A reflection on marriage, patriarchy, and the hidden realities women face in The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives

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15mins read . African Literature . April 9, 2026

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5 years ago, reading The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives for me was purely for leisure and entertainment. 

I was drawn to the humour, the drama, and especially the sharp wit of Iya Femi. At the time, she felt like one of the most entertaining characters. 

Bold, cunning, and unapologetically strategic.

One moment that stayed with me was when the family had an occasion to attend and Baba Segi entrusted her with overseeing the aso ebi. 

Of course, she used that opportunity to her advantage. 

She made sure her own outfit was the best of them all, while deliberately sabotaging the others. 

In fact, she went as far as stitching some of their clothes herself, despite having no real knowledge of fashion design just to ensure they came out looking completely unpresentable.

Looking back, I laughed at it then. It felt mischievous, almost harmless in its chaos. 

But now, I see something deeper in it, something more intentional, more telling.

Prior to this version of me, books were solely for entertainment. 

Something to pass time, to cure boredom. I was an isolated child, so everything I did existed indoors. 

Games, books, cartoons, reality TV. That was my world. 

But listening to it again on Audible in 2026 felt different. 

I was picking up on things I didn’t even realise were in the story the first time. 

It almost made me question if the author had revised the book. 

That’s how different it felt.

I really wonder how I missed the important parts and lessons of the book. The core literary context and the message the book was trying to portray about our society.

I remember having a conversation with my best friend about the importance of revisiting books we read as children, to see if our perspective of the storyline has changed.

For example purple hibiscus by Chimamanda. 

I read Purple Hibiscus when I was between the ages of 10 and 13. I didn’t understand or interpret it the way I do now, or the way her other works are often discussed today.

Coming back to The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives, as the author begins to reveal the details of each character, breaking down how they each ended up in a polygamous marriage as wives of Baba Segi. 

I started to see how deeply rooted the patriarchal system we are trying to break really is. 

It also made me realise how much women themselves uphold this system, even while some are fully aware of the reality of the society we live in.

I don’t think people fully grasp how deeply rooted patriarchy is in every aspect of women’s lives, or how society often refuses to see women as whole unless they can bear children, be submissive, be married, or carry the title of a wife. 

And over time, women have internalised this too.

Women are often the very upholders of patriarchy in society. Many still struggle to see themselves outside the box it has placed them in. That is why some would rather remain in unhealthy marriages or relationships than leave.

Even those who manage to escape the expectations of being wives, submissive, and confined to societal roles often end up reinforcing the same system, pushing their female offspring back into the patriarchal structures they once navigated. 

This cycle is clearly reflected in the story through Iya Segi’s mother and Baba Segi’s mother.

For Baba Segi’s household to even exist, it took Iya Segi’s mother and Baba Segi’s mother. 

Women who were never defined by marriage. They had children and built lives for themselves without men or the title of a wife.

They projected their fears from their own experiences of not being married onto their offspring.

And I understand where those fears came from. We can still see it playing out in our society today.

If you are of what society considers “marriageable age,” especially as a woman, it directly or indirectly makes it seem like you are missing out on something. 

Even before you reach that so-called marriageable age, you are groomed to prepare for marriage, not for yourself. 

As though you have to be married to be complete. 

And often, it’s those in the worst marriages who push this idea the most.

Some marriages are so oppressive that they reduce women to versions of themselves that barely exist outside the role they are expected to play.

But they put on an act, making marriage seem like the best thing in life. 

Then they make unmarried women feel incomplete, as though a part of them will never be whole without marriage or the title of a wife. 

But for unmarried men, they are reassured that there are always multiple choices of younger women, even if they grow old or become completely bedridden. 

As though women are a retirement plan.

For men, there is always a way out. For women, it is made to seem like there is none.

That is why, especially, women pass down this fear to their children. They have seen how society treats them when they are unmarried. 

And I guess it’s a natural instinct as a mother to want to protect your child in the best way possible. 

So you would naturally do everything to get your offspring out of the dark, imagined hole society has created in your mind. 

That is the dynamic portrayed in the relationship between Iya Segi’s mother and Baba Segi’s mother.

Iya Segi started out doing well in life. She had a successful business. She was vibrant, happy, making money, and simply living her life. 

