Arinta’s Guardian

It is not in my place to ask him questions. I do not ask because I should not.

He recently contracted my chambers as his attorney for LIFE. As long as he is not breaking any law, I will keep my peace.

But we all know that he returned from Arinta Waterfalls a different man. He is suddenly wealthy. He is obviously richer. The change is not in his attitude, he is still as pleasant as ever. He is even more benevolent. But he is ‘more’ than what he was.

“Jojo… Please finalize the visas and payments for our trip to Mount Kilimanjaro? I will be leaving the country tomorrow, back the next day I think. I need to get the logistics from you. My pilot is refueling as we speak.”

As is now the norm, he has decided to sponsor The Backpackers’ next trip to Tanzania.

He is the only person alive that would dare call me any other name but Ms. Joanne. But he is ‘loco’ like that. In an endearing way though.

“I think we should use my plane, it’s only a ten seater though” He concluded.

“Who is that in this body? Loose him and let him go!” I quoted and joined him in nostalgic laughter.

If you know, you know.

We knew.

August 29, 2018

FOR AYDIN…

Arinta waterfalls was beautiful!

We arrived the falls after torrential rainfall. The height of the falls was nothing spectacular, but the water hurt when it hit our bodies. The waters were freezing and tempestuous.

Amaka (who disappointed me), Muchee, Goodness, L.P. (I still think the man is a serial killer 🤔😂), Iyke, Bayo and Toto all stripped to their bathing suits and braved the treacherous route to the falls and pose for pictures and get wet.

After watching them for a while, I caught the bug and eagerly joined in.

“Big Dan, hold that pose” Iyke shouted at me above the roar and melee.

I was not even ‘posing’ to begin with! I am not comfortable with pictures of me being taken. It is my eccentricity. I own that.

I was right underneath the torrents when he called out. I was imitating Amaka (who disappointed me).

Like her, I tried to spread my long arms like the statue of Jesus in Brazil when I lost my footing and fell over backwards.

I somehow presumed that my back would hit the wall of the rocks. Foolish assumption because there was zero visibility beyond the raging curtain of plummeting water.

And so you can imagine my terror when I kept falling, hit the ground hard and began tumbling.

I sat up in a cave. Dry. Banged up, but unhurt.

I could hear the thunderous falls behind me. The sound was slightly high up, and so I confirmed that I had fallen downward into this place.

I wish I could describe the cavern to you in detail. Alas, I cannot.

The cave was well lit and the air was fresh.

The floor was covered with fine sand. The sort of sand found on a beach.

The floor was also covered with bones of animals. At least I think that they were only bones of animals.

The cave was eerily quiet.

I did not hear it. I could not see anything even though the cave was well lit. But I needed no prophet to tell me that I was in the lair of a predator of some sort. A carnivore.

I eventually heard it. It is a sound I will never forget. That ominous hiss.

I felt my skin break out in goosebumps. I felt the hairs all over my body actually rise vertically. I remember thinking that I was in the presence of evil.

Maybe not evil in retrospect, but ancient powers that I did not understand.

Maybe not ‘powers’, but pure majick (yes majick, not the recent variation called magic).

The atmosphere cackled like static electricity. Time seemed infinite at the time. I was in a limbo, a trance-like state. Yet I was present in the present.

I heard the distinct sound of something heavy being dragged. The sound irritated my spirit sorely. It was a disturbing moment, like a countdown to an inevitable execution.

As the sound neared my seated form, the cave seemed to glow brighter. The sound was coming from before me. The closer it got, the brighter things became.

It got so bright that I had to shield my eyes from the glare.

From between slightly splayed fingers I finally glimpsed the entity…

It was the fattest and biggest snake I had ever seen in my life. NatGeoWild had never featured a snake so humongous!

It’s flickering tongue was easily two feet long. It’s head was about a square meter thick. It’s eyes were mesmerizing orbs about the size of saucers. It was impossible to take in the full size of the snake seated less than ten meters away.

And finally on top of its head gleamed the most beautiful diamond I had ever seen. The size bore verisimilitude to a grown man’s fist.

But please understand that it was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Diamond et al. That snake glowed! I found it very attractive.

At this point I was on my knees. It maintained the rough distance of ten meters. It’s forked tongue kept darting in and out of its massive head.

I wondered at time how deep the cave must be. I wondered at whether the prehistoric reptile was male or female. I remember concluding that this thing was sexless. It just was. There was not going to be another like it.

I felt no fear. But I sensed that my life was being weighed…

And so I did the only thing I could;
Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.

The snake hissed long and hard in reply. It’s long tongue seemed to flicker quicker. Flitting in and out of its jaws in blinding speed.

