Mayo KamĀ 

I am not originally a BackpackerĀ®.

I only signed up for this trip because I was tired. I was tired of life. 

I was tired of being alive. I actually went on that trip hoping to die. Misadventure, murder, animal attack… Anything. Even via the auspices of the pack of prescription sleeping tablets I had stashed away just in case my mind got made up. 

Mayo Kam. 

River Kam. 

Yes, I believe ‘Mayo’ means ‘river’. The waters were deep, clean and cold. We were soberly lectured by the park rangers that a tourist fell in and drowned about a year ago. I so wished it had been me! 

Listen, Mayo Kam is an excellent place to camp. Especially during the dry season when the waters have shrunk and left more sand and land in its wake. There is no mobile service in the Gashaka Gumti Game Reserve. If you are Nature’s kid, you have a home there. It is truly amazing. It is beautiful, pure and largely unsullied. 

We were eleven Backpackers in all. Two heavily armed park rangers and four local fishermen that met up with us by the camp site. 

Leinad, Raj, Rebecca, Henry, Bashiru, Noorah, Joanne, James, ‘Long John’, Sarai…and me. Enez. 

Lovely, lovely people. Diverse experiences, countries and character. Never a dull moment with the Backpackers. Yet I was dead inside. 

I was not sure of the time, but I was positive that the day was Saturday. For two reasons:- Firstly, there was going to be a Super moon tonight, and a lunar eclipse of some sort. Secondly, today was supposed to be my wedding day. 

Cards printed. Venue paid for. Ivory white sleeveless wedding gown bought. Everyone that knew me in any capacity was aware. And why not? I was twenty five years old, I was in love with the only man I gave my spirit, soul and body to. He knew that even Jesus took a back seat when he arrived. Yet… Yet… He PUBLICLY called off the wedding after mandatory blood tests revealed that we were both HIV positive. As in, why?! Who does that?!! HE knew that he had infected me, I was his submissive emotionally and physically! 

My mum consequently suffered a stroke. My dad tried to kill me twice. I tried to ‘kill me’ twice… I was the brunt of every joke. An object of pity and ridicule. The subject of many conversations. All of these inside a week. 

And so I fled with the Backpackers, to this remote and dangerous adventure, hoping I would die. By my own hand or otherwise. 

Leinad was making it hard though. To kill myself I mean. Or to even suffer injury for that matter. He was clearly interested in me. Men! They are so predictable, they would fuck anything given half the chance. 

The fishermen arrived at dusk and immediately set about fishing roughly five hundred meters away upstream. They brought their own gear and so ours was redundant. While the rest of the female Backpackers fussed over roasting yam tubers and frying tomatoes, onions and peppers to make a sauce for the imminent fish, I somehow anchored three hooks together and found a spot on a boulder and began to fish. 

Faithful and loyal Leinad tarried beside me in abject misery until my dark mood forced him to seek lighter spirits. He joined the group by the large fire and soon forgot about me. 

A short time later, I got a bite and expertly reeled it in. It was a foot long indigenous catfish specie. It paled in comparison to the humongous sizes the fishermen were catching and so I killed it just as my dad taught me years ago and decided to use it as bait. I had just tossed my line into the water when I got called to supper. I wedged the flexible but strong fishing rod in a two foot deep crevice, and left. 

I woke up reluctantly sometime during the night. I badly needed to pee, but my sleeping bag was very cosy. Besides everyone, including the park rangers, was asleep. I guessed that it was about midnight. It was pitch black outside the influence of the camp fire light. 

One look at the sky decided me. I got up and walked towards the river and did my business in a hole I dug in the sand. I was just rounding up when I heard something thrashing about weakly in the water. I intuitively knew that my line had caught something big. I was up the boulder in a flash and back down with my fishing rod. 

I think that all three hooks played a part in my catch. I think that the crevice helped wear down the fish. I think that the super moon and it’s unusual brightness lured that fish from the deep.

It was the largest fish I had ever seen in my life! It was not a shark or anything predatory. I think the locals call it ‘water elephant’ or ‘Giwan Ruwa’ in Hausa. 