But she began to feel incomplete as the pressure from her mother increased, to get married, find a partner, and not end up miserable and lonely.

One of the most interesting moments for me was when Iya Segi was in her room, just being a girl throwing money over herself, enjoying her independence. 

But her mother’s emotional reaction when she found her revealed something deeper about how that freedom was being perceived.

She expressed her frustration and anger to Baba Segi’s mother, who, in the book, frequently complains about her son not being married too. 

Baba Segi’s reason for not being married is that Ibadan is not easy to survive in, and that the girls are now smarter. They would not settle for a man who is not financially stable. 

Iya Segi’s mother, desperate for her daughter to get married, saw this as an opportunity to redirect her money-obsessed daughter. 

hen she packed all of her daughter’s (Iya Segi’s) savings and gave it to Baba Segi to start a business and build something for himself. 

Because he was a man. The head, while Iya Segi, as a woman, was seen as not needing much, or anything at all, to her name. 

All she needed to do was get married.

This was the moment in the book where I paused in anger. 

I had to ask myself: did she really do that to her daughter? 

Yes, she did. 

Everything she had was given to Baba Segi, and Iya Segi knew it was her money. 

She couldn’t do anything but keep quiet and be the “good wife”. Obedient, respectful. Everything she was expected to be as a wife by society. 

Although the story later paints her as the matriarch. Someone who controls, who is in charge, making it seem like she loved it. 

But the question is: did she really love it? 

Leaving herself and the life she loved, knowing it was her money that funded Baba Segi’s lifestyle. 

The same lifestyle she funded at the cost of her own that allowed him to become successful and take on more wives.

Iya Tope was the second wife of Baba Segi. The author presents her as a very naive person who just wanted the simple things in life. 

She spent her time playing with insects and was not fully engaged in farming, even though her family were farmers. 

She didn’t even think about marriage as much as her parents thought about it for her. 

Her family didn’t expect much from her apart from marriage. Like many girls, they just wanted her out. 

And of course, throughout history, marriage has been used as a form of poverty alleviation. 

Baba Segi was the wealthy man who came to do business with the family, paying them money they had never seen before.  

On one of his visits, he was caught looking at Iya Tope, and her father saw it as an opportunity to pitch her to Baba Segi. 

And yes, I used the word “pitch” because that’s exactly what it was, a business transaction.

Baba Segi then agreed to marry her, and he didn’t even inform Iya Segi,  his first wife about the new bride. 

She just appeared, and Iya Segi was left to handle her however she wanted. 

This is another way society uses marriage strategically at the expense of women. 

Imagine waking up one day and, because of patriarchal conditioning, being prepared for marriage without your choice. 

I really wonder if, at any point in history, men were ever whisked off into marriage the way women still are today. 

In all honesty, if we were operating as a sane and fair society, one would assume that Baba Segi, being broke and poor would have been the one forced onto Iya Segi. 

But patriarchal conditioning reversed that, allowing Baba Segi to take all of Iya Segi’s money. 

It’s a new age, things are slightly better than they used to be for women, at least. 

But patriarchy still exists, and we see it come alive in full. 

For men who are quick to label women who want better for themselves as “gold diggers,” it’s worth recognising that many marriages have historically been strategically formed to alleviate poverty or secure stability for families, on either side.

I think Iya Femi was the only wife who saw the system for what it was and decided to take advantage of it. 

I would describe her as someone who uses patriarchy to her advantage. 

Aside from her very difficult childhood, which shaped how she wanted her life to turn out after her parents’ death, she wanted to go to school badly. 

She was one of the few characters who actively fought against the conditioning placed on her.

 Even though she didn’t fully escape the system life placed her in, she did everything she could to make the best of her situation and achieve her dreams in her own way, even if it meant being very cunning. 

Baba Segi simply saw her as an addition to his wives, something patriarchy allows him to do. 

He didn’t inform the other wives of her arrival; he simply liked her, influenced by his driver, Taju. 

Taju is another character that needs to be explored. I’ll come back to him.

I feel the worst for Bolanle the fourth wife, because she was never meant to be in that kind of setting. 

I hate how much her self-worth was tied to whether she was a virgin or not, and how that led to her being silenced as a rape victim. 

If society didn’t place women’s sex lives at the forefront of their identity, using it to define how “good” or “pure” they are, many women wouldn’t struggle to speak up after experiencing rape or any form of sexual abuse. 

