Not Your Emily

NOT YOUR EMILY

Emily hated everything about rain. How it made the roads muddy, how the air smelled, and how people got disorganized anytime it deigned to fall. She just thought it was pride. The rain was very proud today she thought even as she got into her car after a tug of war with the umbrella she used as protection. Finally she was in the warmth of her BMW. 

She never failed to update her garage each year with the latest models of cars. So long as it cost money, she got it. She was afterall referred to as 'The money magnet'. She smiled to herself. That was the kindest nickname people ever called her.  Even her housekeeper called her a witch secretly. 

As she drove she thought of how her thirty seven years had sped by, How she had amassed all her wealth and the many bridges she had had to burn. It hadn't been easy but then she had made it. She smiled ruefully. Her mother would be so proud if she could see her now. A tear slid down her right eye. She'd lost both parents before she could even speak. A fire she was told. She had been at the day care centre when it had happened and so was saved from the hideous incident. 

Even before she stepped into the office she could hear the whispers, drawn breaths, feel the tension. They all saw her as a cold boss. She never smiled, she never went on trips with them and she never spoke much. She liked the way they kept their distance. She learned the hard way that humans were the worst species of harm one could ever encounter. 

Oh how she scrubbed floors till she could see her reflection in them in her uncle's house. They had taken her in as soon as the fire ravaged her home and parents and from the beginning They were everything but kind. Even from a tender age, she hawked all over the street. Her uncle's children attended the best Montessori school in the neighborhood and wore clothes she only got when they had torn. 

They also saw no need to employ a maid afterall They had Emily. 

She grew up reading old newspapers and forgotten books just to learn English. If there really was a hell as the old preacher insisted there was, it was her uncle's house and she lived there. 

Her uncle's wife made Cinderella's step mother look like a saint. She did everything in her power to ensure she never measured up to her children who by the way were duller than empty boxes. In all, her childhood was a memory she almost never cared to remember. 

When people ajudged her cold, uncaring and frosty she never bothered to correct that notion. She knew she hardly made herself show any noticeable emotions. What good had all the emotions she'd shown as a child done to help her out of her predicament? 

At 15. She had summoned enough courage and ran away. She slept in wooden sheds at the market at night and carried shoppers goods for them for whatever little token they could offer. Many would shake ther heads and ask what she was doing on the streets but no one really wanted to know the answer. Barely just to Satisfy their consciences by asking. 

She sipped the tea her secretary brought to her even as she swivelled her chair around. Now she lived in so much opulence she didn't know what to do. Where would she ever even find a man who would match what she had or be humble and confident enough to accept everything she had and stood for?  

She smiled and shook her head. The memories just came flooding back. How the Four men who had grabbed her one night as she was returning to her spot under the shed had manhandled her. Collecting her earnings for the day and raped her. They declared gleefully how they had been monitoring her movements for a while and how that night was their lucky night. She couldn't make a sound. Her emotions were already too dead to even feel pain if she was paid to. She never remained the same after that. She could only care less what happened to her. She was too busy trying to survive and looking for a way out of the torture that had suddenly become her life that she didn't realize her chronic sickness and swelling stomach was as a result of pregnancy till an old trader was kind enough to point it out to her. 

The shell that was her life came to a stand still. 16 and pregnant. Funny enough she got used to the idea after many weeks and couldn't wait to hold the only thing she owned in this world in her arms. 

But then, nature as usual had to be cruel. She had a miscarriage. Fainted in a pool of her own blood in the middle of the market while under the strain of a bag of rice. People scampered away. No-one wanted to answer to the police or bear the burden of caring for her or transporting her to the hospital. Well, that day was her day of Transfiguration. 

Mr. Titus a Mexican on a market survey with his team saw her, picked her up, took her to the hospital and as they say the rest is history. 

Her brilliance in school earned her so many scholarships abroad.  Of course not after a lot of tutelage. Mr Titus bless his generous soul bequeathed all he had to her upon his death and made her his sole heir since he had no family. 

Emily jolted back to reality. With the AC on high and her feet on the plush carpet, she thought of the life that was now hers. Her painful but successful transition, and how people would never know her story and continually judge her no matter what. 

She smiled to herself, she couldn't change the past, It built her to be the woman she was now, maybe she could make a few changes in the present and the future. She sighed even as she signed another anonymous cheque for another orphanage home.... 

Most often we judge people from afar without even having an iota knowledge  of what the person might have gone through or is even going through. We just conclude that he is bad, she is arrogant, he is stingy, he is proud, she is too full of herself etc. Why don’t we take out time to know the person better and closer before we jump into conclusio. Now do you think Emily should change her ways and smile more often so that people wont discredit her person, or she is just fine the way she is, after all – she doesn’t care. LETS HEAR YOUR THOUGHts.

We hope you enjoyed this wonderful piece, and was le to learn one or two things. Always remember you can preach a better gospel with the way you live your life than with your lips.
Don’t forget to Comment, Share and drop your suggestions and contributions. Bye for now.

CHAINED

                          CHAINED

The sound the plate made as it touched the ground corresponded directly with his heart that was beating abnormally. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. His thoughts bordered on how the plate had slipped out of his hands and what the punishment for that would be. Probably another night of sleeping outside with the mosquitoes and cold tiles for comfort or enduring another round of beating. He slowly sank to the floor in despair.  He was in his customary clothes.  A tattered black shirt, khaki shorts and rubber slippers. An attire that surely  wasn't fitting for the environment he found himself in but was of course suitable for his position of chief servant. Doubt and fear coursed through his veins even as he tried to gather the broken pieces of the plate together. Madam always kept an inventory and will notice the missing plate but till then he had to think of all the possible ways to die. As she would definitely try to kill him. God forbid her plates from Thailand knew destruction. 

He stood in the sitting room. Taking all the beauty in. The very comfortable chairs he was not allowed to sit In,  the marble floors he scrubbed daily,  the expensive looking television set that was forbidden for him to ever touch, and all the family pictures on the wall that showed everyone in the family with shining teeth and starched clothes. He remembered when those smiles were directed at him and when his own picture also hanged beside theirs. He remembered when he was a part of this family and not just a slave. When he was the head and not just a freeloader 

When he was a father and a husband.

