Moxie(13)

Okeke let the last scoop of dust trickle through his fingers to the ground as he stood by his wife’s freshly dug grave. He stared at the small crowd gathered around Oriaku’s graveside with unseeing eyes. The red dust clung to his sweaty palms and he wiped them on his trousers. He ground his teeth as he thought to himself how fate had dealt him a cruel hand; first with his son’s illness, then his daughter’s disappearance and now the death of his wife.

Oriaku never really got over the loss of Nnedi. As soon as she returned from her futile attempt to see Nnedi at Onitsha, she took ill. The doctors at the government hospital said she was diabetic and hypertensive but in spite of the treatment given to her by the doctors, Oriaku’s condition continued to deteriorate. She continued to lose weight and look frailer by the day. It was as if she had determined that she had nothing else to live for. Okeke watched as his once beautiful wife metamorphosed into a sickly shadow of her former self. When he could take Oriaku’s self-destruction no longer, he voiced his concern to his father who suggested that they take her to see a renowned dibia. The dibia’s declarations were even more sinister. He told them that Oriaku’s spirit had already transited to the other world and that her body was to follow shortly. He asked them to bring the right foot of a female tortoise, some palm oil and thirteen yards of white cloth for him to perform some sacrifices on behalf of Oriaku to halt her journey. After the sacrifice, it was as if Oriaku was given a new lease on life. She bounced back to good health almost immediately and regained all the weight she had lost. She returned to her stall in the market and life in Umuaku continued as usual until that fateful morning when she slumped.

It was a market day and Okeke had gotten up early to watch the sunrise from his verandah. Oriaku was in the kitchen at the back of the compound preparing breakfast. On market days she left the house earlier than usual since buyers from the neighbouring towns flooded the market in search of fresh produce from the farms. He watched as the sun peeked from behind a curtain of easterly clouds and sighed as a gust of wind blew his wrapper about his legs. His reverie was cut short when Chidi bolted to the front of the compound looking like he had seen a ghost.

“Papa! Papa!! There’s something wrong with mama”, he screamed

“Where is she?”

“She’s lying down on the kitchen floor. She’s not answering me”

Okeke rushed behind Chidi as they headed for the kitchen. They carried her into the house and laid her on her bed. Okeke shook her vigorously but she didn’t wake up. He swung into action, put her on his back and started running to the nearby health center as fast as his legs and her extra weight would let him. The townspeople trailed behind him as he trudged on, oblivious of their sympathetic stares. When they got to the health center, the nurse told them that Oriaku was already dead. Before he could do anything, four able-bodied men had swooped in on him and herded him out of the small waiting area of the health center. He struggled against them with all his might but he was no match for their youth and vigour.

***************************************************************

Chinwe smiled coyly as Okoye rubbed against her thighs. She had good news for him tonight; she was pregnant! She moaned as Okoye sheathed himself in her velvety warmth and wrapped her arms around him urging him to quicken his pace.

A knock sounded on the door and they both stilled hoping the intruder would go away. Chinwe wiggled her hips provocatively beneath him and Okoye soon forgot about the knocking at the door as they swayed once more to a timeless rhythm.  The knocking came again, this time louder and more insistent. Okoye stood up, a frown on his face as he hurriedly put on his trousers.

He opened the door slightly and was shocked to see his younger brother Nwoye and his first wife Ugonwa at the door.

He turned back to look at the bed and saw that Chinwe had somehow found her wrapper and was struggling to cover her modesty as she dragged herself from the bed. It was his wife Ugonwa who found her voice first.

“Do you believe me now”, she said turning to Nwoye

Nwoye nodded silently

“Husband snatcher”, Ugonwa screamed as she brushed past Okoye, finding her way into the room.

“You will not mourn your husband in peace”, she continued, clapping in Chinwe’s face

“You are a disgrace to womanhood”

“Tufiakwa”, she spat

“Please take her home”, Okoye pleaded with Nwoye

Okoye bolted the door firmly behind him but not before Nwoye had pulled a screaming and kicking Ugonwa out of the room. Thankfully Ugonwa’s shouts were not loud enough to disturb the rest of the compound. Okoye thanked his stars that Chinwe’s mourning chamber was at the far end of the compound, away from the rest of Ihenacho’s other wives and children. He listened intently for any more sounds from any of the other apartments and when there was none he moved to sit on the bed.

