New Listing! To Live Again by Ray Anyasi


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Blurb: When crises broke in the tiny, crusty village of Gumau, Dami Koka and her colleagues found themselves lost in the vast savannah of northern Nigeria. Seeing her friends fall one after the other into the fatal hands of savage men and wild beasts, she began to rethink the essence of life – her life. But most importantly, if she must go back to her widowed mother in one piece, she must find a route to civilization before the beasts…and God knows what else find her.

About Author: Ray Anyasi is the author of several books which include; Ujasiri, Bloodline and This Town: a postcard of terror. His writing influence is majorly the extraordinary stories of ordinary people who have to confront monstrous challenges they do not orchestrate, yet must overcome. He is also a poet and has published a poetry collection, “Lines of Thoughts”, that includes the acclaimed Ogbanje. Anyasi has contributed articles severally to The Guardian Express and continues to partake in the global conversations that concerns political and social developments; his book, How to Terrorize Terrorism is one of such contributions. Fresh out of the University, Anyasi published his first book, A Poll of Vampires, a political crime thriller. Since then he has published over twenty titles. Anyasi is also a certified Copywriter and Content Developer. He currently works for Naphtali Publishers as Director of Publishing. His current hobbies are tending a backyard vegetable garden and engaging fans of his craft on social media. He is @RayAnyasi on twitter. He enjoys feedbacks. Write to him @ or visit his website:
Lovely week!




Look! New Book “Dejected” by Ade Lero


Hey guys!
Happy Valentine’s day!
African Stories is pleased to announce new book Dejected by Ade Lero.
Dejected tells the story of 3 men and their journey to drug addiction. Focusing on the causes of this derogatory act, Dejected tries to pinpoint the societies role in the journey of Most drug addicts.
Click for FREE Download!
He is @therealadelero on twitter

The Flowergate Open House: Santa is giving away luxurious homes!


(Abuja, Nigeria). From developers of top-class estates – Oasis Court, Fairview Court, Olympia Estate and The Oakville – Metrowest Ltd is pleased to announce its first Open House Week for its current housing development, The Flowergate. Since entry into the Abuja housing market in 2012, Metrowest Ltd has ensured prompt delivery of elegant and luxurious housing with appealing architectural designs in serene neighborhoods at competitive prices.


Metrowest Ltd invites all stakeholders – individuals, organizations and companies alike to the grand event, taking place Tuesday, December 8 – Sunday, December 13, 2015 at The Flowergate, Plot 236, Murtala Mohammed Way, (Near Apo Shoprite), Apo, Abuja.

The Flowergate, an exquisitely built housing development of 88 units, comprises of three house types. They are 5-Bedroom Detached, 4-Bedroom Semi-Detached and 4-Bedroom Terrace Houses built to contemporary design and standards. The estate’s infrastructure was designed, and is being built by a Spanish European company with 10-year guarantee.

Other facilities and services include perimeter fencing and paved drive/ walkways, sewage network and treatment plant, Abuja Electricity Company connection with dedicated transformers, storm water drainage network, 24-hour security stationing and patrol and comprehensive facility management service among others.

The 2015 Flowergate Open House Week will actively bring all stakeholders together and provide investors and home buyers the opportunity to make substantial investments, expand their networks and form business relationships.

This Open House Week also affords all buyers during the week the opportunity to be gifted with very valuable household items and enjoy amazing prices!

Be part of it! Refer a buyer and enjoy financial rewards. It is a win-win. Indeed Santa is in town.

For more information: Please call +234 818 7171 717, +234 803 2448 834 or +234 802 3154 893. Email: Visit:

About Metrowest Ltd

Metrowest Limited is a leading property development company that provides premium accommodation solutions in Nigeria. It has developed first-rate residential estates in Lagos and Abuja. The company has orchestrated the development of more than 5 hectares residential estate in Abuja. For more information, please call +234 818 7171 717 or Visit


All New Series! Two Lives and a Soul by Ojay Aito


Hey guys! New series “Two Lives and a Soul” by Ojay Aito now on African Stories. From the hilarious “Life of a Barrack Boy”, Ojay once again delivers a captivating yet fluid Nigeria story. “Two Lives and a Soul” is a story about…..let’s not let the cat out of the bag.. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did.

Two Lives and a Soul – Episode One
Tick-tock, tick-tock, I blinked twice as I stared at the table clock. Waiting. Waiting for it to come alive. Today, I just happened to be awake earlier than my alarm clock. Seated idly at my room desk, I traced the frame of the medieval time piece with my eyes. For the first time I imagined the scope of knowledge that had conceived the idea of creating a device that served two purposes. As the world grew older, innovations have led men to create devices that met more than one need. And after having read the Blue Ocean Strategy, it was easy for one to realize that such models have been long ingrained into the business world as well.
No, I’m neither into the whole hocus-pocus of the business world, nor into the scientific postulations of propagated theories. I’m just a twenty seven year old sales man, with a 1907 alarm clock as the only bequeathed property from my grandfather, a man I met before my brain could keep vivid memories. He died only a day to my christening. So my dad named me after him. His name was Eli.
As I held the tiny time device in the palm of my hand, my vision focused past the tiny fingers of the clock, unto the golden lining of its interior. But instead of seeing through the intricacies of the mechanism that make the tick-tock sound, as Hollywood would make us believe is possible, I saw something I had never seen in all the time I had this ‘priced’ possession. For the first time, I realized the golden lining had an inscription written inconspicuously along the circumference of the inner frame. Perhaps it was a farewell message that came from the design company.
My grandfather was a traveler, more like a pirate as I later grew to understand, so he had a few precious artifacts that had not a Naira’s worth in this day and on this side of the world.
It was just five minutes away from five o’clock when the tiny little knocker would come alive, hitting the two cones on its both sides; but before then I stood from my creaking flat wooden chair and moved towards the only source of light in the room with the metal device in my hands. I lifted it towards the dull white light, away from the thick shadows of the clothes by the wall. The inscription on the inside of the clock was guarded by the thick concave glass, which prevented me from tracing it with the tip my fingers. I thought about my grandfather for a sec. Johnny Depp in his thick pencil shadowed-eyes was the only well represented pirate I could imagine granddad looked like. Or was it the other way round?
As expected, the inscription wasn’t in English. Neither was it French, ‘cause I spoke both fluently. Didn’t look like Spanish or Portuguese either, thanks to the little exposure I got at Mary Hill, back in the day.
Was I the first to have noticed this? Well, I couldn’t think of anyone who had had it at this proximity for the past twenty two years. I tried again to read the statement. Although I never learnt about its history, I always thought of the alarm clock as a prize grandfather had won during his days of adventure. Except that right now, I thought of the possibility that it was, you know, a stolen piece, perhaps, not conspicuously missing from one of the Persian castles in the Middle East. Don’t blame me for that, blame the Pirates of the Caribbean for my weird imaginations.
I tried reading out the words which simply refused to make any sense still. It all of a sudden became a necessity that at least I tried to make some meaning to it, because I needed to be done with all of the distraction by the moment the alarm jolted on to life. That would be the start of my day, and to beat the traffic in a twenty first century Ambode Lagos, I couldn’t be at home by 5:30. Some of my colleagues at work insisted that if I only had to wake up by five in the morning, then I was one of the luckiest people in the city. Some of them had to leave their homes an hour before my wake up time. I sometimes wonder why they had to go home anyway. Anytime I thought about what they said, I profusely refused that my life should be anything worse than it already was. I believed there were those who had a choice of when to go to work, and I was sure they weren’t of a different human empirical nomenclature. Soon, someday, I would choose to wake by ten in the morning, and leave work say 11 that same morning, with my bank account looking like an international phone number. How about that for living in Lagos?
Aoys fun umendikayt ir gekumen, fun umendikayt ir vet tsurikkumen. I kept trying to pronounce the words as I moved away from the source of light, back towards the table. I dropped the time device on my rickety desk, as the seconds seemed to count down to my wake up time. I didn’t know why I just didn’t stop the alarm from going off, guess I was conditioned to hear it go off every day. As I moved away towards my mattress at the other corner of the room, I became conscious that the words I had read from the clock still clung to my tongue. At that point, I knew I had to shake it off vigorously. With the way my mind worked, my head could surprisingly keep nonsense information, and totally betray me when I had to remember vital data during the defense of a project at work. If I didn’t force it out, it could either become a song on my lips, or a cliché for greeting strangers on the street.
Umendikayt might just mean How do you do?
Tried as I may, the words still came off my lips one more time before the clock fingers finally struck five. The alarm came off hard and loud, like it beat right on my ear drums.
I moved towards the table clock and stuck my index finger between the tiny hammer and one of the bell cups. My finger vibrated somewhat, and I waited patiently for the time piece to stop its hammering but one minute after, the hammer still hit my finger at the same spot. I made a mental count of how long the alarm was suppose to last. With the speed of light, my mind spanned many years, even back to my days in boarding school. There was never a time it went this long. Two minutes, and it kept on with its vigorous hammering. And then the words came again. Before I knew it, I was speaking the unknown words out loud.
Aoys fun umendikayt ir gekumen, fun umendikayt ir vet tsurikkumen. Suddenly, I saw a dim shade of light haze out of the circumference of the clock’s frame. It shone brighter. And even brighter. And the vibration became harder, and even harder. The whole of my hand began to shake violently, till it spread through my entire body. I couldn’t pull out my finger from the device which now made the entire room glow with a fluorescent teal color. I screamed, but I wasn’t sure if my vocal cord was able to produce any sound, because I couldn’t hear a thing apart from the clock alarm which now seemed to beat from my chest.
The light from the table clock engulfed my whole body before I felt it finally disintegrate me into a million light particles.

I became aware of life again as I shook violently from my bed. I breathed heavily without opening my eyes, but I was glad that it was all a dream. It had to be a dream, however surreal it was, it was only a nightmare. I felt soaked in my sweat, the cotton bed sheet sticking to my back. There seemed to be so much light in my room, and I tried hard to recollect whether I went to sleep without turning out the light. Finally I slowly opened my ears, squinting a little to the brightness of the fluorescent light screwed to the ceiling of my room. Again, I was sure it seemed brighter than normal.
As I opened my eyes fully, I realized that people stood over by bed staring down at me on either side. I blinked a few times and opened my eyes wide. They were there. Strange people I have never met in my life. Four ladies and… a guy. All five of them were black save for the one who stood by my right arm. She was young, beautiful, and white, with deep blue eyes and a European nose. I looked from side to side without moving my head. I didn’t know anyone here. And I wanted to scream. The eldest of the ladies quickly put her hand on my left shoulder, and the softness of her palm immediately calmed me.
“Hello son,” she said with a smile.
Son? I thought about it. This wasn’t my mother. Her skin looked fairer like she hadn’t been under the sun for months, with fewer wrinkles than my mum’s. The tone of her voice sounded pleasant. Who were this people? And where was I? I wanted to ask, but the softness I felt from her touch was also in her voice.
Yes, I remember! I was supposed to be getting ready for work. But wasn’t that a dream? And where was I now? This wasn’t my room? And these people, who were they? Where am I? All five people that surrounded my bed had genuine smiles on their faces, and the beautiful white lady on my right side suddenly bent over and pressed a kiss on my cheek. It kinda hurt, but it felt good.
“Sam, I’m glad to have you back. Thought I lost you,” she said.
Sam? I am no Sam. My name is Eli, and who are you? Who are all these people? I wanted to sit up from the bed. I was late for work. But as I tried, the woman who called me son touched me again, and I simply let back my head onto a very soft pillow. A pillow? I didn’t have any pillow. I hate using pillows, but this was soft too. Very soft. My eyes slowly closed, and I said to myself. This is only another dream. A dreadful dream from a beautiful nightmare?
“Hey buggie,” the guy who was by the end of my bed called out to me. I looked up at him, and a strong force pulled me towards him. “Soon, you would be home, okay?” He had a smile that looked like mine. In fact, apart from his cornrows and the crucifix pendant on his chest, two things I didn’t possess, I would say he was my reflection.
Soon I would be home. But really, where was I? And who were these people?

About Ojay Aito
Ojay Aito is the writer of the popular Barrack Boy Series “Life of a Barrack Boy”. A Chemist, he has since vied into the literary world, writing for metro journals and working as a radio producer.
As he patiently awaits the publishing of his debut novel, he continues to chunk out numerous works of fiction mainly on his blog and a few fiction sites within and outside the country.
Two Lives And A Soul is a story that breaks out of the boundary of contemporary Nigerian fiction and sets a different stage for readers who have no reservations for the yet unimaginable…
He tweets via @1Ojay on Twitter.

Get a Man as you would a Car. Top 5 Checks +1


“Money may not buy happiness, but I’d rather cry in a Jaguar than on a bus.” ― Françoise Sagan
There is something almost erotic thrilling about buying a car that gets you restless, overly eager to get behind the wheel… to determine how much speed will take you to where you need to be, when to leave the house, where to go, which route to take, what music to listen to and gosh how your car smells! The complete control of deciding these variables leaves one euphoric, breathless, even orgasmic. Ok, that’s going over the top. My point is, buying a car is one thing that signifies a level of accomplishment. If it is your first car….it is certain that sleep eludes you days before actual purchase.
In a typical Nigerian scene, the mother is running out in wrapper and rushing to molest rub, shout and anoint the new automobile while calling neighbors to witness how good papa God is andloudly shaming the devil on his failure to stop her child from buying a car. The father is majestically walking with a stick, looking to the skies, muttering ancestral sentences before breaking into a shout “my son, you shall be great; you have made me, your father, Mazi Ekene, proud”. Again, I digress.
So why do I say get your man as you would a car? Well here it is – it is because more often than not, you are going to be heavily invested in the new ‘liability’ and when the need arises for repairs, routine maintenance or selling – and trust me, it always comes up – no one is going to borrow you cash to fix your car or take it off you in a heartbeat. Unless your car is kabu-kabu a taxi that generates revenue for contingencies like these, you are going to shell out serious kudi; and if your man is kabu-kabu a taxi that generates revenue – emm, male ashewo in your employment, then by all means simply ensure his engine is solid and can pick up at any given time, T and you are good to go.
Now, whether you want to buy used or tear-rubber car, it is inevitable that you ask for information about cost, availability, car seller, car features among others. In no particular order, here are six things you need to check for before making that purchase.
Let me put it out there before we go further ‘Never allow another person buy a car for you without physically inspecting – especially if you are paying for it’. Everyone has an opinion of the best car for you – from the engine type, fuel consumption rate to suitability for your gender. If you are a woman looking to get a car, you will be lectured about cars *meant for women – when you see the cars, you will understand my irritation. Apparently, gender inequality has infiltrated into cars. But again, I digress.
Is the man in question a Toyota? Lexus? Jaguar? Lamborghini? Ford? Honda? Mazda? Audi? Kia? or our Innoson?
You have got to know what brand suits your personality. A colleague would rather be amputated than drive a Picanto. Know what type of man you want. Kind? Sensitive? Rugged? Smart? Funny? Creative? Hustler? Efficient? Dependable? Economical? Strong? Fast? Sophisticated? Of course there’s the combination of character/traits found in these cars as there is in men. Find the right mix for you. Don’t depend on third party recommendation or validation of the merits of a particular brand over another. Find the best combination and make an informed choice on the brand that suits your person.