The memories came rushing In unbidden. He had been the perfect man for Sheila.  She was the talk of the town on campus. His drivers were at her beck and call, his money was her money and she loved him to pieces. It was only right that the two lovebirds get married and they did shortly after her youth service. Oh they had a grand wedding 

All the people who could come were treated to a royal wedding.  He had no family since he was an only child born of parents who were only children too. And they had died in a car crash years ago. 

Seeing the joy in Sheila's face alone everytime he came home from work was enough to make him happy. They were in heaven. And nothing could destroy their happiness or so they thought. 

It happened one Friday. James got to work as usual, after several moments of kissing his wife goodbye to meet a bunch of uniformed men surrounding his office. A government project had gone wrong and was found guilty of fraud. His pleas fell on deaf ears. He lost everything in the long run. To say he was shocked was an understatement. He was devastated. Oh his wife was understanding for the first few weeks but when the Hunger set in, she started to change subtly. "Don't touch me, I'm hungry" that was her anthem everyday. "The children have not eaten.  How can you call yourself a man" That was her pledge. He watched all the love crumble before his eyes.  Nobody wanted to work with him anymore. His reputation preceded him. Sheila snagged a job in an oil company paying six figures and then his hell became several degrees hotter. 

 "How can I work all day and Still come home to a dirty house? If you don't clean this house you will find yourself on the streets" she boldly proclaimed one Monday evening. It was no longer 'darling' or 'honey' or 'sweetheart'. Words of endearment she called him a few years ago.  It was now 'useless man', 'Good for nothing' and 'fool'. He washed her clothes, took the children to school, did all the chores and had his special cane for whenever he made a mistake. His body was covered in sores and he had not even touched his wife since he had no job. She claimed "enjoyment was for the rich". All the tears he had cried throughout the ordeal, could have formed a small river. But things never changed. He never went to church or any public occasion for the shame was unbearable. Even his friends would not help him. They definitely didn't want Sheila breathing down their necks. 

He had always had a small stature so his wife used that to her advantage when giving him the much required 'discipline'.  He could not run away, Sheila proclaimed that he still owed her for all her suffering and if he tried it, he lost all rights to ever see their children. And he couldn't let that ever happen. Her high class friends would laugh and turn him to a bartender and cook anytime they visited and Sheila proudly told them she was enjoying her 'tamed husband'

He was a man. He was to swallow all the hardships of life without complaint. He was to be strong and be the sole provider. He was not to experience abuse from anyone, he was to be the abuser if at all.  If he cried, he was weak.  If he asked for help, his manhood was questioned 

What then? How then would he be free?  Who would fight for him and be his voice? Who would unlock his chains?

The sound of the car horn jolted him out of his reverie. She was back and this was his life. 

Most often we attribute the victims of  Domestic Violence to me females alone, we have forgotten that men too can be violated. Men too can be a victim. Men too suffer. So let’s put hands together to stop domestic violence in all ramification. What advice do you have for James and people who suffer Domestic Violence especially men, because it is regarded as a “taboo” for a woman to “beat” a man, been that – women are the weaker vessels.

We hope you enjoyed the wonderful piece and was able to learn one or two things. Don’t forget to Share, Comment and Contribute, it will be highly appreciated.

#StopDomesticViolence 

#SayNoToDomesticViolence 

#MenTooAreVictims 

Always Remember You Can Preach A Better Gospel With The Way You Live Your Life Than With Your Lips

**Written By Ayeba Ene, 400level Psychology, OAU**

Always Remember You Can Preach A Better Gospel With The Way You Live Your Life Than With Your Lips

Mistress of Secrets (finale)

................The next day, Justice came back home from work but not with the children. His wife had texted him that he should drop them off at their aunts place and that they needed to talk.
He hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking.
He couldn’t lose a family he had worked so hard to have. He just couldn’t.
He entered and saw her sitting in one of the chairs waiting for him. For the first time, she looked sane and normal. She was dressed in one of her green dresses, her hair was tied up with a matching ribbon and her chin was jutted up in determination. The room was quiet and the A.C hummed softly in the background.
“Katherine.”
“Sit down please.” She said pointing towards the chair opposite her. He stepped onto the soft rug dropped his key beside her phone on the centre table and proceeded to do as she asked.
“Promise me you wouldn’t lie to me.”
He started to lean forward.
“Promise me!”
“Okay, ok.” He said lifting his hands as he shifted pensively in his chair.
“I promise I will not lie to you.”
“How long have we being married?”
“Fourteen—fifteen years”
“In all those years have I ever been a bad wife to you?”
“You have being perfect my dear, you know that.”
“Do you love me?”
“Katherine, with all my heart, and you know that.”
She wiped at a tear on her cheek.
“Who is the father of my children?”

