My husband and I had just moved from the village to Enugu for greener pastures. While I managed Mama Nkechi's provision store, packing tins of milk, sugar and everything you could think of for customers who haggled prices like each stock wasn't bought with money. Chike, my husband, helped to carry the heavy goods for them in his tiny wheelbarrow to their destinations for meagre pay.
Life wasn't all that for us. It was one of those tough days that had you questioning your choices in life. Desperation had gradually become our companion, clinging to us like the expensive perfume Mama Nkechi wore regularly.Even without kids yet, we were drowning in our debt.
And that led us to that awkward place at an awkward time of the night.
With my flashlight in hand, dressed in all black, bent behind the pavement in front of Mama Nkechi's store, Chike stood courageously above me. In his hands were a chain cutter and a machete. And in his eyes was this determination and pain I've never seen before.
"Chike, are you sure about this?" I asked, looking up at him.
He didn't reply but just nodded his head.
Then he walked to the door that led to Mama Nkechi's provision store. Making sure no one was looking he proceeded to cutting padlocks.
I stared at him with pain and regret in my eyes. I knew that stealing from Mama Nkechi's store wasn't the kind of people we were. But we had no choice, our bags would be thrown outside by our landlord tomorrow if we didn't pay our rent.
I remembered how Mr Okeke had embarrassed us before other tenants yesterday night. I could still tell the pain and shame In Chike's eyes as he called me up from sleep in the middle of the night.
"We have to do something, Ada", I heard him say. On his forehead was this huge vein line that always pops up whenever he's worried. His once-bright eyes had dulled under the weight of our struggles.
"What do we do? It's not like we can print money?" I asked him, rubbing my eyes.
"Yes, we can", he replied, keeping a steady face.
I looked at him confused, "How do you mean, My husband?" I asked.
In a low tone, he replied. "I've seen Mama Nkechi punch in the combination of her safe, regularly. We could go there and take some"
I jumped up from the bed and looked at him with disbelief. "Chike, are you insinuating we go and steal from Mama Nkechi?" I asked, my voice loud from disbelief.
Chike quickly got up and placed his hands over my mouth. "Listen, Ada, you have to calm down and stop shouting. Besides, it's not stealing; we're just borrowing and will pay back when we get the cash. Or do you have another plan to pay the landlord?" He asked.
I shook my head after thinking of it for a few seconds.
"Ehe, you don't have a plan. So this could be our only way out," he convinced me.
With fear, I asked. What if we're caught?" I asked with a calm voice.
"We won't be caught. We'll have to go in the night when nobody will be there. The market security is always asleep at night when he should be vigilant”.
“How did you know all these?”
Chike looked at me. “The security guy told me”.
And now we were there, in front of Mama Nkechi's provision store, with Chike trying to cut the padlocks that would let us into the store.
"Psss, let's go. It's open now" Chike whispered to me from my hiding spot. I was almost shaking to death with fear.
Quietly, I tiptoed to him, "Chike, are you sure about this?" I asked as we made our way into the store. Heading straight to Mama Nkechi's office.
"What other choice do we have?" Chike answered.
I stared at him, and for some seconds, it felt like I didn't know him anymore. He was so determined to carry out this mission. I could see it in his eyes. The soft calm Chike was gone.
We got to Mama Nkechi's office and found the safe. Then I guarded the doors while Chike punched in the code. And in seconds the safe popped open. My stomach churned as I saw the stacks of cash carefully and neatly arranged in the safe. I was sure Chike felt it too. As he stared at it lost.
Chike looked at me expectantly. “Take it, Ada.”
But as I reached out to it, I froze. I couldn't bring myself to take what wasn't mine. It wasn't who I was nor was it who we were. That money was Mama Nkechi's blood and sweat and I couldn't bring myself to take it.
I looked at Chike and shook my head. "I can't".
He shoved me aside and deeped his hands in the safe. But just like me, he froze and stared at the cash for some seconds like he had seen a ghost. Then he grunted "Arrgh!" I guess he couldn't do it either. He slammed the safe shut and turned to me. "This isn’t us, Ada. We’re not like this. Let's get out of here before we get caught".
Just as we sneaked in, we sneaked out of the store and ran straight home to avoid being caught. None of us spoke of the Incident that night. Our conscience was louder than what our mouths could say.
By the next morning, luckily, our landlord gave us another week of grace to gather his money. He couldn't tell why he had to do it. But we were glad he did.
That day, I stood at the counter when Mama Nkechi called in the market security. Wondering why someone would break into her shop and steal nothing. I felt guilt wash over me, but the risk of jail made me keep mute.
A few days later, I asked for an advance payment in my salary from Mama, telling her why I needed it. To my greatest surprise she obliged and added extra.
"My worker's welfare is part of my responsibilities, too. You've been a good employee Ada. Keep it up" she commended me as she handed me the cash.
We paid our landlord that night and secured our tiny apartment for another year. The memory of that night stayed with us, not as a reminder of failure, but as proof that even in desperation, we could choose to swim instead of sink.