So we have decided what brand you are most comfortable with but equally important is your budget. This largely determines if you are getting a new or used car. Getting a new car is like getting a new man with no encumbrances. You kick and it starts – usually, this is a new born male. Unless you are a pervert, a new born baby shouldn’t sexually excite you. In the case of getting a man, darling, he is a used good. Accept it. He is above 18? Then yes, he is used. Let’s talk used car.
You need to check how many kilometers it has covered. How far has he gone in his life? How old is he? Does the man have excess baggage? Married, Divorced with kids? Has a baby mama or a host of babies mamas? Does he have a career? Is he broke? Comfortable? Where is he financially? Is he emotionally matured and spiritually ready to kneel in prayers and not allow you carry that part of men’s cross that they conveniently hang on the woman’s neck?(for our religious audience). Is he a V4, V6 or a V8? What is the capacity of the engine and how sound is it? Is he fast? Economizes fuel? Does he have HIV/AIDS, Sickle Cell Anemia, Low Sperm Count, Diabetes?
And still on engine – you have to check his ‘garage’ to make sure he is parked well. You may have to use bed methodology if it is right for you. If it is not, you may have to take a verbal confirmation of soundness from the man and hope the ‘engine’ is in perfect working condition for the use you have in mind for it. Some ladies demand a test-run and others wait for matrimonial verification exercise – by all means you have to CHECK if he is working! Use your hand to measure by the planned touching or accidental brushing method. Is he long? Strong enough? Staying power of a horse? Rise and fall ability? This is the time to sample with eyes, hands or *clears throat.
You have to be sure he is sound and ready to serve you for a really LONG time. We don’t have the luxury of getting another car especially when we drive out of the car mart aka wedding venue. Oh well you can, but hopefully you don’t.

Some ladies may not mind a modest or ugly car interior or exterior but some of us do. A car is a car they say. I used to think so too. Not anymore. A car is not a car. You have to ascertain your man inside out. Is the man well put together? Ok plain English – does he look good? Smell good? Brush his teeth? Wash his socks? Air his shoes? Cuts his nails? Groom his beards? DOES HE BATH AND WASH down there???!! There is a level of being rugged that is sex appeal and then there another that is pure dirt…..unattractive and repulsive. He is clean on the inside? His thoughts always negative? A pessimist? A chauvinist? A beautiful mind? Brilliant? Ordinarily, the exterior can be fixed (usually expensive and with the cooperation of the man) but the interior is almost impossible. You may want to avoid unnecessary problems and sidestep men with interiors that need Jesus.

If you don’t like those maroon and brown uniformed people and their demonic colleagues in white and black stopping you and collecting cash (legal or illegal), I suggest you get your papers in order. Does the car have custom clearing? A vehicle license, proof of ownership, road worthiness and permits, insurance certificate? Seller agreements? Are the car papers in your name?
You have to make sure you don’t go out and some chick walks up with gum in her pouted mouth, claiming your man. Avoid situations where you can’t go out with him or tell your family about him because he is married, not up to your ‘class’ or simply unavailable. Living on the edge may be thrilling and especially for cheaters enjoyable but nothing beats going out with that man confidently that he belongs to you.

Usually, I don’t care if the car leaks fuel but there is no way I am using a car with no air conditioning. Minus the noise it cuts out when one is driving, there is a feeling of ease, rightness and contentment that air conditioning brings. You need to choose a man that brings peace, ease and comfort. A man that makes you feel comfortable in your own skin. A man that is affordable – what do I mean? He needs to be within the range of what you can afford financially and emotionally. Some men are emotionally expensive. They stretch your patience and ability to swallow shit and drink piss. Relationships are not supposed to be hard and one-sided. It is a give and take. If he is not emotionally available and financially low, you will be the fulcrum. Bills on you. Days of uncertainty all on you. Are you ready to be with him even if it is draining your pocket?
Air bag….hmmm, saves lives. I tell you the whole truth. Does the man give you a sense of security? Can he save you when you hit a rock? How secured are you with him? And ah yes! Sound….do you want a man that can keep a conversation or you would rather he is quiet and allows you do all the talking. Either ways, make sure he is right for your person. Navigation – He really needs to know where he is going sweetie. Yes, navigation systems in our cars here have issues taking you to the exact destination but sadly we know what’s responsible for that. It is one of two things, know where you are going to and take him there or make sure he knows where he is going and he takes you there. Our church people call it vision. Does he have a vision or he is just looking to follow the crowd? Ask him questions, observe his ways, study his decisions and determine if he is the right man for you.

So we agree that it is impossible to change a human being. But what if his spare parts are readily available? What if he is easy to change his mindset or decisions about issues that are negative and unproductive? What if he is one who listens and tries to reason with your suggestions? Hey! I am not saying push it down his throat madam I-too-know. Polite suggestions work best….yes, I happen to have that experience.
And in cases where you simply need a transition car, then you need to consider his reselling option. Can you dispose of him quickly or he is going to be hanging on your neck for years? Sometimes, when it is not working, it is best the cords are cut civilly. Don’t have an ex that just won’t leave the picture but keeps haunting you for the rest of your life! Make sure you are not tied down with a man that only takes up space in your garage. Like they say, nothing lasts forever.
Buy Get Smart, Drive for Miles.

P.S: I would love to have your comments….share your experiences on getting a new car and relate to what you want in your mate. Should be fun.

Have a great week!

Written by Uneñ Ameji. She is @UnenAmeji on twitter

10 Types of 30-Year-Old Single Guys By Tim Urban


30-year-old guys are a curious bunch.

Find me a group of 30-year-old men and I’ll pick out one overgrown frat dude living with roommates, another guy who just dropped his two kids off at school, a few who are well into their careers and a couple soul-searchers looking for work. Some will tell you that they’ve finally figured it all out and some more will say they feel hopeless for the first time in their lives. It’s a motley crew.

But perhaps the motliest part of this crowd is the ever-growing group of 30-year-old single guys. If you want a case study in humanity, 30-year-old single guys have pretty much all the bases covered. Let’s examine some of the common types:

1) The Total Package

total package
The Total Package is smart—he went to a top college. The Total Package is an athlete, a musician, and an avid traveler. The Total Package is handsome—and you better believe he’s well-groomed.
The Total Package has a hell of a career going, but don’t you for a second suggest that The Total Package would be a workaholic—The Total Package is a family man.

There’s just one thing The Total Package seems to be having a hard time finding—a girl worthy of his greatness.

Yes, the woman fit for The Total Package will be the ultimate icing on his cake of perfection. He imagines her often—gorgeous as they come, she turns heads; bursting with charm and charisma, she lights up every room she enters; she’s a brilliant rising star in her career and beloved by her many friends. And that’s just her public persona—at home, she’s fantastic in bed, a spectacular cook, loving, selfless, and devoted. Oh and she also speaks French, plays tennis, sings beautifully, reads voraciously and she’s a history buff. His Juliet.

Unsurprisingly, The Total Package is single. He’s immersed in a fierce battle between his superhuman standards and his terror of being 40 and single—because 40 and single is not supposed to be part of The Total Package’s story.

2) The New Lease On Life Guy

lease on life

As long as anyone can remember, The New Lease On Life Guy had been dating his longterm girlfriend. He never seemed that happy in the relationship, but everyone just assumed they would eventually get married. Now, after a long and difficult breakup, The New Lease On Life Guy has reemerged with a bang and is suddenly acting like he just got called down on The Price Is Right. He’s not really sure how to be single but he’s goddamn happy he is, and he’s sure as hell going out tonight.

He’s also the arch-nemesis of The Resigned Fiance, who’s in an equally unhappy relationship but just kind of kept going with it, unable to resist the sweet, sweet inertia, and who most certainly does not want to hear about The New Lease On Life Guy’s latest exploits.

3) The Guy Who Has To Marry Someone Of The Same Ethnicity Or His Parents Will Never Speak To Him Again


It’s hard enough finding someone to be your life partner, and this guy’s parents are really not making things any easier. He tried to rebel briefly, but after his last girlfriend was not allowed in his parents’ house, causing her to cry, he gave up on that.

He’d also really appreciate it if his mother would stop setting him up on dates.

4) The Misogynist


The Misogynist hates women, and women hate The Misogynist. The Misogynist doesn’t know a whole lot about the other gender, but he can tell you the exact number of them he’s slept with—214.

He did quite well with girls back in his earlier days when many were in their attracted to assholes phase, but lately, only those with the lowest self-esteem seem to gravitate towards him.

The Misogynist’s close cousin is The Perpetual Cheater. They’re different but they understand each other.

5) The Guy Who Peaked Too Early

peaked early

Back in the day, The Guy Who Peaked Too Early had everything a 17-year-old girl could ever dream of. His sky-high confidence carried him smoothly through college, and no one was surprised when he landed a smart, sweet, beautiful girlfriend in his early 20s. But The Guy Who Peaked Too Early was just getting started. There was a field that needed to be played, and he broke up with his girlfriend when he was 24.

Now it’s seven years later, his hair got bored and left, and his high school lacrosse glory isn’t part of the conversation that much these days. And he’s noticing that girls like his ex-girlfriend don’t seem to be all that into him anymore. Realizing this about five years after everyone else, he takes a deep sigh and cranks his standards down a few big notches.

6) The Guy Who’s Finally a Good Catch

Finally a Good Catch

On the other side of the coin, after losing some weight, getting decent clothes, and having early career success, The Guy Who’s Finally a Good Catch is getting more attention each week than he got in his first 25 years combined. Girls find it endearing that such an appealing guy has managed to maintain his humility, when it’s actually just that he’s assuming every girl is out of his league at all times.

Once his new situation starts to sink in, he enters an unfortunate new phase, stressing his male friends out by doing things like winking at them over the shoulder of a girl he’s dancing with and offering them a fist pound when an attractive girl walks by on the street.

7) The Normal Guy Who Just Hasn’t Met The Right Girl Yet And He Really Wishes People Would Stop Looking At Him With Those Pitying Eyes

 normal guy

Ah, The NGWJHMTRGYAHRWPWSLAHWTPE. The NGWJHMTRGYAHRWPWSLAHWTPE is enjoying his life. He likes his job, he likes his friends, and he likes being single just fine. He’s in no rush to be in a relationship and feels totally confident that at some point, he’ll meet the right girl and get married.

He’s also not quite sure why everyone who knows him is trying to figure out “what the problem is.” His parents are worried, never wasting an opportunity to ask him if he’s been dating anyone. His friends want to help, setting him up on dates every chance they get. He appreciates all the unsolicited support, but he also thinks it would be pretty great if everyone stopped thinking there was something wrong with him.

8) The Aggressively Online Dating Guy Who Can’t Believe He’s Not Married Yet

can't believe not married

The opposite of the previous guy, The Aggressively Online Dating Guy Who Can’t Believe He’s Not Married Yet can’t believe he’s not married yet. Through high school, college and his twenties, he was always The Guy With A Girlfriend. He spent years enjoying pitying his single friends, and somehow, he’s now 30 and single.

He has four online dating profiles, and when people ask him if he’s dating anyone, he explains that he’s just too busy with his career right now for a relationship.

9) The In-The-Closet Guy

in the closet

The In-The-Closet Guy is so close to being the perfect catch—he’s handsome, he’s well-dressed, and he has a great job. He’s funny, articulate, and charming. The only tiny little inconvenience is that he’s not attracted to females whatsoever.

His antithesis is The NGWJHMTRGYAHRWPWSLAHWTPE, who’s had just enough of the theories about him being gay, since he’s completely straight and, for the hundredth time, just hasn’t met the right girl yet and is really very okay with being single right now.

10) The Guy Who Has Just Fully Quit At This Point


The Guy Who Has Just Fully Quit At This Point never tried that hard in the first place, but at least there used to be a semblance of effort. He doesn’t like going to bars, refuses to try online dating, and both the bong and the X-Box are back in the living room following their brief stint in the closet after his friend gave him a pep talk one day four months ago.

Deep down, The Guy Who Has Just Fully Quit At This Point is pretty frightened about a lot of things, but his fear manifests itself in indifferent denial, and passivity usually prevails. There is only one way that things change for The Guy Who Has Just Fully Quit At This Point, and that’s to find himself squarely in the sights of The Girl Who Relentlessly Pursues. Until then, the whole thing isn’t really his issue.


This article was first published on WaitButWhy.Com. Check out other great articles there.

The biggest mistakes people make when choosing a life partner


This is brilliant! Hope it helps the rush to get married….cheers


This post originally appeared at

To a frustrated single person, life can often feel like this:


And at first glance, research seems to back this up, suggesting that married people are on average happier than single people and much happier than divorced people. But a closer analysis reveals that if you split up “married people” into two groups based on marriage quality, “people in self-assessed poor marriages are fairly miserable, and much less happy than unmarried people, and people in self-assessed good marriages are even more happy than the literature reports.” In other words, here’s what’s happening in reality:


Dissatisfied single people should actually consider themselves in a neutral, fairly hopeful position, compared to what their situation could be. A single person who would like to find a great relationship is one step away from it, with their to-do list reading, “1) Find a great relationship.” People in unhappy…

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The short-story of a Simpleton and Big English


noun: ignoramus; plural noun: ignoramuses
an ignorant or stupid person.
synonym; a clodpoll.