Oh no no no no!
“Katherine, baby. Honey.” He said leaving his seat as he came towards her.
“Please don’t touch me.” She gritted out.
So he knelt in front of her.
“I am their father.”
With all the pain and hatred she had in her, she slapped him hard across the face. His face whipped to the side as he waited for his ears to stop ringing. Panting hard, she rose and side stepped him.
“You have being lying to me throughout our marriage; I refuse to continue to be insulted this way. I am leaving your house.”
That got past his ringing ear to be processed by his brain. He rushed up after her.
“Wait.” He called but she hadn’t moved, she was still standing there glaring at him.
“Please sit down.” She did.
“All I did was for us. So we could be happy together.”
“What did you do?”
“How much did Cha Cha tell you?”
“So you are still planning on lying to me?”
“No, of course not.”
“I want to hear everything.”
For a long time he didn’t say anything, then he stood up, and went back to his seat.
“I knew I couldn’t have children long before I married you. It was due to an accident I had in my teenage days. I couldn’t tell you because you had many suitors back then and I was afraid of losing you.”
“What?”
“So for the first four years of our marriage I was responsible for our childlessness.”
“All that drugs I took, all the prayer houses I went…” she said in surprise.
“To think the source of my problem was busy holding my hand through it all.”
“I didn’t count on you becoming so desperate. I thought if I didn’t mind, you wouldn’t also mind that much. But you wanted a child and you were desperate about it too. So one day I met a guy at the basket ball court I frequented and we got talking.”
He looked up at his wife then.
“Cha Cha had no right to have told you.” He said desperately.
“You weren’t supposed to ever know.” He muttered.
“I am listening.” She said eyes wide with pain and unshed tears.
“I made you get that app in your phone, and I was able to track when you were most fertile.” He was quiet for a long time murmuring how she wasn’t ever supposed to know.
“Then I drugged you and invited him over.” He said in a small voice, never meeting her eyes.
Katherine slid off the chair and wept in her hands.
“To think I was so happy when I found out I was pregnant.” She said amidst gasps.
“I am so sorry.”
Then she stopped to gape at him.
“I have three children.” She announced as if she just realized it.
“They have separate fathers?”
“No, no of course not I would never do that to you.” He came to wrap his arms around her.
“Don’t touch me you snake! How could you do this to me? You handed my body over to another man, a stranger you met at a basketball court.”
“I am sorry Katherine. I ensured he was clean, all the time he came over; he was always tested before coming.”
“All the times he came over, my God what did I ever do wrong. No sane man does this to his wife.”
“I am sorry. I so sorry, but I did it for us. It is just like going to a sperm bank.”
“Without my consent, my husband gave my body out to a stranger. I don’t even know you.”
“I am your husband and if not because of that crazy woman no one would have known, we were happy Kate.”
Arms wrapped about her, she kept rocking back and forth. Then she asked.
“Who is the man?”
“You don’t need to know, I am the father of our kids.”
She nodded.
“What if he comes back for them?”
“He can’t.”
“Of course he can. And then we will become the laughing stock of this town. My friends, my family, everyone will know. Everyone will know what you did.”
“Babe, don’t worry about it. He won’t bother us. I took care of it”
“You took care of it how?”
She asked looking directly into his eyes. But he looked away.
“Don’t worry about it. He wont bother us.” He repeated, the anguish in his eyes starting to have a touch of hope. Perhaps she would understand and forgive him.
“That is not a satisfactory answer, I cant stay here and be humiliated with you, you can keep the children, because if Cha Cha knows and you didn’t tell her, then he did. Pretty soon others will know too.”
“Please don’t leave me.” He rushed to say, taking her hands.
“I will take care of her like I took care of him and find out who told her and take care of them too.”
“I want to know what you mean.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She made to move past him.
“Okay.” He said desperately. Then he studied her for a long time and cupped her face.
“I trust you, I want to show you that I trust you, that is why I am telling you this. But you must promise me you wont tell anyone. You must promise me you will be strong, stronger than your usual self.”
Katherine nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“I went to his house, and we had a few drinks, I slipped something in his drink and when he fell asleep, I set his house on fire, but I made it look like an accident so no one will ever know.”
“Oh my God, You killed him?” she whispered in shock.
“Yes honey, he was trying to blackmail me, always asking for money. I had to kill him. We already had two boys and a girl, we didn’t need him anymore.”
Her legs couldn’t hold her, she dropped to the chair. He knelt before her.
“You have to be strong, you need to get close to Cha Cha, try to find out how she got to know then we can take care of her and whoever told her. We are family Kate, we need to take care of each other. Do you understand?”
“I do now.”
He nodded, seeming relieved. His eyes glinted with evil. She had never seen this side of him.
“You must be careful, that woman is very smart. We need to know who told her.”
“But I already know.”
He looked up sharply.
“You do?”
“Yes. It was the police.”
Just then uniformed men stepped out from every other room, surrounding them.
Justice stared at them for a long time, not comprehending what was happening.
“What is happening?”
“You are under arrest Sir, for the Murder of one Mr. Frederick Otegar. You have the right to remain silent for anything you say will and may be used against you in the court of Law.”
“Katherine.”
“You were willing to continue killing, weren’t you?”
“It was for us.”
“No it was for you and you alone. You married me without telling me about your problem, because you wanted to make yourself happy, you drugged me, your wife, brought a stranger to violate me, your own wife so you can have a child. Only God knows how many times, how many times you drugged me. And when you got what you wanted you went ahead to kill the man. And you are even willing to continue killing.”
She wiped at her eyes for the millionth time.
“Your confession was recorded. Cha cha not only told me you were not the father of my children but also that the police had contacted her and that they were trying to get you to confess to the murder. Apparantly, Mr. Frederick had mentioned what he had done to his sister, who saw you with him on the day of his death.”
“Move!” The policemen shoved him.
“I pray you rot in jail.”
Cha Cha stepped into the room after the policemen had filed out.
“You still feel I shouldn’t have told you?”
“Yes, but I am glad he was unmasked. Who would have thought I was married to a monster. I didn’t know you worked with the police.”
“I don’t…okay so maybe once in awhile they come to me for help.”
“I wouldn’t have believed any other person.”
Cha Cha turned to leave then paused.
“You will be fine?”
“Eventually, I would have to tell my children the truth someday.”
“Good, Secrets can be very dangerous.”
“Says the Mistress of secrets”
And Cha Cha walked out of the house with a satisfied smile on her face, one secret was out, on to the next one.
Behind her, her wolf like dog growled and bared its teeth at any one who dared to look at her.

Question: Do you think ChaCha should have just keep her mouth shout, after all what do don't know can't kill or hurt you and Katherine would still be leaving with the love of her life and her children. Or do you think Cha Cha did the right by allowing Katherine know the truth about her husband and even got him arrested.

Hope you enjoyed the write-up, don't forget to drop your comment, suggestion and opinion.

*Always Remember You Can Preach a Better Gospel With The Way You Leave Your Life Than With Your Lips.

MISTRESS OF SECRETS

Mistress of Secrets

Have you ever done something you do not want anyone to know?

In the comforting cloak of darkness or the glaring light of day?

Information they say is power.

When that information is supposed to be a secret, the word ‘power’ becomes an understatement.

Nothing they say is hidden under the sun.

Do you believe in that statement?

Perhaps not. 

But if you ever had the fortune or misfortune, as the case maybe, of crossing paths with Cha Cha, she would single handedly make you a believer.

The woman who had the curiosity of ten cats and the tenacity of a bulldog, you just don’t cross paths with her and leave without her getting to know something about you.