It was beautiful. I was not afraid. Death by this fish if it could would be welcome anyways. And so I darted knee deep into the treacherously cold and fast flowing water and dug my left hand into its gills and began pulling it ashore. 

I came to pee in the bikini bottom of a two-piece swim suit, with just a hoodie over me and the bikini bottom. The rocks under the water were slippery and sharp. The humongous fish clearly did not want to leave the water… I was almost drowning within seven minutes. 

Whatever I lack as a woman; big boobs, bubble butt et al… came to my aid that night. I used all of the six feet of lithe physiognomy I possessed to lever my catch out of the water. 

The fish was only a little shorter than me. My left hand was still locked under it’s gills. That hand was now numb. I locked my right hand into the gills on the opposite side of its head, sidestepped the last foot or so onto the sand and lunged, pulled and lifted in one explosive move. 

I landed on my right side painfully with the fish’s head between my thighs. Both my hands still gripping it tightly. I was exhausted! My breath was raggedy and labored. I was wet and cold, I was shivering and shuddering – (from hypothermia, shock and adrenaline). 

As I slowly caught my breath, the fish too started to calm. As I slowly warmed up from the heat my body was producing, so did the fish.

But I knew that something was wrong… and so I slowly eased off my painfully cramped fingers and looked down at the fish. 

It now had long hair and was a naked girl. I could feel her cheeks on the insides of my thighs. I could feel her cleavage on both sides of my right thigh. 

I was by now hyperventilating in shock. But I was spent, lactic acid had built up to the detriment of my muscles. I simply could not move. 

And then she started convulsing; flopping about in a most unnatural way.  I did not need to be told, she was dying. 

I successfully struggled to sit up. I held both her shoulders and began to push her back into the water… But the sand and my tired body impeded my noble intentions. 

I began to weep. Not just because of there and then, but because of before. I finally got to cry at the injustices, at the curse of being a woman in Africa, at being ‘the weaker sex’. I was simply so exhausted and tired on the inside and outside. All I could do was to keep stroking her hair and back babbling, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…’ over and over again. 

I learned something that night; we are spirits and we live in physical bodies. At some point she stopped shivering and translated. I felt her leave. She was not her body, she was gone. Her body went limp, numb and cold. I saw her stand beside me wearing a look of slight confusion and wonder. 

“Please, I didn’t mean to… I am so sorry!” Were my exact words to her. 

She looked down at me for a while and then her beautiful face softened. She knelt beside me and then blew softly on my face, and then lightly kissed my lips. 

“Enez…baby girl… Wake up!”

“Did you frigging catch this behemoth?!” Leinad’s handsome face inquired in disbelief. 

It was about dawn, not quite bright yet. I made him help push the fish back in the water. We watched it bob in one spot eerily before it sank suddenly. 

I shivered suddenly and hugged myself. To my utter amazement, I was bustier! I groped my new and improved breasts in confusion. I looked up at Leinad and the look of pure lust on his face terrified and thrilled me. 

I am no longer ill. Have not been ill since that day, not a cold, rash or headache. I am at peace. I am rich and I am wealthy. I am happy. 

P. S: “Please, I didn’t mean to… I am so sorry!”

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The Greedy Slut

Last month was February. 

My boyfriend was hard up and so I knew that I would not be getting any extravagant gifts. But I wanted an iPhone. I wanted the iPhone 7 Plus specifically. All my friends had one. It cost a lot, but I do not earn a lot. 

“Use what you got girl!” Elena had coyly whispered. 

What I had was just a vagina. Vagina’s are overrated really. 

I am hot, lightskinned and endowed. Men have always wanted me. 

But then there was Dapo. We were in a committed relationship. He is the sweetest man ever, and he loves me to bits. But in Elena’s words, 

“Na who love help?!”

Dapo though is fiercely territorial and possessive. He is a very intuitive and a very intelligent person. He is not someone you could cuckold. He is almost impossible to cheat on. He knew my body even better than I did. Down to the days, duration and dynamics of my menstrual cycle, he knew. 

I was not willing to break up with him just to date someone who would buy me expensive stuff. But I wanted that iPhone. 