Why must Big English be used? A fool is simply a foolish person; not an ignoramus. An ignoramus does not even know what ignoramus means. How then does an ignoramus know he is an ignoramus?
We must learn to be simple.
Writing as an art may have evolved from articulating thoughts and languages to be read, understood and appreciated but it certainly does not mean writers must intentionally twist their thoughts and opinions; leaving a growing community of manically bewildered Simpletons behind. What is the use of writing an impossible read filled with Big English? A Simpleton asks.
Man no suppose dey chop biscuit-bone peppersoup wen beta peppered boneless chicken dey table naw.
Writing, an interesting phenomenon, is the safest and cheapest time traveling machine there is and contrary to what our wishes may be, writing is the only legal and sane way of reading minds. Suspended in time, A Simpleton sees the future, past and present. A Simpleton that can read minds! A Simpleton that is no longer an ignoramus.
But why, when given the opportunity to redirect a people, a chance to change perceptions and privilege to entertain, must writers complicate it with this brawny Big English? A Simpleton asks.
Perhaps Big English is entertaining and gives deeper meaning to words and sentences, weighty and thought-provoking too. A couple of Non-Simpletons have indicated their preference for meat and not milk. Perhaps this Big English is only for those with Big Teeth.
If truly writing is art, A Simpleton asks that writers must not make it abstract. An abstract art is not worthless but what pleasure is there in hanging on your wall a meaningless piece of masterpiece? Aesthetically pleasing, yes; it goes perfectly with curtains, absolutely. But art wasn’t meant to complement the curtain, it was meant to be understood. A Simpleton insists that writing must be fluid, succinct, remarkably engaging and revelatory.
A Simpleton knows these things.

P.S: Words have more meaning when understood. Writing should be understood not guessed.

Kind Regards,


Men of the Cloth, their Raincoat and their kind of God


It often bothers me how Men of the Cloth, yes, the ones speaking in hot tongues and casting out devils while asking for bribes tithes and sacrificial offerings, refuse to allow the Church – people question their modus operandi and contradictory sermons they spew on their holy altars. One moment they are on the mountain seeking for powers to perform miracles, the next they can’t even heal the sick. Did someone say raise the dead?
It is disappointing especially when they preach half-truths as whole and when confronted, they say they prophecy in parts while opening their heavy bibles to where they have marked for such occasions as this. We don’t know it all – they say. Why didn’t you say that on the pulpit when you were vibrating and calling down fire? Perhaps there is need for these Men of the Cloth to have caveat emptor on their signboards and bills.
Come and See the Power of God
P.S if He wills for I know in parts and prophecy in parts”

Fake Prophet

Chapter One
Tithing Vs. Abundance

The charismatic, vibrant, power-gushing young man of God is saying heathens are prosperous, the children of the world are succeeding while the children of God are paupers, the next he is saying only tithing can give you the amount of riches the heathens have.
Question: Did the heathens pay tithe for their riches?
Question: Have God visited them with plagues and collected their riches because they did not tithe?
Question: Could it be that they simply work hard or smart – whatever or they were born with diamond spoons and teeth?
Certainly not all the rich heathens are *shedding the blood of the innocent ones and even if they are shedding or pounding new born babies in mortars, there is God and He is yet to cut them down. Infact He just may be planning on how to save them.
You see, when the issue of tithing is brought up, many cringe – some cringe because they pity you for not paying it and others cringe because they know the 419 collector is at it again.
People pay tithes and bad things still happen. BAD things.
Question: Why was the devourer not kept away from their pockets?
Men of the Cloth: Because they sinned one way or the other
Question: But you said if they paid my tithes, He will keep away the devourer and they’d experience abundance. Why is their resources dwindling and their suffering knowing no end?
Men of the Cloth: You see, the word of God is not entirely exclusive. You have to be 100% perfect. Moreover, there are times for tribulation. Doesn’t matter if they pay tithe or not, tribulation is going to come.
Question: Why didn’t you say this on the pulpit?
Men of the Cloth: I prophecy in parts….the grace of God is abundant. Amen.


Chapter Two
Pain Vs. Backsliding

When your loved one dies – doesn’t matter that the doctor literally murdered them or a brainwashed suicide bomber decided to do some blowing – Men of the Cloth says nothing outside the will of God happens. He allowed it because He knows best. He creates, He takes. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust….glory to His name.
I am not even going to ask if His will includes the rest of us still living… the rest of us whose lives and existence has been shattered by His will. Men of the cloth says who am I to ask questions……to ask questions is seen as an act of disobedience – so shut up and take the pain like the humbled believing servant you are supposed to be. It doesn’t matter that Jesus’s disciples asked questions every step of the way and with all the answers Judas betrayed Him and Peter denied Him when it mattered the most.
When you lose a loved one, you are supposed to be stoic, praise Him continuously for taking them away and serve Him with all your heart and all your might if not, you are as good as an unbeliever ….in most cases worst because you have known the truth. and he who holds the plow and turns back will be burnt forever
A woman is raped by a man at 15 years of age. God is watching but does not do anything. People rape people everyday. No biggie. If Eve didn’t eat the forbidden fruit, we won’t even be talking about rape. Say what?
Question: Wasn’t it all part of the master plan – His will – like the one where your loved ones gets to die and there is nothing you can do to stop it?
Men of the Cloth: You dare open your mouth with His breath inside you and ask questions…..are you mad? You want His wrath?
The woman gives birth to a daughter.
The rapists starts raping daughter at 11 years of age. He has developed taste for younger fish lips girls
God is watching. The man is prospering – he has married another woman and has two beautiful children. He is a respected man in the society. He is a church goer and a tither.
The girl is rescued at 16 years. After 5 years of abuse and several suicide attempts.
The law does not prosecute.
The society is quiet.
The family eats kolanut.
The man goes back to his life.
The girl with pain, destroyed life and smelling vagina is asked to forgive her father because God says people who don’t forgive are not His children, infact He demands that we forgive….she has no choice, she must forgive.
Question: Why is God more interested in her forgiving her father-rapist than in punishing the beast?
Question: Is God a man?
Question: Where are the angels He gave charge to watch over her so she doesn’t hit her foot against a stone? I mean so she doesn’t get brutally fucked raped repeatedly?
Question: Why is God still blessing the works of the rapist’s hand? Getting promoted at work, building new houses, paying tithes, serving as an elder?
Men of the Cloth: You see, God is never late. Leave it to God and see what He will do.
Question: What if God forgives him?

Men of the Cloth: God works in mysterious ways. It is not His will that any of His children perish
Question: What happens to the persons whose lives have been wasted, destroyed?

Men of the Cloth: God is multifaceted. We can’t simply question Him. His will be done
Apparently, if you are dealt with a bad hand in life, you move on and die when your time comes. It doesn’t really matter if you get justice or not. Justice is for those who can take it without being caught….like killing the doctor who murdered or the thief who shot your husband. If you can revenge and not get caught, by all means go ahead and come ask for forgiveness.
He forgives all because when these evildoers find God, you will be the only one left with the soiled plate. The rest is blot out by the blood.

Chapter three
Level of Grace

This is a favorite of many Men of the Cloth. This is the part where you cannot speak against them because they are servants of the almighty. Who dare speak against the appointed? You going down-down-down….
Thunder Strikes!!!
It is so refreshing to have a cover of grace – do anything and grace covers you. The kind of grace that passes your understanding as a person who has not been called….the kind that only covers the Men of the Cloth when they sin, keep malice with their fellow Men of the Cloth, when they dupe people of their earnings or have sexual intercourse with church members because the body is weak but the spirit is willing.
Question: Isn’t this level of grace available to the girl who was brutally raped and refuses to forgive her father? The one who wouldn’t raise her hands in worship of a God that refused to save her from harm all those years? The one who has been told it is His will that she be abused because in future the purpose of the abuse will be revealed to the glory of His name?
Question: Where is this level of grace for the grieving woman who doesn’t go to church or pray to a God who failed to save her loved one because His will is supreme?
Men of the Cloth do not console. They condemn and tell you to shout halleluyah seven times through tears and blood. I don’t understand why or when serving God became punishment? Why is this level of grace that covers their shit not able to cover your anger, doubts and hurts?
Alas! only Men of the Cloth can access this level of grace….when they goof, the grace raincoat covers them and there is absolutely nothing you can say or do about it. How convenient.
Everyone should have this grace raincoat….. this magical raincoat will all serve our selfish, hypocritical nature.

Chapter four

We must come to a conclusion – that perhaps God cannot save us all. Perhaps it is really His will that some of His children suffer and others enjoy for His glory. It doesn’t matter if you are the one suffering or enjoying or having a taste of both.
We must realize that as much as there are those with testimonies, much more are dying with pain and no, they are not heathen – they are His children….#confessed
We must accept the fact that we are strictly responsible for the justice we get….if you want justice, you have to take it by force….just like everything else. If you want a better card than has been dealt? Pick another.
You see, it is simple….there is no need for half-truths. God doesn’t need Men of the Cloth sugarcoating His personality.
He says He kills and makes alive
He loves, He hates
He killed all of Jobs’ children just to prove a point to one of His creation that He has conquered….but He did compensate Job.
He says He has given you choices – life and death, He also says choose life that you may live….emm, that’s technically not a choice…just direction.
There is nothing like free will – it is a myth.
God is not good, God is not evil. He is both and He is what you make of Him.
If you must follow Him, you should know that He is not afraid to hurt you for His glory, He is not answerable to you or remotely concerned if you never make it back to trusting Him again. You talk too much and He will raise stones to take your place. However He is the only one who can give you a semblance of security – after death-wise….and if you don’t believe in the afterlife – then be ready for whatever comes after – if there is.
Perhaps He might decide to change His mind from the everlasting blazing pit – but then again, who knows what His will concerning you is –
There are no guarantees, just choices, hope and time.

Uneñ Ameji
Author of Love on the 25th on Okadabooks
Follow @UnenAmeji on Twitter

M.O.T.I.V.E.S – Episode 8 (Series Finale)


Hey guys!

The final episode of M.O.T.I.V.E.S by Uneñ Ameji is here. As promised, this episode is unusually long. The compiled e-Book will be available for downloads soonest. We will keep you posted on that. Without plenty yarns, have fun and don’t forget to recommend reading.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S, a story set in old and modern-day Nigeria, is a riveting, stimulating, suspense-filled tale of a myriad of absorbing characters with Uneñ Ameji’s fluid style of delivering engaging stories of greed, love, lust and power that leaves her audience on the edge of their seats, guessing and usually clamoring for more.

The story features Nigerian Tycoon and powerhouse Bello Badmus. A man who gave power as he willed, a man who controlled Presidents, a man who put men and monsters in seats of power; Florence Ohiemi aka Naomi Mambutu and her identical evil twin Josephine Ohiemi aka KudiraT Sadika Bello who are ever in battle of wills – good and evil, where evil prevails.

In a thrilling twist, the events likened to a classic game of chess sees each piece on the board take power and lose it and take it all over again. An illusion of power, an illusion of control.

Find out if good or evil prevails after all.

Read all Episodes here

Episode 8 – Series Finale

Victor Dakar – 28th August, 2011

“Business tycoon’s illegitimate son inherits estate” – News Dailys
“Chief Badmus Bello, Most Influential man in Africa disinherit family, names illegitimate son as next of Kin” – The Compatriot
“Pastor of TrueWord Evangelical Church of all Missions disinherited, mistress with love child revealed, wife files for divorce” – The True News
“Kole Badmus found dead in UK apartment, killer arrested” Concord Times
“Son, illegitimate heir to resume office, commission gas plant in Benin”
“President orders immediate relocation of the command center to Mubi, partners bordering countries” National Conscience

Several weeks after the reading of the Will at The Castle and Victor was still reeling from the effect. The increasingly sensitive expectations, suspicious managerial appointments, constant change of residence and flying out to The Castle every other week left him emotionally and physically tired. The unexpected silence from his mother despite her promise to explain why she walked him out of her life twelve years ago was more than maddening, if not frustrating. What ever happened to Bello’s wife? and her children? He wanted to know. The silence was uneasy and whenever he brought it up, she would say she had since released them. Where were they if she released? He expected some form of resistance but for the past months, it had been anything but that.
He roamed the premises of the new residence his mother had ordered they stay, like a caged cat. He had so many questions and unfortunately he wasn’t getting them. The resounding silence that answered back every single time the questions and doubt came to him made him want to scream and curse but he couldn’t. The last thing he wanted to look like was a weakling. Somehow Charity made him want to be stronger, better and that was enough for him.
He had waited with abated breath days after the reading of the Will for the headlines. And they didn’t disappoint him. They were all about him and Kudirat Bello but none about their arrest. That was suspicious but that was the least of his problem. His problem was overseeing his father’s company. His call to appoint new Board members was met without a fight and now the ongoing acquisition process left him winded. He remembered the headlines again, made up new ones and took a deep breath. Definitely it was going to look fishy – selling his father’s company barely five months after taking over as the Chief Executive Officer. He was highly conflicted.
The headlines went from hateful to furious, then to comical in the last months. It was as if the News houses wanted to outdo each other with derogatory headlines about him and Bello’s wife. The media had also been agog with tales of the Pastor Debola who had an affair with a church member and a bastard son. The embittered wife had since taken him to the cleaners but report was that the man was yet to defend himself nor did he show up at preliminary hearings. If there was ever a time he regretted the day he met Charity, it was now.
“You mustn’t look so sad” it was Charity in his boxers and cropped sleeveless see-through chiffon blouse coming up behind him as he walked in the cool garden. The two had remained inseparable since the reading of the Will and he was beginning to love and hate her at the same time.
“What’s fucking wrong with picking up your phone and calling your son?” he voiced loudly the moment she offered him the hot mug of black coffee she was carrying from the house.
Charity was also tired of the series of calls and instructions Naomi passed across. If it was not submitting a petition at the court, it was leaving a new house in the dead of the night. Moreover Victor was beginning to irritate her with his insistence whining. Naomi was his mother after all and with her new siblings, she absolutely refused to be dragged further into the Bello Badmus vortex.
He was dead and the group of evil men who were involved in her father’s disgraceful death lay in burnt pieces. As far she was concerned, she had gotten her revenge. All she wanted now was her Grandma and something told her Naomi would not find her in-house sex activity with her son so agreeable. It was time to cut the cord – whatever that meant.
In the last months, she had also endured series of outings at the Federal High Court following Naomi’s directions to initiate legal proceedings contesting the content of Bello Badmus’s Will. The woman was highly contradictory. Why would one contest a Will that left her son the sole heir? To what end? But she did not question the directive and she had filed the petition that was leaked to the press causing another week of embarrassing headlines. That also was the beginning of the Court house charade that lasted months. She served petitions refraining Victor from taking over his inheritance until a paternity test be carried out, petitions preventing him for carrying out his duties, petitions preventing for even stepping in the Castle. The result was always the same – Denied.
As a legal representative to her siblings, she had simply made a mockery of herself. The Newspapers and soft sells had a good time calling her degrading names even going as far as comparing her to her greedy father. The judge had thrown out the petition after she failed to provide her clients for testing. A fault of Naomi who wouldn’t produce the Pastor who was having his own episode of shaming and Laide whose mansion was being repossessed by the bank.
It was all happening so fast.
How the gossip magazine got their stories about her relationship with her clients didn’t bother Charity. She knew Naomi was playing a game but what game? The media loved the sordid tale of affair between her father, Nigeria’s top activist George Ajero and wife of Chief Badmus, Kudirat Bello. Their lives splashed across soft sells and major Newspaper houses were a distraction to what was going on at The Castle. It wasn’t long before Nollywood titles such as Corporate Whore in Hasso Rock made top Naira in the market.
If there was an angle to the circus, Charity was beginning to suspect that Naomi was using the distraction to her advantage and it wasn’t until Naomi told Victor to nominate new Board members and had instructed her to head the merger and acquisition team for the purpose of an outright take-over while offering a ridiculous price Naomi referred to as a bailout did she realize the grand plan of the woman. Naomi Mambutu wanted Bello Badmus’s company and had worked tirelessly to get it. One had to respect the woman’s tenacity.
“It is going to be fine” she reassured Victor by rubbing his back as she moved to go back to the house. Victor knew he was going to sign the finalized agreement in less than 24 hours and he was agitated. He was torn between preserving his father’s legacy and acting on the instructions of his manipulative mother.
“I am tired of being caught in the middle of all these” he said as he stopped her by holding on to her upper arm, stopping her from leaving.
“Me and you both” Charity tried a smile that was plastered on her face that was suffering from a major breakout.
“What does she want with his company? I can’t understand why she would keep moving us, getting all those people voted in and buying the company?” he struggled to understand and for a moment, Charity saw the conflicted child.
“Either ways, you get a good percentage. You are her son after all. What does it matter who has the company?” Charity voiced, looking away as Victor moved closer to lift her chin.
“I don’t care about being on the Board or working in any of their companies. I know she is using me and will throw me out again. She has done it before” he watched her bite her lower lips and smiled.
“You don’t believe me” he noted throwing the cup of hot coffee on the perfect lawn.
“I should?” she asked with a small smile.
“Yes, yes you should” he gave a rare smile as he found her hands and held her softly, massaging them in circles.
“Don’t” she said prying her hands from his manipulation.
“What are you going to do when all this is over?” Victor asked as they stared at each other.
“Is there an end in sight?” Charity chuckled.
“I should hope so” Victor chuckled as well and she laughed.
“Well, I will take a vacation with my grandmother” Charity said wistfully
“You have a grandmother…where is she?”
“Oh I don’t know” she shook her
“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asked finding her eyes shifting around without focusing on him.
“Naomi has her” she stated painfully, looking at her feet before removing her hands and walking back to the three bedroom bungalow sitting on a large green perfectly mowed lawn.
Victor stood watching her walk away. He didn’t stand a chance with her, his parents made sure of that.
Angered, he made to go after her when he noticed the greyish green metallic gate open and black sedan drove in.
It was his mother.
“About time too” he muttered under his breath as he watched the car drive into the parking lot.