Some have given her the title of chief gossip; others say she is a perpetual meddler who doesn’t know how to mind her business, but no matter what they call her they all agreed on one thing, that she always spoke the truth. No information from Cha was ever false.

She was the one people go to, to confirm or discard a rumor.

She was a woman both feared and revered.

Feared because she didn’t believe in keeping secrets, the second she got information, she disclosed it to the concerned parties. 

Revered because no one knew how she came about her knowledge. She was the Mistress of secrets. The god of chao.

KITTEN

KITTEN

In the police station from which the street got its name the inspector’s stomach was telling him it was Lunch time. He wiped his fat face with his handkerchief for the tenth time that afternoon, wishing he could crawl out of his damp skin, he looked up at the pathetic excuse for a ceiling fan that groaned as if it hated its job and sighed in frustration, he couldn’t wait to get out of his office.

“I was on my way out so you would have to make this fast. Who are you and why did you ask to see me?” he asked the man sitting from across his desk.

“I was told you are the man in charge here.”

Trying to hide his impatience the inspector nodded.

“Yes how may I help you?”

“I want to make a confession.”

For a moment the inspector wondered if he looked like a reverend father to the man.

“You do realise this is a police station”

“Yes sir.”

“All right Mr…”

“Patrick Attah.”

“Patrick Attah I am Inspector Gabriel Annum. What is your confession?” he asked trying not to sound impatient. If this was one of those lunatics who usually wandered in here, he was going to make sure the man spent the night in a cell.

“Inspector Gabriel Annum I murdered my wife.”

The ceiling fan creaked and groaned but only succeeded in blowing hot air and for the first time the inspector was not irritated and annoyed by the uselessness of the fan. He was too busy staring at his afternoon visitor like the man had just told him he was an alien. Impatiently he looked down at his desk not actually seeing the files and papers weighing it down. He then laced his fingers together before finally looking up at the small man sitting before him.

“Mr. Patrick Attah.” He said in an even voice.

“Are you on any medication?”

“No sir.” 

“Any history of mental illness?”

“No Sir.”

He leaned back in his seat.

“What then are you talking about?”

“If you would permit me I would like to tell you a story.”

He wasn’t sure why he decided to give him listening ears, maybe it was the determined look in the man’s eyes or the earnestness with which he spoke or it could be because it wasn’t everyday someone walked into his office to say that he murdered his wife—for God’s sake, but whatever the reason, Patrick found himself pulling his leather chair closer to the desk, ignoring the heat and shutting the thought of food out of his mind.

“Mr. Patrick, I am all ears.”

Skin as light as a fairy’s, soft as a baby’s’ and smelled as sweet as a garden in full bloom. Large round eyes that was as white as pearl and shimmered like diamonds and if you looked close enough her iris glittered translucently like a dark pool in a night full of stars. High cheek bone, perfect nose and a full mouth that was lush to the touch and she had a killer figure, added to all that was a sense of vulnerability that covered her like a queen’s robe. 

It was easy to underestimate Victoria, to think her weak and pampered.

But beneath that was a fighter with unbelievable strength and willpower. When Victoria walked it was with her head held high, she walked so tall that you would think she was six feet tall instead of the five feet that she was. Other women would go for the easy way out in a situation but not Victoria, she would look for the hard way and when she finds it she would conquer it. What Victoria wanted, Victoria got.

‘It’s all about mindset.’  She would say in that musical voice of hers.

‘Believe you can do it, and you will do it.’

This woman saw herself through school and removed her family from the cruel hands of poverty they were known for. She was a caterer and an event planner and because she was as strong and brave as a captain on a ship, as commanding and authoritative as a general with his armies her business became very successful. Everyone wanted her services.

“Wow.” The inspector heard himself saying his voice bringing the man back to the present for he had had a faraway look throughout his narration.

“Yes, wow.” He murmured then went back to his story but this time around staring into the inspector’s eyes.

“It is not like I was not handsome myself in fact women flocked after me so much so that I hardly had to chase after them. They do all the work for me; all I had to do was select the one I wanted. Money was also not my problem for apart from the fact that I am the special adviser to the governor, I also have landed properties that fetch me money. Like my wife I was also very successful. 

Still it took me two months to get Victoria to go out on a date with me and even longer to get her to marry me. I am an Igala man you see, so you will understand that it wasn’t easy for me to beg her like that but for some reason I did. She was successful and very beautiful, who wouldn’t want that?

I was thirty when we got married; five years older than her.

At first, all was well. I felt like the luckiest man in the world. Victoria did everything with passion; when she spoke, when she worked and even when we made love it was with passion. Always happy with a contagious laughter that was irresistible; when I went out she followed me to kiss me goodbye. When I got back she was always there to welcome me and I never went hungry for one minute.”

He paused reminiscing.

“Do you know what I used to call her?” he suddenly asked in a small voice and the inspector shook his head. He couldn’t speak for he was mesmerized by the sad smile on Patrick’s face.

“Kitten”

He blinked and found his voice.

“Kitten as in a cat?”

“Yes. She was my kitten for she was always all over me. She could never go to sleep unless she was wrapped in my arms and sometimes at the oddest moment she would walk up to me and kiss my forehead affectionately. She also got along well with my family. She helped my family financially and otherwise without even asking me. When we ran out of food supply she would restock even without telling me, she hardly asked me for anything, her sole purpose was to please me.”

“The perfect wife” The inspector heard himself saying. Again Patrick paused, staring at the inspector for a long time, then as if he had just heard what the inspector had said he nodded.

“Yes the perfect wife. After five years of marriage I came back home one day with ice cream and kept it in the freezer and when Victoria came back and saw it she took it and ate it all up—just as I had expected—for she loved ice cream, coffee flavour. As she devoured it she didn’t think for once that it might have been poisoned.” 

Inspector Gabriel Annum for some reason shivered in his skin despite the heat in the room. Sitting still he stared at the man before him for a long time half expecting him to burst out laughing, to say that it was a joke but instead he turned lifeless eyes on him and glowered at him. If the inspector had been a lesser man he would have shrank in his seat from the anger suddenly in the stare but as it was he stood his ground and stared right back without uttering a word. But when Patrick sprang out of his seat like a viper ready for venom transfusion, his arm shot under his desk to grab at the gun hidden there, if Patrick hadn’t turned away from the desk, at the time he did, to pace about, he would have emptied the gun in him. While the inspector tried to push his pounding heart back down his throat he again wondered about the man’s sanity.

