My name is Leonel Afamdi Igwe. I am 32 years old. A psychologist, hypnotherapist and a hotel entrepreneur. I speak Yoruba, Hausa, French and pidgin. I don’t speak Igbo, so please stop calling me your brother. About brothers, I have two of them and they are soldiers. My father is also a soldier, the only field marshal in Nigeria, a title he conferred on himself which no one had the balls to oppose. I once had a sister but she died. She didn’t even know who I was. I have aunts and uncles and cousins I can’t count and a grandfather too rich to imagine, he stopped counting his money years ago when his account read $987, 654, 3210… Everyone’s waiting for him to die but he might outlive us all. Some call him Baba Die-hard.
I love to play football and computer games. I watch movies during the weekend, that is if I am not rolling under the sheets with some hot chick. I am a ladies’ man and I make no apologies for that. I love them; they love me, what can I say? I like my beer, cocktails, fried rice and payback served cold. I don’t have any of those dumb talents like singing, dancing, acting, writing or cooking. I only have talent for making money. #AuthenticIgboBoy. I’m still not your brother. I have tons of friends. Most of them want my money and I am very generous with it if only they grew boobs and vaginas.
I love God, I just don’t show it. Funny thing, I go to church regularly, pay my tithe and all that but the moment the pastor starts over-dwelling on fornication, I’m out of there.
I am normal-looking, quite tall, dark complexioned like my father with a scar on my forehead but it’s my eyes that tag me as ‘handsome’. Girls just want to strip nude when I look at them and I don’t get it. Some chick once told me she was making love to my eyes and not me. I dumped her. Yes, I am like that. Arrogant and nice at the same time; I change like neon lights. I change because I cannot help myself. I have a disorder…
My name is Daniel Afamdi Igwe. Some person called Leonel lives in me. He has for 17 years now. He is a sorry son of a depraved, wanton, vile man. I am not Leonel; Leonel is not me. We are very different. I pray every morning and night because I believe I am a good man but what good I do, he destroys. I dream, he kills it. I fall in love, he makes it. I seek God, he deserts Him. Leonel does his best to ruin my life. Imagine waking up in the arms of some nameless girl with smudged make-up, smelling of sex I never had and demanding that I drive her home. That’s what he does to me. He always leaves me to clean his mess.
I love to write but I have always get blank after the first few lines. How I am writing this, I know not. I love guns and when I hold them, I intend to use them. If there’s nothing or no one to shoot, I shoot myself. I feel no pain but my heart aches for love. I long to be with family, with my mother though she is long gone. I hate my father for this.
I am in love with a girl. Her name is Kyenpia. She will bear my child but she has no idea. I’ll do whatever it takes to have her and she will be mine forever. But first I have to come out and play and leave mines Leonel would step on. I don’t intend to kill him but to weaken him until the time he bends to my will and we merge into one. There is one big problem, though, this other shadow that lives inside of me…
They call me Spirit. Other times, I am called Leonel or Daniel though I am neither. I am a collection of dreams and aspirations a father once wished upon his son. I am what you would call a generational sin, a curse passed down from a forefather. Dormant I was for decades until I found a perfect host. I am ruthless and care not for anything except my desires. I am accountable to no one because I simply do not exist. Call me a shadow and I will remain that way for that is what I really am.
Did I mention I love women?
Part 1: HOW STELLA GOT HER GROOVE BACK
I always seem to be in trouble. I get up in the morning, take my bath, dress up, leave my apartment and jump into trouble. Somewhere in the middle, I have meaningless sex.
Once upon a time when I was 26 years old, I met a woman whose biological clock had just ticked a few weeks past 33. Her name was Stella. She was my type—creamy chocolate skin, full backside, a gorgeous face, fashionable and very bubbly. At first, she thought she was dealing with a child until I re-educated her on what sex was. After our third night together, she said she was in love with me. I thought it was a joke but the chick just wouldn’t let me be from that moment. I was introduced to her friends a month later. Five fat sugar-mommies, horny as hell and desperately looking for cubs like me to destroy. She told them how I double-rainbowed on her every night and they all began to circle round me like jackals surrounding their prey. They asked if I had friends and I lied. One of them joked about all of us having a sevensome and I almost threw up. That night while in bed, not with Stella, I decided to end the relationship with her. When I told her the next day, she was devastated and cried like a baby. Women are all the same—young, old, rich, poor—they are just too emotional. The breakup was nasty and I had to travel out for a while before she stopped stalking me. She promised to make my life a living hell and I thought she was kidding until I saw her in January at a the lounge bar in my hotel.