I know how to manipulate a man any way I prefer. And so I chose a mark off my many admirers and strung him on. He would buy me the phone without laying a finger on me. 

Ladies back me up on this, we have this gift; 

A free lunch, a date to see a new movie, airtime recharge vouchers or a trip to the salon, we all have that ‘ATM-man’ or several of them we can manipulate to achieve this or that

I told Dapo that I had to go for a meeting in church that evening. As he knew, the church had a Night of Bliss programme coming up. He nodded his consent and then I got him to drop me off at the church. 

My ‘ATM’ came by about an hour later and we left in his well-maintained Honda Pilot. He was obviously rich. He was well dressed and smelled even better. But he not very good looking. He was nervous and eager to please. He could not get his eyes off my breasts, the lecherous pervert kept licking his thick lips as he overtly undressed me with his eyes. 

He let me choose where we would go and so I chose the Elephant Bar at the Sheraton hotels. No danger of running into anyone I knew there. 

The date went very well. Dapo had surprisingly not called, and my ‘ATM’ was so much in lust that he promised to give me the $769 in cash that same night. 

True to his word, he did. In crisp dollar bills. In appreciation, after tucking the bills away safely, I allowed him to occasionally stroke and grope my boobs. What a girl goes through! 

We were by this time driving back and not too far from the church when he suddenly swerved off the road, parked and practically jumped me! It took a couple of seconds for me to realize that I was suddenly in hot water. 

Then I began to struggle with him. He was as though possessed. He somehow broke my bra strap and the top buttons of my silk blouse. His face dove down to my exposed breasts while his hand went under my skirt. As his fingers grazed my covered pubis, fear spurred me into violence. I clenched my Samsung Edge tightly and viciously drove it into his head slobbering over my breasts. I felt the phone splinter as he howled in agony. He raised his head and before he could bring his hands to check his injury, I speared the phone into his face. He screamed even louder. 

I was out of his car and running blindly back the way we came. I heard him come out and begin pursuit. I was wearing a pair of flat shoes, but my skirt was a tad too tight. He was gaining on me quickly. 

It was about eight pm and it was dark. Not surprisingly, the road was deserted. The church is located in a fairly undeveloped area of town. I instinctively knew that I was going to die horribly if he caught up with me. 

My untethered breasts were wildly flapping about, clutch purse containing the cursed dollar bills and hot tears of regret, terror and resignation all impeded my race for life. 

“God…! Please…!! Help!!!”I remember hoarsely crying out over and over again as I ran. 

Just then I saw a car approaching at full speed, it had the oh so familiar halogen headlight and fog light off on the right side. Dare I hope? Dapo’s Toyota Camry! 

He drove past me and slammed his brakes between me and my pursuer. The suddenness of Dapo’s maneuver caused my ‘ATM’ to practically run into the front of the car in a head on collision. The impact sent him flailing backwards in ungainly heel-over-head somersaults. 

By now,  I was in Dapo’s car. He put the car in reverse and gunned the engine ferociously, after a few meters he executed a flawless hand brake turn and then we were on our way home. 

He kept his eyes and face grimly on the road. His expression was inscrutable. I remember crying… No, edit that, bawling all the way home. Sweet Lord I cried! 

“Dapo… I’m sorry… Please…??”

Not one word. Not one syllable. 

I remember thinking then that we were over. I know his silence. It is not a good thing. I hung my head in grief and sobbed some more. 

Then we were suddenly parked in front of our apartment. He got out and walked away behind the vehicle. I originally thought that he was coming to get the door for me until I saw our front door open and Dapo come out looking worried. 

I stepped out of the car slowly. I cannot describe my state of mind, please try to understand. 

I was trapped standing, was I to run to this Dapo or to the other one… that was suddenly no where to be found?

“Baby what happened? Why is your blouse torn? Talk to me…! Why are you crying? How…Did I leave my car open?”

I dropped in a dead faint.  

I am a greedy slut. 

At least I used to be. 

I could regal you with the reasons why I was the way I was, but I will save you the tirade. 

I am not a good person. But these days I try daily to be a better woman. Experience they say is the best teacher.