Some days ago, in fact it was last week; the day that trailer ironed the head of that okada rider, I woke up and I could not even stand for a long time. Three times that morning, I fought back vomit from my throat, only to vomit twice while Rosco was cleaning himself. I know he thinks I’m mad, so he wouldn’t have felt any irritation towards me. I didn’t go to aboki that morning because I didn’t want to waste my precious 100 Naira note on food that I would still vomit. So you can understand why I couldn’t eat throughout that day, especially after the trailer rushed and killed that boy.
But, if I tell Rosco that I am feeling different and my stomach is growing bigger, won’t he know that I am not mad? If I start to talk and show that I am not mad, won’t he stop calling me every night? And if Rosco doesn’t call me, will I not go mad? Yes, mad. My Rosco, my sweet Rosco, and my 100 Naira note, how will I eat aboki indomie if Rosco stops calling me?
Well, all that was yesterday, because Rosco must have noticed my stomach too. He didn’t call me last night, or the night before that. In fact, since that trailer day, Rosco hasn’t called me. And now, early this morning, Rosco was holding one girl that came down from his danfo bus. My Rosco has been going inside another woman!
That was when I went mad, and flew up from where I sat, screamed like a mad woman, ran towards the oloriburuku girl and gave her a big bite on her neck. As I tore her clothes off her, Rosco shouted and tried to get me away from her. Rosco was protecting her!
She shouted ‘ye!’, and she screamed ‘were!’, I heard ‘e gba mi ooo!’, but nothing pierced the air like the slap that Rosco gave me. So, here we are, Rosco and I, the oloriburuku mad woman that he brought to replace me has run away, naked, and there is a crowd surrounding us.
I have bitten Rosco, and I have broken the glass on his danfo, and he beat me and my clothes got torn, and now I am naked like that mad woman I saw that day. Other danfo buses horned as they passed by, and I even saw aboki laughing at us earlier. All my neighbours are watching me and Rosco. They are calling him ‘Oko were’, Chinedu called him ‘Rosco umu onyeara’.
All the buses calling passengers with their war chants slowed as they neared us. Each time any of them called his name, I screamed ‘my Rosco, my baby!’, and then everybody laughed.
Rosco has made me a mad woman.