“I know what you are thinking, why did I have to kill her? Why?” he demanded coming back to his seat.

“But don’t jump into conclusion for I had my reasons.”

“I didn’t kill Victoria because she never for once in our five years of marriage told me she loved me, no though I desperately wanted to hear those words from her. I didn’t kill Victoria because she couldn’t bear me children, yes she was barren, and the doctors had said she was incapable of giving birth.  It was because for some reason I was...intimidated, afraid even, of her, of the opinions she always had in abundance, of her strength, of her willpower, of her stamina, of her independence. You will never tell Victoria to sit down without her asking you why. You will never say Victoria don’t go to this place without her asking you why and even if you manage to give her a good reason she would find a way to convince you to do as she pleased. When arguing she was always right because she would continue to pour out reasons so much so that you would have no choice but to agree with her, on the rare occasions when I won an argument I used to celebrate. Financially she was independent, if I said I wasn’t going to get her something she would get it for herself, if I told my family members I wasn’t going to do something for them she would go ahead and do it for them.

Understand with him maybe he doesn’t have the money

Every day I felt suffocated by her and she seemed oblivious of my predicament, moving about like a goddamn happiness machine. She reminded me too much of my mother, whose one shout sent my father scurrying for cover. Her wish was his command and she never for once stopped to consider what he wanted. His opinion never mattered and he could never tell her what to do and like a vegetable my father lived under the dominating and formidable shadow of my mother until death had mercy on him and took him away. So I told her to quit her business, sell it! But again she wanted reasons, reasons I didn’t have. She was my wife! Couldn’t she just do as I said?” 

The inspector could only gape at him.

“I secretly derived pleasure from hearing her cry in the bathroom every night because of the hell my mother gave her. She would come to our home with her friends and insult her, calling her a barren. When she cried I felt good because then I knew she also had a weakness, she was weak after all, not untouchable. I killed her because I was afraid she would turn into my mother. I killed her because I didn’t want to wake up one day and see myself in my father’s shoes.”

“She was a barren, I told myself. She doesn’t even love you.”

Looking aghast the inspector wondered out loud.

“Why didn’t you just divorce her?”

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t look her in the face and tell her to pack her things and leave my house for despite everything she was a kind person.”

“So to you the best thing was to kill her.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me something, if you succeeded in killing her in cold blood without being caught then why are you here?”

“While she was down stairs in the dinning eating the poisoned ice cream I was in our bedroom pacing, waiting patiently for her to die. It was going to take some time but not too long, so I waited and waited my heart pounding not with fear but with excitement. I was finally going to be rid of her. 

Excuse me boss you have a text message

“It was her phone and because I had always hated that message tone and because I felt she was never going to read the text since she would soon join the dead anyways, I decided to read it for her.”

By now tears were streaming down his face as the inspector studied him.

“It was Antonia her nosy friend, I never liked her.” 

With that he repeated the text he had seen on that fatefully day, a message now permanently imprinted in his brain.

Are you insane? How can you sell your company, after all the sweat and blood you have poured into it—and to your number one competitors for that matter?  God will punish that husband of yours, I knew you shouldn’t have married him—the good for nothing bastard. If only he knew he was the one who was incapable of having children, if only he knew you were hiding it from him because you didn’t want to make him feel like he was not a man. All the suffering and humiliation you get from people and that his witch of a mother, he still has the guts to tell you not to work. Babe why haven’t you been picking your calls? Please call me the second you get this message, over my dead body will you sacrifice your business for him!

A graveyard was noisy compared to the silence that settled in the room when he finished.

“I was numb with shock.” He said in a small voice, his voice strangled with pain, confusion and anger contorting his face.

“I kept reading and rereading the message and yet I couldn’t believe it. Then I remembered the ice cream. The woman who had given me the powder said if a child should accidentally put it in their mouth that they should give them palm oil before rushing the child to the hospital. She thought I was using it for rats. Trembling and nauseous I ran down stairs to the dining but she wasn’t there it was then I heard her car, I rushed into the kitchen grabbed the can of oil and ran after the car. She drove out of the gate and I kept screaming her name, waving at her.”

He paused for a long time staring blankly into space as he relieved the moment.

Victoria. 

Victoria!

Victoria wait, please, stop!

“For five minutes I was running after the car.” At this stage the inspector had to strain his ears to hear what Patrick was saying.

“But it felt like ages, then the car started swerving going off road until she collided into a tree. Seconds later I got to her and her head was resting on the steering. I managed to get the seat belt off her and laid her on the floor cradling her head in my arms, blood was already pouring out of her mouth—and I knew I was too late.”

Please wake up, please.

Patrick? 

Victoria.

Something is wrong with my s-stoma-ch

I’m so sorry.

Ice cream, tell mother that I f-forgive her.

“She thought your mother poisoned her?”

“Yes.”

Why didn’t you tell me, why didn’t you tell me I was the cause of our childlessness.

I didn’t want-t-to trou-ble you, so I told the doctor not to tell you.

Jesus all these years? 

I’m sorry.

And your business?

I sold it-just like-ah-you-wanted.”

Why? Why!

To make-y-ou ha-pp-y.

“Oh how I screamed. I called for help but the ever busy highway was suddenly deserted.”

Somebody help me! Please, help.

It’s ok. I-don’t think I w-ill make it.

“When I heard that I knew I had to tell her.”

Victoria I poisoned the ice cream.

“I will never forget the look in her eyes; even in the throes of death she was shocked. For a moment she stopped groaning in pain, stopped vomiting blood and just studied me. I could see that she had trusted me completely—and then she lifted her hand to my face and she smiled. And she had never looked more beautiful.”

I forgive you my husband. 

No

It’s ok. Don’t worry about it

I am sorry, so sorry.

Patrick…

Yes

I love you

“Jesus Christ.” The inspector kept repeating as he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, not sweat this time around but tears, before him Patrick wept like a baby, coughing and chocking.

“She told me she loved me, she told me she loved me. What have I done?”