Then it stopped. It stopped movement of any kind. It seemed to me that it also stopped the very essence of time in that instant.

It beheld my kneeling form with the longest of stares.

Then I stood up and replicated the pose that brought me here… Arms fully extended outward to the side… like that statue of Jesus in Brazil.

Then it bowed to me.

Yes. It showed obeisance to me.

As it bowed to me, the diamond on top of its head fell off and rolled over to me. It stopped inches away from my feet.

I stared long and hard at the entity before me before I stooped and picked up the precious stone. It was larger than I originally thought. It was heavy and beautiful. The stone throbbed in my hand. It pulsated so hard that I had to hold it with both hands.

Then I started to shiver. I felt energy… No, power surge through me. I felt invincible! I felt invigorated. I felt ancient abilities take root in my spirit…

And then I consciously decided to ‘own’ the energy… And I did. I imbibed the force and became one with it. Then I slowly stabilized into my new consciousness.

With both hands I offered the diamond back to the entity in faith and honesty… Maybe it had dropped it by mistake?

But the snake seemed to yawn. Each of it’s bared fangs were about a foot long. It’s jaws gaped so wide that I could almost see a meter into its essence…

Then it closed its mouth and slithered backwards a meter or so. I stepped forward and offered it again… But the snake seemed to yawn. Each of it’s bared fangs were about a foot long. It’s jaws gaped so wide that I could almost see a meter into its essence…

Then it closed its mouth and slithered backwards another meter or so…

A third time I attempted to return the diamond and again the same reluctance from the principality.

My swim shorts are made with patch pockets, military combat style. I secured the gem in the right flank pouch and velcro – sealed it.

As I climbed back up, it was still slithering backwards into the dark recesses of the cave.

I emerged through the water and joined the backpackers who were unenlightened as to what just happened.

Time may have stood still. I may have fallen into a black hole of sorts. I may have been in the cave for fifteen minutes real time. I cannot say for sure.

I have no intention of selling this diamond. It would seem that it attracts good fortune to me. All I do (or not do) works out for my good.

Everything I touch is profitable. I have an acute Midas touch now. A sort of MimShach anointing blesses all I am. I cannot stop prospering.

Conservatively speaking, I am worth trillions of dollars. And I am expanding my asset base exponentially whether I try or not.

I made no deals with the devil. I have not sold my soul or anyone else’s. I am never ill or tired. I regenerate daily… Testosterone levels have spiked within me. I am sure that if ever I managed to get myself injured I would heal instantly.

I write this for posterity. I want this kept for Aydin when he turns twenty one.

‘Chairman’, my son… DO NOT VISIT ARINTA WATERFALLS!

EVER!

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The Ruckus At Erin-Ijesha

At least the Indian guy had decorum. Raju or whatever my husband calls him.

The other one, Goody, or whatever her name is was just plain getting on my nerves!

They were both seated behind in my car. We were behind the Toyota Hiace bus #backpackersabuja had chartered to convey the rowdy bunch to some waterfall in Osun state, Nigeria.

Olumirin? Ile – Ijesa? Not sure what my husband called it.

He was handling my situation calmly. He had told me about this trip a month ago. I had intentionally waited until last night to insist that I would come. He had taken my ploy in stride. Only catch was that we were now driving behind the main team in my car. My husband insisted that we use my car!

Men are scum!

Lol… Kidding. But a girl has to be careful. All these trips our men make out of town… ‘Stay woke’ my lovelies.

It is not that I do not trust him (hehehehehe) I am just marking my territory.

The trip was arduous! These people were insane! My husband inclusive. It ended up being an eleven hour road trip!

My lovelies, I suffered!

We headed to the waterfall the next day. They were all hyped and amped. I gathered that the falls were about seven stories high and that there were seven waterfall views… Or something like that…

The waterfall itself was nice I suppose. If you are in to that sort of thing. It was raining quite badly when we got there.

Then these wildlings decided to climb up to the plateau of the hill and spend the night in tents at a village or hamlet up on the hill.

Father Lord, I mean no offense… But a lot of your children are ‘not well’. Yes Lord, I am referring especially to these Backpacker-people.

Why any rational individual would leave luxury and comfort and venture into the unknown to suffer is beyond me.

That was their problem though. There was no way I was climbing any thing today. Except my husband’s tumescence… Hehehehehe… If you know, you know.

And if I was not camping uphill, neither was my behemoth. (Yes he is my large animal).

So I whipped up a sly attitude and voila! My behemoth grumpily informed his fellow lunatics that I was feeling poorly and that we would have to return to camp.

They hated me. I could tell by their concerted effort at nonchalance. But I did not care, this was going to go my way.

