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BN Prose: The Whole Place Was Getting Messy by Feyisayo Anjorin



Two months ago my husband did something that got me so mad that I thought of ending our sham-like marriage. I sat on the floor of the kitchen, put my hands on my head, as tears flowed freely from my eyes. I held my head as if it could float away. I shouted like a distressed animal; jeez! my husband has done it again!

I couldn’t enjoy my food for a week and when my friends and acquaintances asked again and again what was wrong, all I could do was moan and shake my head like country folks do when listening to Iriri Aiye by Kola Olawuyi.

Let me begin at the beginning: One Monday morning as I was dressing up for an early morning meeting with a client my husband asked for my ATM card. My company – I have a very prosperous brand – was working on the interior décor of the auditorium to be used for a government event that was expected to attract dignitaries nationwide; speakers and facilitators from Europe got booked for the week-long programme.

It was my biggest opportunity at that point; it was my biggest platform in seven years of business, so I made up my mind to put as much resources as possible to make it my masterpiece. It would take the government three months to pay and I didn’t mind. I would have waited for a year for that money because our oil-rich state – according to the terms of the contract – would be paying some really heavy cash for my services.

My ATM card? I told him “No. Nosa, I can’t give you my card.”

I can’t keep making money for you to spend as if I pluck it from a giant tree in our backyard.

“Bisola, I need some money. I swear to God I will pay you back. I promise.”

“I don’t have any money in the house.”

“Babe, this is an urgent need. If it isn’t I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“I gave you half a million six months ago. Where is it? Look, Nosa, I don’t have any money to give you.”

The very first time I saw Nosa he was sitting on a burgundy throne-like chair in the VIP section of the Base, – a club at Alagbaka – he was smoking a cigar, a bottle of champagne on the other hand. He looked like a boss.

When he said hello with a smile, when he asked what I would like to drink, when he asked for my name and my number, I was captivated by the unbridled confidence, the pink lips and the smell of his perfume.

He seemed to know all the handsome boys and the pretty-faced girls in the club: Hey whaddup hommie! Babe you look….Mwaaah! Walahi! Howzit sweetie? Oya, come and hug me.

He was eager to share his champagne, hey, my brova from another mother; dude, no dulling, come have some fun with me, the more the merrier!

He is the last child of his parents, medical doctors with seven children: three boys and four girls. Two brothers in the US, two sisters in the UK, and another sister in Canada.

He is so loved like a real baby brother; every month, dollars and pounds flow freely to him from abroad. He is so foolish; it takes just one night to burn up his supplies in the club. It seems to me that his mission is to go to the club once a month to get the guys jealous and the ladies wide-eyed. He is thirty, acting twenty-three.

I only got to know this after I married him. I had thought he was into some profitable business. When we started dating I asked him about his business, he told me about fishes he would get cheap from Igbokoda and would transport to markets in Oyo, Ogbomoso and Ilorin. I was in love, I was busy, I didn’t have the time to verify, and his pastor said he had been faithful with his tithe.

“If you see a man that is faithful with his tithe you should know you have a treasure.” Pastor Onyeachonam had said.

That morning when he asked for my ATM card and I told him to his face to forget about it, I thought it would bring him to a life-changing realisation. You can’t just keep living like a tax-collector!

A few days later I opened my favourite briefcase, a black Samsonite that had all my company documents; I do keep some money in that bag. My hundred thousand naira was gone!



“Where is the hundred thousand I left in this briefcase?”

“Bisola, you said you didn’t have any money in the house. What sort of question are you asking me?”

“Nosa, where is my money?”

“I honestly don’t know where the money is. I swear to God who made me. I thought you said there is no money in the house.”

One thing about my husband: Anytime he says honestly, he’s going to lie, he’s going to deny, he’s going to insist that his lie is the truth. I know enough to be sure about my darling husband.

I started hiding my money from him –
cash in the house. I’m very good at hiding things. Sometimes I hide things and I would have to think deeply before I figure out where they had been hidden. I keep a note on my desk in my office to help me remember where I hide my money.

On two occasions it occurred to me that my husband must have figured out where I hide money in the house; on both occasions I had kept a hundred and fifty thousand under the rug, covered with a pile of newspapers. I got just a hundred thousand when I went back for it.

Two months ago I came back from the gym in the evening and walked into the kitchen to get some milkshake from the refrigerator. I placed my iPod on the iPod dock in the kitchen, I was playing one of Tosing’s new song I just downloaded from iTunes, I was rapping along:

“You’re the way, you’re the truth and the light, you’re the one with the power and the might, it is in your name we will rise, it is in your name we would fight, you’re the beat and the sound and the rhythm, you’re the one in the book that I’m reading…”

I emptied the milkshake can, exhaled deeply and continued with Tosing, I felt like dancing, “Egbohun soke…”

It was a fun evening because I got a call in the gym; the PA to one of my biggest clients told me to expect a bank alert the following morning, a cash deposit to the company account.

I always got my money on my mind, so my eyes went to a corner in the kitchen. Nosa walked in at that point in time.

“Nosa, what happened to the trash can?”

“I emptied it in the morning after you left for work. The whole place was getting messy.”

“You what?”

“I emptied it. What–”

“Are you crazy?” I felt the words in my throat. I silenced Tosing on the music player.

“Bisola, are you OK? The thing was beginning to smell, the Waste Management truck came early in the morning and I decided to empty all the garbage containers in the compound into their truck. Why are you looking at me like that? What exactly is the problem?”