“If all men killed their wives because of a little insubordination or because every once in a while they feel emasculated by them I don’t think there will be women left in this world. People pray and fast for a good companion, to have the luck of marrying a good wife, my son up till now has refused to get married because of fear of marrying a bad woman….but you, you were given a good wife, a woman full of life and laughter and you killed her? So what if she wasn’t perfect? Nobody in this life is perfect. That’s the beauty of the world for you. If you had sat that woman down and spoken to her, told her what you just told me I’m very sure she would have changed for you, because she loved you and she told you everyday of her life, you just didn’t see it or want to see it. Compared to my wife, your wife was perfection personified, I can’t even remember the last time my wife looked at me with love in her eyes not to talk of kissing me on my forehead…and yet I love her and I know she loves me too because together we face every difficulty life throws at us.” He shook his head in disgust, feeling extremely sorry for the dead Victoria for having the misfortune of meeting this maniac.

“God gave you a good companion a woman who worshipped you, who protected you, who covered your shame for five years taking the humiliation in your place, but what did you do, you self-centred bastard, you killed her, when you could have easily set her free so that she could at least have the chance to meet a man that will value her and appreciate the goodness of her heart, a man that could at least love her in return.”

The inspector paused feeling like he was going to explode in his seat and all the while telling himself to take his mind off the gun under his table. No need stooping to the murderer’s level.

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry for yourself.”

On shaky legs Patrick stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“I can’t sleep at night because if I close my eyes I keep seeing the shock in her eyes before she died. I don’t know what else to do.”

“How about you start by getting out of my office”

“What?” he said weakly, exhausted from crying.

“Wait I just confessed to murder.”

“So?”

“So you have to arrest me. It is against the law to take a life.” He said becoming desperate

“You want me to arrest you in other to ease your conscience? You think that is enough punishment? Well it is not and I am not going to give you the pleasure of throwing you in jail, never. Go and let her ghost haunt you, go and die a slow death. God forgive me but as far as I am concerned I didn’t hear anything today. Out of my office I am late for lunch.”

Makurdi as usual was as hot as a woman’s oven the sun beat down mercilessly on the few who dared to walk the streets. The afternoon was dull and eventless, shop owners could be seen sitting in front of their shops fanning themselves with old newspapers or handkerchiefs gossiping with neighbours and hoping for customers. Once in a while a motorist would speed by or a car would blast its horn disturbing the quiet of the afternoon. Sales girls in restaurants cushioned their heads with their arms on the table as they dozed in boredom while others simply played games on their phones. At the bank customers queued at the ATM cursing at each other or the hated sun. At the hair salon opposite the banks a woman fanned her sleeping son while her tummy rumbled. It was almost past lunch time.

Coming out of the police station from which the street got its name, the red eyed man walked down the road feeling like the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulder. He had committed murder and even the law had turned its back on him. He shuddered at the thought of going back to the house without his kitten. No one to welcome him in with a kiss, no one to cuddle with, no one to fill his home with laughter, no one to argue with him, no one to shield him from the gossip of the world and no one to love him unconditionally.

I forgive you my husband. 

I love you.

The screams of shop owners, sales girls, customers who were no longer on the queue at the ATM and the woman who was fanning her child shattered the silence of the afternoon. Birds in trees disturbed by the noise, protested as they flew away angrily, women cried and dogs barked in warning but he was oblivious; Oblivious of the shouts of warning, oblivious of the startled cry of the birds, oblivious of the truck speeding towards him until it was too late.

By the time he realized he had walked into the middle of the road the truck was upon him and the last thing he saw was his wife’s face smiling at him.

I forgive you my husband.
***story by Empressamin, Graduate of ABU Zaria**

*YOU MIGHT not KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE UNTIL YOU LOOE IT.  THEREFORE CHERISH wHAT YOU HAVE. CHERISH THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU AND NEVER COMPARE ANYONE OR TRY TO MOULD ANYONE TO FIT YOUR SPEC.*

Hope you enjoyed this wonderful piece and  was able to learn something. Till we meet again.  Don't forget to drop your comments and suggesting
Always remember "you can preach a better gospel with the way you live your life than with your lips"

GHOST

HARMLESS GHOSTS OF MY PAST

Some said it was because I wore short skirts all around the house. Others said it was because I was fair complexioned and my skin was always screaming for attention. The kind ones concluded that it was my mother's fault for not noticing anything was wrong. The wicked ones blamed her for being too busy.
 I heard everything and I could only smile even through the pain.  Listening to their comments about what happened to me only made it seem more surreal. And hardened my resolve to take permanent action against my ghosts.

My name is Veronica, My story is one that might elicit pity from you. But please do not share that emotion. Learn from it and move on. Just like I have. I lost my dad when I was 13. And as painful as it was, it was much more painful for my mother who immediately assumed the role of breadwinner for my sister and I. She worked from 7am till anytime She could come home.

We learned to take care of ourselves and tried as much as possible not to bother her in any way. As the first child, I assumed the role of mother and took care of my sister to the best of my ability.
Then Came Uncle Innocent. Uncle Innocent was my dad's brother who all the while lived in South Africa.  He Came to Nigeria and my mum felt obliged to accommodate him since no other close relative lived in Lagos.

He brought a lot of goodies and made us all happy as he gradually became a part of our lives. Buying us our necessities and taking care of us. He attended all PTA meetings when mum couldn't and drove us everywhere. He was our God sent angel.. But then it only took a little while for me to realize that this angel wasn't so innocent afterall.

One afternoon Uncle Innocent sent my sister to get him some vegetables from the market. I protested because I felt she was too young to go all the way there besides the fact that we didn't need vegetables for anything in the house at that moment. He silenced me saying he wanted to make a delicacy they eat in South Africa and we would like it.  I just said okay. Excited that I'd get to eat foreign food.

As my sister left, he Locked the door and began to take off his trousers.
I was astonished. He had never done that. Before I knew what was happening, I received the slap that changed my life. He didn't utter a word.
I had heard of Rape, I experienced it first hand. I Shouted. I struggled. But his huge body didn't even allow me succeed a little. Being a hot afternoon,  everyone had gone to work. My screams yielded no attention from neighbors.
When he finished, he told me I wasn't to utter a word, else the same ordeal would be my sister's lot. The mere thought of that shut me up.