Not quite!

My behemoth decided to hire a tour guide. The guide would take them up the hill and bring him back while the other hippies would remain at the summit overnight. I was deserted for about two hours; wet, cold and miserable.

Men are scum!

Lol… Kidding.

Long story short, we were eventually reunited about two hours later and taken to ‘the best’ hotel in the area. It was not a bad place. I was was impressed. It is hard to impress me.

My behemoth impressed me too. Between passive aggressiveness, thinly veiled anger at my antics and whatever he had been drinking… My lord and king here on earth unleashed such pleasure on me that I blacked out from coital bliss, pain and fatigue.

I awoke to loud banging on the door of our hotel room.

I think I wet myself instantly. Judging from the time and the audacity of the ruckus outside I knew that they were thieves.

Have you ever been mugged? Robbed at gunpoint? Abused in any way whilst being robbed? Has it ever happened to you in a third world country?

Imagine all that… And then place yourself in my predicament, a full – bodied woman naked in bed with her husband? I did not need a psychic to tell me that my fate was about to be changed negatively that night.

With tears in my eyes and urine trickling down my thighs I acknowledged that I had brought this problem upon myself. Me and my insecurities! It would be a miracle if I escaped rape and /or death.

My behemoth was calm. He is always calm actually. He was already dressed in a blood red pair of basketball shorts. He was firmly tucking my limbs into my wet cut-off jeans shorts and hoodie.

Just then the door, it’s lintel and fittings came crashing to the floor with a loud bang. And the thieves were inside the small hotel room.

One of them was pointing a pistol at us. I remember screaming from behind my husband when another thief shot his gun into the Plaster of Paris ceiling of the room. Another was brandishing a very shiny cutlass.

“Get on your knees!”

“Lie down flat!”

“You dey craze?!”

The intimidation and yelling came in a deluge. Even though my lord and king here on earth was shielding me with his body, I knew that we were in big trouble.

I felt faith drain from my heart when my husband sank heavily to his knees and started sobbing like a baby.

I felt my jaw drop down to my ample bust. Just then one of the robbers found the light switch and there he was… My behemoth… On his knees, crying.

Big Dan?!

On his knees crying?!

You do not understand… This dude is ‘six five’ two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle. He has bullet scars and knife wounds. We have been married for ten years and he does not talk about his past. He never has. His reputation around town is rock solid. Nobody talks about him openly and it is not because they love him. There is something dark and mysterious about my husband.

His subservience and bawling shocked all four thieves into eerie silence.

The room was not a large one. The big bed took up most of the space. It was a tight fit for all six of us. I should say seven though. My husband’s shoulder is easily as wide as two peoples’.

I was not only distressed but increasingly worried about my husband’s meltdown. The scoundrels emboldened by his submissiveness had now started pistol whipping and slapping his lovely head with open palms.

Emasculating him. Taunting him.

“This your woman go sweet to fuck o!”

My world stood still. My life started to flash before my eyes.

I felt fresh urine exit my bladder without recourse to my will.

All four men were openly ogling me at this point. Two were on either side of my useless husband whilst the other two were shoulder – to – shoulder in front of him.

Till this day, I can not recall the faces of these men. Terror had me looking without sight.

All their eyes were on me, undressing me… I remember how my skin crawled at the thought of what was going to happen to me. I remember starting to shiver uncontrollably. I remember hearing my teeth chatter on their own volition.

“Take off your clothes!”

“Remove all ya dress! Prostitute!!”

“Your ear don block? You no wan obey? I go slap you o!”

I joined my husband and began mindlessly wailing.

The hoodlums roared in maniacal laughter.

I was too terrified to notice anything.

The four thieves may have been high, drunk, high and drunk or just distracted…

My lord and king here on earth suddenly moved like a blur… I heard ‘whooshes’ that all ended with loud thuds.

I kept blinking trying to clear my eyes until one of the robbers fell upon me. I remember screaming and clawing at his face. His weight pushed me back to the wall behind but then he keeled off me oddly and fell to the floor.

I glanced around in confusion and saw another one of them drop lifelessly to his left on the bed. A crimson stain immediately began spreading wider and wider on the white sheets.

I looked up to see the third man clutch his heart. Blood was seeping through his fingers. He was staring blankly at me. He crumpled in a heap and did not move again.

My protector. My warrior. My lover and my husband.

My lord and king here on this earth was somehow behind the fourth man and with a blur of his hand, a geyser of blood erupted from the man’s suddenly slit throat. He went down seemingly trying to claw his sliced open throat back together. His throat was emitting a rattling and gurgly rasp as he bled out in a seizure on the floor.

