Tag Archives: men

It’s Another Saturday… #1


She lights four candles and places them at different compass points. A green candle in the north, a red in the south, a blue in the west and a yellow in the east. They rest on a red piece of cloth she has placed on her bedroom floor. She lights two more candles and holds them in her hands, both of them pink. Then she faces the red candle in the south, clad in nothing but her Jigida.

“Powerful one, hear my prayer!” she calls out with emotion in her voice. “Lords of fire, burn my desire, three times over!”

She breaks, lifts her head upwards and shuts her eyes. Tears slide to the sides of her face. She continues with unsteady lips.

“Bring Jideofor back to me. Restore his passion for me. May the strange women in his life bring him nothing but pain. The same pain I have known. He will search for love but will never find it until he searches for me and finds me.”

She lowers the pink candles gently and picks a wedding gown spread across the floor. She slips into it. The gown has red blotches but she doesn’t seem to notice as she picks a surgical blade from a table nearby. The blade swiftly slices into her palm with one smooth motion, drawing instant blood. Maneuvering her way through spaces between the candles, she kills the burning flames with her blood as she chants on.

“Come back home, Jideofor. Come back to me. Home is here with me. Come back.”

The last flame goes out and so does the light in the room. She sits down and slips her feet into a pair of yellow heels. She will wait for him. She doesn’t care for how long. She must wait. Jideofor must come to her.

another saturday4

∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞

It’s another Saturday…

And I’m immersed in a lady’s reproductive parts. This is life, I tell you. And it’s the one thing I do the best.

The woman whose legs are spread open before me moans and tells me she can’t take it any longer. I tell her to hold on. We are almost there. If only she’ll just let me do my thing.

She moans again and grips the bed sheet she’s lying on. Her legs shake irrepressibly. She’s swearing, saying things I can’t understand, speaking in tongues. Why do they all speak strange things?

“Oh God!” she screams. I smile. We are almost there. Just one more…

The door flings in and this Goliath-like creature charges into the room with fire in his eyes.

“My husband,” she gasps.

Without realizing, I pull away from her. The man looks like he’s about to pick me from where I stand and pluck my head off the rest of my body. Maybe this is the best time to recite the Hail Mary my mother has been wanting me to recite for years.

“Who you be?!” the man growls, pouncing towards me. “I say who you be?!”

“Ah, Baba Patrick!” his wife replies as I search for my voice. “Na midwife be dis.”

“Middle wife?!”

“Abeg allow am make hin finish hin work before I die for here.”

“Middle wife?” Goliath looks at me from top to bottom and back again. “Man dey do middle wife?”

“Oooh-oh-oh! Baba Patrick!” His wife cries. “Dis pikin wan commot o! Leave the man abeg!”

Goliath still doesn’t trust me or his wife as he glowers at both of us, but because it is unimaginable for us to be doing something immoral when a baby is on its way out of her vagina, he lets me be.

I take my former position between her legs and I’m glad to see that all on its own, the baby is making its way into the world. All it needs is a little help.

“Okay, madam, one last push.”

Mama Patrick gives it all she’s got and a beautiful, little girl slips quietly into this world. Usually I don’t immediately sever the umbilical cord until the blood has balanced between the placenta and the newborn, so I place baby on her mother’s chest for warmth, throwing a clean cloth over them. From the corner of my eyes I see the look of sheer incredulity still impressed on the father’s face. I know that expression too well. The ‘why would any man want to do a woman’s job?’ look.

Well, the answer to that question is because of all the places in a woman’s body, the vagina is my favorite. Lord knows how many lady parts I’ve seen in this life but let’s not dwell on that. The second reason I’m doing a woman’s job is simply because I can, so give it a rest, dude.

I eventually clamp the umbilical cord, sever it and take baby away from her mother. The little thing protests with a “Waah! Waah!” and breaks into a full cry. I place her on a table in a corner, which I previously made sterile as best as I could, and clear mucus from her nose and mouth. I don’t believe in washing off the vernix that comes with a newborn until after twenty-four hours. It’s the best natural moisturizer for babies and it doesn’t stink.

I pat her dry and wrap her in a fresh, warm blanket and hand her back to her mother.

“Madam, I’d love to stay around and take care of you two but unfortunately I can’t. You’ll have to go to a nearby hospital to make sure all is well.”

The grateful woman nods. “How much do I owe you?”

I laugh. “Nothing, madam.”

She is touched. “Thank you very much, sir. God bless you, sir.” She gives her husband a stern look and he mutters off cheerless thanks but continues to stare at me as though he really caught me screwing his wife. Funny how people reason. If I had told him I was a doctor, his attitude towards me would have been different.

I help the woman birth out the placenta and then clean out her uterus. At this time, neighbors are already waiting in the sitting room, most of them women. I wonder where they were when she was shouting the entire neighborhood down in agony. Even the Papa Patrick, where was he? Walking out, I pick my suit hanging off the door and stare at the Armani shirt I have on, stained with blood and whatnot. Bobby will kill me for showing up late for his wedding.

I walk through a group of women on my way out of Papa and Mama Patrick’s home. I get approving stares. One or two of them recognize me.

“Oh, it’s the new neighbor,” I hear a fat one say in a whisper that is clearly not a whisper.

“The one that packed in day before yesterday?”

“Yes. That lives in Baba’s compound.”

“So he’s a doctor.”

I’m almost at the door now. I should leave them to their little gossip and be on my way to my friend’s wedding but I can’t help it. I stop and turn.

“Midwife, not doctor. I’m a midwife.”

I leave them in the wake of my stunning revelation and kiss the fresh air outside. My sharp ears pick out another statement by the fat lady.

“Ha! Midwife keh. He should just kuku call himself mid-husband.”

Story of my life. I laugh as I walk away.

∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞

I arrive at the wedding midway. My friend, Bobby and his wife are making their way out of the church hall when I slip in. I pick a chair in the last row, skirted by two Christian mothers that smell of camphor and talcum powder. With their heavy head gear and shimmery attires, I pray I am well hid from Bobby’s bespectacled eyes. And he is not the only one I’m hiding from; friends that I abandoned for a long time are on the premises. Most of them are mad at me. After some heartbreaking event in my life five years ago, I packed a box in the middle of the night and moved to a smaller town where nobody knew me. I cut off communication for the first three years and when I finally reconnected with everyone, I did so meagerly. Social media was off limits for me and whenever any of my friends popped into town and suggested visiting me, I often gave one silly excuse or the other.

Now I am back, quietly, as I had left. I am not expecting a hero’s welcome. Only Bobby would be glad to see me. After all he is still my best friend and the only one I kept the line open with. He is going to be upset about my showing up late and would think I opted out of wearing the Armani shirt he bought for me. I have chosen a Ralph Lauren in its place and it is shades off the yellow and grey theme of the wedding.

I lower my head as Bobby and his wife approach. Bobby, the ever-jovial fatso delights the crowd with his clownish dance moves. I am missing the show but I dare not raise my head. As I count the seconds, waiting for the procession to be over quickly, I feel a heavy knock at the back of my head that sends a shooting pain down my spine. I jolt up. It is Bobby. He has stopped in his tracks and is staring at me with the heaviest of frowns.