Florence Ohiemi, 26th August, 2011

Florence knew the decision to buy the company didn’t go down well with Victor. The decision was arrived at after she listened to Bello’s plan at getting rid of her and her son. Moreover, with the series of meetings she had attended with Jafal, she came to realize that several subsidiaries were mainly a cover for the funds that somehow found their way to purchasing arms and training more recruits. It funded their operations and buying the company was the only legal and smart way of cutting off the funding of the terrorists activities. She knew that to stop flow of funds, she had to handle the affairs of the company. The chip she had left behind on impulse after recording the meeting had brought her the greatest revelation and idea. Every other meeting, she improved to include photos and videos. If she was going to get Bello, she damn well was going all rhw way. All she had to do now was get Inale who remained adamant at being called Victor aware of the the situation.
Bello had been supportive over the past months, teaching her how to behave like Kudirat so that the 7-man group would not discover she was an impostor. Florence laughed at such lessons. Who was he fooling? Himself definitely. He acted as one who had her interest at heart. She followed Jafal to several meetings with the service chiefs, the arms dealers and group members. It wasn’t surprising to find sponsors from international community at such meeting and as always, she recorded the conversation on her phone and where possible took discrete photographs of the faces of the men she didn’t know. Every meeting was more deadly than the last. She knew she was risking her life but what had to be done had to be done.
When she had gathered enough evidence, she had excused herself by saying she needed to take care of domestic issues. Akin, the Vice President was more than happy to follow Jafal on his meetings.
“I see that your illegitimate son is still handling affairs” it was Jafal on their last trip together.
“It seems I must be present or do everything myself” she said refering to failure of her hit men to carry out the assignment.
“You must let the boy go soon. We are going to need more funds after the blast and you must be positioned to get us the funds” Jafal said almost in a sneer. If Florence had not heard the discussion Jafal and Bello had about her, she would have believed she was being taken serious. But it all worked to her advantage.
The irony was, while they thought they were playing her, she was the one playing them. It suited her well enough. On one hand, she was taking over his company, on the other she was gathering enough evidence to nail their coffins firm and save millions of lives that would be at stake if their plans succeeded. The only problem however was that she had no idea when the attack was going to happen. Somehow, they never mentioned it in their meetings.
“Make sure the boy is gone within a week. We can’t hold off any longer” it was Jafal as she got into her private car she had waiting for her at the Nnamdi Azikiwe airport.
“That will be done Sir” she said playful and left him there.
“Ganbo, where is my son now?” she asked her ever faithful driver and body-guard of over thirty years. He had been with her through the years and his loyalty rivaled none.
“I took them to a new place” he answered as he greeted her and opened the door for her.
“Take me there please” she said as they left the airport.
“We are being followed Ma” he said as he watched a car follow them out of the airport.
“Lose him” she directed almost politely.
“Yes Ma” and he did lose the tinted car.
It was only fair that she played their game and win them at it.
The need to see Victor as soon as possible arose because he refused to sign the document after the newly inaugurated Board approved the sale and witnesses had signed their part. Charity made sure of it but failed to persuade or force her son. She knew of their affair but that was not an issue she bothered about. She smiled as she saw him stand impossibly tall and proud. If only he knew.
She came out as soon as Ganbo parked and opened the door for her. She stretched and gave a tiring smile. She was exhausted but she knew it was not yet time for rest. She had few more errands to run.
She walked in her unhurried fashion to the entrance of the house. He stood watching her approach, hands in pocket, lips held tight.
“Such a cozy property” she tried a jab. He didn’t return it. They stared at each other wearily before she smiled and nodded at Charity who came out on hearing the car drive in
“Good evening mother” he greeted finally as she beamed at him before walking past him to the house. They followed her.
“So how have you been?” Florence tried a chit-chat as she sat down comfortably taking in the quiet surrounding. Charity offered a drink she refused to take. There were no friends in the game.
“As you have commanded” Victor returned with a childish air. Florence smiled passively as she made to get her phone from her bag, unhurried.
“I suspect you have issues with signing the document” Florence said to no one in particular.
“I would hesitate too if I were you. However you must believe the worst of me to think I will take over a man’s life work without good cause. I have been away a lot because there were things, people I had to meet, information that would benefit a lot of us” she continued leisurely as she found the files she was looking for on her phone.
“I would like you both to listen to these recordings and watch the videos. Let me know if you still have issues signing the documents. Charity, you have done well. The balance of your fees will be paid into your account but first, you two will be flown out tomorrow” Florence stated easily as if she were talking to her staff.
“Is she doing well?” Charity’s voice shook, her eyes misting at the thought of finally seeing her grandmother, not believing that the end had come, on a day she least expected it.
“What makes you so sure that I am going to sign those documents?” Victor asked, cocky as he stood up at her signal.
“This will” Florence said as she pressed the play button, dropped her phone and leaned back with eyes closed.
The voices flooding the cozy cream-colored room and warm red furniture soon had Victor shifting and looking at the face of his mother. Every word, every minute was revelatory. Charity and Victor sat frozen to their seats, goose pimples running on the surface of their skin as plans after plans were revealed. As one meeting finished, Florence would press the next button and more of the plans were revealed until it got to the voice recording of Bello Badmus and Jafal plotting their death.
80 minutes of listening to the recording and watching raw footage of videos from her top-level meetings achieved the effect she knew was needed to push the sales through. Of course she could decide to force him into signing the documents but it wasn’t necessary. The boy should know exactly why he had to sell his father’s company and shouldn’t be denied the exhilarating feeling of revenge.
Victor sat stunned as the last recording played out. Without being told, he knew who the person in the last recording was and he knew exactly what they meant when they said there was need to get rid of him.
“You understand why I do what I do now?” it was Florence putting her phone into her bag.
“Bello Badmus is alive?” it was more of a statement than a question. Charity knew that voice in her sleep.
“Yes” Florence confirmed.
“And he wants me dead” Victor completed standing up and squeezing his eyes shot. The rush of emotions blinded him momentarily. His own father wanted him dead – for a company he didn’t even want.
“I didn’t ask him to make me his heir! Why did he have to make me his heir only for him to turn around and kill me?” it was a shout.
“I think he enjoys the game he plays” it was Florence, calm.
“He is going to kill you too. You knew he was alive?” he asked again, taking a new sofa.
“I knew he was alive, I was aware of the simple plan of him playing dead so that we could catch my evil sister and expose her lies and plans to eliminate him for the cabal. It was for a good cause he said. I had no idea Josephine was going to go big with her bomb blast. I suppose it served his purpose just as well” Florence wasn’t sure anymore on why she had agreed with him to work on the plan of making her sister pay for her deeds. The game plan had since changed and she knew Bello had been taking her for a ride.
“What is the story with your sister?” Victor asked, watching his mother carefully as he saw a rush of cloud wash down her countenance.
“She sold me to some spiritualist when I was pregnant with you. She married your father after destroying our relationship. She killed my assistant and tried to kill you the day I sent you away, with the help of Charity’s father of course. She would have killed you when you started working at The Castle as a driver. I had Ganbo frame you up and bail you out the next day. I couldn’t allow her find you in your father’s employment. Ganbo leaves you for a week and you find yourself some trouble no?” Florence gave a small smile as she remembered the panic attack she had suffered when Ganbo who had taken a leave of one week reported on resumption that her son was now in employment of Bello Badmus. She had sacked Ganbo’s replacement with immediate effect.
Charity looked away as Florence looked at her when she mentioned her father being part of the plan to eliminate Florence and her son.
“So I take you have scores to settle with your sister” Victor said as he watched his mother with awe.
“That is correct” Florence answered simply.
“After working with him, Bello wants you dead” Victor repeated
“From his conversation, yes”
“Why?” Victor pressed.
“Why is the devil evil?” Florence answered
“Because he is the devil?” Victor tried dry humor and they shared a private chuckle.
“So what is the plan?”
“Get those documents signed and get you out of here” Florence sat up.
“I mean about you” Victor continued
“I have work to do” Florence volunteered freely.
“Those people, they are responsible for the terror in the North East” Victor said after a moment of silence. He saw his mother in new light and respect. He knew that to have had access to the recording, she must have taken risks. Not only had she saved their lives, she had gone at the expense of her life to save the State. He was proud to call her mother.
“And you intend to expose them” he questioned like a little child, Charity was getting irritated at the questions.
“That’s the plan” Florence smiled at the easy rapport and wondered what their relationship would have been like if there were no craziness.
“How do you intend to do that?” it was Charity.
“I may have to find a way to the President but even he can’t be trusted. He may be compromised”
“I may know someone” she supplied helpfully.
“And who is he?”
“She. Omoni Osagie” Charity continued.
“How sure are you about her integrity?” Florence was skeptical and watching for signs of betrayal.
“I can stake my life on it” Charity vouched strongly
“And how do you know this Omoni?” Florence asked
“She saved my life, paid my way through law school and she is married to Peter Osagie” she offered as they both looked at her with blank stares. “The acting Director General of the DDSS” she volunteered.
“We should set up the meeting” it was Florence. She had heard that name mentioned behind Jafal’s back by the other members of the group but she wondered why they all couldn’t mention his name in Jafal’s presence. The joke was that this man was the only one who could stop Jafal. If this was the man, it was good.
“We should” Victor added looking at his mother before breaking into a full smile at her raised eyebrows.
There was no need for words. When life is threatened by a common enemy, forces are joined. Florence had no doubt about that.