My lord and king here on this earth was actually the last man standing… He was covered in blood and he had a bloody stilleto in his right hand. He never travels without that weapon. I know it.

He beautifully sculpted body was heaving heavily. His jaw was tense. He was glancing wildly about in a crouch. He looked so Neanderthal…so dangerous… Beautiful danger.

The whole room now reeked of raw eggs and something slightly metallic. My lord and king here on this earth later explained that it was the smell of blood.

No my lovelies. I did not, neither will I ever ask my wild animal how he knows the smell of blood… Are you out of your mind?! This wildling just killed four armed robbers in the blink of my eye!!

Please. Ask. Him. Yourself.

Thank you.

Then my behemoth painstakingly went through the pockets of all the dead and dying men and robbed them. He took all the money he found on them and in the getaway car outside.

He must have gathered a little over a million Naira.

No my lovelies. I did not, neither will I ever ask my wild animal why he fleeced dead and dying criminals of their hard-earned bounties… Are you out of your mind?! This wildling just killed four armed robbers in the blink of my eye!!

Please. Ask. Him. Yourself.

Thank you.

Ælfgifu and the Charm of Sango

El – fgifu:- (El – ghi – foo)

“… Latini\nized form of Ælfgifu, an Old English name derived from ælf “elf” + giefu “gift”, or/and Æðelgifu, from æðel “noble” + giefu “gift”. This was the name of the first wife of the English king Æðelræd (Ethelred) II… ”

#Nameberry.com

“… The Ikogosi Warm Springs is a tourist attraction located at Ikogosi, a town in Ekiti State, southwestern Nigeria.[1] Flowing abreast the warm spring is another cold spring which meets the warm spring at a confluence, each maintaining its thermal properties.[2] These attributes make the spring a tourist attraction in Nigeria.[3] Research suggested that the warm spring has a temperature of about 70oC at the source and 37oC at the confluence.[4]The Ikogosi Warm Springs is a tourist attraction located at Ikogosi, a town in Ekiti State, southwestern Nigeria.[1] Flowing abreast the warm spring is another cold spring which meets the warm spring at a confluence, each maintaining its thermal properties.[2] These attributes make the spring a tourist attraction in Nigeria.[3] Research suggested that the warm spring has a temperature of about 70oC at the source and 37oC at the confluence.[4… “

Wikipedia.

We had no business going all the way to Osun state!

Well, there was that waterfall and the village on top of the hill, but that is a conundrum for another day. That state is where Becky is from… So yeah… I wanted to go see her roots.

I mean where she is from you evil-minded ogre! Nothing else. You are spoiled rotten. We will not last long as friends…

So we ended up in Ekiti State of Nigeria. We were headed to the exotic Ikogosi warm springs. We had a few other stops at waterfalls and shrines.

I have grown accustomed to paranormal issues in my life. I will be just fine.

And so you can imagine how underwhelmed I was when we arrived at the springs and checked in. There was nothing spectacular for me!

We were about seventeen on the team, three Germans, an Indian, an elf (yes you read that right), a bunch of amazing Nigerians and a lesbian. (uhmmm… I’m being mean I know. But she should have said, “yes” to me. I do not like rejection).

Consequently, I speak for myself. But one or two of my fellow #Backpackers agreed with me.

We hit the pool at about nine pm. The pool had just been drained and so we were reduced to splashing in about a foot of lukewarm water…

Tufiakwa!

(expletive, meaning ‘God forbid’). Don’t quote me though, that is what Muchee told me. She should know I think. After all she is an Ibo girl. Not sure which of the Ibo – speaking states she is from. I should dig into her core values.

I mean where she is from you evil-minded ogre! Nothing else. You are spoiled rotten. We will not last as friends…

A ‘tour guide’ had given us what was supposed to be her version of the origin of the Ikogosi warm springs. By the time she was done, I was bashing my head into random Iroko trees just to stay awake.

Darling Jesus, Maranatha!?

By the time our late dinner swung by, I was successfully plucking out my eyelashes. One strand at a time.

It was drizzling outside. It was pitch black too. It was about eleven pm when my team finally fell asleep.

I crept out of my shared room armed with my trusty machete, walking boots, night vision goggles and a small cup (yes you read that right).

I was home free (well not quite) when a voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Hey Sexy…”

It was El-fgifu. Suffice it to say that she is many things to different people. As of tonight, to me, she was misplaced.

I squinted at her beautiful features trying to read her mind.

“Hey baby” I finally replied. “Whatchu doing up?”

“Where are you sneaking off to Sexy?” I hear that she works with her voice in a radio station. I can only imagine the sanctions from the national broadcasting corporation. That woman’s voice is an aphrodisiac!

