My Wife Said She Was Going to the Market. I Saw Her at Shoprite with Another Man's ATM Card.

Look at it this way. My sister called me last Saturday, voice shaking. She said she saw my wife at Shoprite in Enugu, pushing a trolley full of things we don't buy. And she was with a man. Not just any man. A man who was holding her hand and laughing at everything she said.

I didn't confront her. I waited. She came home with two bags of rice and said the market was crowded. The thing about life is, I have counseled couples for ten years. I have told men to calm down and ask questions first. But when it is your own house, the wisdom disappears. I just sat there looking at the rice, wondering if the man paid for it.

Our people say the chicken that runs away from home will come back to the pot. But what if the pot has moved to another kitchen? I am not angry. I am just tired. And I am asking myself one question: do I ask her, or do I let God handle it and keep my peace? Because right now, the rice is the only thing in this house that makes sense.