched him, loving him now more than before. 

"You are a good student, " she remarked. 

He smiled with mischief dancing round his eyes. 

"Am I going to be paid? " he asked, walking closer to her. He was a tall muscular man. He claimed to be too busy for the gym but did push-ups on some mornings which somehow helped him stay in shape.

Caught off guard, Kamsi screamed as she was lifted off the ground in a bridal style. She started to laugh and Mark laughed too. 

"Let's go and change, " she said. 

He nodded but carried her to the verandah where he placed her on a high pavement then fixed himself in between her legs. She placed a kiss on his forehead then looked up to the heavens. The stars were gradually crawling out of hiding. 

The veranda was dark because Mark had put off the light. She did not need light to be able to trace the outlines of his face. She knew his skin like her own. She knew every birthmark, every scar, everything. 

" I'll be staying home tomorrow, " he said. 

" What about work? "

"I'll just tell them you are sick and I'm taking care of you, " he said, raising his shoulder in a shrug. One would think he proposed the most usual idea in the world.

She glared at him amid her amusement. "You want them to think you are babysitting me! " 

"You don't like the idea? " he asked. 

She giggled. "I like it."