— Daddy Emeka and the Water Scandal
Dust and Silk
The sun hadn't reached the middle of the sky yet, but the path to the stream was already hot enough to fry akara.
Amaka balanced her yellow container on her hip as she walked, muttering under her breath.
"Let me just fetch this water and rest. Ngozi said she'll help, but that one has been flirting with that tailor boy since last week…"
She reached the edge of the bush path near the stream and paused.
Something wasn't right.
She could hear giggling — not normal village girl giggling, but the suspicious "I'm talking to man secretly and enjoying it" kind of giggling.
She squinted through the palm trees.
There he was.
Daddy Emeka.
Big stomach. Balding head. The man who always shouted "Where is my food?!" like it was his birthright.
And beside him, not his wife — not Mama Emeka — but one small-looking girl from a nearby compound, wearing a suspiciously tight wrapper.
And his hand was on her arm.
Amaka didn't even think. She marched out like a soldier on assignment.
"Ahhhh! Daddy Emeka?!"
The man jumped like someone poured cold water on his back. "Amaka! What are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you that! Is this where they cook soup? Why are you pressing somebody's daughter inside bush, ehn?!"
The girl tried to run.
"Better run!" Amaka shouted. "Because the thunder that will strike both of you doesn't like third parties!"
"Amaka please," Daddy Emeka said, raising both hands. "Let's talk like adults."
"Ohhh so I'm an adult now abi? But the girl you're holding like groundnut is small! You're touching her hand — inside bush! I'll tell your wife! Mummy Emeka is my mummy's friend, and I'll tell her EVERYTHING."
"Amaka biko nu, calm down…"
"Calm down? You're lucky I didn't come with bell. I would've rung it and started confession service right here."
Daddy Emeka walked toward her slowly. "You're a good girl. You don't need to tell anyone. It's not what you think."
"Ohh! So you were not holding her arm? You were checking her blood pressure?"
He sighed. "Please. Just don't say anything. Let this die here."
"I'm not killing anything o! In fact, I'm going to start practicing how I'll say it when I get home: 'Mummy! You won't believe what I saw!'"
And with that, Amaka flipped her wrapper, picked up her container, and marched off like a soldier carrying hot gossip in her soul.
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LATER THAT DAY — IN THE KITCHEN
Amaka burst into the kitchen, still sweating. Her mother was bent over the fire, blowing softly into the flames.
"Mummy!" she said breathlessly. "Let me tell you something!"
"Let me not hear that you dropped my water again," Mama Amaka muttered. "If that gallon has less than full, your ancestors will cry today."
"Nooo mummy, leave gallon — you won't believe who I saw at the stream!"
"Better be Jesus."
"Daddy Emeka!"
Her mother looked up sharply. "Emeka from where?"
"Our compound o! He was standing near the bush with one small girl like this, pressing her arm and laughing like goat."
"Jesu!" Mama dropped her cooking spoon. "Did he see you?"
"See me? I shouted! I said, 'Daddy Emeka, I will tell your wife!'"
Mama stared at her in horror.
"Amaka... Are you mad?!"
"Mummy?!"
"You're shouting at somebody's husband?! Amaka do you like wahala?"
"Mummy I was defending marriage! Or should I just walk past while he's doing nonsense?"
"YES! You walk past, you mind your business and you come home to me and say NOTHING!"
"Ah ah. But mummy, Mummy Emeka is your friend now."
"Yes, but I like my peace better! That's grown people wahala, don't put your head inside fire you didn't light."
Amaka folded her arms. "Me I'll tell her."
"Amaka if you try it... If you even open your mouth..."
Her mother grabbed the wooden spoon and pointed it dramatically.
"You want to become the village newscaster?! You want people to say 'Amaka broke a home'? Let God punish him in His time — you, face your firewood!"
Amaka frowned. "So I should just be quiet? He was holding her like… like mango!"
Her mother sighed, shaking her head.
"That's how men are, Amaka. And that's why you must open your eyes well before you enter any relationship. That thing you saw today, keep it in your mind. Let it teach you sense."
Amaka looked away, muttering. "Still doesn't feel right."
"It doesn't have to feel right," Mama said, stirring the soup again. "You're not the one wearing the ring."
Amaka was quiet for a moment… then smirked.
"But mummy... If it was you he was touching, I'd scatter the whole village."
Her mother laughed despite herself. "You this girl, you want to kill me. Go and wash the vegetables. And no more shouting at married men!"
"But can I slap them silently?"
"Amaka!"
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