“Hey, Bobby…” He doesn’t let me finish as he picks up where he left off and dances past me with his wife. Following closely behind them are my friends. They have all seen me. Their reaction surprises me as all I get are smiles.

Looks like it’s going to be a good day after all.

I wait for the bridal procession and a good number of people to leave the church before I find my way out. It’s a fine weather outside. No sunshine, no rainfall. Just a cool draft of air blowing in all directions. The crowd that has just exited the church is scattered around the premises in clusters of yellow and grey. The place looks lively and I am affected by the contagious spirit of happiness. I hear laughter behind me and I turn. A group of bridesmaids is smitten by some dude who has just announced his coming with a G-wagon. He is the playboy type and going by his looks I can understand why they would be struck.


I smile at the scene and breathe in the air. This is my town; I have missed this place. It feels good to be home. Wait till my mother finds out her favorite son has returned. Surely she’ll slaughter the fattened calf. I’m glad she’s not in town presently. I can use the short time fixing up my new apartment before she returns and my freedom is taken away.

“Jide!” a familiar female voice calls and I turn, only to be smothered with a hug from one of my closest friends. I hold her and warm memories fill my head. I used to love this girl to death. I still do.


“You came,” she says, looking into my eyes. I know she is about to get emotional.

“Don’t,” I warn her with a finger but I’m too late. Tears have filled her eyes.

“I didn’t just come for the wedding. I’m back for good.”

My statement has a positive effect on her. Round chicks blushed up by makeup glow as a smile fills them.

“For real?”

I nod. She hugs me again. This time, she lingers.

“Mary, I’m sorry.”

It is my first sorry for the day. More are to come.

She frees me and hits me weakly. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

“I won’t.”

Our moment is broken by the appearance of a couple of my friends’ wives and their kids. There are hugs and introduction to children I’m meeting for the first time. They leave after I promise to visit them. More people recognize me and stop by with their “longest time!” “where have you been?” “you dey so?” greetings. So much for slipping back into town quietly.

“Bobby and the guys are looking for you.” Mary takes my hand after everyone is gone. “Come.”

I am dragged to one side of the building where my guys are. Bobby and his wife are seated in a limo. Bobby has his legs out of the car, talking to our mutual friends. I hear a round of laughter that breaks off when they spot me.

“Jydo!” Ibro greets me first. He is the coolest guy in our clique, and the richest too. A northerner with a taste for southern women. He is married to two of them.

“Mutumina!” I greet back with a slap on his palm that passes for a handshake and a pat on the back for a hug. I face the others—Shadrach, Reno and Bright. They are actually glad to see me. All beef squashed.

They throw in some light questions about my welfare and the town I’d just left. I tell them all is well.

“But Jydo, the Bridemaker gist na true abi na just scopes you dey use enter chicks?”

A smile crumples my lips at the edges when Reno’s question hits me. I look at their faces and realize it’s a question they all want an answer to, a question I was hoping no one would bring up.

“Answer nau.” Mary nudges me.

“Come on, guys,” I speak up, “on this blessed of days? Haba mana? At least let Bobby introduce his wife to me first.”

And that is how I escape the Bridemaker gist. But I’ll share it with you.

Fable has it that any girl that sleeps with me ends up getting married shortly afterwards. To be frank, I don’t know how it started or who started it but I can swear on my life that it is real. I didn’t believe it at first but when a colleague at work pointed it out to me and we sat down and took inventory of the girls I had bedded and how all of them were married, I knew it was no longer a joke. I was ecstatic at first. More chicks to screw for absolutely free. No commitments, no hassles. Just go in, hit it and get out. It was fun for a while until the lonely nights became so hollow and scary. I’d be in bed with a woman and yet it would feel like lying on a deserted highway in the middle of the night. In addition, I met crazy women who lost it if they didn’t get married as quickly as they wanted. They’d haunt me and fight me or whoever i was dating at that moment. It was at that point I was dubbed the Bridemaker. Guys envied me, girls just wanted to sleep with me. And there I was in the center of it all, unable to stop myself from engaging in carnal pleasures. It felt as though I had been cursed.

Nobody had to tell me to leave that town and go back to family and friends. I’m turning a new leaf now. I have buried the Bridemaker.

“Kate, meet Jideofor,” Bobby introduces me to his wife. I bend my tall frame into the limo and extend a hand to Kate as Bobby stands and gives me some space.

“Our wife,” I address her as she places her hand in mine and I kiss it with a bit of theatrical flair.

“Ehn-ehn o!” Bobby objects. “Not our wife. My wife.”

“Okay, sorry. My wife,” I correct myself. The bride smiles. Her face lights up shyly. I have just discovered she is a virgin. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I tell her and straighten up. “You have a good man here.” I tap my best friend’s shoulder. “Have no fears. You’re in good hands. But if he misbehaves, just give me a call and I’ll set him right. A left uppercut always sets his brain in order.”

She smiles again. That virgin smile that makes me look at Bobby with a question in my eyes. He reads me well and laughs.

“After all the rivers you went a’dipping.”

“No mind am,” Shady comments.

We tease Bobby for a while, using terms the virgin wife cannot decipher. She simply sits there with her maid of honor, smiling politely at us. A crowd that has just discovered where the bride and groom are hidden is making its way to us. It’s time to leave; I face Bobby’s wife.

“Nice to meet you, Kate.”

“Same here.”

“Kate, mummy is here,” Bobby announces the coming of his mother and launches off into Yoruba with the old woman. When I turn and see her, I fall prostrate to the ground.

“Ah, Olajide!” she calls me. “You are back.”

“Yes ma.” I rise up and hug her. My friends snigger behind us. After all these years, the old woman still doesn’t know I’m Igbo. I don’t blame her. She has never met my parents before and secondly, I come off more Yoruba than her son.

With a concerned expression she asks me why my parents are not at the wedding. I tell her my mother is out of the country and my dad is recuperating from a stroke. The second part is a lie. The old man is just being the grouch that he is. He actually made it clear to me over the phone that he won’t show up for Bobby’s wedding because he will be disgraced, seeing that his own son is yet unmarried and has no plans to do so. I tire for the man. He has an older son that is married. Wetin come concern him with my own life

And it’s not as if I don’t want to get married. I desperately do. But I haven’t found the one yet. Cliché as that may sound, it’s the plain truth as you would come to find out. All of my close friends are married, Bobby being the last to walk down the aisle. My life is going to be shitty from now on. I will be the butt-end of their jokes. They and their wives are going to pair me with all sorts of women, left, right and center. I’ll be left out of family-oriented outings and such. When they’re talking about school fees, sexless wives and family planning, I’ll be brooding in a corner like an idiot. Like I said, pot of beans life.

∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞            ∞

Read All Episodes of It’s Another Saturday Here

Image Credit: ronovanwrites.wordpress.com, pinterest.com

Only A Flame #ChildNotBride


I sat crouched at a corner of the room… With my arms circled around my folded knees.

Another stream of tears rolled effortlessly down my cheeks as I relived the experience.

I could still feel his fingers like the gentle slithery movements of a snake as he caressed my body.

I closed my eyes….If only I could shut out the images…

But No…. They were there… Refusing to leave…They came with such vivid clarity!