 I suffered in silence. I didn't know who to tell. I was just a mess of a broken spirit and a used body. After about 3 months Uncle Not-so Innocent left our house escorted by the police when a neighbor of ours heard my regular shouts and broke the door one afternoon. He was home on leave and heard me struggling as usual.
The story broke out to the whole community and everyone had their fair share of commentary. We had to leave the vicinity.

My mother was so sorry. She promised to reduce her working hours.
I was placed under observation in the hospital and given millions of tests and injections.
I had psychological help and a lot of counseling to help me out of the trauma. I'm 20 years old now. 7 years after the incident and I'm not the Veronica I was. I know better and I'm stronger. And even if my past has ghosts, they are completely harmless.
*****Story by Ayegba ENE,  400level Psychology, OAU*******

THERE IS NEED CRYING OVER SPLIT MILK. SINCE YOU CANT CHANGE THE PAST,  THE ONLY OPTION YOU HAVE IS TO FORGE AHEAD WITH LIFE AND STRIVE NOT TO MAKE SAME MISTAKE AGAIN. DONT ALLOW THE MISTAKE/SORROW OF THE PAST ROB YOU OF THE JOY OF TOMORROW.
*Always Remember You Can Preach A Better Gospel With The Way You Live Your Life Than With Your Lips*
Hope you enjoyed the story  and was able to learn something.  Don't forget to drop your comments and suggestions. Till we come your way again next week.
#HarmlessGhostOfMyPast
#MovingForward
#NoLookingBack
#YouthKonnect

DIARY OF A FIRE SPITTING HOUSEWIFE (finale)

.................I overheard her saying to my husband, and not for the first time I wondered why she was still alive. The Angel of death just kept missing her. I will ensure I add her name and our address the next time I am praying for her.
 Weeks later, while still waiting for my fervent prayers to be answered, my husband drove into the compound. I was lying on the sofa in the living room, reading a Nora Roberts novel when I heard him at the door I made to get up but saw someone speed past me to open the door. I had never seen the old woman so agile.
“My son welcome I can see you are with a visitor.”
I was sitting up now, my book long forgotten as I watched my husband enter.
“Welcome Honey…” I began to say when I noticed the young woman behind him; her perfume might as well be made of youth and elegance. She was so beautiful I momentarily had a feeling she had stepped out of a vogue cover magazine.
They proceeded to make themselves comfortable with Mama dancing about like someone who had been pronounced the queen of her village.
“My son is she the girl you were telling me about?”
My husband replied in the affirmative as he shrugged out of his suit jacket.
“My child what is that your name again?”
“Faiza” The name slipped out of lips so red I wondered if she had drained a human of its blood before coming.
Since I might as well be lint on the sofa for all the attention they gave me, I laid back down and picked up my novel.  But I couldn’t see a word on the paper as Mama’s voice kept forcing its way into my ears.
“What a beautiful name.” she exclaimed dramatically.
“Oyiboo! You will give me beautiful grandchildren, I know. I can already picture them.” I heard the girl’s soft chuckle.
“All those that want to die should die please. My son has found a perfect wife. The grasshopper that thinks its ears are decorative fittings will realize its foolhardiness in the bowels of the bird, yes.”
“Salamatu.” My husband called, condescension coating every word.
“Where are your manners? Get my guest something to drink.”
Before I could open my mouth Mama exclaimed.
“Ah! No please, let me get it. Who knows what people boiling with suppressed jealousy can do?”
Having had enough, I stood up and leveled my husband with a stare before turning my attention to the girl.
“Would you like a tour of the house?”
Well it was the only thing I could think of to say. They both stared at me in confusion.
“Uh no.”
“Ok then if you will excuse me.”
My smile still dazzling them I proceeded to my room.

Faiza became the most used name in the house, if I so much as blinked the wrong way Mama was quick to tell me how Faiza did it better. The house was steamy hot with conspiracy against me but though I was boiling to the point of explosion I appeared unfazed and very cheerful.
Sunday afternoon; my husband, his mother and their new favorite wife-to-be Faiza, were on the varender having snacks, laughing loudly and sharing jokes, when the sleek black car rolled into the compound to park under the Forest Flame, seconds later a tall broad shouldered drop-dead gorgeous young man stepped out, with the body of a fit footballer and the lazy confidence of a wealthy man. He walked towards them with the stealth and grace of the king of the jungle.

My husband rose to meet him and wanted to know if he knew him.
“I am Azeez.” He offered as if the name alone gave all the explanation that was needed
“I am here for Salamat.”
As if on cue I waltzed out in my sky blue gown that trailed behind me, on heels that were three inches high, my face was all made up and my lips were bloody red with lipstick.
“My Queen, I am always in awe of your blinding beauty.”
I basked in the compliment and smiled so bright the afternoon sun became jealous. I nodded and offered him my hand; he bowed and pressed a kiss to my fingers, before tucking it in the crook of his arm.
“Shall we?”
And as if on a red carpet with paparazzi swamping us we took our time going to his car, he opened my door for me, stepped aside for me to proceed in before closing it. He got in himself and we drove out.
But not before I smiled with satisfaction at the Jaws competing to touch the ground.

12:30a.m I unlocked the door and stepped into the house. Mama was sitting in a chair right in the foyer waiting for me, when she turned on the light and realized it was me she sprang into verbal abuse. When she was done insulting my entire generation and those to come, I told her goodnight and made to walk past her. It was then she struck me right across the face.
“Where do you think you are going to? You think this is your father’s house that you can come and go as you please? Shameless prostitute!”
After my head stopped reeling from the slap, I dropped the bag I was carrying, placed my phone gently on it and turned.
“You are leaving this house this—”
She didn’t get to complete the sentence when I lifted her off the floor, pushed open the door and dropped her outside.
“For a woman as old as you are you sure can slap.” I muttered closing the door and turning the lock
 I have got no words for the look on her face.
I turned off the light and went to my son’s room to check on him, he was sleeping peacefully. I closed his door gently and proceeded to our bedroom. I turned on the light and walked towards the closet. In the sitting area was my husband nursing a drink in his hand and looking twice his age. At the closet I changed all the while feeling his gaze on me. I went to the bathroom, showered, came back out in my night wear. I walked past him to the refrigerator, where I poured myself a glass of water, sipping it I went to my dresser did my usual night ritual drained the glass of water then turned on the bedside light before going to turn off the light to the room and went back to the bed. When I was all tucked in under the blanket I turned off the bedside lamp.