“If I tell you, I would have to marry you… Or kill you…” I quoted to her.

“Who are you in this body?! Loose him and let him go!!” She recited back at me.

‘If you know, you know.

We both burst out laughing.

We knew.

As I turned away, I heard her voice call out. I turned to see her standing and lifting a locket from around her neck with two hands. She held it up hands slightly apart. The shape of the leather strap to the locket was a perfect triangle.

She said that she wanted to lend me her locket but that I was too tall. She asked me to please take a knee. I am a tall fella, she is all of five feet flat. Her request made a modicum of sense.

She did not allow me touch her or the locket throughout the time . I am not stupid, I knew that that locket was actually a charm she carried around for protection and good luck. And so I gratefully complied. I used to be a prolific womanizer, I have learned to acknowledge a lover’s intuition. As long as she truly loves you.

I walked past the heated waters of the pool and got to the meeting point of the hot and cold streams of water that never mixed. It was pitch black and raining and so I was sure that I was largely unseen by human eyes.

In precise movements, I filled the small cup with equal amounts of the cold and hot waters and quaffed it in one swallow. I knelt in the waters and braced myself… Meditating…

A minute later I rose out of the shallow streams and started up the gangway that held a caution. “DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT”. I broke into a measured jog and vaulted over the wall onto the rocky and uneven forest floor at the other side.

I pulled out my machete and hurried upwards towards the real source of the heated waters of Ikogosi. Sure enough, I saw what I wanted to see. I spent about a minute on my knees doing what I had to do. Maybe one day I will be able to tell you about these things that I saw and did. But right now, I cannot.

I was back over the wall as quickly as I could manage. I was covered in smelly sweat by this time. I had adrenaline coursing through my veins. I was giddy and felt a surge of invincibility.

I got to the pool and decided to take a swim. After all, the warm springs were said to have healing powers.

There were two ladies already enjoying the pool. From a distance, it looked like Becky and Amaka, fellow Backpackers. I dove nude into the pool and began swimming laps. I swam vigorously for about fifteen minutes and then I had to take a break.

I heard Becky call my name and so I waded through the pool to meet them where they were seated under the torrent of steaming water that was filling up the swimming pool.

Though my instincts already knew that they were neither Becky nor Amaka, my legs pulled me toward them on their own volition.

“What did you do?” The first woman asked me. Mild. Gentle. A flirt.

“Do you know what you have done?” The second older (and angrier) woman snapped at me.

I had no idea what to say. Primarily because they were both speaking to me in Yoruba language which I have never spoken, read or understood.

Secondarily because I realized in those seconds that I now somehow understood the said language.

Tertiarily (shut up editor!) because I was now fully aware of who these women were.

My silence seemed to infuriate the second woman because she stood up suddenly and made to touch me.

A small bolt of lightning or was it a livid cackle of static electricity scattered the air in a thunderous boom. They both flinched, screaming in terror.

I placated Oduduwa’s grandchilds’ wives as best as I could. I commended them for working together for the first time in centuries to fight a trespassing sage such as myself. I requested that they go about their fancies and allow me do the same.

By the time I got back to the guest chalets, it was as quiet as a graveyard in the dead of winter.

But El-fgifu was still sitting out drinking out of a cup. An alcoholic beverage I wager.

Why am I not sure about the contents of her cup? After all we were very close as individuals. After all we genuinely knew, liked and respected each other…

You see as I made to remove her locket from around my neck, I noticed that it was no longer on me.

No it did not fall off, it was inexplicably back around El-fgifu’s neck. The charm itself nestled comfortably between her deep cleavage.

It was all too much for me to handle in one night.

I walked past her thoroughly flabbergasted and weary to my bone marrow.

“Goodnight Sexy!” She called after me.

“Good morning Baby… It is two am. See you in a bit” I replied as I walked.

How I Met Your Wife

Hey man…

I greet you.

My efforts at surveillance show me that you have developed an affinity for my blog. So I have decided to ‘talk’ to you here.

I am not sure what you hope to achieve by stalking me in person. Yes I have seen you at least five times this week. I had to beg my friends not to break your leg.

Literally beg.

I begged on your behalf. I do not beg. Yet I begged for you because I know that you are a fool.

Let me address the tiger in the kitchen. Let me confront your problem headon…

Yes I slept with your wife.

Severally.

Are you happy now? I have given you evidence in writing. If you require pictures, please ask me nicely. I will consider your request thoughtfully.

I am not sure what you think you will achieve by following me about. I see you at my book readings. You even bought a copy of all my books. Yes we saw you. You featured prominently via CCTV footage playback. I own that hotel by the way. Your body language piqued the interest of my security outfit.

