My husband cousin carry the money wey I save for two years, I still buy my shop

Two years ago, the pepper season was sweet. Every morning by 4am I dey Mile 12, selling pepper wey I buy from the north. I no touch one kobo. I keep am inside my old wrapper, tied tight for the bottom of my cupboard.

I dey save for a shop stall. The one wey dey near the gate, where customer go see me first. The owner say he want ₦450,000. I count my money that night, e complete. I swear, I sleep with one eye open.

Next morning, the money no dey. My husband cousin, Emeka, he come stay with us that week. He carry everything. He say na gambling debt, that if he no pay dem go kill am. He run.

I look my husband. He just sit down, head down. He say nothing. I no cry. I tell am, 'If you open your mouth for that your cousin again, na me you go see.'

My market sisters. Chai. The next day, Mama Chidinma and Mama Titi, dem gather money for me. Small small. ₦20k here, ₦30k there. In one week, we raise ₦380,000. I add my remaining pepper money. I buy the stall.

Emeka never show face again. God rest my husband soul, he died two years after, but before he died, he beg me one time. I forgive am. The cousin? I no fit.

Lesson: Na your own hand you must trust. And your market sisters. Dem go carry you when your family fail you. 🙏