“I am pregnant”, Chinwe blurted out

“You are what?”

“I said I am pregnant”

“I heard you the first time. Aren’t you a bit too old to be having children?” he scoffed

“Well, I’m pregnant”, Chinwe sobbed

“Listen to me, you old hag”, said Okoye through clenched teeth; “You have already disgraced me in front of my brother and my wife. Only God knows how many people she has gone to tell about what she saw here tonight. I am a respected elder in this village and I will not have you soil my name. You couldn’t keep your legs together and now you want to blame me for your predicament?”

“What do you mean by my predicament? Are we not in this together?” she yelled

“Keep your voice down, you harlot. You are on your own! How do I even know if I am the only one you’ve been sleeping with since my brother’s death?”

Okoye moved to the door. Chinwe stood up and planted herself between him and the door.

“Chinwe, get out of my way”, he warned

“Or what?” she demanded

She seized the collar of his shirt and held him tightly, willing him to take another step away from the room.

“Woman, this is your last chance”, he seethed

“Do your worst”, she taunted him

Okeke tried to extricate his shirt from her vice-like grip and when she wouldn’t let go, he pushed her violently.

Chinwe’s bottom landed squarely on the floor with a loud thud. Before she could stand up Okoye had slunk away into the night.

By morning, news of Chinwe and Okoye’s illicit affair was all over the town; the women gossiped about it in hushed tones. That same day, the elders summoned Chinwe to the town hall. As she walked to the town hall, people walked behind her careful not to go too close to her. She could hear the women hurling insults at her as she trekked on in silence.

She was asked to kneel down in the center of the hall while they deliberated on her case. She scanned the faces of the men seated in a circle surrounding her but she couldn’t find Okoye among them. Outside the hall, a throng had gathered to watch the proceedings. She kept her head down and shut her eyes trying to blot out the public spectacle that was taking place around her.

When the elders were done deliberating, they decided that she should be punished for dishonouring her husband’s spirit. According to them, she had soiled Ihenacho’s name and inadvertently made it difficult for his spirit to successfully journey to the afterlife. To appease Ihenacho’s spirit and cleanse her of adultery, she was to walk around the market, naked, on the next market day. The crowd erupted into pandemonium. From where she knelt down, Chinwe saw her elder brother out of the corner of her eye as he stepped forward to plead that she be given a lesser sentence. The elders were adamant, insisting that the sentence they had passed was befitting for Chinwe’s crime. The elders dispersed leaving her kneeling. Her brother helped her up and steered her out of the hall. The crowd had swelled by the time Chinwe got out of the hall and they trailed her all the way to her family’s compound as she was ordered not to return to her husband’s compound. The following day, Nwoye and Nwafor called at Chinwe’s family house. Their mission, they claimed, was to return her bride price and dissolve the marriage between their brother Ihenacho and the adulteress. They left as soon as their business was concluded.

Chinwe rubbed her stomach as she thought about her unborn child. Tears streamed down her face as the realization of what was about to happen to her hit her. She had truly disgraced herself, her children and her family; she thought. The next day was the market day and as sure as the rising of the sun, the elders would be at her father’s gate to lead her stark naked to the market. She got up from the verandah where she had been sitting and brushed the tears from her eyes. She went into one of the rooms and found the container she was looking for behind the door. She was going to end it tonight. She would not let her children suffer because of their mother’s indiscretion.

When one of her cousins was sent to wake her up in the morning, they found Chinwe cold and unresponsive, a can of rat poison on the floor beside her bed. The elders shook their heads at her misfortune and went away quietly. The women beat their chest and wailed loudly at Chinwe’s sad fate.

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“Please greet mama and papa for me”, Nnedi said as she hugged Ezinne tightly

“Tell them that I miss them”

Ezinne hugged her tightly.

The bus was getting ready to move. Ezinne’s sister, her sister’s husband and their three children were seated in the bus already. They were travelling to Umukau for the Christmas holidays.

“Please take care of the house and don’t forget to lock the door at night”, said Ezinne’s sister

“Yes ma”.

Nnedi waved at the bus as it zoomed off in a cloud of smoke and dust and cursed her fate; the fate that made it impossible to see her family. Going to Umuaku would mean risking the wrath of Ihenacho’s family. She turned spun round and trudged home silently.