Bello Badmus – 26th August, 2011
Bello Badmus sat in his recliner chair and sipped his drink. All was working according to plan.
Daba had finally located where Florence had taken Kudirat and her children. The same building! She seemed to be more careful than usual at first then she got careless. He found it surprisingly though that she stayed away from Inale. If she did, Daba did not report it.
Florence entertained him, with her double entrees and eagerness at playing his wife and her twin sister, Kudirat at the same time. He laughed out loud as he remembered the first time he met her. He remembered the first night he had her, how eager and naive she had been – eager to please, eager to be pleased. He remembered the bright pink coloration of her labia the first time he had kissed her maiden head. It was breathing hot and shy. He smiled as he remembered the dark skin coloration of Josephine’s labia and mole just beneath her abdomen. The sisters maybe identical but they deferred where only him knew. Their sex.
He had figured that out the next semester after his first night with Josephine. At the beginning of the semester in January, Josephine was impersonating Florence, coming as Florence to his house, asking that they forget about her sister – Josephine and harping on about continuing from where they stopped. He knew Florence would never push that much but then it had not dawned on him. The feeling and conversations were simply different and when they made love, it was too hurried and loud. Florence was anything but loud.
Night and after night until he stumbled on it. The mole and coloration.
His first reaction had been anger at being played and he had thought about going to confront her. If the sisters were playing on his intelligence, it was time to stop it. But when he told Sule, his closest step-brother, Sule had laughed and told him to play along and date the two sisters. If they wanted a game, Sule suggested he played along. The idea had been perfect, even desired but no matter who he met, there was the mole and the dark coloration. And the sex was fast, loud and sweaty. It was then he began to suspect that Florence wasn’t Florence but Josephine. After being pressed, Josephine (now impersonating Florence) revealed that her twin sister – Josephine had deferred her admission from nursing school. That had been the lie that raised his antenna. He should have called her on it but then he let the game play for so long that he let it continue. After all he was going to get rid of her when he got tired of the game.
Why he had gone ahead with the game of deceit to the point of marrying Josephine, he never knew. Perhaps it was because he wanted to hurt Florence for deserting him. After few months, he went back to his old style of having many girls on campus. When Josephine claimed she was pregnant for him, he knew the game was over and he had lost. Confronting her about impersonation her left Josephine threatening to get him kicked out of school and had gone ahead to ingrain herself with his father. His father had immediately insisted they marry and when Josephine had decided to convert to Islam for the sake of unity, his father was ecstatic.
He regretted playing the game but there was nothing he could do. They were married months later and both of them had continued having affairs until Josephine had fallen in love with George. There was no way he was going to let her enjoy being in love when she had denied him the same. The affair with George had been to spite him, he was sure. He was not a jealous man but even he had pride and there was no way he would allow himself be cuckolded. Nothing had made him happier than when the he-goat had been killed. It was the perfect punishment for the crime of impersonation and adultery.
When his father died shortly after their marriage, Bello began his search for Florence but she had simply vanished. It was not until Naomi Mambutu appeared on the radar after so many years that he found who he was looking for.
The random checks of high-profile investors in his multimillion Naira produced the woman he had being looking for for years. Florence was Naomi Mambutu and like a bee to a flower, he couldn’t resist going after her once more.
The walk on the beach in Seychelles had been planned. With Sekinat in his hands as the perfect excuse to be on a holiday, he walked into her blindly on a cool breezy day. The breath had gone off her lungs as soon as she saw him and he could see her trying to decide what cause of action. He didn’t allow her though.
“Florence” he had called, surprised and holding on to her hand as he pulled her up.
“What?” Florence muttered, looking away.
“Florence Ohiemi!” he continued holding her, ignoring Sekinat who was always more than eager to follow him around the world offering bald pussy service.
“My name is Naomi”
“Naomi Mambutu? A major shareholder in my company?” he asked, eyes fixed on hers. Florence had smiled then and he had too.
“Naomi, yes” she recovered, shaking his hand.
“I know you are Naomi Mambutu but to me, you are Florence”
“Who is Florence?”
“The first and only woman I ever loved” he said casually still watching for a crack in her face.
“I see” she said walking away, baffled at his utterance and shaking at facing Bello so many miles away from home and unprepared.
“You look so much like her” he continued, trailing after her.
“I am sure” Florence answered as she walked to her house by the beach.
“Please tell me. You are Florence. I know you are and I am not going anywhere unless you tell me who you really are” he said simply, looking boyish with grey hair and ridiculously long eyelashes and fading pink lips.
“I am Naomi Mambutu and I don’t know what or who you talking about” Florence had feigned ignorance and gone into her beach house.
Bello had smiled at her denial and remembered what it had felt like to chase her over thirty years. Sekinat was sent back to Nigeria the next morning.
He would court Naomi Mambutu the rest of the week. Offering rides, flying her out to lunch, sitting outside her house at sunset and sharing a cold bottle of wine as they shared tales of travels, funny experiences and favorite foods. He was sure Florence had fallen again. The first night they kissed under the receding moon, he knew she was Florence and when he had her in bed that night, his first point of call was her labia. He was not wrong..…they were bright pink, hot and shy.
He had found his Florence.
When she revealed she was indeed Florence and had a son for him, he knew it was not long before things changed. Her tale of finding him married to her sister, George’s affair with his wife and what hand she had in setting him up for his final fall flowed freely. The weeks that followed, he revealed that Josephine had plans to kill him for the cabal and take control of investments possibly to fund the budding terrorism in the State and like his sweet naive mouse, she had swallowed his story and she had gone with the flow.
It was sad that her darling son was going to go but now that he had caught a glimpse of his son in the news, he was having a rethink. Perhaps he could let the boy live. The problem was getting him to do what he wanted. Would he be as pliant and cooperative as his mother? What would he do if he found out that the subsidiaries were covers for illicit operations? What would Florence do? Leave him? Inale was definitely going to the press. He couldn’t allow that. They had to go. Too much at stake and he was one who loathed loose ends.
Just then, the business headline news caught his attention. The Newscaster was saying the sale of his company had being finalized and the new company was being introduced shortly before a clip of Victor shaking an unknown man filled his screen. He knew the company that bought his company. It was Naomi’s!
His roar was enough to bring the house down as he sped into his room where Florence had been last night.
“Florence! Florence!! Naomi!” he called furiously, his heart beat increasing exponentially as Daba came forward.
“Where is she?”
“She has gone out”
“When?” he asked already planning
“Since morning”
“I see” Bello knew something was wrong.
“Get ready, call Sekinat, I need you both for a quick trip” he said as he walked to his room and opened his electronic save hidden behind Florence’s painting.

Josephine Ohiemi – 28th August, 2011

Josephine had since given up on escaping or being released. It had been months since Florence had locked her up in the private quarters. The environment was always quiet, humming.
Some days she was convinced Florence had forgotten about her and other days she waited for the day she would come and pull the trigger. The recent change in treatment was welcomed but worrisome too.
Her meals had changed and she was allowed to bath and change into clothes provided for her. It was after such mornings that she found Florence sitting in her cleaned new room.
“You startled me” Josephine said as she came into the room from the bathroom.
“What did I ever do to you?” it was Florence, sitting on the side single sofa and watching her sister move around the room in her pair of white cotton trousers and navy blue blouse.
“Your countless plans to kill me, taking what belongs to me…..all of it, Why?” Florence asked as she unfolded her arms to reveal a pistol. Josephine froze.
“Florence” she called gently, taking a seat on the bed as Florence signaled her to.
“Yes, I am listening”
“Don’t use that, please” Josephine begged.
“That’s a first. The deadly Josephine, wife of influential Bello Badmus, begging” Florence said, waving the gun.
“Florence, you need to understand it wasn’t about you. It was about me, I was just evil” Josephine excused
“I was hoping you wouldn’t use the ‘this has got nothing to do with you’ line” Florence mimicked and stood up as Josephine flinched. After five months in captivity with four of those months living in deplorable condition, Josephine knew Florence was not the person she knew.
Florence watched her sister squirm and smiled. It was surprising that she lived her life for this moment and now that it was here, she wondered why she had wasted her emotions on her all those years. Her drive for revenge on her sister and Bello had kept her up at night, planning, scheming. She felt better as Victor and Charity were flown out that morning. She had driven herself out of Bello’s mini Estate after instructing Ganbo to load his private plane with explosives in the dead of the night before asking him to take the evidence to the man in Mubi. She remembered the serene happy look on Bello’s face as she left him that morning. It would be the last look she would remember him with.
“I see you haven’t heard the news” it was Florence, going back to sit down. The urge to pull the trigger since leaving her.
“No” Josephine answered shaking her head.
“Bello is alive”
“Bello is dead” Josephine said darkly.
“No, he is not but he will soon be” Florence confirmed, eyes firmly on her sister with the ready silencer.
“I killed him. He was blown up” Josephine argued
“You blew up an empty casket”
“No. He was pushed. I arranged that”
“You didn’t push himself Josephine. Moreover, he was on to you from the beginning, well not exactly from the beginning. At some point, I believe Jafal must have sold you out for the seat of the President”
“That is not possible. I saw him lie in that coffin!” Josephine argued
“Are you sure it was Bello you really saw him?” Florence laughed at the expression on her sister’s face. It was the one of being played a terrible joke.
“No” it was barely above a whisper.
“Your husband is alive sweet sister and he has been really busy with Jafal”
“And you? How do you know all these?”
“I have been busy as well” Florence gave a small smile as she pointed the gun at her sister again.
“Wait! Before you shoot me, where are they?”
“Who?” Florence chuckled knowingly.
“Where are my children? Please” it was the first time Josephine referred to her children with the look of utter surrender on her face.
“They are safe. I don’t know for how long though. Somehow, Bello knows where they are and I heard him say he was going to kill them and then you, if I don’t get to it soon”
“Please don’t let him get to them. They have nothing to do with this and Kole needs to be warned”
“Kole is dead Jose” Florence informed pitifully.
“Noo! Noooo!!” she shouted and began to shake and sob. Kole was her favorite mostly because he reminded her of his father, her first love.
“Nooooo! Noooooooo!!” Josephine broke down in tears, heartbreaking sobs escaping her lips. Florence sat through it.
“How did it happen?” Josephine asked finally, standing up and going to the water dispenser that had been placed in her room the night before. She knew she had to distract Florence and collect the gun from her hand. A plan came to her. It was now or never. She chose now.
“He was slaughtered in his UK apartment. His body found after many days” Florence said, standing up noiselessly as she watched her sister fill the glass cup. She was smiling.
“Of course he did! The bastard, the devil, I will kill him, I will kill him” she cried, swearing, her eyes erstwhile downcast shone with revenge and in a blink of an eye turned around to pour the glass of hot water on Florence with the intention of blinding her to take the gun.
Only it wasn’t hot water. The water dispenser had been tampered with to produce only lukewarm water. The look on Josephine face as she noticed Florence standing without flinching gave Florence all the joy in the world as she shot her sister on her right shoulder blade.
Josephine screamed at the impact of the bullet, her shoulder blades enveloping in heat and pain as she landed on the perfectly laid white bed.
“I was hoping you would do that”
“Florence, Florence, don’t. Please I beg you”
“Close your eyes, pray for forgiveness from where you may get it”
“Florence please, forgive me”
“I will see you in the afterlife. Say hi to Bello and George” Florence said wickedly before pulling the trigger at pointblank range.
The scream that started died in Josephine’s throat and calm soon returned to the room.

Peter Osagie – Mubi, 28th August, 2011
It was Farah who told Peter to take residence with the traditional bone setter who served the community in his red old hut built as an attachment to new stalls in the old community market that had since grown to include new houses and stalls for traders. The house attached in the rowdy community had dried herbs and animal parts hanging out in the open.
Peter had arrived Mubi with his team in disguise. With grown beards and dirty kaftans, they made their way to the man who was to give them a cover. Farah swore he trusted the old man and he knew they would blend into the community with the old man as their master. But it was a set up. Farah’s identity had been compromised and for his life, he had told Peter what Yakubu told him to. Although Farah did not understand why his boss and colleagues had to be put under surveillance, he knew that their assignment had been compromised but there was nothing he could do about it especially as he had been tied among the other captives.
On arrival in April, the old man had received them warmly as he took to the task of setting the bone of one of the locals. That night, he had discussed the problem of the insurgent with Peter deeply, speaking in Hausa and vigorously defending the people taking the law into their hands and fighting the Boko Haram. The old Mallam pointed fingers at the governors and financial faceless backers who unfortunately were untouchable.
Peter followed the story quietly and seemed interested in what the man had to say although he was unconvinced. He couldn’t quite place it but he knew something was amiss.
“These people caused this menace, now it has become war, they leave the community to pay for it” he said indignantly in good English. Peter was surprised at his clarity of facts but refused to show his shock or question his sources.
Days turned to weeks and weeks into months and still they were not closer to real evidence of sabotage than they were when they came. It was one attack after another, the terror spreading and residents going about their daily activities with trepidation. The so-called command center gathered no intelligence that was substantial, if anything it seemed it was a hopeless cause with soldiers conducting themselves without rules of engagement and high-profile officers reporting wrong figures to the Head Quarters and news outlet. The figure of casualty was always reduced and number of bomb blasts reported rarely reflected the sporadic explosions across the state.
In reality, the soldiers were losing ground and the superior fire power of the Boko Haram members more than ever convinced Peter there was a plan for show down soon. The problem was timing.
Omoni was still adamant about her position on him being at the center of the deadly attacks. He reassured her of his safety times without number when he took breaks to see her. The last time she had evoked a promise. If nothing happened within the next month, he would come back and be with her as her delivery date drew near. And then her call had come in.
“Hey love” he called sweetly moving away from the other occupant of the room to answer her call.
“How’s my favorite husband?”
“Your only husband is sweating and missing you” he replied, smiling into the phone.
“Well, your days of sweating and missing me are over. It seems what you are finding in Mubi is right here in Abuja” she said, smiling and wishing she could see the look on his face.
“What do you mean?” he was on high alert.
“I got a call from Charity, remember her?”
“Yes, yes” Peter barely remembered her.
“She called saying there were voice and video recordings on the sponsors and some photos. She didn’t call names but she vouched for the authenticity of those recordings”
“Names and video recordings of the sponsors of these boys? I have to leave right away”
“No need. I mentioned you were in Mubi Township and the recording is on its way to you. I have not seen it but I have a good feeling about this. I really want you back her with me” she cooed.
“Very soon too”
“It had better”
“And how is he supposed to locate me?”
“I said to find the bone setter in Mubi Township, Mobil Market. The messenger is familiar with the part. You will know him when you see him”
“I hope so”
“I know Rambo” she teased and he laughed.
“Love you”
“Love you too” she returned and dropped the call to go check on her Irish potatoes she was boiling.
She had just finished lunch, barely an hour later when her doorbell rang.
Standing up heavily, she walked to the door and opened it. The man she saw there made her weak at the knees.
Peter tried to call his wife throughout the day but the phone was switched off. How was it possible that her battery was off? Even the guard’s mobile rang off. He worried deeply and was considering making the trip down when his phone rang. It was her thankfully.
“Hello sweetheart” it was Omoni, her voice sounding rasp and heavy. Peter knew immediately something was wrong.
“What is wrong?”
“I …” and the phone was taken from her as she tried to answer the question.
“I suggest you think really carefully before you do anything with that list” it was a voice he would forever detest, that deep dark voice of a killer.
“Jafal” Peter called with heavy breathing.
“Father would be nice. How are you?” Jafal asked, watching his son’s wife shoot daggers at him with her eyes, she was a feisty one.
“If you as much as harm her, a strand of her hair and I swear I will find you and kill you” Peter threatened darkly.
“Common on son, you know I wouldn’t do anything to my grandchild. Congratulations by the way” Jafal dragged, almost laughing. This was the reason a man like him didn’t have a woman. It was always an Achilles’ heel.
“Let her go immediately” Peter commanded hotly, frustrated and trying to hide his fear. He knew what his father was capable of.
“Destroy those tapes and burn those lists son”
“And what tapes are you talking about?” Peter stalled.
“You know what I am talking about. If I do not receive a call to that effect, I am sorry I must vent my anger on someone” Jafal said darkly.
“And how would you know if I destroy these evidence against you that I don’t even have?” he asked, exasperated. He noticed the eyes of one man in the room shift continuously and his chest grew heavy with anger. A mole in the room.
“I have my sources. The ball is in your court. Get back here with your team or say goodbye to your wife and my grandchild. She tells me you are having a baby girl too” Jafal taunted before cutting the call abruptly.
“Jafal! Omoni! Hello, Hello!” Peter flung his phone on the wall and what remained of the phone fell to the ground as he looked around the room and charged at the man in dirty kaftan and brown beards.
“You!” he said rushing the old bone setter, raising him and smashing him on the wall. His group was beside him in a second and prying the old man from his hand. Umoru his second calmed him down.
Peter looked at Umoru, took a deep breath and left him fall to the floor in a boneless heap.
“Let me have your phone” he demanded quietly albeit fearfully.
“I don’t have a phone” he said in Hausa. The slap that would fling the man across the room mixed with the first sound of explosion miles away.
Umoru searched the old man’s body and produced a phone hidden in his girdle.
The old snitch’s phone provided the confirmation that the information indeed was right.
“Lock him up. Get the SWAT team up and send them to my house. My father has kidnapped my wife” Peter commanded before taking the motorcycle and heading to the Mobil market to wait for the list or whoever had it.