I saved your life that day too.

Since I suspect that you will soon be murdered, let me help you. Allow me attempt to dilute your foolishness with understanding as concerns your wife.

She is not worth the effort. Your wife is fundamentally disturbed from deep within. You are bereft of the competence her issues require. It is not your fault.

Your woman has the sex drive and morals of an alley cat. She will copulate with anyone. She is open to any sexual deviance, as long as she has Tramadol in her system. She is a junkie. Trust me, the revelation of her list of lovers will hasten your impending death.

Unjustifiably, your affair with her friend upset her beyond belief. She is getting back at you. I suspect that you bedded the said friend in retaliation for adultery. You both need copious amounts of Jesus. Just bask in His presence or something. You both require spiritual help.

I am prominent. I am popular. I am a celebrity. I am your preferred ‘scapegoat’. I understand your myopic reasoning.

Like others before you, mention my name and you will enjoy undivided attention. So I guess it is easy for you to latch unto my legacy and try to get some succor. You will not get an ounce of flesh off me. I am essentially a spirit. You are playing with hurt, a lot of pain, grief and eternal damnation. Your demise will physically hurt you because I will not be there to beg for your life.

My posse have no tender mercies.

Consider this your last warning.

In my world if you “do anyhow; you will see anyhow…”

Your wife was with me for two days and three nights. We met Friday night at my lounge. She left my suite on Monday morning.

She was dressed like a call girl. I hear that she lives in the same house as you. I learned that you were at home when she left to go ‘hang out’ without you or the kids that Friday. I learned all these after that weekend.

You sir, who is incapable of calling your woman to order has the temerity to stalk me?

Me?!

You could not even get junkies to sell you a gun. That aberration you call a sawed – off shotgun will kill you if you ever get to pull its trigger. It is a faulty contraption. Every dude worth his turf on our streets know that gun.

There… I just saved your life again.

Dude… Chill.

Die for a cause more worthy than that succubus you call your wife.

She hates herself.

She hates you.

She even hates the pope. And she is catholic!

She wants you dead, for no tangible reason. She told me so.

You know that I am right.

Her issues were not immediately obvious. She was high and drunk. And I was uncharacteristically immoral that weekend.

As of thirty minutes ago, she is still maintaining her lie of not being married. If you ask nicely, I may ‘munch’ that chat and send to you.

Charity begins at home. Sort it out with her.

If you are seen stalking me again…

Well…

Let’s Call Her ‘Vitiligo’

Many years ago, I was a struggling young man. I had no money. I did not have a car. I was at the mercy of public transportation.

One day I had to fix all three of my wristwatches. So I went to the main market to have them sorted out.

I was sitting in front of the artisan that day, and there was a mosque behind me. I was smack in the middle of the market.

Ever hear the folklore about looking between your legs in a marketplace? They say you will see spirits or dead entities. Another version says you will see them upside down. Well… I’m the kind of person who likes to check up on stuff like this.

And so at some point I stood up and pretended to stretch. I finished my deception by bending to touch my toes and looked between my shoulder – wide feet. Despite the throng in the marketplace that day, I saw ‘someone’ immediately.

And she froze midstride.

I stood up ramrod like a statue. I knew that I was in trouble.

I sat back slowly and through my peripheral saw her still looking at me. Same position. Same person.
She was tall. Shapely. Nothing too much. But she had vitiligo. Patches around her mouth and neck.
I soon left in a hurry. Ran out of the market to the car park and got into public transportation. I moved suddenly. There was no way she could have caught up with me.
I was seated in front with the driver. Passengers quickly filled up the cab and (to my great relief) we were soon on our way.
I felt eyes locked to the back of my head at some point. Like lasers boring into my medulla. I turned slowly and locked eyes with Vitiligo. Yeah, let us call her that.
I panicked! A street before my stop I disembarked and bolted through an alley.

I arrived home panting and shaking.

About fifteen minutes later I walked outside for some reason I cannot recall and saw her standing outside my fence. Staring at me. I bolted bank inside.
She hounded me over the next few days.

It got so bad that my neighbors moved out citing spiritual harassment. They told me that a lady with patches on her face kept tormenting at night.

I had a girlfriend in that year. She broke up with me and ran. She said a spirit was harassing her at my place. Especially when she closed her eyes to sleep in my room. Day or night, she would suffer bad dreams. He’s the culprit was a woman with vitiligo.
My brother and I shared my humble abode. He began to suffer severe sleep apnea. In all his nightmares, a woman with vivid patches on her face and neck would sit on his chest and smother him until he woke up screaming in terror.
I would be at church and feel eyes staring at me. Sure enough, I would turn around and see her standing not too far behind me.
She was just outside my door at work. Staring at me.
Now, it was obvious to me after the first week that ;

I was the only one who could see her without fear.