Now 39 and still unmarried, she was fat and depressed. Her friends were with her. One was wearing a wedding ring or was it something her babalawo had given her?
“Leo!” Angie, the slimmest amongst them called and I grit my teeth tightly. I had seen them but pretended not to. I was hurrying outside to meet my guys waiting for me.
“Hello ladies,” I smiled blandly and walked to them.
“Oh my goodness! You are so hawt!” Angie said.
“He’s been hot ever since,” Buckteeth commented. I don’t know her name and that’s because I never saw the rest of her; I only used see her teeth and they were still there staring at me like bulldozers.
“Why don’t you sit with us? It’s Stella’s birthday,” said Titi, Stella’s best friend. Stella looked at me, searching my face. I saw hope in her eyes and crushed it.
“I am sorry, ladies. My fiance’s waiting for me. Happy birthday, Stella.”
“Sit down, Leonel.” Sugar pulled me and sat me down hard on a chair that materialized out of nowhere. Sugar was the leader of the gang; she was heavily wadded and called the shots. She scared the hell out of me. “Just a drink, baby,” she winked at me and her hand stroked my thigh briefly. “I’m sure your sweet, little thing won’t hassle if you got to her thirty minutes late.”
I thought of Ada. She would be dressed in her shorts and tank top, watching TV but seriously wondering if tonight would be the night I would finally pop her cherry.
“So what have you been up to, handsome?” Amina asked. She was the one with the wedding ring.
“Well, you know, this and that,” I answered and pinged one of my friends to inform them to go on ahead without me. Sugar stretched for my phone and took it and made sure her hand remained on mine a second longer.
“No phones when friends hang out ,” she said and that was the last I saw of that phone. My cocktail was brought. It was a Jus de Bissap. Stella remembered it was my favorite. I saw her smiling as I put the drink to my lips and I smiled back. I would later realize that smile meant something sinister.
“Just to keep you updated,” Buckteeth said, “Amina got married…”
“To a complete idiot!” Sugar completed and they all laughed, including Amina. No one dared oppose her.
“Wow! Congratulations, Amina,” I said. She beamed back and they began to tell me all about themselves and what they had been doing these past six years. Sugar got married to her third husband and divorced him, Buckteeth now ran a boutique in VI, Angie was duped by her boy toy who made away with all her life’s earnings, Titi was pregnant for a senator and Stella… Well, I didn’t miss anything in Stella’s life. She was still crazy for me.
An hour into all this update, I started feeling really tickled in my pants and apart from that, slightly woozy. Being a sharp guy and all, I put two and two together and arrived at the conclusion that I had been drugged. The thought amused me tensely. Stella knew me. She didn’t have to go through these lengths to get me to satisfy her. I could last all night and all day if she wanted. All I needed was my ego stroked and dirty talk…
“Are you okay?” Sugar touched my thigh again and I responded in a way demeaning to my person. I sprang up immediately from my seat and pulled my shirt down to cover my crotch area.
“Ladies, I have to go,” I said, steadying myself but Sugar pulled me down.
“That was quite rude, baby,” she smiled. “Stay a little longer.”
And they all burst out laughing. It was supposed to be a dirty joke but I didn’t get it. Their voices were to me a bad song slowing in warbled tones. I knew what they had given me but couldn’t remember the name; it was to make me more compliant. I knew the other was a drug starting with V. Veegra, Vagra, Viagra, Vigran, Vagrin, Viagra!
“Did any of you slip Viagra into my drink?” I asked and they roared in laughter again. I looked at them through half-closed eyes and giggled at first, then let myself go, laughing heartily. I laughed and laughed and laughed. God, I wished I had stopped and saved my energy but I couldn’t stop laughing. Everything was funny and everything else around me needed to be felt. Breasts spilled in my face, soft hands rubbed my body and lips pushed themselves at me and I don’t remember how I left that table and ended in my suite with five extremely randy women. It was not consensual what happened that night. I was abused, manhandled, despoiled, molested and raped brutally. I begged and cried like a baby and begged again for my life but Stella and her friends were cruel beyond understanding and after four endless hours, as I neared the gates of immortality, they left me. I managed to crawl in a pool of my blood to the only connected phone in the suite hanging on the bathroom wall of the smaller bedroom and dialed reception. My last thoughts as I collapsed over the empty Jacuzzi was about becoming a monk if I survived.