Images of flailing arms … Fighting to keep away the evil that loomed above me.

I remembered trying to scream… But I couldn’t hear the sound of my own voice.

Randomly the images came, in no defined order. I recalled a struggle to retain my underwear as groping hands determined to take them off…

The sound of a dress being torn…

Then I remembered the slap! Like a thunderbolt, the impact had gone through my whole body shutting down every remaining resistance I had.

I had lain there passive… Like one in a daze… And watched in horror as my young and innocent body was brutally ravaged!

I could still hear the wicked but ecstatic grunts of pleasure as he forcefully entered me again and again. Beads of sweat dropped from his forehead as saliva flowed in tiny streaks from the corner of his mouth. The stench of alcohol literally exuded from the pores on his skin.

For a moment my eyes had locked with his and I cringed in disgust!

“Who is this animal?!” I remembered thinking. There was a deadness in his eyes which were filled with fiery desire and burning lust! As I looked into those eyes, I realised I was staring at a beast… For I couldn’t bring myself to call him a man.

A surge of bitter tasting bile rose in my throat as I retched under a strong wave of nausea.

But nothing came out! My stomach was probably empty… But I did not care!

There was only one word that could explain how I felt…….


That was thirteen years ago, when I was just twelve years old… and now it is happening again!

Still crouched in one corner of the room, my hands still folded around my knees, I know what is about to come as he nears me. I feel like screaming, like getting up and charging at him but I know it would be useless. He would pick me up as if I am a piece of paper and throw me hard on the bed and I would not be able to escape his grip. So I sit there, shivering, tears stinging my eyes, my heart beating wildly. I know what to expect. After all, it has happened a million times before. From that first encounter thirteen years ago, I had somehow become a vessel for him to express his depravity. It isn’t something new, yet I am still terrified as hell.

I close my eyes as he grabs my hand and yanks me off the floor and throws me to the bed.

“So you think you can leave me and follow another man abi?!” he growls, landing me a resounding slap on my arm, careful not to touch my face. I scream and try to kick him away but I know it only ignites him. He is blaming me for following another man but I am guiltless. I only visited my aunt who just came into town and she kept me fifteen minutes longer than my curfew time. Now I am being punished and called a whore in my husband’s house. The other people in the house are listening but they will do nothing, they will say nothing. I will walk out with a limp and bruises and they will greet me with a smile as if nothing happened. They will ignore the cry for help in my eyes as my own family has ignored them for thirteen years. My life will continue with no hope because the world around me has no place for me to run.

“How many times will I tell you that you belong to me?! No man will ever have you as long as I’m alive! You are mine, forever!”

“Please, don’t…” I cry but he slaps me again. He puts his hand around my neck and holds me in a choke. There is darkness in his eyes as a cackle erupts from his throat.

“Open your legs!”

“Don’t do this. Please…” I beg. Maybe today is the day he will look at me with those eyes and have mercy. Maybe, just maybe he will not force himself in today and will love me the way a man should love a woman. But why should I hope for such things? It is not my place to enjoy them. I am only a woman and have no soul, as I was told. And it seemed like just yesterday, when I was but a little girl and was told my body belonged to a man old enough to be my father. Sadly, I don’t think I have grown from that time. As a girl I have come into this pain and it has lived my life for me.

So, I lie there, unresponsive to his touch, dead at every thrust he makes, numb to my own self. I keep my eyes up at the ceiling and look at the light bulb until it fades into memories of a wonderful past I have kept secure in my heart.

I see my brother teaching me to throw stones at lizards on the fence of our house. I see my sisters and I playing suwe and fighting over whose turn it is to wash the plates. I hear my father’s hearty laughter from the parlor as he watches something on TV. I listen to the cries of my baby brother while my mother bathes him in the backyard. The air is breezy and smells of rain but the sun shines brightly, refusing to go away though the clouds enshroud it. I look up and try to take in all its brilliance but grandma says I could get blind from doing that. So I lift my hand and shield my eyes while I hear my mother calling me. But the sun breaks through stubbornly, aiming to blind me…

I blink and I am back to hell, the light bulb stinging my eyes while his sweat pours over me. How many times have I been in that position, looking at that same bulb, at the ceiling it is hanging from? How many times have I taken the pain and yet emerged and kept a happy smile when I am outside with my children?

He gives one final grunt and pulls out of me. “Go and get ready for our in-laws,” he says with an evil grin and walks into the bathroom. I pull my legs together and try to cry but I can’t. There are no more tears here. I have to do as he says.

I secure my wrapper tight and hurry out, carrying around my familiar limp, trying to hide the pain in my arms. The compound is already buzzing with activities as the maids prepare for my husband’s new wife. I have never met her but I pray she is someone I can relate with, a friend that can finally keep me company. I go about preparing the meal and making sure the maids clean her room properly. It is my former room and now that I am a senior wife, I have been moved to a different room.

I finish what I am supposed to do and ensure that everything and everyone is set. Then I retreat to my side of the house and sit silently as the wedding ceremony progresses. There is music and dancing and food and drinks. Everyone is happy and cheerful and for a while, from my prison, I forget my pain and smile. Hours pass and finally the last drum is beat and there is a cold hush in the large compound. The generator goes off and I light a candle in my new room. My bladder alerts me that I must use the toilet and I grumble. How many times must I go in an hour? The maids call me ‘Aunty Piss’ behind my back but they do not know my weak bladder is a souvenir from my battle with VVF. I am glad to be alive even though my bladder embarrasses me every so often.

I stop in my tracks as I hear the sound of someone crying in the dark. I look around me, flashing my candle in the shadowy corridor but I see nothing. The crying continues and takes me only a few more steps for me to know it is coming from my old room. I go cold. But I strain my ear to listen some more if I can hear my husband’s voice. I hear nothing.

I move forward, each step with a churning stomach and I finally come to the door. I clasped the handle tight and slowly push the door in. The crying doesn’t stop; instead it is turned up a notch as I walk in. I put the candle before me and I freeze. Lying on my bed, hugging my old pillow with eyes sketched in fear is someone’s little girl. I feel a shiver in my bones as I look at her. She can’t be older than eleven and yet her future is going to be destroyed in one night.

I cannot move. I can hardly breathe. I feel like I am looking at myself. It is happening all over again. The girl sees something in my face that beckons to her. She leaves the pillow and runs to me, falls at my feet and hugs me. She is crying, pleading, begging me to take her home.

Home? I don’t know where home is right now. Maybe it never existed; it could be all in my head, for I do not understand how a parent can give their child away to be raped and abused. They call it marriage but it is no marriage. It is rape, it is abuse, it is evil, it is death.

I look at the girl and pull her up to me, holding her tight in my embrace, telling her it will be alright as the candle burns away. But nothing will be alright. Nothing will be fine from the moment he touches her. In one night he will take her from childhood, past her youth, past her womanhood and dump her right in a dark grave. And every night after that, he will pummel her to death.

Is this what I want for her? Should she suffer as I still do?

I pull away from her but she holds me tight. She won’t let go. Together we walk to one of the windows and I peep out. I can see him emerging from his side of the compound. How many times have I looked out this window and watched with dread as he approaches me.

Something sparks in me. I look at the candle. It is just a flame but I know what power it holds.

