Excerpt from Walking on Cowrie Shells by Nana Nkweti, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Low blow, Belinda, using the twins. Low blow, indeed.

"The answer is still no, Bee," I'd said, exhaling a deep breath. "No more blind dates, no more setups. No more tagging my photos on Facebook for random suitors back home."

"You and that Facebook. How many months did it take you to remove Steven's photos from your page? And why does your status still say 'in a relationship'?"

"Because I am in a relationship," I declared. "With myself. Best one of my life."

Belinda shook her head. She worried so. It had taken years of excruciating fertility treatments for her to conceive. Six years ago, she became a manyi, mother of twins no less, accorded all the respect that was due. To her, my half-akata status coupled with a New Yorker's natural independence of spirit had conspired to support a pernicious state of spinsterhood—never mind I was only twenty-nine. Most worryingly, I was childless, an artificial barrenness that, in her view, threatened to be never ending.

"But Chambu—"

"Why can't I find a decent radio station down here?" I jabbed at random preset buttons and happened upon a show promo for some comedian cum disc jockey who'd written a book on "how to find a good man" in response to the supposed dearth of "eligible brothas." Vindicated, Belinda batted my twitchy fingers away from changing the station.

"Phillip's a medical doctor. A ssssurgeon." The last part sounded like a sigh on her lips. Belinda's husband, John, is "merely" a pharmacist, one who'd gone through four grueling years of night school to get his PharmD degree and bragging rights for his wife.

"I've already got a 'Dr.' in front of my name, Bee. I don't need to be Mrs. Dr. So-and-So to feel validated as a human being." I cringed as soon as I said it, though I'd meant every word.

Belinda changed tactics. "He's from our village. Your mom would be so happy."

"Um, I don't think so, cuz. Mom married Anthony Johnson from BK. So, no."

"Na ya loss, oh! " she'd fumed, casting a supremely disapproving eye my way as we turned into our driveway, then softly, "I just want you to be happy, Chambu."

"Who says I'm not happy?"

Excerpt from "The Baby Shower," from Walking on Cowrie Shells (Graywolf Press). Copyright © 2021 by Nana Nkweti.