Peter Osagie – Mobil Market, 30th August, 2011

The man in sparkling black suit and a definite spring in his step was not missed. Peter waited as he saw the man approach steadily.
“You are looking for the bone setter” it was Peter on the motorcycle waiting in front of the stall which housed the old snitch’s properties. He had since relocated his team to an abandoned blown up cathedral and was keeping the man in one of the pastor’s room that was largely unaffected by the fire.
“Yes” Ganbo answered the stranger and looked closely at the man. He looked like the picture he saw in the papers and online reports of the newly appointed Director-General of the DDSS. If he was not good at disguise himself, he would have missed him.
“Come with me” Peter said and brought the motorcycle to life as Ganbo hopped on and they drove out of the busy market few minutes before the first blast would start.

The team watched the videos and listened to the recordings quietly. The cold silence and anger was targeted at only one man in the room. Ganbo’s father.
Ganbo had seen his father tied up the moment he had stepped into the room. Peter was particularly too angry to explain the situation but Umoru, his second in command explained to a disappointed Ganbo. The old bone setter was Ganbo’s adopted father and mentor. He had been instrumental to Ganbo’s upbringing as a man who stood for what was right and his belief that evil needed good men to stop it. After so many years, Ganbo was disappointed to see that the man he called father and held in high esteem was a traitor to his people, a gun for hire – like himself. The only difference was that he did correct evil and it made all the difference.
“I am disappointed in you father” it was Ganbo, eyes red shot as he watched the man he had admired growing up. It was sad that he had become the monster that spied on his community.
“I had no choice” the old Mallam said, tired and weak from the random beating Peter melted on him whenever he thought of the danger his wife and baby girl were in.
“You do. There is always a choice” Peter swore loudly as they heard the gun fire begin in earnest.
“The attack has started. What do we do now?” it was Umoru, looking at Dante and Scorpio. The duo rarely spoke but were quick with the guns and loyal to a fault.
“Jafal has Omoni, he will kill her if we get the names out” Umoru continued, turning to Peter who was calling the Ibro, the head of the SWAT team Umoru had assembled. Every hour counted and he couldn’t even imagine a world without Omoni. He would piece the beast he swore hotly.
“We must call in reinforcement” Peter was angered because the call wasn’t connecting and was about flinging the locally made phone at the wall. He couldn’t think straight. Umoru collected the phone and began to dial a number.
Peter could only sit still and hear the raid continue in the distance, as the massacre went on.
“Get me Mr. President” Peter announced thickly after 30 minutes of brooding silence. Umoru nodded and made the call.

Eid el Fitr – 30th August, 2011

The day was a black day. Thousands of Nigerians lying dead as rain washed their blood from their stiff bodies.
The multiple attacks started at 9:20am and lasted through the day. The emboldened members went of a rampage, over powering the military barracks and camps in communities in Borno, Yobe and Adamawa states. Several coordinated suicidal attacks in hospitals, markets, mosques, churches, schools, filling stations and motor parks while they raided residential areas and captured women and young girls. The live stream of the destruction brought the country to a standstill leaving the entire country in mourning.
The military had gone on the defensive leaving their posts, running into hiding as the terrorists gunned them down, taking over major towns, burning their barracks, destroying government houses, police stations and major businesses owned by states and private entities. In some communities, the soldiers surrendered willingly as they gunned them down and marched the senior officers along with their convoy.
The mosques and churches had since been blown up and now the number of displayed persons rose from 10,000 to hundreds of thousands as some fled to neighboring countries while others ran into neighboring Nigerian states before coming to the capital to seek help.
Many families separated, mothers looking for their children, fathers looking for their wives, children lost and weeping as images of persons rushing to border towns for safety filled television stations. The international community and news centers had their spot light on the crises in Nigeria leaving many calling for the resignation of the President. He had failed his first and foremost obligation – to protect every Nigerian life and property, analysts say.
In less than 24 hours, the senate had convened and the move to impeach the President began. The citizenry drove the move as the President was yet to make a statement. There was simply no word from the Executive House and people worried that he was not affected by the dastardly act or more plausible, there was nothing he could do about it. He had failed the Nigerian state and must step down. The analyst called for a military government, other called for separation of state while others simply blamed corruption and past leaders.
However a few argued that the act was an attempt to frustrate the government into submission. These few people couldn’t have been any closer to the truth but the notion of simply sabotaging the government for sake of change of power by killing thousands of Nigerians was more than a larger group of activists and Nigerians could swallow and so did what every society would. They took to the streets as they called for resignation of the President, appealed for international help and condemned the attack in the highest regard before they retired at night to take a bottle of cold beer and steaming plate of peppered assorted meat over heated debates before taking to the streets the next day.

The SWAT team moved noiselessly, steadily advancing the hideout where the signal of Omoni’s phone was strong. Omoni had taken an extra phone as she had being bundled out of the house and had sent Peter a text at night, nearly 72 hours after she was allowed to go alone to the bathroom to ease herself.
She had locked herself and sent the text promising to leave the phone transmitting when he was sure the team was ready.
The text had been received after Umoru had patched Peter’s phone up the night of the attack and he had sent it immediately to Ibro. In an hour, Omoni had requested that she be allowed to ease her bowels again. Tired and irritated, the bulky man guarding her allowed her as she placed a call and left the phone on top of the WC floater and returned to the room where she waited.
One by one, the snipers took out the men guarding the facility and Jafal who sat smoking his cigar in his bedroom and wondering where Bello had disappeared to, was the last one to discover they had been discovered. The game was up.
“Where is she?” it was Ibro as the team came in, taking down Daba who was too late in drawing his gun. Ibro advanced into the room, pointing the gun at Jafal at point-blank.
“Somewhere in the building” he said totally relaxed as they cuffed him minutes later and led him out to the bullion van.
The rescue of Omoni was swift and the news of Jafal’s arrest came with the release of the names of the cabal and the tape of violence in the morning of 3rd of July, 2011. Three days after the devilish attack.
Peter had left Mubi on the eve of the blast leaving his team behind. He couldn’t stay another hour despite the threat of possible attack. He drove his bike to the nearest town, passing bodies and meeting roadblocks set up by the members of the sect. when asked who and where he was going, he simply said he had a message from Yakubu to deliver to their sponsor in Taraba state. The lie was well received and immediately they let him pass as he looked and talked like a holy warrior from Syria. He took an abandoned truck at the outskirt of Maiduguri, hot wiring it and driving for hours, stopping only to refill his tank at deserted filling stations.
He arrived Abuja 24 hours after the attack and had attached himself to the rescue team. The moment he found her seating beside the bulky man she had knocked with a stool and shot with his gun, Peter was laughing with relief as he rushed to her side. She smiled as she saw him and as she made to get up, her water broke.
“On my God, Oh my God” she was saying in a laugh as he carried her off her feet and members of the SWAT team came to secure the room.
“Is it time?” he asked as he carried her out of the house and saw his father turn to look at him before they led him away.
“I don’t care. I just want her out already” Omoni gritted her teeth at her first pull of pain.
In less than 8 hours, Peter was a proud father. His fierce baby girl was bellowing and angry at being birthed 3 days early.
“She has your eyes” Peter comforted as he watched the feisty little tyrant sucking angrily at her mother’s milk breasts.
“She sucks like you too” Omoni said as Ibro entered the room.
“Sir, the president is on the line for you” it was Ibro. Peter after the rescue had sent Ibro with the package to be delivered to the president and ordered Ibro to begin arrest of the names on the list.
“Your excellency” he said into the phone as he eyed Omoni who was making a face.
“I am indebted to you. You have saved us, the country and me” he said. One could hear the relief in his voice.
“I believe you owe thanks to a certain Naomi Mambutu” he said repeating the name the man with the limb, Ganbo had told him.
“I will find her and do so accordingly. However, I need to make this official. Seeing as I have no Vice, would you consider having my back for the next 6 years?” the President asked and Peter laughed heartily.
“I am honored Mr. President but I would rather serve than lead” he answered, looking at Omoni.
“Thank you Peter. I shall speak to you soon”
“What was that about?” Omoni eyed her husband with suspicion.
“He wanted a Vice” he said as he hugged both of them, his little one already asleep.
“And you refused” she confirmed.
“And I did”
“Good’ she answered cheerfully as he took her lips in a kiss.

The recording, videos and photos had since become viral as arrests were made from all spheres. Kudirat Bello had been found dead in her house with a suicide note. The arrest of the service chiefs, his Special Adviser – Nurudeen Soyemi, Vice president – Akin Jolojolo, Jafal Asiedu and the well-respected Cleric shook the country amidst cheers of victory. Bello Badmus had since gone missing but to the populace, he was dead.
He was nowhere to be found and Peter knew he still had his work cut out for him. But Bello could wait. His family was paramount and Omoni wouldn’t hear of it. Perhaps in future he told himself as he watched his wife and baby sleep several days after they were discharged from the hospital.
The country turned vicious after initial celebration taking into the streets, armed and advancing on properties of the arrested men and destroying their businesses and properties. The wives, children and relatives of the evil men were rounded up too and brought in for questioning, Debola and Laide Bello inclusive. The Castle was flooded into by angry youths and it took the intervention of the Police to restore calm after burning buildings.
With appointment of new service chiefs, the quick clean of the Boko Haram group was swift. The funding had been stopped and French supplier caught while international help from the U.S, A.U, French and German countries poured. Analysts began a new discourse and the vote of confidence in the President increased as his impeachment proceedings came to a halt.
The new change brought about a change in war tactics and the flush of fleeing Boko Haram members from their camps revealed women and children held under captivity while several hundred members of the sect were killed and over two thousand captured awaiting trial.
And for the first time since Nigeria’s independence, the country was truly one.


Venice, Italy – September, 2011
His sweet insistent tugging of her brown nipples made her toes curl with excitement, heart racing.
“Stop it” Charity stressed pushing him from her exposed breasts.
“I can’t. You make me sane” Victor tickled, pressing his length down her thighs
“My grandmother is right inside” Charity begged as she tried to leave his arms.
“Not until I have you wife” he said hotly before planting himself in her warmth. The words forming on her lips died a natural death as she welcomed him, holding on to him in the private pool as they enjoyed their first as a married couple.

Nigeria, September, 2011
Florence watched as the private helicopter took off from the helipad and gave a small smile thumbing the remote in her hand.
“Goodbye Bello” she said as she pressed the button and the helicopter in the distance blew into pieces. It was only befitting that Bello Badmus died in flames, a bomb blast.


Seme Border – September, 2011
The man in dirty rags crossing the Benin Republic border attracted little attention. He was sitting in the white bus with little luggage and as they were stopped and told to come down for routine checks, he came down and smiled at the patrol guard with the big head and flappy ears.
“Oga mi, abeg give me small money for bread naw” the patrol guard joked when it was his turn.
“Na you suppose give me some money” the man said in terrible pidgin.
“Where are you going?” the patrol man asked as he watched the dirty man, his face familiar.
“I am going to Cotonou” he replied in good English.
“Where is your passport?” the patrol man asked suddenly in haste to continue his search of other passengers as he saw a new car arrived at the border.
“I have it here” he said going to bring it out.
“Go, go, go” he waved the man away as he noticed his colleague approach the new car.
The man in rags smiled as he walked back to the bus and took his seat, scratching his fake horse beard with a deep satisfied smile on his face.
“Adebayor Kokoro Philips indeed” he muttered under his breath as Bello chuckled watching the patrol guard in rear mirror pocket clean crispy notes and waved the new car past, his private thoughts returning to him. His little Sekinat and Daba must have exploded in his private plane, he smiled wearily at his erection. Florence had won in the end, but did she really win? He asked himself humorously.
The old white bus continued its journey steadily and every mile, every hour took Bello closer to his destination – freedom, a new man. A man who could do as he pleased with his Cayman island account. Perhaps he could buy his company back, perhaps he could find Florence or find a new pastime. He chuckled at the revelation. He could do anything he wanted. Anything.
Whoever said evil did not prevail? Especially if he were wise like the ant who saved for rainy days.


M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks

All Episodes here. Share, Comment, Enjoy.

Like Us on Facebook or Follow African Stories on Twitter and you’d never miss any of our postings.

Enjoy your weekend.


M.O.T.I.V.E.S – Series Finale


Like they say, all things come to an end. M.O.T.I.V.E.S by Unen Ameji’s is finally at its end.
We would like to thank our readers, new audience and fans for reaching out, liking our pages and helping out in sharing the story as it unfolded. Thank you.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S, a story set in old and modern day Nigeria, is a riveting, stimulating, suspense-filled tale of a myriad of absorbing characters with Unen Ameji’s fluid style of delivering engaging stories of greed, love, lust and power that leaves her audience on the edge of their seats, guessing and usually clamoring for more.

The story features Nigerian Tycoon and powerhouse Bello Badmus. A man who gave power as he willed, a man who controlled Presidents, a man who put men and monsters in seats of power; Florence Ohiemi aka Naomi Mambutu and her identical evil twin Josephine Ohiemi aka KudiraT Sadika Bello who are ever in battle of wills – good and evil, where evil prevails.

In a thrilling twist, the events likened to a classic game of chess sees each piece on the board take power and lose it and take it all over again. An illusion of power, an illusion of control.

The last episode will be posted next week! until then, enjoy the preview.