That was the problem.

It happened that I had kept fifty 100 dollar notes – 50 Benjamins– in an empty Five Alive box and had placed it in the trash can, knowing without a doubt that my husband would not look for money there; and all the money went with the mess in the trash can.

Photo Credit: Lucian Coman

Feyisayo Anjorin was born in Akure; he trained as a filmmaker at AFDA Johannesburg. His writing has appeared in Litro, Brittle Paper, Flash Fiction Magazine, Fiction On the Web, and 365 Tomorrows. His has also worked on film and TV productions in Nigeria and South Africa. He is the author of novel "Kasali's Africa" and novella "The Night My Dead Girlfriend Called" @FeyisayoAnjorin on Twitter


  1. Ezinne o.

    June 6, 2017 at 2:02 pm

    Lmfao!! This was a great read. I don’t even know who it serves right. Lol

  2. Deleke

    June 6, 2017 at 2:23 pm

    Na wa for this marriage o

    • Onyii

      June 6, 2017 at 3:24 pm

      Serious wa o

  3. Omo ajorosun

    June 6, 2017 at 2:35 pm

    If you don’t kill that marriage, the marriage will kill you.

  4. Idara

    June 6, 2017 at 2:40 pm


  5. Hidden Dragon

    June 6, 2017 at 2:46 pm

    Poor excuse for a husband. You can keep the title even after a marriage ends, just FYI.

    • LemmeRant

      June 6, 2017 at 6:57 pm

      Babe. Its not that serious.

  6. amakA

    June 6, 2017 at 2:48 pm

    Lolz. Serious matter!

  7. Her Grace

    June 6, 2017 at 2:55 pm

    Oh boy!!!!!!

  8. Bennie

    June 6, 2017 at 2:57 pm

    very good write up

  9. Anon

    June 6, 2017 at 3:12 pm

    This unfortunately is my life right now! Her own is better than mine even change N200 my hubby will steal.
    P.S He works and gets paid, I reckon he steals my money to hurt me!

    • FifiLa

      June 7, 2017 at 7:02 am

      Sorry hun! ?
      How does one stay when your “better half” is stealing from you?
      I know Nigerians are anti divorce… You don’t need thieving husband my dear

  10. mr.smith

    June 6, 2017 at 3:14 pm

    I love it when I read articles and the writer talks about places I know or have been, like this one brought back so good old memories of Akure. BTW writer who still keeps money like this is 2017 haba…

  11. BigJoy

    June 6, 2017 at 3:18 pm

    Lovely but it didnt finish well jor,,, we want moreeee.

    • zara

      June 6, 2017 at 9:38 pm

      I concur

  12. Sul

    June 6, 2017 at 3:19 pm

    Hew!!! Nna mehn! Dts alot of money..i am crying along.

  13. Isha

    June 6, 2017 at 4:03 pm

    I remember the last story. You are a great writer.

  14. Tolulope

    June 6, 2017 at 4:05 pm

    It was at that point she realized that not all waste are meant for LAWMA….lol
    Nice write up!!!

  15. Just Blaze

    June 6, 2017 at 5:35 pm

    I read stories like this and I wonder…..whoever the author or actors are…the narrator has more to her story that was not revealed. Whoever keeps such cash at home these days..with your supposed level of education, exposure and profession…there must be something wrong with all the banks in the country (under the rug, trash can). Then i guess you are the one making the cash available to him albeit strategically. Nuptial hide and seek. ..I believe it’s how you guys enjoy your romance in your marriage. Cheers!!!

    • cherry

      June 8, 2017 at 8:14 am

      @just blaze didn’t u read where d author says nosa asked for busola’s atm card an she refused giving him, meaning if she keeps money in her bank account it’s not safe, the husband might find a way of getting her bank card n withdraw all the money, so she will rather hide d money in d house .

  16. Brainstorm

    June 6, 2017 at 5:50 pm

    Where is my whistle?! ? Great story Feyisayo. Lots of lessons to be learnt.

  17. Dainty

    June 6, 2017 at 5:59 pm

    As funny as this is, the fact still remains some men are just lazy, Lord have mercy!!!!!

  18. Naina

    June 6, 2017 at 6:33 pm

    I swear this is funny!!!! If i was the one, i would be going to the LAWMA office to know if they have deposited my trash from Number 19 ZigZag Road.

  19. Seun

    June 6, 2017 at 8:15 pm

    This marriage won’t go far, Nosa got to change.

  20. Kay

    June 6, 2017 at 10:55 pm

    Feyisayo never disappoints.

  21. FasholasLover

    June 7, 2017 at 12:30 am

    Buhahahah! Money in the trash. I use to keep money in the trash can in the bathroom too. I also forget where l hide stuff. The difference is that the other occupant of our house always knew there could be money in the trash can. So, he checks with me before taking the trash out. He says i’m weird.
    Very well written Feyisayo.

  22. nunulicious

    June 7, 2017 at 3:29 pm

    hahahahhaha. love it!

  23. Ade

    June 9, 2017 at 6:38 pm

    What if the husband took the money…. so the wife would believe it went with the waste! lol! Husbands like that…… never can tell

    • Salaja

      June 10, 2017 at 10:27 am

      Exactly my thoughts

  24. jess

    June 11, 2017 at 11:45 am

    well done nosa

  25. meelikey

    June 22, 2017 at 12:02 pm

    Lollll ,interesting read,you for go bank na!

  26. Victory Osarumwense

    August 31, 2017 at 1:23 pm


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