As told to the wonderful audience at the storyteller series 2…
Please let me know your thoughts.
As told to the wonderful audience at the storyteller series 2…
Please let me know your thoughts.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
P. S: Go to my ‘safe house’, key is by the fountain, under ‘that’ stone… ENJOY! wink… Wink…
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“… May brings enchantment with its seasonal changes, ushering movement of the metaphysical kind.. It is a magical concept…”
“… Imagine knowing both the analytical and spiritual aspects of yourself. Imagine being intuitively connected to ancient wisdom. And continually analyzing yourself and coming to independent conclusions about yourself in relation to everything around you.
Sixteen stories. Sixteen pillars of light.
I pray that you see them, and be thus enlightened.
Funny thing is
Things are not going well with us
No… Not us, us!
We are not talking
We are both sulking
It’s ‘HI!’ whilst walking.
We’re not making love
Not just her…, you!
Celibate with you two.
Sigh… You are all the same
I am what I am
Coulda woulda shoulda… Shame!
“Farin Ruwa Falls is a waterfall found in the central region of Nigeria. It is among the highest waterfalls in Nigeria. It is significant among Africa’s falls when the total height covered by the waterfall is considered.
“She is so blissfully naive!” I remember thinking as I spoke to Cherie.
Cherie was also an astounding romantic. She was a nice person.
In a few hours from when I first spoke to her, I would confirm that she too possessed the ‘X-Factor‘… One of us rare individuals who have the mystic cross(es) etched in their palms naturally.
Cherie has absolutely nothing to do with the story I am about to tell. I want her though. I want a new protégé. I need a muse esoteric.
The distance from the village closest to the Farin Ruwa Falls is about five kilometers from the falls. In the event that you overzealously decide to measure the distance, and my estimate falls short… Fuck you very much. Hehehehehe…
About a kilometer from the falls, you meet the two gentlemen who function as officials. They give you the normal talk and then lead you through an undulating depreciated man-made pathway through a corridor of trees so sparsely spaced it looks slightly unnatural.
But it is all beautiful.
The waterfall is nice…
Water is cool…
Blah… Blah… Blah…
I was being a gentleman and carrying Cherie’s backpack. At some point, she told me that I was a nice man. I remember replying that, “I am not a nice person; but I can be nice.”
Cherie has absolutely nothing to do with the story I am telling. I want her though. I want a new protégé. I need a muse esoteric.
Later that evening, after we had all returned to our Wamba campsite, we started to barbecue turkey, goat and fish.
I made sure to be positioned just by the shadows. I made sure that I was well noticed for about three hours. And then at a moment most auspicious, I faded off into the night.
I hiked back to the waterfalls. I covered the distance in about ninety minutes.
I gingerly approached the edge of the pathway where the officials would always start their talk, just before the first few cement steps bordered on one side by a very shaky metal hand rail.
Opposite that stretch of steps was a dilapidated hut. Earlier that day, the waterfall official had confirmed my suspicion that the place was a shrine. Long before white missionaries affected their traditions, chief priests would hike up to this point and consult the gods on issues ranging from permission to go to war and which crops would prosper during the farming season ahead.
I understood that there was usually one chief priest. The priest’s tenure was usually by spiritual appointment. The custom was dead though. Overrun by civilization and Christianity.
But earlier, my nostrils had caught a whiff of a distinct sweat type. Don’t bother asking me how, only my nose truly knows. I have learned to trust my instincts. In my line of work, instincts are paramount.
It was a waning full moon and so visibility was above average for that time of the night. The air had a zephyr that came and went every forty seconds or so.
I sat in the darkness on the forest floor Dandasana style and slowly dropped my heart beat and pulses to a significantly slower speed.
I am not sure how long it took me to ‘confirm’ (hear/feel minute movement and then perceive a scent/smell), but it typically takes a little over ten minutes.
I remained statue still and patiently waited.
From within the ruins of the dilapidated hut, a figure gingerly extracted itself from a hole in the ground. It glanced around furtively and cautiously stepped out of the ruins into the open.
This was who I was here for. ‘My client’ was quite specific. They just forgot to mention that it was a woman. Not that it would have mattered anyway.
Her bromhidrosis was quite bad. In the open, that body odor was really strong. She was wearing a simple dress that was so old it had become threadbare. She should not have bothered with the dress, there was little left to the imagination. Even under moonlight.
She barely had the time to react before I was upon her. I am a freakishly strong person, but she had strength like I had never seen in a woman. She trashed, bucked and writhed about like a catfish in a barrel evading capture. I had her wrists and ankles tied up firmly within a minute nonetheless. A few seconds to gag her too.
I activated my transmitter after deciding that a flare would be too overt. From that second, I had seven minutes to get to the muster point half a kilometer NW.
I picked her up in a fireman’s carry and began a slow run. She was not heavy and I had adrenaline in full circulation. I made it to the spot under five minutes. I therefore had about ninety seconds to understand who I was kidnapping.
I found my kit and secured the perimeter. I quickly donned night vision goggles, Honey Badger low visibility carbine, complete with a suppressor went under my left armpit, two stun grenades went into each pocket of my combat pants. I set off four smoke screens in a distinct pattern… I now had about sixty seconds to evacuation.
She was an albino. Her eyes had cataracts so bad I was sure she was blind. Her breasts were quite large and had almost no droop… She was not older than twenty two. She was whimpering and shivering uncontrollably.
I heard the sound of the apache and saw them toss out more smokescreen. I confirmed perimeter security via ‘comms’ and retreated for the pick up.
She was extracted in thirty two seconds.
I was jogging back to the campsite in Wamba by the thirty fifth second.
I got back without incident and showered briskly. It was about three am. I requested for an Uber online.
The cab arrived as requested by 7:30 am. I left the Wamba campsite citing ‘family emergencies’.
I do not know what ‘my client’ wants with an albino chief priestess from Wamba. Or how they knew that she existed in the first place. I try not to get involved. I am a professional.