Read all Episodes here


30th August, 2011 – Eid el Fitr Day

The man in sparkling black suit from Bello Badmus bomb blast stood anonymously in the large excited crowd. He smiled at the thought of how much his life had changed over the years. From an innocent Almajiri boy begging for his next meal to international eye for the underworld. Of course he was not just an eye to the highest bidder but one did not take pleasure in referring to oneself as a hired killer. No. One left such dark titles to those who thrived on giving unnecessary titles.
He smiled again as a young boy in his white kaftan and brown embroidered cap ran past him, shouting to his friends in a small group to wait for him. Ganbo found the brightly colored women, heavily made-up girls in kohl and animated boys running around the large mosque interesting and for a second remembered what it felt like to be part of the community.
Standing, he watched the scene play out before him. The crowd flooding into the mosque for prayers, the market filled with morning activities as big trucks offloaded clothing and fresh tomatoes to stalls along the street and vehicles entering the petrol station slowly, attendants fighting and shouting at a man who had parked his car strategically to shunt the moment the low metal gate of the petrol station opens. It was a familiar sight, the long queues during scarcity; the day being Sallah regardless.
If anyone was paying attention, they would have noticed the awkwardly tall man with the bad shoulder blade trudge past them. They would have noticed he walked briskly, stopping momentarily to ask for directions before continuing on his way, making haste as he moved from street to street, store to store asking for Gyaran Kashi, the town’s renowned bone setter; his Hausa language since failing him.
He had less than two hours to find the man he knew too well to be resourceful enough to connect him to who he needed to contact.
He had to find his father and time was ticking.
But even Ganbo, a hired eye, did not notice as men and women with extra clothing took positions in various spots, whispering into a local radio.

Mubi – Adamawa State: 30th August 2011 – Eid el Fitr Day

The blazing stores, the burning human flesh, the exploding sounds of gas cylinders and stored petrol and the suffocating smell of burning petrol tanker. The thick black smoke hovering over the community moved heavily and slowly, lazily going up into the clouds, the only place it knew it could find redemption.
The roads and streets around the old large community mosque, new Pentecostal church few meters away, the busy car park adjacent to the church, the old fruit market and petrol station opposite the mosque had a new layer. Littered with dead and burning flesh; human flesh mangled with animal flesh almost in artistic depravity. A headless man had the head of a goat nestled on the severed throat in measured precision as if it were aligned. A disemboweled woman had a tuber of yam for large intestines with mashed red tomatoes for color and an amputated large bird with two right-legged limbs and male organ sprawled across the burning animal in a comical fashion.
Sounds of helicopter could be heard faintly approaching the burning community from the North and the fearless group in black hoods stood over the destruction, chanting loudly as they fired into already dead bodies, waiting for the helicopter with mounted PT-91 Twardy Battle Tank and a RPG-32 anti-tank grenade launcher. It was a fight to the finish and nothing was going to stop them.
The approaching military air vessels met their Waterloo the moment they became visible. Launch after launch, the men and vessels were blown apart. Hot dark flames falling from the skies as roar of jubilation filled the air in flagrant triumph. It was after all the fight for supremacy and the shredded bodies that lay on the streets and hanging on shrubs was evident that the end for the Nigeria State had come. The terrorists jumped into their trucks afterwards and drove away on human flesh flying their flags high while their cameraman filmed on.


It was a black Tuesday as Nigerians sat across the country in front of their Televisions and watched as their country fell under siege. The live feeds coming from Adamawa and Borno states was nothing like they had seen as they saw lifeless bodies of men, women, children and animals littered callously in different communities so much that the citizens lost count of communities that had been captured, frightened and irked at the ruthlessly of the group. The live feeds looked the same in Gombi, Hong, Maiha and Demsa communities in Adamawa state. They watched as the terrorists butchered and beheaded, as the men in hoods summarily executed persons by shooting them straight in the head; they watched as the group destroyed abandoned military stations and took over their weapons and combat tanks, they watched as these men gunned down men who slept on walls, men who vowed to keep Nigeria safe, men in uniforms.
In what was the biggest terrorist attack in history of the country, the Boko Haram had staged series of suicidal bombings in different states in North East while engaging in full combat with foot soldiers and blowing up helicopters in Adamawa, Borno and Yobe States as soon as they were sighted.
It was a show of barbaric dominance and it was clear what needed to be done.
The need to show force, a change in Government.


Jafal swirled the cold drink in his glass, the ice cubes connecting with the glass to give a faint clinking sound. He held the remote control in his hand and raised it to increase the volume the moment the face of his puppet filled his large screen.
“We have taken over your country, your community, your government and your military. Yes, you said we could not, I say to you, you underestimated the power of Allah. Allah gives victory and He has given us victory because we fight, we fight a just cause to free our land from sin, the sin of the West. Today we tell you there is no hiding place for you. We shall fight and we shall win. We have taken over Gwoza, Biu, Chibok….we are winning. It is just the beginning. President Obama, you underestimated us. Come and stop us. We are coming for you. Yes, we shall come for your daughters, your wives and your sons. We are coming to you now. Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!! It was a hooded Yakubu who was known as Abu Bakr al-Shafik to the populace. The country had woken up to celebrate the end of the 30 days fasting but now it lay burning.
Jafal changed the channel and the flood of headlines and calls for resignation of the President took over international and local airways.
Nigeria terror: Boko Haram takes over government – CNN
Over 10,000 persons massacred in Nigeria, Boko Haram is the new government – Al Jazeera
War declared in Nigeria, Nigeria state falls to Boko Haram, casualty rising – BBC
Resignation call: President Jang to resign – NNTA
“I would say this was our biggest victory yet” Jafal said dropping the remote control and smiling wickedly to the man who sat beside him anxiously biting on a cigar.
“I would say” Bello answered, distracted. He knew something was wrong but for the first time, he had no idea what possibly could go wrong. He casually picked up his phone and sent a text. A reply came in almost immediately. Lazily, he nodded to himself and relaxed. He was Bello Badmus after all, nothing could go wrong.
But it was all coming to an end, even for Bello Badmus.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks

All Episodes here. Share, Comment, Enjoy.

Like Us on Facebook or Follow African Stories on Twitter and you’d never miss any of our postings.

Enjoy your weekend.


M.O.T.I.V.E.S Episode 7 – @UnenAmeji


And this week’s episode is here! If you have not been following the story, you should.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S, a story set in old and modern day Nigeria, is a riveting, stimulating, suspense-filled tale of a myriad of absorbing characters with Unen Ameji’s fluid style of delivering engaging stories of greed, love, lust and power that leaves her audience on the edge of their seats, guessing and usually clamoring for more.

The story features Nigerian Tycoon and powerhouse Bello Badmus. A man who gave power as he willed, a man who controlled Presidents, a man who put men and monsters in seats of power; Florence Ohiemi aka Naomi Mambutu and her identical evil twin Josephine Ohiemi aka KudiraT Sadika Bello who are ever in battle of wills – good and evil, where evil prevails.

In a thrilling twist, the events likened to a classic game of chess sees each piece on the board take power and lose it and take it all over again. An illusion of power, an illusion of control.

It’s dark, it’s unpredictable, it’s M.O.T.I.V.E.S

Read all Episodes here

Uneñ Ameji’s Note
This is purely a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and Incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business and government establishments, events and locales is entirely coincidental. While the State Security Service and Boko Haram insurgency is mentioned, all event are mere imaginations and projections of the author.

Episode 7

Peter Osagie – Acting Director General DDSS, June – 2011
“Please” a silent plea for release, quivering and breathless from an orgasm long overdue. An orgasm that was fast becoming molten heat traveling the length of her body before settling on her swollen sensitive pink nipples, in between her wet pulsating vaginal lips and on the tips of her impeccably painted red toes. Her mouth opened in breathless rapture, her hands firmly gripping the white bedsheets as she rode the storm that was coming.
“Not.. yet, not……yet” it was a slow murmur spoken in between wet gasps of pleasure from the man underneath. Warm, regulated and yet soft, the air around their torso interpreting the fucking motion that was threatening a crescendo, none was ready to experience, but simply could not put off any further. He felt his resolve dissolve at the same time she let out a wail of pleasure, melting into uncontrollable orgasm that left her juddering like a lone leaf in December harmattan. Her explosive cry of release triggered the pent up orgasm in his spine as he wildly let go of the hot molten essence in his sacs into her.

It had always been like this between them from the moment they had set eyes on each other. They had decided it was just physical but after eight months of intense relationship and animalistic coupling in the strangest of places, Peter popped the big question. He had never met a kinkier, flexible, sexier woman and he’d be damned if he didn’t make her his.
Peter Osagie, acting Director General of the DDSS, now cuddling his 6 months pregnant wife of 8 years remembered the first time he had seen her. Bold golden brown eyes, generous heart-shaped lips and impossibly firm tipped breasts in white T-shirt and Khaki shorts that exposed her incredibly long legs.
His blood had grown unbearably hot when he had entered the Assessment room where the new recruits were standing for formal introduction to all the senior officers before their posting to various states. The 12 months intensive training program had come to an end and as the Regional Supervisor in charge of the recruitment of discreet and diligent Nigerian citizens for the DDSS, he had gone to appraise the final 50 who proved themselves diligent and fearless for integration and he had found her, Omoni O.Omoni, the only girl in the group of 50.
When his eyes had found hers, his nose flared at her scent as he came to stand in front of her. She looked back at him passively but without fear or interest; and while her colleagues bowed their heads after few seconds of eye contact with the tall domineering man with grey airs and ungroomed dark beards against what she referred to as Mulatto skin, she boldly stared at him until he was forced to move away from her. A small smile that refused to make it to her lips appeared in her eyes.
He left Kaduna with the lusty thoughts of her set mouth, delicately slim nose and remarkable golden brown piercing eyes kept him up that night and for the first time in over 8 years in the DDSS, he effected her posting to North Central, to the Capital City and to his command without regards to experience. He simply wanted her where he could monitor her, where he was closer to her.
Omoni knew the tall Mulatto carried a touch for her and she found it amusing mostly because of his reputation of being a hard ass and slave driver. She, however wasn’t interested in his subtle advances because she knew exactly what it took for her to get into the DDSS without leg. She simply couldn’t be involved and completely ignored him. This irritated Peter to no end. Her smiles were for everyone except him. Omoni secretly admired the man for getting job done despite the rumor that he was a bastard, ruthless and distrusting. Her last and only relationship had ended when her childhood love had been gunned down in her street in Port Harcourt, caught in between gang war. He was coming straight from the airport to see her after 10 years in the States. Peter turned from subtle to blatant wooing not caring for the smack remarks about him from his subordinates. Notwithstanding she kept a firm stance.
He was everywhere she looked and soon her China walls began to crack. His stares made her hot all over and whenever she caught his eyes wandering down her body – which was often, she felt like he had undressed her and tickled her all over. She would go home to human-operated fingers for good old relief. It soon became a daily occurrence and as sickening as that was, she barely could contain the excitement of going to work – just to be undressed with piercing grey eyes.
The first raid however would seal their fate.