Moxie (12)

 

Nnedi finally realized why Ezinne’s oyibo madam winked when she mentioned that the Lugards might need a nanny soon. Mrs. Lugard was heavily pregnant and Nnedi wondered how the woman’s reed-like frame was able to support her bulging stomach. The Lugards were delighted when oyibo madam introduced Nnedi to them. It seemed oyibo madam had read their minds and Nnedi was asked to resume work immediately. Nnedi had a day off work once a week and on those days she made the trip from Ebutte-Metta to Oshodi. Though the face-me-I-face-you apartment she shared with Ezinne’s sister, the sister’s husband and their three children plus Ezinne was severely cramped, Nnedi relished whatever time she found to spend with them. First of all, she could speak Igbo freely after being subjected to speaking English with the Lugards all week. For Nnedi, being with Ezinne and her family was the closest she could be to Umuaku. Not a single day passed that she didn’t think of Chike and how he must have grown. She missed her mother, her father and grandfather.

The Lugards lived in a three-bedroom apartment and also had servants’ quarters at the back of the house. It appeared that the Lugards had developed a taste for Nigerian food and Mrs. Lugard liked to cook up a feast of Nigerian foods every other day; from pepper soup to nkwobi to yam pottage and her particular favourite of fried plantain also known as dodo.

Nnedi cleaned, washed, cooked, went to the market and ran errands for the Lugards. Most nights she plopped into bed exhausted, only to dash out of her room at the crack of dawn the following day; her apron strings trailing behind her as she struggled to tie them behind her back.

Mrs. Lugard liked everywhere to be spick and span. “I used to dust and clean the whole place myself while Dan is at work”, she said referring to her husband.

“But I can’t do that anymore”, she sighed patting her moon-shaped stomach

Nnedi returned to work after one of her ‘off’ days to discover that there was nobody in the Lugard residence. The gateman told her that Mrs. Lugard went into labour in the middle of the night and had to be rushed to the hospital. Mrs. Lugard returned in the company of her husband clutching the pinkest baby Nnedi had seen in her entire life. The babies back in Umuaku were chubby and full-haired but this one was wrinkled and bald. They named the baby Robert. Mrs. Lugard too looked worse for wear, like she had been dragged over a bed of nails.

A few days later Mrs. Lugard’s mother, a buxom white-haired matriarch came visiting which made Nnedi wonder where Mrs. Lugard inherited her slender build from.

As the days became weeks, it became obvious something was wrong. Nnedi thought that upon returning home, Mrs. Lugard would be revived by the maternal attention of her matronly mother but things only seemed to get worse. Mrs. Lugard receded into herself and would only speak unless spoken to. She lost weight drastically and the once-bubbly expectant mother transformed into a waif-like shadow of her former self. She refused to touch Robert; the baby would cry and cry and she often had to be cajoled by her husband and mother to breastfeed the child. During the day, Mrs. Lugard would sit at the front porch gazing into space and once her husband returned she retreated into her room where she ate dinner and would only emerge the following morning when Mr. Lugard had gone to work. Most nights, the entire house was kept awake by Mrs. Lugard’s loud sobs. When Mrs. Lugard’s mother sent her to the market to buy baby milk, Nnedi wondered what Mrs. Lugard had done with all the baby milk in her visibly engorged breasts.

That week when she got to Oshodi she narrated to Ezinne’s elder sister what was going on in the Lugard household. They wondered if it was some kind of demonic attack to have a baby and want nothing to do with it.