I find it difficult to sleep with the light on, so when the bedside lamp came back on it pulled me out of my sleep to find my husband standing over me. We studied each other for a long time in silence before he said.
“You can’t leave another man’s bed to crawl into mine.”
With that statement I knew sleep was not going to happen anytime soon. So I sat up, tightening the scarf on my head, but never said a word.
“Salamat” he called softly, the anguish evident in his voice. I said nothing, still staring defiantly at the wall across. Afterwards he moved to stand right before me and then sat on the floor Indian style, he patted the space before him.
For a long time I stared at the spot he pointed and something constricted in my chest.
When we were dating and in the early times of our marriage and he had nothing, when we used to stay in a room, whenever we had problems and wanted to talk about it, we would sit like this and talk it out until we made up.  We never left the position until we were friends again.
It was our thing…a lifetime ago.
Today looking down at him I wasn’t sure I wanted to join him.
“Salamat.” He urged.
It was the look in his eyes that made me slide down to join him. For a long while he said nothing as he studied me while I pointedly refused to meet his gaze.
“What will happen now?” He asked.
I turned to stare defiantly into his eyes.
“You tell me.”
“You can’t leave another man’s bed and enter mine, it is not done.”
“But you can leave another woman’s bed and enter mine? It is ok for you to flaunt your women before me?”
He opened and then closed his mouth, his face a perfect mixture of shock and confusion.
“Is that what you are doing, returning the favor? By throwing yourself at men?  You will only bring upon yourself disrespect and dishonor. What will people say, how will the society look at you? You are a woman for godsake, meant to be gentle, calm, loving and to stay in the bloody house!”

The fire started to bubble up in me, and the madness matching his.
“My God, you should be given a standing ovation for this display of stupidity, ignorance and self centeredness. I should stay in the bloody house. Was that not what I did? Was I not gentle, calm and loving? I was all those things and more but what did I get in return? Dishonor, disrespect and more; from you, your mother, your friends and the women you bring into this house. So excuse me if I don’t give a fat rats fanny what the society thinks of me, because there is nothing they will do to me that I haven’t gotten from you…in large doses.”
“SALAMAT.”
“Let me finish! Sometimes I wonder how some men actually see women, do you think we are slaves or a machine programmed to do as you please? No, we are flesh and blood with a heart that feels disappointment and can be broken. So I would not lose sleep over a society that will applaud a man for doing an act and then turn against a woman for doing the same thing. If it is okay for you to be with other women, then it is okay for me to be with other men. Disrespect, my dear husband, begets disrespect.”
“Is this because of Faiza? My religion allows me to have four wives.”
“Well congratulations, Mr. I-am-allowed-to-have-four-wives. Yes the religion said you can have four wives but it didn’t say you must.”

My husband started to laugh then and if I had had an axe with me I would have derived immense pleasure unhinging his jaw so that he can continue laughing permanently.
“It didn’t say you should do it with total disregard for the woman at home, it didn’t say you should do it while bringing shame upon the woman at home, it didn’t say you should insult, disrespect  and treat the woman at home like shit. It didn’t say you should commit indecency with them before they are legally your wives. If a woman was not important dear husband, if you could survive without a woman God wouldn’t have deemed it necessary to bring us into existence. I left my home to be with you, I gave you my body for you to do as you please with, I devout my time to pleasing you and at the end of the day what do I get, a husband that looks at me and laughs in my face because I exhibited jealousy for bringing another woman between us.”
“But going out with another man? You just can’t.”
“I can and I have.”
That night my home became like one of those homes where you hear raised voices at night. My husband discovering his mother outside, shivering like she was in Antarctica didn’t help matters. She wanted me thrown out that very night but I wouldn’t burg.
“My parents won’t have me again or have you forgotten that I disobeyed my parents in every way imaginable to be with your son? I am here to stay.”
It wasn’t until four in the morning was I able to get a little sleep cuddled with my son in his room.

6:30 in the morning my mother-in-laws voice, like a cock crow, woke me up. My phone started ringing not wanting to disturb my son’s sleep I got out of the room to answer it, it was my sister and she was at the door. I went past my mother-in-laws bedroom where I could still hear them.
“What are you doing here so early?” I asked as I closed the door behind her.
“To see the resultant effect of our little show yesterday”
Going past the room again I and my sister stopped to listen.
“I have not been bewitched nor am I a weakling. I just know the value of what I have. Salamat is not leaving my house, she is my wife and I have wronged her terribly, we have wronged her, admit it mother, you have not been making life easy for her. We pushed her into doing this. I will apologize to her, go home, no I am not sending you out of my house I love the both of you and you have shown me that you want to be an authority on your own, please go home where you have everything down to servants, they can’t be two queens on my ship.”

“Yomi!”
“Mama if you don’t comply I will leave her and you and nobody will ever see me again. This is Salamat for gods sake, the girl who stole from her parents to pay for my operation when I had that accident, the girl who kept sending me her school fees, without her I wouldn’t be what I am today, plus I don’t want God to send me to hell for treating my wife badly. My dad didn’t and I won’t. I forgive her.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Excellent.” My sister said
“I knew this would work, now can I have my new boyfriend back?”
I laughed.
“I will go and undo the spell.”
“What spell?” I asked.
“The spell I cast upon you to suppress that goody goody side of you.”

NEVER TAKE SOMEONE'S KIND AND GENTLE NATURE AS STUPIDITY.  CAUSE WHEN THEY WITHDRAW THOSE KIND NATURE YOU WOULD NOT LIKE THE OUTCOME,  ASK SALAMATU'S HUSBAND

Hope you enjoyed this piece and was able to learn one or two things. Till next week when we will bring you another wonderful story.
*Always remember you can preach a better gospel with the way you live your life than with your lips*
******story by Empressamin, Graduate of ABU Zaria*****