I set the flame to the thin curtain at the window and watch as the cloth fights the heat. But it is no rival for the fire. It whorls backwards and gives in to the flame, embracing it. I do the same to the second curtain and both of us watch as they both burn. I lift the bed sheet and set the mattress ablaze also.

The girl’s eyes are wide and she moves back from the rising inferno. I see the question in her eyes. I have an answer in mine.

I will buy you another night, maybe a second night but that is all I can do.

I have wilder ideas of running away but I have children. Where will we all go? I look at the flames leaking up everything and though I know this is temporary, it gives me pleasure. It also gives me strength and courage. And I feel a tingling, a tiny tingling in me to fight for my freedom, for her freedom.

Maybe I will fight…someday soon. Maybe today.

Written by yours truly and Valentine Oje Ikenna who blogs at Valentineoje.wordpress.com. He is a doctor, a pastor and a passionate writer.

Both of us SAY NO to #childmarriage. The Nigerian Literati say no to #childmarriage


Please stand up against these sick senators who are pushing for child marriage. It is not enough to sit and say it is never going to happen. We should raise up our voices against it and insist that strict measures be taken to have it completely abolished in places where it is being practiced. How can a lawmaker marry a thirteen year old and we think it’s his prerogative? How many more girls will go through pain and horror in the hands of sick men who abandon them in shacks to die and still roam around the community with no one punishing them? How can we all sit and have this injustice being done to innocent children and yet expect God to come down and save us? If we keep quiet, what then is the hope for our children? Don’t think because you’re a Southerner, it has nothing to do with you. What affects one, affects all.

The Nigerian community is speaking up against this. It’s just a flame but you can help the fire spread by sharing this message, irrespective of your religion and beliefs. It may not be enough to stop these men who are comfortably playing god with the bodies and souls of little girls. But it is enough to stir something in you. We should not be known as a nation that sits down and does nothing. Stop saying our efforts can’t go anywhere. These girls have to know there is another way to live. They have to know that marriage is a contract between two consenting adults and they have nothing to do with it. They have to know that there are people who hear their cries and are fighting for them.

If you are in Abuja, the venue is: Unity Fountain, by Transcorp Hilton. Also the Park. Time is: 9am-12noon.

For those in Lagos, the venues are:

1. Ojeez Restaurant, National Stadium Surulere.

2. Alausa Park, Opposite Lagos State Governor’s Office, Ikeja.

3. The Palms Shopping Mall, Lekki

4. New African Shrine, Agidingbi, Ikeja.

5. Arrangements are still on-going for those in Festac Town and it’s environs.

Time is 9am-12noon.

And in your little corner, let your candle burn.

Related Posts:

Will You Give Us Your Daughters?

Let Us Marry Your Daughters

Don’t Call Me Bride

She Is Just A Child

For Halima’s Sake

To Tame A Virgin #7

Read previous episodes HEREthighs

They say when two hearts are in love they beat as one. Or as the modern day writer would put it, ‘no one knew where his heartbeat stopped and hers began.’

That should be the case for Dami and Uyi – two lovers with their hearts pulsing for each other… but why should a lie be forged on these pages? How can one force upon the two lovers a physical bond that did not click in their souls? But sadly, there was one heart beating for the other the morning after. While Uyi went to sleep after feral and passionate lovemaking, Dami stayed awake, her eyes to the ceiling with a dreamy look in them. It seemed she had fallen in love on speedial. Uyi had to be the one. At first she had feared that he would get mad at her for lying about her virginity but he had laughed hilariously at himself for being too dumb not to have noticed he was entering uncharted territory. He called himself a fool and drew her into his arms. Then he made love to her again, asking permission to be gentler this time. Dami had said yes and couldn’t stop saying it as she experienced her first ever orgasm. In fact, had Uyi asked for her hand in marriage during the occasion, she would have replied with a resounding ‘yes!’ How could she say no to him when she had given him everything? After all the years of waiting, it seemed only fitting to love the first man that made her feel like a woman. To her, Uyi was king in her world and she absolutely belonged to him.

Therefore she lay in bed and thought of him without end, listening to soulful songs from her iPhone; and when she had fantasized enough, prompted by a long yawn, she visited the camera application on her phone. Using Uyi’s hand to cover her small, perky breasts, she posed beside him with a plain face but with eyes sparkling in love, and took a photo. In her euphoria, she uploaded the photo on Twitter with the caption: “finally THE ONE!” Her head hit Uyi’s chest not long after and succumbed to sleep but even before she would have her first wink, the Twitter world would begin to buzz about the latest development.


When Uyi woke up, the clouds were heavy and grey and his first thought was making it home before the rain started. Dami did not cross his mind. Not even as he slipped into his clothes and felt the stings of her fingernail scratchings on his back. His second thought was on whether he could find a bus to Wuse market from Area One that early. Dami only caught his attention when he turned to leave. She was smiling in her sleep and he thought she looked absolutely gorgeous in the nude. He wanted to kiss her goodbye but he remembered the night before and how she had been too insatiable for his liking. If he had not seen the blood on the sheets, nothing would have convinced him that she was a virgin before he went in. She was crazy and passionate and wild all at once and it was something he always wanted in a woman—one who could stir up the quiet waters in him—but something was not just clicking with her. During the time they were making love, when his body was one with hers, he had sought for what was missing, had searched her eyes to see if they reflected what he hoped to see, but he had found nothing. Yet he had not missed the look of absolute adoration and affection she had for him but he told himself it was just for the night. Such emotions were only ardent when a woman’s g-spot was under his spell. He had seen it too many times to take it too seriously. To him, Dami was just a statistic and like her kind usually did, she was going to forget about him soon. He saw himself playing the role of a dildo again like he had done so many times in the past. Dami would soon fall into the category of girls that just wanted sexual satisfaction from him but would stick to the more appropriate boyfriend—the one with the fine car, with the loaded pocket, the one who was husband material waiting on his knees with a diamond ring.

Uyi was yet to get there. In time…he told himself as he slipped into his clothes. So far he had closed his heart to any form of affection that was bound to come knocking at his door. It was that same resolution that had kept him from falling in love for a long time. No one was going to take away his freedom of using his heart wisely. Not even Dami who could give Agbani a run for her money.

He scribbled down a note to leave by Dami’s bedside but changed his mind; a phone call was more appropriate. He left the house very quietly and luckily found an early bus to take him home.


Doctor Mola had had a long night and it was telling on his shoulders. They both hurt like he had been carrying heavy stones on them. He yawned and prayed silently for his eyes to keep him awake till he got to his journey’s end in Kubwa. He hated the trips to Keffi and back but he needed the extra pay. Weddings these days were a do or die affair where the man did and died while the woman danced and smiled her way into his home. So far, Mola’s introduction and traditional wedding had eaten deep into his resources. Now he dreaded the almighty white wedding which was coming for him in two weeks. His fiancée, on the other hand, did not care. She wanted her wedding more glamorous and more expensive than her elder sister’s and had even suggested to Mola to start an abortion clinic in his house to meet up with the wedding requirements. He blatantly refused and threatened to dump her if she came up with the idea again. He prided in being a man of honor, of moral standing and of compassion. He loved God and believed all life, even in form of blood, came from heaven. It was therefore not his place to end anyone’s existence just because he could.