I was the only one who she was not tormenting. At least not in a life threatening manner.
She could not, or would not harm me.
And so I did the only thing reasonable…
I set my alarm for twelve midnight and woke up by said time.

I walked outside and sat on a wooden bench that was more of a death trap than bench.

Sure enough she was outside by the fence.
I beckoned her over and she acquiesced.

I invited her to sit down by my side, and she complied wordlessly.

I turned to face her, looking straight into her eyes and apologized for my stupidity and immaturity.
I requested that she forgive me and go about her previous endeavors going forward.

I promised her that I would not be doing anything as stupid going forward.

She got up and without saying a word, vanished.

I have not heard of, or seen her since.

The Day She Died…

We had been quarreling for a while now.

Every little thing seemed to set us off. We were fighting ninety percent of the time these days.

Deola was starting to look like a good replacement..

Deola… Ah… ‘Dee’ as I loved to call her. Buxom. Nubian beauty. Bold and forthright. She had been hitting on me with a vengeance for months. She was promising me ‘heaven on earth’. She told me that she was game ‘whatever, wherever, whenever’, that all I had to do was ask.

Chaaaiiii!

Chika was nagging again. Her gratey voice snapped me out of my reverie.

Chikadibia… Sigh… So beautiful that it was not fair. As smart as starched military khakis too. Her mind is astronomical! It also helped that she was the only woman I knew via recent experiences that could handle me sexually.

That day we were arguing about a wedding she wanted to attend. I had told her that she could not go. She was livid. She was trying to make my life a living hell.

Throughout her tirade I was ‘sexting’ with Deola. Mild stuff.

But,

Deola was starting to look like a good replacement.

Long story short, Chika defied my instructions and went for the wedding. (I am that sort of boyfriend, get over yourself. Thankfully, I am not dating you).

I was seated in my opulent den when she returned. She sashayed toward me, smiling like nothing was wrong. She bent over and leaned in and kissed my cheek and then sat down beside me.

Something inside my head snapped. Audibly I am sure.

I let loose a vile litany of invectives. I was well into giving her a piece of my mind when the corner of her mouth started twitching.

Little tics at first. Then sight tremors and finally that side of her mouth began to twitch.

But I was on a roll.

I had just begun cursing her out, (yes it is that sort of relationship, get over yourself. Thankfully, I am not dating you) when I perceived that all was not well.

My sick, twisted, wicked and premeditated words dried up instantly.

The second I saw the corner of her mouth droop just a fraction of an inch. I bolted out of the room.

By the time I returned with my car keys, she was slumped on the floor face down.

I had her in the hospital about thirteen minutes later. The nurses had her on oxygen and hooked up to a few machines. They were starting to check her blood pressure. They were also trying to get blood from her arm to run some tests.

Chika suddenly stiffened, and then started to stretch unnaturally. Then she seemed to crumple… Then stiffen… Then crumple. It was clearly a bizarre death dance.

Pandemonium broke out. It was grotesque sight. Her previously beautiful face was scrunched up in a series of revolting rictuses.

I was standing by the door. I am a big and tall man, the nurses needed all the space they could get. I had just closed my eyes to pray for her when I heard her start to convulse.

The seizures were so violent that the hospital bed was bouncing off the white tiles of the floor.

I forced the deepest calm I could muster and from within began to pray for her. Inaudibly I think. I did not want her to die. Not because I would have to explain what happened, but because I loved Chika.

I am not sure how long I prayed, but it can’t have been for more than a few seconds… When someone, something prompted me to open my eyes.

I saw a vertical plume of light slowly rise from Chika and slowly start to ascend. I darted forward and held the light.

Yes, you read that right. Until I did it I did not know it to be possible. But it felt like the only move I had. And it worked because I was now somehow holding Chika by the wrist.

On the bed, she had flatlined and the nurses were still struggling to resuscitate her.

Here, about a meter away I was holding on to her spirit.

“Baby-m… (term of endearment, ‘my baby’) please don’t go… Please baby don’t leave me” I begged her celestial version.

“It is time Igwe. My time has come.” She objectively reported.

“Chika, I am sorry!” I remember crying out audibly.

The nurses were practicing CPR on her earth suit at this point. One of the nurses had her hands on her head and was weeping quite loudly.

“Igwe I forgive you… Don’t worry… I am tired… Bye – bye…” She told me in a sad voice. Her guileless eyes held proof of forgiveness. Her entire visage was devoid of malice or ill will.

Chaaaiiii!