*****************************************************************

Ik wiped the sweat from his brow as his truck hurtled on the tarmac. It was his return trip from Umuaku to Onitsha. Since Nnedi’s disappearance months ago, he had run into her father twice at the center of the town. The third time, he sighted the man from afar and ducked behind a truck. He knew Nnedi had still not returned home to Umuaku, his neighbours told him they saw her boarding a motorcycle in the direction of the Lagos motor park that fateful day so he suspected that was where she went. When he left police custody, he returned to the waiting arms of Uchenna whom his mother had left behind in Onitsha. Three months after, his mother returned and told him that Uchenna was pregnant and he needed to go and see her people before she started showing. Despite his pleas that he didn’t have enough money for the bride price, Ik was railroaded into throwing a lavish ceremony with virtually all of his savings. He resented the fact that he had to spend so much money to marry a woman he wasn’t even in love with and he often took it out on Uchenna.  Sometimes he felt guilty, like tonight when he returned to find her bent over the charcoal stove in the kitchen cooking his favourite ofe nsala soup and pounded yam. She straightened as she heard him approach to reveal her lumbering midsection. She enquired about his day and they made small talk before he went into the bathroom at the rear of the building to take his bath. When he returned to their one-room apartment, Uchena had set his tray of food beside the bed. She sat on the bed watching him as he gobbled up morsel after morsel of pounded yam. After she cleared the plates, he told her he was going to the next street to visit his friend. The minute he stepped out of the one room apartment, he dashed quickly to his old friend, the drug store owner and bought a pack of condoms before he headed to the brothel across the town. He sighed as he thought about why he had to dash across town twice every week to find sexual release. Ever since Uchenna took in, she had complained every time he tried to touch her. It also didn’t help that she was as big as an elephant now.

He walked into the dimly-lit passage and went straight to her room and found her lying on the bed. Everybody called her Sweetie, nobody knew her real name. Nobody cared. He didn’t care. His turgid member was threatening to burst out of his trousers if he didn’t do something about it soon enough. He brought out a wad of currency notes and counted some and handed it to Sweetie, she took it and placed it in a wooden box and slid it under the bed then she proceeded to take off the skimpy skirt and bra she had on. Ik moved to switch off the lights; he did this every time he was Sweetie. Though Sweetie may not know the reason why he always switched off the lights but the dark helped him fantasize that he was with Nnedi.

The mattress dipped as he lay down beside her, he could still make out her elfin features in the dark so he shut his eyes tightly. He slid his hands between her legs and touched her intimately. He imagined he heard Nnedi whimpering in delight at his tender ministrations and when Sweetie buckled under his touch, it only served to fuel his need for Nnedi. He smiled inwardly as he buried his head in her breasts and sucked on one rock-hard nipple while twirling the other between his fingers. Her cries of pleasure were like music to his ears.  He imagined Nnedi’s hands all over him, rubbing his hair, his back. He felt her digging her heels into his butt, urging him on while he continued caressing her breasts. And when Sweetie guided him gently into her warmth, he groaned as he buried himself deeply inside her knowing that he had found his Nnedi once again. Suddenly, he felt Nnedi pushing her hips upward to meet him thrust for thrust as he screamed her name in climax. He wanted to hold on to Nnedi some more but his fantasy was cut short when Sweetie sprung out of the bed and switched on the light casting a red hue on the entire room. He silently put on his clothes and shuffled out of the dingy room into the night.

Sweetie was intrigued by this customer who always requested for the lights to be turned off, though she never asked him why. In her line of work, questions were quite unnecessary. She wondered who the woman was that she wielded so much power over him. The first time he called her Nnedi she was taken aback. But after four months of his bi-weekly visits, she was accustomed to his queerness. These days she even played along, asking him what he would like Nnedi to do for him. She however did not relish the fact that he always wanted to remain in bed and cuddle when she had other customers waiting to be serviced. As she wiped herself with tissue paper and sprayed some perfume she shook her head ruefully as she thought about how she had fled from home in Liberia when her mother’s new husband forced himself on her one night, only to end up as a sex worker in Onitsha.

When Ik got home, he found Uchenna in bed. He slid in quietly beside her so as not to wake her up. Guilt weighed on him like a bag of cement, pressing him into the tattered mattress. He closed his eyes and kept seeing Nnedi’s smiling face and her exquisite gap-tooth. Sleep eluded him.

****************************************************************

“We are going home”, said Mr. Lugard

“As you already know, my wife has been very sick since she had Robert”, he continued

“She needs to be treated by a Psychiatrist in London”

Nnedi stared at him as if he had suddenly grown three heads. Were there no doctors in Nigeria that could treat Mrs. Lugard?

“What is a psychiatrist, sir”, she asked curiously

“A psychiatrist is a doctor who treats mental and emotional disorders”

Nnedi slowly nodded as comprehension dawned on her.

She shut her eyes struggling to hide the tears that were already stinging them.