The atmosphere was now a tad cool with gloomy clouds covering the sky. Mola turned off his air conditioner and let down the car windows. Then he proceeded to turn up the volume of his Jim Reeves CD which was playing, and began to bop his head to it. He hadn’t gone quite a distance when he noticed he had passed something strange on the curb. He looked into the rearview mirror and sure enough, he had just driven past something on the untarred side of the road. Upon closer inspection as his car slowed, he noticed that the something was a someone. A female.

His eyes popped out widely and he stepped on his brakes. He looked around him. Had there been a car crash? If there was, where were the other people and vehicles that were involved in the crash? Why was she all alone? Why hadn’t anyone helped her?

Mola reversed his vehicle and stopped right beside the hapless creature lying on the curb and alighted quickly. The sight that met him was not a pleasant one. The girl was bruised in so many places and covered in her own blood. She seemed dead but without even checking Mola could see a vein pulsing beneath the skin of her neck. Nonetheless, he checked and confirmed that she was alive. He lifted her up gently, careful not to cause anymore harm to her, and laid her down in the backseat of his car. His shirt was already stained in her blood as he sat in the driver’s seat and drove away from the scene.


It had just begun to rain when Dike parked his car outside his gate. From the look of things, it was going to be a heavy downpour. Clutching the gift bag he had in his right hand, Dike ran in and up the stairs of his building. He dusted the soles of his trainers outside the door and on second thought completely removed the shoes when he pictured the frown he was going to see on Kachi’s face if he dared walk in with them. He tried the door handle but the door was locked. Knowing Kachi might not open from within if he rang the bell, he unlocked the door with his own key and walked into the house silently. He stood and took a deep breath. Having considered all that had transpired between both of them the night before, he felt he owed her an apology and maybe a bottle of her choice perfume. She couldn’t have been serious about a divorce. It was ironic how for a while he mused about being a bachelor again and having his freedom but having slept a whole night in a cold hotel room without the familiar warmth and smell of Kachi’s presence, he saw a bitter and lonely future awaiting him.

So he woke up early and considered his life and recent screw-ups. He had hurt the two women in his life and he desperately needed them to forgive him. If Temi wanted to keep the baby, he was going to be there for them both. If Kachi was okay with the arrangement and still wanted the marriage to work, he would contact a marriage counselor to work things out with her. But if she was not okay with the arrangement and still wanted out, she was free to go but either way, he would get her to an agreement table first. And what better access to her sense of reasoning than a simple apology and a timely gift.

He clutched the gift bag in his hand and walked with solemn steps towards the bedroom. He was surprised to find the house still in the state in which he last left it. Even the guestroom door was still thrown wide open the way he had left it after storming out of it and heading to the nearest hotel. The dining area was littered with Travis’ dinner which consisted of food catapulted from his spoon to different parts of the table and surrounding walls. The house was extremely quiet but that was Kachi’s way sometimes. She lived like a ghost when alone but the moment she had company, she became the life of the party. Dike pushed open the bedroom door and walked in slowly.

“Kach?” he called gently, his voice reading out practiced remorse. “Baby?” He moved towards the bathroom and nudged the door slightly, only to find it empty. It wasn’t after he was about to turn away that he noticed certain items missing. Her shower cap, her sponge, her towels which usually occupied every hook on the towel-hanger, her Bugs Bunny bathroom slippers—all were gone. Dike turned back to the bedroom and found the closet door wide open and Kachi’s side of it utterly empty. The dressing table was deserted as well. There was no single trace of her presence. Dike marched out to Travis room and found the same bareness and that was when it finally hit him that Kachi had made good her threat of leaving him. He began to boil in anger as he dialed her number. Her phone rang off the hook and he tried again but got the same response. He sent a quick SMS:

If you love yourself, come back to this house and bring my son along. Stop this madness. No one is divorcing anyone. This is for better and for worse!

He dumped the gift bag somewhere and went for the first bottle of alcohol he found in the house—an unopened bottle of McDowell’s Reserve Whiskey. He put it to his lips and took a long gulp before the ringing in his head stopped. He sat before the TV and put his legs on the table that stood in the center of the sitting room. He looked at his blinking phone, more messages were coming into his email box, notifications from totameavirgin.com. He hadn’t visited the site since the night before and he still didn’t feel like. Dami and whoever she decided to open her legs for were the least of his problems. In short, he contemplated turning the site over to one of those corper boys. So far he had succeeded in using a proxy server and no one had traced the site to him. But he was bored with the whole thing now. The novelty of wanting to ridicule Dami had worn off. Such was always the case with him. He got tired of things easily. Maybe too easily… Maybe he really was at fault in this whole Kachi and Temi business. Maybe someday he would fully admit that he could be held culpable for any pain he caused both women.

But until then, he had his pride to protect and a sexy beard to grow. He heard it was the rave these days. He scratched his chin and his unnecessary dimple appeared as he looked at Kachi smiling at him from a framed photo on the wall.

“You’ll come back, baby,” he said and drank his whiskey. “I know you will.”


The whole office had heard. Uyi was fired. Felix Enenche had not yelled in Idoma or a strange language when he commanded him to leave. It was no small matter the way he stood over Uyi’s desk and unleashed his anger. He vibrated so hard that his glasses fell off his face to the floor. But who could blame him? The news of Dami’s disvirgining had spread around the internet like wild fire, thanks to Dami’s uploaded photo on Twitter. She had put it up as early as 3am but before the sun came up, it was big news, with Felix getting wind of it through a reliable source. Fueled by instant anger, he drove to Dami’s place, praying to burst upon Uyi but he was met with Dami’s insolence at the front door. She didn’t deny the trending gossip but she didn’t say anything to affirm it either. Felix left the same way he came – with deep intent to put Uyi where he felt he really belonged and that was as far away from his young cousin as possible.

“It would be best for you if you just found your way back to Edo State because as far as I am concerned, you will never serve in Abuja again! And if I can help it, never again in Nigeria!”

Those were Felix’s final words to Uyi that morning. After that, he marched back to his office, carrying his storm with him. There was absolute silence following the drama Uyi’s colleagues just witnessed between both men. Uyi had not uttered more than five words but somehow his silence had spoken volumes to Felix. He had offered no apologies nor shown any sign of remorse in his stare back into the older man’s eyes. And something transpired in that crowded office that only both of them were aware of. Felix knew he was fighting a lost battle but he stood his ground firmly, even though it gave him no pleasure to see Uyi without a job. One way or another, he thought, the boy would bounce back; but that had to be when he was a million miles away from Damaris.

“I’m sorry about what happened, Uyi.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s so unfair.”

“Your personal relationship has nothing to do with your work relationship na. What is Mr. Enenche’s own?”

Uyi smiled absentmindedly at the kind words coming from the beautiful girls of the customer relations department where Dami was manager. They had been the first at his desk, even before the nerds that shared the same office with him.

“But you’re a corper nau, government pikin. You can still serve anywhere.”

“Must you serve sef? It’s not like it guarantees a job at the end of the day. Just gaan start business.”