Never! Not on my watch!! So I employed the only strategy that I could. I uttered words that I knew would touch Chika’s spirit. A suggestion that was sincere. It would be tendered from my spirit to hers.

“Chikadibia, I want you to be my wife. I want you to give birth to children for us… I will go and see your parents tomorrow.”

Time froze for an instant.

She looked into my eyes for a while. Then she turned around and returned into her earth suit.

Then all of her as I knew it slowly sat up on the bed.

The nurses fled in terror when she sat up slowly. Hospital sheet sliding off to reveal her impossibly beautiful face. They ran because she had just been pronounced, ‘dead’.

We have been married for thirteen years now.

We have three children.

Two girls and a boy.

About Last Night

#may16

Dear Tommy,

Sup?!

I’m sure Ayisha called you. Hmmm I can only imagine what she told you. Saw your calls, I could not pick up. I am not myself.

As you know, yesterday was my birthday and I also launched ‘MAY 16’ my new novel. Ayisha rallied around and did her bit. It was satisfactory. I expected more from my girlfriend and mother of my one child, but that is not my issue now.

Nneka called me. Yes the same Nneka. You of all people know that I am in good terms with ALL of my ex’s. But because of Ayisha I have pushed Nneka far away. I do not want to go through that type of public fiasco again.

Anyways she called me to wish me a happy birthday and then she told me that she still loved me and always would. She also said that she would leave any man for me. She said that she could do anything for me. I told her that I loved her too and wished her well in her upcoming marriage.

Are you with me so far!?

At about six pm yesterday, she called and invited me to her lounge. Now we are in the same social groups and in the same social networks. We always use her lounge for ‘surprise’ birthdays. It is an open secret. It is not rocket science to our circle of friends anymore.

I assumed that it was my turn.

Are you following me so far?

When I got there, sure enough the place was filled with the same usual suspects. I still thought they would do something and wish me a happy birthday.

Nneka owns the lounge so she ordered a bottle of Hennessy for both of us. We were all up in the VIP.

I lost track of anything after two shots. You and I know that it would take a full bottle of Hennessy to get me inebriated. I believe that she slipped in a roofie or something.

I was in and out of consciousness for a while. I came to at one point and she was having sex with me. I was sitting and she was on top. We were still in the lounge because I could hear music. We had unprotected sex.

At another point when I surfaced from the haze she was in my lap crying. At another point, we were having sex again. And again she was on top.

Her wedding is in a week. Even when we dated, we always used condoms. And I know her, she is the purest of souls. As you know, the only reason we parted ways was because Ayisha got pregnant. Nneka could not handle that curve ball. But shortly after, even you know that she tried to come back. You know that if I asked Nneka to marry me right now, she would.

So why would she do this? I know why…

Anyways, I don’t know how I got home. I woke up before dawn to Ayisha physically assaulting me. She beat me out of sleep yelling out that I cheated on her. The insecure woman had stripped me naked as I slept. Not to make me comfortable, but to sniff my private parts. She found what she was looking for.

I did not retaliate. I got dressed and left the house. The entire neighbors were out and had even called the police. I left before they arrived.

In other news, the writers residency to Canada came in two days ago. I have been offered a three month residency to finish my next book. I have accepted as at eight am this morning.

So why did Nneka do it? Simple… Her wedding is in a few days, and she would rather be with me. Since she cannot yet, she has taken my seed. She and her husband are going to raise me and her baby without his knowing. Or consent.

They are relocating to Canada.

Are you still following me?!

I hope to see Nneka in a few hours. I will try to get her to cancel her wedding and marry me. She is not picking up my calls though. I do not think she intends to ever pick up again.

If I fail to see her (I do not think she intends to ever see me again), I will have at least three months to locate her in Canada.

Why?

She went to an extreme I appreciate. Our separation was not because of lack of love. Nneka would die for me. That is the kind of woman I want.

I am not leaving Ayisha because she assaulted me. It is just that right now I know that it is Nneka I want.

I have dumped my cell phone number. The police are looking for me I hear. Ayisha is at work again, maligning my good name. You know she has clout. Lol, I am in so much trouble!

I will call you in a week. I will use the ‘Hotspot maneuver’… Wink…

Tell mummy. She will understand. Get her to tell daddy.

It will all work out… You know who I am and what I can do. Have I ever failed in anything I really wanted? So do not worry. Just pacify Ayisha and buy me four months. Or better still just check up on Myra for me often and stay out of me and Ayisha’s drama.

Aiight… This is your favorite black sheep brother bleating on up outta here!

Peace!

P. S: Go to my ‘safe house’, key is by the fountain, under ‘that’ stone… ENJOY! wink… Wink…