She knew something was wrong when Mr. Lugard didn’t go to work that morning and when he asked to see her in the living room later, her anxiety snowballed into outright dread. He asked her to sit down and she selected a brightly coloured ottoman and perched on it. Mrs. Lugard’s mother was rocking the baby to sleep on the front porch while Mrs. Lugard was in her room.

“We leave tomorrow morning”

“I know this is all very sudden for you but here is two months’ salary”, he said and handed her an envelope. You can clear out whatever supplies are left in the fridge and take them.

Nnedi knelt down and thanked him. The tears flowed down freely this time. She bade them goodbye and plodded back to her room in the servant’s quarters to start packing.

 

 

The Abuja Incident

And that’s when she walked in. The most beautiful creature on this earth or so I thought. For the next few minutes I was transfixed just watching this ethereal creature that just floated in confer with her friend. They were talking in whispers so I could barely hear what they were saying despite the fact that I was just a few feet from them. Not to mention that the room was noisy. Then she straightened up and looked directly at me. Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity and just when I was struggling to tear my eyes away from her compelling gaze, she smiled.

You see, I’ve seen thousands of people smile and that’s not an exaggeration. As a wedding photographer, I get paid to capture peoples’ smiles. But this smile, the one this fair-complexioned exotic beauty rewarded me with was different. Her eyes seemed to light up as she smiled and I caught a glimpse of mischief in the upturned corners of her full lips. And there was that dimple, a lone one. I ran my gaze over her and was pleased by what I saw: tall and slim with curves in all the right places. I let my gaze rest once again on her cherubic face.

Now let me tell you what usually happens to me when I see a beautiful woman, especially at events: the photographer in me takes over and I quickly approach her to have her picture taken. But with this Northern beauty, I didn’t just want to take her picture; I wanted to take her home with me. I quickly erased that thought from my mind and returned my attention to her friend, my client who by now was watching the wordless exchange between us with some amusement.

“George, meet my best friend and sister from another mother”, she proclaimed.

“Her name is Aisha”

I stretched out my arm for a handshake and was rewarded with her dainty, henna-painted right hand. My palms easily swallowed hers for she had the smallest hands I had seen on a woman.

“A pleasure to meet you”, I said, trying to give her my best professional smile and failing woefully because I was grinning from ear to ear

“Same here” she responded, flashing perfect white teeth as she smiled again

I heard my client say, “Aisha will help you arrange my different outfits so you can take pictures of them, just like the ones you put on Instagram” and with that she turned her attention to the makeup artist who was already getting impatient by the interruption.

So we went to work, Aisha and i. She brought out her friend’s dresses and shoes and jewelry and I took picture after picture. We laid the jewelry on the bed, hung a few dresses from the light fixtures and even had a shoe peeking out from under the bed. Trust me not to waste this opportunity to have a conversation with her while we worked. She told me she was a Graduate Assistant in the Department of History at the Ahmadu Bello University and had flown into Abuja the previous day for the wedding. From behind the camera I could see as her brow creased while she was trying to match two outfits. I longed to touch her face and smooth the creases with the pads of my thumbs. I clicked the shutter, capturing that moment and freezing it in time.

I asked her if we could meet for drinks later in the day and she agreed. The rest of the wedding went by in an exertion-filled haze and occasionally my thoughts strayed to Aisha.

My client had spared no expense in ensuring that I was comfortable. They had booked a posh hotel in one of the high-brow areas of town and that is where Aisha and I met later that evening for drinks. I was waiting in the lobby when she walked in and I guided her to the restaurant. While we waited for our order, I surreptitiously checked her out. Her wide set brown eyes shone in her fair-complexioned face. She had the straightest nose I had seen on an African. I imagined her heart-shaped, full lips on mine. She noticed me staring and I was rewarded with a shy smile revealing her lone dimple once again.

“Stop staring”, she chided

It was my turn to be embarrassed.

The evening flew too fast for my liking. Aisha was easily the most interesting person I had met in my entire life. Like me, she was a voracious reader and the conversation quickly drifted to books. She had this uncanny ability to be able to follow a thread of conversation even after we had departed from the subject which I thought was one of the hallmarks of a good news reporter and I told her so.