“Abi oh. Ya too smart to be doing all this office madness. If it was me…”

The voices speaking to Uyi faded away as he stared at Temi’s desk. She still hadn’t shown up at work and her phone was still switched off. He worried that something was wrong with her.

“Uyi?” a gentle stroking of his upper arm jarred him back into the office.

“Yeah?” he blinked at the girl whose hand was on his.

“Take it easy sha. If you need a job, call me. I have connections.” She winked and began to walk away, deliberately shaking her backside at him. The other girls also left but with less flair and he sat down on his chair and began to pack what little he possessed. Some of his colleagues had a few sympathetic words to say but the rest clung to their computer screens like they always did. Uyi often imagined what they would do in the face of a coming hurricane. Would they be glued to their desks, typing away at their keyboards while the flood carried them?

He shoved his belongings into his laptop bag and stood from his chair. As he exited the office, he dialed Dami; she answered and begged him over to her place.


Dami’s house was as loud as a party. The music coming from it drowned the sound of the torrential rain that Uyi was escaping from outside. As he neared the front door which he saw thrown wide open, he imagined the sitting room full of Dami’s jobless friends. But he walked in and found Dami alone, dancing to Neyo’s Let Me Love You with a body that was created to move to any beat. She grinned when she saw him but she didn’t stop. She invited him over. He hesitated but she walked to him and drew him in. He wanted to be a spectator and he told her as much, shouting above the loud speakers to be heard. She shook her head and asked him to dance along, teaching him a few moves. Uyi laughed, saying he had two left feet but she shoved her hand down his jeans and her tongue through his lips. Immediately being fueled by her and because he had the brain of a genius, he tried the steps she showed him and got them correctly. And though he didn’t bust the moves like she did, he eased into a rhythm with her effortlessly.

As they danced away, Uyi forgot that he was out of work, Dami forgot the reason why she had called him over and without helping the strong chemistry between them both, they ended up making love on one of the couches with Neyo’s song on repeat. It wasn’t until after Dami had stopped screaming out Uyi’s name in pure orgasmic pleasure that they heard a car stop at her driveway. Uyi sprang up first and peered through the open door to see a man get out from behind the wheels of a luxury car. He looked casual and cheaply dressed and a little too old to be running round the car the way he did with an umbrella. But he got to the passenger back door and pulled it open for someone else and Uyi strained his neck to see who it was.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. My dad just got in from the States and insisted on coming here,” Dami said casually.

Uyi shot wide, terrified eyes at her. “And you invited me over and we…?”

“I thought he wouldn’t come because of the rain…”

“And you invited me?!”

“Just wear your clothes.” Dami threw Uyi’s boxers, t-shirt and jeans to him as he was already bolting out of the sitting room. She languidly walked to the CD player and turned down the volume considerably before picking her dress off the floor. A shadow was cast in at her front door and she turned to look at it. Her sixty-two year old father stood there, a walking stick in his hand and a void look on his face.

“You just had to come even when I said no,” Dami said coldly, wearing her dress.

“Hold your horses, angel. I’m not here for you. Is he here?” Chief Justice Anyebe Alechenu walked in with a slight limp as his eyes scanned the sitting room observantly.

“Who are you talking about?” Dami asked.

“Where is the foolish dog that thought it smart to play with the cub while the lion was away?”

Dami rolled her eyes. The man was always full of needless proverbs.

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Oh yes, you do. And you’re sleeping with it. That’s your underwear there as proof.” He pointed his walking stick at Dami’s g-string lying on the floor beside her. “And don’t forget the condom wrap too,” he added and Dami frowned sourly, bringing her wide lips to a full pout.

The old man made sure he sat on a single chair near the door, away from the lovemaking zone. “Angel, go get me a nice glass of that lovely iced tea you always make, will you? And also come along with him. I’d like to say a few words before I ruin him.”

Dami’s eyes clouded in tears rapidly as she fixed her father a loathsome stare.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” she mumbled beneath her breath but he smiled, his old eyes twinkling like hers. “I so hate you!” she added.

He laughed lightly. “Well, not as much as he’s going to hate me, angel.”

©Sally @moskedapages

To Tame A Virgin #4

Read previous episodes HERE


The weather was strangely cold and Uyi watched as Temi shivered in her seat even though the AC in the office was turned off and the window next to her was closed. He wondered why of all days, she had decided not to wear a sweater. But needless to say, she was looking good in a plain white top that made no attempt at hiding her breasts and Uyi was glad that she had gone the extra mile to appear sexy. She had been a sight for sore eyes for him, a distraction from the complex matrix systems he had been staring into all day.

“Thank God it’s Friday!” A colleague exclaimed with his hands in the air and Uyi knew it was four o’clock. He smiled at the colleague who had gone back staring into his screen through thick glasses. He was a strange guy who rarely smiled nor frowned but did weird things like dance his way in or out the office, bang his head over his keyboard incessantly whenever frustrated and scream out ‘Thank God It’s Friday’ each time the clock struck an hour every single Friday. He was the only form of entertainment they had in the office since television was not allowed.

Uyi pushed out his chair and walked to Temi’s table.

“Hi.” She managed out a smile.

“Are you okay?” he asked and she nodded. “You don’t look too well. Is it the cold?”

She nodded again and he felt her forehead.

“Tems, your temperature is up.”

“Is it?” She let out a sniffle. “I have sore throat, headache and runny nose. I’ve taken Paracetamol sha.”

“You need something stronger. I’ll just run down the road and get you Actifed.”

“Work ends in an hour, so I can manage. Thank God it’s Friday. Phew!”

“You need to rest. Work has been so bad this week. As in, I’m seeing double on my monitor.”

Temi sneezed.


“Your perfume is strong. Go away.”

“I’ll walk you home and nurse you if you promise not to jump on me again.”

Temi’s little, shy eyes shifted uneasily and she pushed him away playfully. “Go jor. I do one silly thing and you keep reminding me. Haven’t I behaved myself since?”

“By dodging me throughout the week and boning as if we’re fighting? Plizz! What if we had slept with each other?”

“Shhh!” Temi looked around, embarrassed, scared that a colleague had heard him.

“Go nau. I have work to do.”

“Omoruyi!” someone called and Uyi turned in the direction of the door to see one of the senior partners’ secretaries.

“Oga wants to see you immediately!”

Uyi nodded and turned back to Temi.

“Mr Enenche wants to see you?” Temi asked. “What have you done now?”

Uyi shrugged.

“I don’t like the guy. He looks like a pedophile.”

“Now, Temi…”

“What? It’s a vibe I get around him.”

Uyi shook his head and walked away. Outside his office he took a flight of stairs that led him up and came out to a long hallway. He walked to the last office on his right and peeped in. The secretary who had called him earlier was behind her desk and she pointed to Mr. Enenche’s door. Uyi walked straight to it.

As most bosses appeared, Mr Enenche was older than Uyi but he was still in his prime. He was bald with no signs of gray in his beard and was totally bereft of wrinkles. And also, like most men his age, he wore glasses that just wouldn’t rest anywhere else but on the tip of his nose. An Omega watch adorned his wrist and a suit that squeezed at the armpits but swagged of wealth was covering his upper body over an equally expensive-looking shirt. The weather did not seem to bother him because his AC was on and at a very low temperature.

