Rope Wahala for Opuama
Rope Wahala for Opuama
Edited by Prince Agbedeyi O. D
|Original Story by Unknown Author
So when I got back from work this evening, my wife Bini-Ere told me she quarrelled with our neighbour’s wife, Ebiere. I was shocked like a fish caught in low tide. Since we packed into this compound in Opuama, the two women had lived like co-wives without quarrel.
So I asked, “Bini-Ere mi, wetin happen?”
She replied, “It’s that common rope we dey use to dry cloth. I wanted to spread my wrapper, but Ebiere too say she wan dry her own. From there, small thing led to big insult and before I knew it, everything scatter.”
As we were still talking, Ebiere’s husband, Oyinmiebi, came back from work. As soon as he reached, Ebiere stormed out like a woman possessed by Furukpa spirit.
“Oyinmiebi! You better go and warn Bini-Ere’s husband o! Warn am make e tell that ya wife to mind herself, or else...!”
Bini-Ere sprang up like someone stung by bee, but I held her wrapper before she could reach the door.
“I’m home now. Don’t step outside.”
She hissed. “If you no gree make I go, then you better go outside now! Go tell Oyinmiebi make e tell him wife to shut that her coconut mouth! Or else I go show her say river no dey fear frog!”
She stormed into the bedroom fuming like fresh garri soaked with soda.
I gently opened the parlour door to peep outside. At that exact moment, Oyinmiebi opened his too. I braced myself, thinking the man was coming to “warn” me.
But instead, he walked toward me and whispered like two men planning to escape family meeting.
“Ebimobowei, I know say you don hear the drama.”
I nodded. “Yes o, I don hear everything.”
“My wife no dey hear word. If I no act like I warn you, I no go sleep for bed tonight. She say make I do something. So abeg, make we just act small. I go shout for you, you beg small, then I go enter and sleep like person wey chop fresh periwinkle.”
I burst out laughing. “Ah! If you warn me and I beg you, Bini-Ere go rub am for my face till next market day. She go say I be jellyfish. And your wife go dey reason say you be alpha fisherman.”
He scratch head, “So wetin we go do?”
I say, “Let’s warn each other well. You shout at me, I shout at you. After that, we go enter house like two kings who just defended their thrones.”
He agreed. And like two actors for Ayakoromo masquerade, we started the drama.
“Oyinmiebi! You better control that ya crocodile-mouth wife o! Next time she insult Bini-Ere, I go scatter her bucket!”
“Ebimobowei! Tell your wife make she respect herself! No be every sun dey dry crayfish o!”
Our voices echoed like fishermen dragging net. Women appeared — my Bini-Ere from our side, his Ebiere from theirs. In one second, Oyinmiebi dashed inside and came out with hoe. I waka to backyard and brought my machete I use for peeling cassava.
Both women started shouting like market women chasing debtors.
“Ebimobowei! Drop that machete before I call your elder brother!”
“Oyinmiebi! If you move one more step with that hoe, no dinner for you tonight!”
After dragging and shouting, both of us returned inside like wet dogs and locked our doors. Silence returned to Opuama compound.
Inside, Bini-Ere rubbed my chest gently like she was massaging fish with pepper.
“Calm down, Ebimobowei mi. It’s okay now.”
As she rubbed my head, my phone vibrated. A message from Oyinmiebi popped up:
I smiled and told Bini-Ere, “Bring cold water make I cool this temper.”
She waka go kitchen. I replied him:
But before I hit send, Bini-Ere shouted from the kitchen:
“But Ebimobowei, you too dey vex o! Just small rope wahala, you don carry machete! You want cut fish or fight war?!” 🤣🤣🤣🤣
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