She was leaving Abuja the following day for Zaria and I was on my way to Lagos for another assignment. As we waited on the street in the balmy December evening for a cab I sneaked my hand behind her waist and held her close. She leaned into me and I caught a glimpse of her scent. It was heady and intoxicating. She lifted her head and smiled up at me and I seized the opportunity to do what I had been dreaming of all night. Kiss her. Her lips were even softer than I imagined them to be. As I slammed the cab door shut I knew I had to see her again.

Two weeks after I met Aisha for the first time, I found myself in Zaria. Of course in those two weeks I called her every single day not to mention our marathon bouts of texting. I checked into a hotel and called her to let her know I was in town.  When she showed up at my door my last strand of self-control broke. I practically dragged her into the room. No words were needed at this point. With her back pressed against the closed door, I kissed her with all the longing in my being. She matched me thrust for thrust. With our lips still locked, I reached behind her and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. When I unhooked her bra, her breasts bounced free, welcoming their new-found liberty. Everything about Aisha was perfect even her breasts. I tweaked one rock-hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger and she sighed with pleasure. When I placed my mouth on the other nipple she moaned loudly and grabbed my arms. She reached under my shirt and found my nipples. I thought to myself that if she continued what she was doing, we wouldn’t make it to the bed. While still pinning her against the door I slid off her panties and carried her to the bed. I slid one finger into her, she was warm and wet, and then I followed with two fingers while she panted loudly grabbing the sheets and thrusting her hips. She started fumbling with my belt buckle and that’s when I realized I was still in my clothes. I quickly got out of my shirt and shorts and lay beside her.  She sat astride me and proceeded to guide me into her. The sight of her breasts as they bounced up and down drove me to the edge very quickly and watching her come was all I needed to send me tumbling down the brink.

We lay spent in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of our love-making. There was something on the TV about Boko Haram bombing somewhere in Borno. I asked her what life was like living in the North and in constant fear of being attacked by the insurgents. She assured me that Zaria was pretty safe.  I kissed her and found myself growing hard. I reached for the remote control and switched off the TV and shutting out the depressing news. I surrendered myself to Aisha’s bewitching ministrations.

Aisha was my spot of sunshine. She brightened every one of my days. She was the first thing I thing I thought about every morning and the last thing before I went to bed at night. Of course my work took me to different locations across the country but I was comforted by the fact that she was just a phone call away. I lived for the moment I could be with her again and with Valentine’s Day around the corner; I knew it would be sooner than later.

“Hello George, my name is Abba and I would like to book your services as our wedding photographer”

“By the way, you come highly recommended and my fiancée would kill me if you said no”

I looked down at the phone and smiled. Most of my clients came based on referrals, which is why I never joked with giving my best to any particular client.

“We would like to have our pre-wedding shoot at Utako in Abuja”, Abba continued.

“What date I asked”?

“Valentine’s Day”. “Send me your email so I can forward the address and other details to you”

That was two weeks away, I mentally calculated.

“Thank you”, he said and ended the call before I could respond

I was amazed at how the powers that be had conspired to take me to the North once again and this time on Valentine’s Day. I called Aisha in excitement and told that I had a pre-wedding photo shoot for Valentine’s Day in Abuja and would be in Zaria later that day to spend our first Valentine together. She sounded enthusiastic and told me she couldn’t wait to see me.

Valentine’s Day was a Saturday and I showed up at the location for the pre-wedding shoot an hour before the agreed meeting time of 10 am. I walked around the park for a bit and found a stone bench that I thought would be good for the shoot. I set about unpacking my equipment after which I called Abba to tell him exactly where I was in the park.

I texted Aisha to let her know I was already at the location and waiting for the couple to show up. She told me to wrap up the shoot as quickly as possible and not keep her waiting. My blood boiled with need, my 4pm flight seemed like a life-time away. This woman would be the death of me, I thought

I looked up to see a silver-coloured Porsche Cayenne driving towards me. The driver killed the engine and got out. He looked in his early thirties, slightly built and averagely tall. When he spoke he had that unmistakable accent that Northern aristocrats boast of.

“George, nice to finally meet you”, he said

“Same here”, I returned.

“Aisha literally arm-wrestled me into hiring you and having this photo shoot, you know women” he winked conspiratorially.

I smiled

And that was when she got out of the car

There was ‘my’ Aisha. Abba’s fiancée

My smile froze.

Photo credit: http://www.wedvo.com