“Good evening, sir.”

Mr. Enenche nodded but stuck his face to his laptop. Uyi watched the movement of his pudgy hand as it caressed the touchpad of his laptop.

“I need you to hack into a site for me. Can you do that?”

Uyi wondered if it was a trick question. Of course, he could hack into anywhere he wanted but it was against personal principles and work ethics. He replied nothing and fixed his eyes on a church poster behind Mr. Enenche.

“I asked you a question, dude. Can you hack into a site for me?”

The ‘dude’ unsettled Uyi but he replied, “I can, sir, but I’d rather not.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Mr. Enenche continued, his head still crouched over his laptop. “But if you have a younger sister whose virginity has become the butt end of randy men’s jokes, wouldn’t you do everything in your power to make sure you secure her honor?”

At this point, Mr. Enenche looked up into Uyi’s eyes.

“I know you’re aware of the site running solely to see Damaris ruined?”

Uyi considered this another trick question but saw through the man’s piercing eyes to know he was in trouble if he lied.

“Yes sir, I’ve heard about the site.”

“You know the people behind it?”

“No, sir.”

“I heard they work here.”

“I’m not aware of that, sir.”

“Do you know why I called you in particular?”

“No, sir.”

“Because I have watched you closely. Apart from the fact that your work is outstanding, you seem to have a godly comportment which is very hard to find in your peers.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. I just stated a fact. Anyway, it pains me to see my little cousin being treated like a commodity on display.”

“Sir, your little cousin is Dami… Sorry, Damaris?”

“Yes. And she is under my guardianship. Her father will skin me alive if any bastard messes her up. I know she has her flaws but she needs direction and that is why I need you to find out what idiots are running that site. In short, I want the IP addresses of all the people who log on to that site. All of them!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Be sure that you’ll be rewarded.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And by the way, I’m inviting you to my house on Sunday for my baby’s naming ceremony.”

“Congratulations, sir.”

Mr. Enenche went back to his laptop.

“My secretary would give you the details. Come with your girlfriend. I like to know my employees one on one.”


“And Omoruyi,” Mr. Enenche lifted his head. “Please keep this between us, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He dismissed Uyi who walked out and hurried down the hallway. As he got to the stairs, he came across Dami who was speaking on her phone but she stopped him with her free hand and had him wait for her. During the wait, Uyi studied everything about her carefully, his eyes adoring her features without letting on what he was doing. Her face was carved to perfection with high cheekbones, twinkling brown eyes, a straight nose and full but wide pink lips that caressed each word she uttered. The touch of her hand on Uyi’s was smooth and she distractedly but gently stroked him, leaving goosebumps on his flesh.

“Hi.” She smiled at him after ending her phone call. Her hand was still resting on his and she applied gentle pressure with every word she spoke. “Uyi, right?”

“Dami, what’s up?”

“You didn’t ask me how I got your name,” she said and Uyi spared her a half smile.

“Does it matter?”

“Not that it does but hey, nice meeting you again.”

“Same here.”

“And you smell really nice.”


She started up the stairs and Uyi made his way down.


“How do you feel?” Uyi searched Temi’s face as she rested her head on her pillow. He thought her eyes looked too sunken without her glasses.

“I’m fine,” she replied him and bit her lip. “Please close the windows.”

“No, you need clean, fresh air.”

“I’m still cold.”

“You’ll be fine under your blanket and once the drug kicks in, it’ll send you straight to sleep. Where’s your boyfriend by the way?”

“He’ll come later.”

Uyi thought he saw a lie in her eyes but he didn’t dwell on it. He reached for his laptop carrier from the floor and pulled out his laptop.

“You’re always insulting Naruto. Well, today, I’ll introduce you to it and I promise you that you’ll love it.”

“Whatever. Just play it. Hopefully it will put me to sleep faster than the Actifed.”

Uyi turned on his laptop and played the cartoon in question. Initially, Temi seemed interested in it but after she received a call from someone whom he suspected was her boyfriend, she turned her face away and backed Uyi for a long time. He could hear her sniffing every now and then and he suspected she was crying but he didn’t pry. Finally, she turned around and spared him a weak smile and continued watching.

“So who’s this guy with tribal marks?” she asked, pointing at the screen.

Uyi laughed. “It’s not tribal marks.”

“It’s what nah? Three lines on each side of his face like my grandfather.”

Uyi smiled. “He is the Naruto.”

“Okay. And that’s his babe?”

“Sakura? She’s his friend but she’s in love with his former best friend, Sasuke, who is now his enemy.”

“And from all indication Naruto is in love with the babe but she’s forming friendship abi?”


“But wait oh, why do they run with their hands behind their backs?”

“The ting tire me sef.” Uyi laughed and Temi hissed in amusement.

“You guys can watch rubbish.”

“But it’s better than watching Cuando sex me.”

Temi burst into laughter and went into a terrible coughing fit until Uyi held her up, rubbed her back and it subsided.

“It’s not Cuando sex me,” she corrected after finding her voice. “It’s Cuando Seas Mia and it means when you are mine.”

“Whatever. It’s cheesy nonsense. I can’t watch that mush with a gun to my head.”

“Speaking of guns to heads, why did Mr. Enenche want to see you sef?” Temi asked.

“Nothing serious.”

“It can’t be nothing serious with that man. It’s either he’s about to fire you or promote you. Which one?”

“Do they promote corpers?”

“Why did he call you nau?”

“He simply wanted me to find out who is running that totameavirgin website.”

Temi hissed. “I thought it was even something serious. Isn’t he a hypocrite!”

“What do you mean?”

“The person that is running the site is his very close friend.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. So how come he doesn’t know?”

“Well, friends stab friends in the back. But who is the person?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Temire, you’re not being fair.”

“I gave my word.”

“So did I and see how I just broke it by telling you.”

She stuck out her tongue.

“And they say women don’t know how to keep secrets. But seriously, you won’t tell me?”


“I hate you. And by the way, your nope sounds like dope. All your Ns are now Ds.”

Temi sniffed. “Stupid catarrh. And stupid hypocrite Mr. Enenche. He and his friend like to follow small-small girls and use them anyhow. So it serves him right that people want to use his cousin.”

“Wow. That’s harsh. What’s eating you like that?”

“Nothing. Back to our argument. Admit that romance movies and series are good.”

Uyi mock-vomited and she hit him with a pillow. Then they fell into an argument that dragged on for a while and in the end, Uyi had to admit that he had enjoyed some cheesy movies. Temi blessed him with a hug and rested on her pillow again. They settled into silence for a while as the exotic Japanese language coming from the cartoon pulled Temi into a snooze. When Uyi turned around to explain a scene to her, he found her asleep with her mouth slightly open due to the blockage in her nostrils. He pinched out some mentholated balm from a small container and applied it below her nose; he also moistened her lips with some of her cherry lip balm and lifted her blanket to cover her properly. He wrote a note and placed it by her nightstand before he left. Slinging his laptop carrier across his shoulder, he walked off into the night, hoping to catch a cheap cab being that all he had on him was three hundred naira.