The societal conditioning around virginity, and the so-called “purity” and “holiness” attached to it, is one of the reasons sexual abuse remains stigmatised and why victims continue to carry that stigma. 

We still see it play out in our so-called “modern” society today, where victim blaming and victim shaming are still very real. 

You get questioned about what you were wearing, where you were, how late it was at the time of the incident. 

To make it worse, I’ve seen men, and of course, the upholders of patriarchy, my fellow women, defend or justify sexual abuse based on how a person’s social media appearance is. 

I feel extremely bad for women who have been put in a box by patriarchy, women who have learned to be submissive to the system. 

They begin to see themselves as the “better” women, and because they are chosen by men, they follow blindly without ever questioning it. 

Little do they know that this behaviour often comes back to affect them later. 

Because as a woman who meets society’s definition of being “good,” the moment you experience sexual abuse, you are immediately pushed into the category of women society has labelled as “bad.” 

That experience, in whatever form, is used to label you as less of a woman and that’s why those in the category of “pure, good women” struggle so much and suffer in silence. 

Because that label keeps you in a box. 

Unable to see yourself as worthy of anything outside being what society calls a “good woman”?

I hated how much Bolanle’s character was shaped by this kind of conditioning, leading her to marry Baba Segi, despite her educational background. 

She just wanted to exist in a space that didn’t demand much from her, because she felt she couldn’t meet societal expectations, especially her mother’s. 

She sought peace, and almost paid for it with her life. I love how she simply wanted to exist, but in the minds of the other wives especially Iya Segi and Iya Femi, she was seen as a threat, the educated one, the youngest, the one who could take over. 

The author captures how women, who are supposed to stand together, end up plotting against each other the moment they sense any form of superiority in another woman. 

And this still exists today. 

You see women who are supposed to support and learn from each other tearing themselves apart, all because of male validation. 

As if being valued by a man means you must compete for his attention. 

That is why men see women as objects of possession. 

Like ants struggling over a pile of sugar. 

Always ready to fight for a spot, and I wonder if they ever self-reflect on how ridiculous it all looks. 

But what do I know? That’s the order of the day anyway. 

When it comes to Baba Segi, I don’t even know how to fully put his character into the right word. But like many men, he over-enjoyed the privileges of patriarchy. From receiving money from an unknown source (Iya Segi’s money)  to build himself up, to eventually succeeding, his main aim became acquiring women to bear him children. 

All while being unaware that he was barren. 

Whenever a wife didn’t give him children quickly, he assumed the problem was hers. 

The same happened with Bolanle. He made her believe the problem was hers, especially since he already had children from his other wives. 

Bolanle was already living with fear from her past, having undergone an unsafe abortion after being raped. 

Her education pushed her to seek real, result-oriented solutions, which eventually revealed that Baba Segi was the one who was infertile. 

I’m glad she found the strength to leave in the end. 

The paternity fraud element is powerful because it reflects the reality of our society today. 

Women are still blamed for not being able to have children. Accusations of being barren are thrown around easily. 

Taju, the driver, was another interesting character. He didn’t see women as anything at all. 

He only respected the wives because he was gaining money and other benefits from them. 

He immediately saw Bolanle as a threat and looked down on her, knowing her education meant she would never submit to him. 

And the way he spoke about his wife was extremely demeaning. 

I really wish his character had been explored further in the book. 

He represents a certain type of man, made worse by the anger and frustration that comes with poverty. 

He didn’t see himself outside of money, and so he projected that frustration onto women like Bolanle and women in general.

 It’s interesting how men centre their lives around money, yet flip the script and label women as gold diggers. 

When in reality, they are often the ones who benefit most from the system patriarchy provides.  

Imagine being angry for that reason. 

Many men don’t see themselves outside the role of being providers—yet get angry when they are treated only as such. 

The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives is a deeply layered book, beyond its humour and witty characters. 

It offers a deeper look into the systems and structures that place women in a box, while consistently giving men the upper hand. 

I’m glad I revisited this book years after first reading it. 

I don’t know if I’ll read it again in the future, but I will continue revisiting books I’ve read before. 

But I can’t help but wonder how I missed all of this, what now feels so clear and easy to understand compare to when I was younger. 

Growth is indeed a thing.