There was no one home when Uyi walked in through the front door. Earlier Ovie had complained about being too broke to host anyone for their customary Friday shindig and made plans to go see his elder sister to raid her freezer. As usual, Peter also made plans to tag along, keeping to his scrubby nature. Now, with the house to himself, Uyi made a meal of jellof rice and sausages, popped open a can of cold beer and settled to eat and continue with his Naruto when Edet appeared. The front door was locked, so he pressed his face to the window and made gestures at Uyi to open up for him. But Uyi being in no mood to do so, continued with his alone time. Edet moved away from the window and went to the door and began banging on it, yet Uyi remained seated and upped the volume of his laptop. Edet returned to the window and peeped really hard to be sure someone was within, that he wasn’t just imagining things.

“Uyi, your papa! You dey craze?! Open dis door jor!”

Uyi ignored him and after more insults, he disappeared from the window. Uyi finished his meal and cartoon and went for another can of beer but Edet showed up again. He came with a loud bang that rattled the door and riled Uyi up. Uyi got to his feet, marched to the door, unlocked it and inivited him in. As Edet took the first step, Uyi rammed the door in his face, knocking him out cold on the floor. He remained there as Uyi locked the door again and went back to his beer. The night wore on and he listened to love songs on his laptop and went off to sleep, forgetting Edet outside.

The next morning had him waking late and to the buzzing of his phone. He stared into the screen to see Temi’s name and he took her call.

“Hey sicky-sicky. You’re up already.”


“You got my note?”

He heard a smile in her voice. “Yeah. How sweet.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Still not good oh. I’m still running a fever.”

“Okay. I’ll come over but hope your boyfriend is not going to be there. I don’t want wahala.”

“He traveled. Just come.”



Uyi had a wonderful time with Temi again. As he guessed, she wasn’t as bad as she had projected on the phone but she still needed little more nursing. He administered her drugs and held her head over steaming, balmy water to clear her nasal passages. Afterward, they worked on a client’s account, watched a movie and argued about trivial things. When it was getting dark, she begged him to stay awhile and made him a big bowl of soup to take home.

“Thank you, Uyi,” she said and hugged him in her tight kitchen.

“Anything for a friend.”

She released him and headed out first, deliberately brushing her backside against him. Uyi smiled at the seemingly innocent act but kept a blank face when she turned around to look at him. She went for her sweater and walked him out the door but didn’t go far. There was another hug and this time he felt her lips brush against his neck as she let go.

“See you on Monday,” he said.

“Good night.” She walked back in and he went home.


Sunday service was one of those long affairs. The pastor had too much to say, the choir had so much to sing about, people were thanking God for too many things and all the people that had starved church attendance in a while decided to show up. It was well past 2pm before the pastor said the closing prayer. Like many members, Uyi joined the church bus and it dropped him right at the junction of his street. Feeling satisfied and refreshed with himself, he walked home with a gospel tune in his head. Ovie and Peter were not back yet but Edet was in the compound when he walked in. He saw a plaster over the poor creature’s nose but he ignored him and he walked past.

“Uyi, abeg, make I explain wetin happen between me and Vivian.”

Uyi allowed him all the way to his flat and pretended to listen to his unpardonable excuse as he unlocked the door but when he stepped in and Edet tried to do same, he slammed the door in his face again. Fortunately for Edet, he wasn’t standing so close this time around.

Uyi made himself a large bowl of eba, had his lunch and fell asleep.

He woke up three hours later and dressed up to head to Mr. Enenche’s party at Asokoro. Following the address the secretary texted him, he found himself on a street that was lined with expensive cars. He could hear music in the distance and it drew him to the venue easily. He walked in through an open gate to face a magnificent house with a spacious lawn. There were large canopies with chairs covering the whole area. Women and children littered the place mostly but there was a section where men were hurdled together, sipping on beers and peppersoup. Uyi could spot some people from his office and they were mostly from management, but there were a few junior staff too, none of which he was acquainted with. He protectively held the gift he had come along with as a pair of little girls ran past him. He smiled at them and strolled straight to the front door and entered a sitting room filled with so many people. Nodding a greeting to anyone who cared, he waded further in, towards the dining area to see whom he could speak with. To his relief, Dami appeared. She was angrily walking past him as she murmured incoherently to herself but he stopped her and she slowly released a taut smile when she saw him.

“Hi,” she commented and hugged him tersely. “So good to see you, Uyi. The ass invited you?”

Uyi wasn’t so sure who the ‘ass’ was but he had a good idea that it was Mr. Enenche.

“He’s in his room,” she said. “Let me call him.”

She disappeared and reappeared a while later with a drink for Uyi. Mr. Enenche came out subsequently, looking tired but having a smile that Uyi had never seen him spare at the office.

“Omoruyi, you came. Welcome.” He shook his hand warmly. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you a seat because I don’t even have one for myself. I didn’t budget for this many people. It seemed everyone from my church showed up and more are still coming.”

“It’s how these things are.”

“You can say that again. Come this way, though.”

Mr. Enenche led him further into the house to a room that looked like a guest room but had a small parlor with a single plastic chair.

“Please, sit. I’ll have them bring you something.”

“Sir, this is for the baby. It’s small but…”

“Thank you, Omoruyi,” said Mr. Enenche, taking the gift Uyi was offering. “My wife would appreciate this. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Mr. Enenche walked out and Uyi could hear him call Dami’s name out. He heard her reply back in a rude tone and they both began exchanging words in Idoma. Their voices faded away immediately and Uyi busied himself with his phone. While doing that, someone poked her head in and announced to him that everyone was needed outside because the pastor was about to give his final blessings to the family before leaving. Uyi nodded and she left but he had no intentions of making it outside. He sat put and continued with his phone as the house emptied gradually. Minutes passed by and he could hear only a few voices around him and for that he was relieved, but not long after, he heard Mr Enenche and Dami at it again. There was another female voice in the mix and Uyi suspected it was Mrs. Enenche’s. He listened as they lashed out loudly in Idoma. Dami was the angriest as her tone rose with every syllable. He heard her pause to prevent a lump in her throat but a sob had broken in and she raged on with staccato words all fired out in Idoma and English. Not so sure if he should hang around any longer for the private family spat, Uyi got up and began heading for the door. However, he was stopped short by Dami who was storming out of one of the rooms, tears streaming down her face.

“Hey.” He put a gentle hand around her. She hesitated at first but the calm stare from his eyes made her turn around and crumble in his arms. It wasn’t what he had expected but he didn’t know how to push her away even though he knew it was the right thing to do, considering Mr. Enenche could show up any moment and have the wrong impression.

“Stop crying. It’s okay.”

But Dami held Uyi tightly and all hope of escaping her grip vanished out the window. He brought out his hanky and wiped her face just to have an inch away from her but she stuck to him and remained there. And just as he had imagined, Mr. Eneche and his wife appeared from nowhere and stood looking at both of them questioningly. Uyi tried to pull away but Dami held him tight and fixed stubborn eyes on the couple. She wiped her eyes angrily.

“You were asking who my boyfriend was? Well, here he is.”

Uyi’s mouth dropped open, and he wished it hadn’t because just as it hung there on its own accord, Dami shoved her tongue right through his lips with an angry kiss; and all Uyi could think of as he tasted her alcohol-flavored mouth was catching the next, available flight out of Abuja.

©Sally @moskedapages