It was like every other raid but this time something went wrong. A mole in their unit leaked the raid to the group of criminals on the Interpol watch who were wanted for war crimes in Sudan. The ambush that awaited them took the lives of eight of his best men and he was shot on his shoulders. Omoni and the group of six assigned outside had an uncanny feeling and had climbed the broken down fence at the back of the house adjacent to the building where the criminals were. The incapacious bungalow in the extremely quiet Government Reserve Area in Benin City was undoubtedly the perfect hideout. After a few yards, at a bend, she saw a truck parked and a suspicious hooded man at the wheels. She plugged her earpiece and started on a careless jog like a resident. She slowed down to tie her boots and started again, taking the turn before removing her shoe and sneaking up on the truck when she heard gone shots and was torn between going to the house as back up or wait to pursue. The man at the same time started the truck engine. She climbed into the back of the truck covered in trampoline and buried herself in the pile of dirty linen stained with human blood and discarded carton of white foam as the driver moved the car. Footsteps alerted her of people approaching and she stilled as persons jumped into the truck and the truck sped off.
“Why did you carry him?” it was one of the persons at the back of the truck struggling to drop a body, breathing hard and fast.
“Because we need him” it was a quiet answer from another.
“I hope they don’t come for him” it was the same voice.
The truck drove for hours before entering untarred road that had them galloping for several meters before stopping at the foot of a blasted rock. They were at a Quarry in Lokoja. She remained in the truck until dead in the night. New persons arrived at the camp and carried four men along, leaving two guards to keep watch of the hostage.
With hands and legs cuffed, Peter looked at the site and noticed a power bike belonging to one the guards.
Later, Peter would remember the faint sounds of foots approaching, a gun exchange and seeing her face in the moonlight. Hurried but swift, she shot the cuffs off his feet and hands before pulling him up to where they mounted the power bike and drove all night to Abaji, stopping at gas station to top the tank until his strength failed him and she had found a roadside motel along the expressway. Both of them had slept off the moment their heads touched the bed. Eight hours later, he woke up just at dusk to see her eyes looking into his. He gave a faint smile and for the first time, she smiled back.
“You had me worried there” she said quietly, watching him. She had redressed the gun wound at his shoulder while she waited for him to wake up. The wound was deep but thankfully the bullet had a clean pass.
“I am sorry” he croaked, returning a smile. He tried to sit up and failed. The kick one of the criminals delivered to his midsection was raw and the pain made him doubled over.
“Where are we?” he asked after he lay down back.
“Some lodge. The receptionist was pretty much helpful” she laughed at his question and he laughed back.
“Female?” he teased and she blessed him with another of her dazzling smiles, standing up.
“Naturally” she answered as she made to get up with her back to him. Without knowing when he moved, his good hand circled her waist and she slapped them away playfully.
“Stay. Stay with me” he asked softly with longing in his eyes and she stayed and fucked him.
The next bust of the same criminals was successful after Peter and his squad met gave wrong information to the footmen and staged pseudo operation that led to identifying the mole – Garba. Garba after he was caught led the team to make an easy arrest of the criminals frolicking with local women in their new hideout in Ajaokuta. It was the perfect mission and they returned to the capital city with criminals to parade before handing them to the police and Interpol as was customary.
That was the beginning of the hot affair that quickly escalated to a relationship that had Peter intimidating other male colleagues that found her attractive. He couldn’t stand the attention, the eyes that settled on her like his did nor did he find it remotely funny that she made him purposely jealous by refusing to be tagged as his woman. She would go out with different men to taunt him and he would fume and parade his house like a caged tiger, throwing things and smashing glass cups on the wall. When he saw her again, he would let loose his anger, jealous and possessiveness on her hot spot but it was not enough. There was only one way to make her his and he had married her after 8 months. For a man who vowed to live a single life, Peter had failed.
That was 8 years ago.
Eight years since she refused a normal life until he finally got her pregnant. He smiled at the thought.
“I love you” he murmured into her neck, sniffing her scent and withdrawing from her. Trailing kisses down her neck to her shoulders, gently biting her neck and spooning her. She was quiet.
“I have to leave for Mubi tomorrow” he said gravely as he held her for several minutes wondering how to explain his promotion all over again.
His boss – Mr. Igwe Mbaka sacked by the President who was erstwhile passive in the bomb blast and security challenges in the North East had appointed him the acting Director General and had requested a private meeting with only him few days later. A meeting that would change the face of the DDSS and their jurisdiction. What the President was asking of the Agency has never been done but as the President has gravely revealed, the country was on the verge of a coup and not even the service chiefs were to be trusted.
“I have heard you have a trusted man in the Boko Haram camp” it was the President, heavy and sad. Peter was momentarily tempted to deny it but simply nodded.
“Good. Our people are in trouble. The unity of Nigeria lies in your hands Mr. Osagie. You must do all you can to get those behind the boys or Nigeria as we all know it is over” the President had told him with a tired look in his chambers.
The next day, in a surprising move the President ordered the relocation of the command center to Gwoza, the hotbed of the terrorists activities but had called him on a secure line to ask for help. He said he was placing all he had in him.
Peter couldn’t refuse a national call. Now more than ever, he had to serve but Omoni was not impressed.
As far as she was concerned, the President was sending her husband into the vipers den. The arguments had turned from hot to tears and back to hot again until both had given up on changing each others mind. If he wanted to go, Omoni decided she’d let him.
“Be careful” was all she said after he got up butt naked and walked over to the bathroom. His decision to go undercover with only three of his trusted men to Gwoza left her feeling afraid. How easy was it for him to go and die in the name of serving his country instead of staying with her and their son? In a desperate attempt to change his mind, she had gotten an ultrasound to derail him but knowing he had a son didn’t stop the plans he made all day and all night. If anything, it fueled his zeal to get his boys underway.
Peter’s thoughts several days up to the moment were solely of one man, Bello Badmus. He knew in his gut that the unrest in the region lay with the man and if ghost could be found, he wanted to.
To Peter, it all didn’t add up.
Dying mysteriously.
Getting blown up.
Disinheriting his family.
It simply was too easy to swallow.
The Presidential order to move the command center that was untimely and with the President calling for help, Peter’s gut itched some more. It reeked of Bello Badmus’s military style of overthrowing men in power but even he knew that dead men have no bite. Voicing the suspicion to his already distressed wife and trusted men would only make him sound desperate and disillusioned.
“Who would want to kill a dead man? Who would want to use a dead man to kill more birds? Who would benefit from a dead man? His new heir?” he asked himself again and again, in writing and when staring at the ceiling in his study. The boy had not even existed until the last couple of weeks and after investigation, he was squeaky clean. If anything, it looked like a perfect stage and a puppet to distract the country from what was really going on behind the curtain.
Peter knew if he sniffed some more or connected the dots properly, he would find the pattern that would reveal who or least a clue to who or what was behind the insurgency in the North East and the call to move the command center. He was absolutely sure it had everything to do with the bombing but for the first time in 15 years in service, he had nothing sitting in his study or office. The answer was in Gwoza and he was going to get it.
When Farah’s note had reached him a day after his secret meeting with the President, it was all he needed to put the team together. The note as usual was sown into wraps of multicolored turbans. It was the only way to communicate and Farah, his mole in the Boko Haram camp hinted how he fared by how squeezed the dirty piece of brown carbon paper was and this time, the piece of note was wrung out.
Farah – Mohammed Abdirahman a freshly recruited DDSS officer had volunteered way early in the start of the uprising to get information about the group but had gotten stuck. The group grew fiercely and when the first proxy of unnamed sponsor had shown up in their camp at night 4 years ago Farah, who by now was a trusted pioneering and senior member knew he had to stay to get the faces of the men behind the group exposed. He could only leave the camp in pretense of scouting for local recruits and gathering intelligence for their next hit. He would then smuggle reports in turbans through his old Uncle to Peter.
Once he was caught with Turbans and when he was questioned rather bloodily, he said it was his ritualistic symbol in recruiting and inviting sympathizers to join the brotherhood. Yakubu – the head of the group was particularly proud of Farah’s innovation because he sent more turbans than other fighters. He was truly a worker of Allah and Farah was once again promoted to be his right hand man. However, things were getting tensed and Farah knew his time was near.
Peter was going to Gwoza to get Farah back. He owed him.


The scalding hot water from the newly installed shower left Peter partly burnt and relaxed but it did nothing to stop the uneasiness and nagging feeling of sabotage.
Kole Bello had since been found dead with his throat slashed open in an apartment in the U.K. That also made headlines but it was one less maze to go through.
The Intel that the youngest of the Bellos recruited fighters from countries in the North especially Libya, Sudan and Egypt to train fighters from Nigeria and neighboring countries was the reason he had requested for Kole’s intial arrest and subsequent tailing at his father’s funeral only to be smuggled out by his mother few hours after the blast.
Farah in the last one year had steadily reported the activity of the young man and the fallout between Kole and Yakubu because Kole had started demanding some form of payment and the head was not going to pay because he was a medium. This Intel coincided with the information that Bello Badmus had tightened funds to his children for over six months. At the time Peter was optimistic that Bello may have found out his son was funding the group and was doing all he could to stop it. In fact Peter praised him quietly but when Kole’s drug smuggling activities reached its zenith with law enforcement agencies releasing Kole and his boys on Bello’s order, Peter took back his goodwill and started on the best way to cut Kole’s funding of the group.
Peter had suspected Kole was responsible for his father’s mysterious death and the bomb blast as soon as the news broke. The autopsy that had been boycotted by the family on religious ground and the eventual blow up was to Peter a perfect cover up of the murder. That had been 4 months ago. Now Peter knew for sure that Kole, like the new puppet at The Castle was a distraction and that the blow up was indeed a way to kill the dignitaries for a specific purpose than just a random terrorist attack.
The Boko boys took responsibility for the bomb blast as was expected but Farah had reported differently. Farah reported that on the day of the attack, they were raiding a community for new girls for breeding of holy warriors to continue in the fight. He reported that Yakubu had received a call and staged a recording to take responsible for the attack before spewing out other rubbish and once again warning other government officials of their continuance to serve a godless country, a country that Allah was going to redeem by spilling their blood.
Now as he dressed in his favorite clean Jeans and black sweater, he watched his wife stare at him the whole time he moved about to get ready.
“I will be back soon” he said when he finally drew her up to hug her and kiss her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Make sure you do or I’d be forced to come get you” she teased painfully before succumbing to his kisses once more. The sound of the horn separated them as he picked his bag pack and walked to join his three-man team.
Watching him go was one of the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. But she had to. She knew he was like a dog with a bone and until he got to the end, he would not rest.
The tears finally found their way down in lone streams as she prayed that he come back to her and their baby alive and whole. And when she blinked after the Hilux disappeared from sight, it poured.

7-Man: Meeting at The Elephant, June 2011.

The calm in the room was the best they had since the new faction of seven greedy, powerful and dangerous men decided to take laws into their hands and execute their former members who went out of line. To them, actions to bring the cabal to order was betrayal and former members had paid with their lives. Each man seated in the large airy white room had one agenda and it was on who was going to be the next person to take the seat of government. The head of the faction with the deep voice searched their eager faces and refrained from laughing at their gullibility. It excited him and amused him tirelessly at how they thought they stood a chance against him. He was destined to be the next President of the country. Greedy they were but they all served his purpose – but not for long. He knew first hand what fall-out factions were capable of. They were all seated and relaxed. Some had been served drinks by his aide and the light conversation in the room soon turned serious.
“The new order of the Executive must be watched at every step. We cannot afford the mission to succeed. We have gone too far now to get a simple order forestall our plan to get the President out” it was Jafal Kartar Asiedu to the men and woman who faced him the moment he opened his mouth.
Mostly referred to as J.K Asiedu in the media, Jafal was former general and war veteran. He had served on the Nigerian side in the civil war and later headed the ECOMOG mission in Liberia rumored to have populated the region with over thousands of children from the Nigerian and Ghanian troops and had committed war crimes from summary executions to bribery, extortions and abusing women and children. He had the ambition to govern the country but luck or chance never came to his door. Now he had gone to the door of the Executive Mansion to hijack the seat. His Pastor told him to take it by force because God’s kingdom suffered violent. It was a case of who was strong enough to take it and by God, he was.
He was not a man of the people and the populace knew him for the war crimes also attributed to his Command during the Civil war. J.K was singlehandedly responsible for over 50, 000 Biafrans lives at the Gulf and when he was called to answer for his crimes, he had simply thrown his commanding officers under the ICC bus. They were found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment until a new Attorney General of the International Criminal Court had been appointed and made a deal with the prisoners. They were to get full immunity in turn for their cooperation to name the men who had massacred and committed war crimes during the civil war.
The warden on duty found them shot in the head the next day in Dutch prison in Scheveningen where they had been temporarily transferred and detained. Where there was no evidence or witness, there was no justice. That was the problem with justice, it almost always never has no witness when it mattered the most.
He had called the emergency meeting after the President ordered the relocation of the command center to Gwoza and receiving a $140 million fund from supporting countries in the fight against terrorism. While the populace celebrated the new show of force by the Aso man – as he called the lizard in the Executive mansion, they had no idea that the directive came from the men that be, the men that owned the country and they were only two of them.
“We have that covered. The Service Chiefs are well aware of what is at stake. They are in line with the plan” it was Benedict Onwuka Njoku, the Vice president who wanted power by all means necessary and had since joined forces with the new faction members to remove the Aso man, the lizard. Jafal nodded at his enthusiasm and took a drink.
“I understand your husband disinherited you?” the question was directed at the only woman in the group of seven. The meeting had also been called in honor of her. She was perceived by the rest of the group as the hero that had made their plans easier to execute but like vipers, they waited patiently for the day they would toss her out like the garbage that she was. It was only a matter of time before it was her turn to be sacrificed.
“I find it rather unworthy of attention. The boy is nothing but an old mistake and I have it under control” the woman who sat in place of Mrs. Kudirat Bello said confidently, answering his question of being disinherited by her late husband, Bello Badmus.
“You mean like you had Bello and his repentant snakes under control” it was the lily-livered member smiling like a stranded kangaroo in Parque Zoológico Caricuao.

The plan to take over the seat of government was simple.
1. Increase the spate of killings by funding the terrorists.
2. Deploy ineffective troops.
3. Embezzlement of the $140million.
4. Stage a war breakout.
5. Overthrow the Government
6. Vanquish Boko Haram.
With the plan, it wouldn’t be long before the people called for the impeachment of the President and when that happened, the Chiefs would declare a state of emergency and take over government while the Senior Adviser to the President, the old goat Nurudeen Soyemi would silently execute the President and his backstabbing Vice. J.K was not sure Nurudeen could carry out a simple drugging of their drinks but sometimes even old goats had their uses.
The simplicity of the plan and foolish ignorant faces of the men sitting before almost caused Jafal to laugh out loud. It was all set and with the recent move of the command center, the stakes were raised higher and the blood bath that was coming was one that was going to leave the country in national mourning for a long time. He wondered who ICC was going to witch-hunt next.

“We don’t mean to pry but we must make sure there are no issues on that front. The contracts awarded to your late husband by the present government will well serve our purposes of recruiting more local and international fighters and need I remind everyone of the black market prices of these weapons? The French are bastards” it was Jafal playing the advocate.
Florence Ohiemi sat in that meeting with so much confidence that she frightened herself at the length she was willing to go to get her revenge. She knew the faces of the men in the room and it pained her dearly that these were the man responsible for senseless blood bath and unrest in the country.
It was the night after she returned from where she held Kudirat. Bello had left her to her devices but he had suggested she find more clues to help with her mission at Kudirat’s private residence. It was more than a welcomed suggestion and Florence had gone to the simple 2 bedroom bungalow surrounded by exotic plants in the heart of town. The Gardener who greeted her profusely said she had a message and she had found a note neatly attached to the letter of consolation from the Major General J.K Asiedu on her sister’s large mahogany desk in her study.
On opening the letter, a note fell out and on it was a call for an emergency meeting stating the time, date and venue on a plain sheet of paper. The address of the venue was clearly stated. That was enough to raise her curiosity and alertness. Florence knew a set up when she saw one. If indeed Josephine was involved with the high and dangerous, the address of what she suspected was a meeting of the infamous cabal would not be clearly stated on a plain sheet of paper. It would be coded.
Florence knew the smell of a fish and the letter was a stinking fish.
Perhaps they knew she had Josephine in hiding? Where her friends in high places monitoring her or Josephine in her usual fashion had more enemies than one could possibly have.
There was only one way to find out.
Arriving at the meeting at the ungodly hour stated was expected but the brief look of triumph across the Major General’s face gave Florence cause for concern. It looked like he was in on something that the rest of the group wasn’t aware and she was set to find out.
The faces of two notorious Ex-governors, Vice president, Deputy Senate president and well-respected Cleric shocked her but she had quickly feigned a cough as they all gathered round to toast to her success. Success in killing people was toasted here and Florence joined in drinking to hundreds of lives blown apart.
She smiled as she thought of Bello and slightly shuddered with pleasure at the thought of going back to his hide out in his estate.
“We will feel better once the boy is taken out of the picture” it was the well-respected Cleric interrupting her thoughts.
“I have it under control” Florence reiterated dangerously – as Josephine would and she saw them smile in satisfaction. She had no idea that she said the same thing Josephine said before Bello had been killed and the bomb had gone off few months after. Of course, she was the only one in the group to know that Bello was alive and well. She smiled at the thought.
“I am sure. This time, we don’t have three months. We need him to go quietly. Perhaps an accident? Random shootings is my favorite. Let us know if there are problems” Jafal said with good humor and they laughed as his treacherous eyes settled on her bosoms.
“If I could take care of Bello, I am utterly upset at doubting my stance on the boy” she hissed playfully after the laugh ended as if she was insulted and they all nodded their agreement.
“You all will have news in the next days about his untimely demise. However, we must contact the sellers immediately to have more guns for the boys. I’d also like to propose negotiating new arrangements. Extortion by way of high price of weaponry is not going to work for me. Should the French bastards refuse our terms, I have contacts in Syria that can get sophisticated guns for the boys. I for one think the tipping point for the new government is just a matter of force and more blood” Florence was getting into character and she found it exhilarating. It was surprising how easily one got into the role but she wasn’t amazed at her performance. She knew to get the information, she have to play the part. Impersonating Kudirat was a walk in the park.
“You will be coming with me to Dubai next week to meet them. We don’t want to stress a newly widowed and disinherited member but what must be done must be done” Jafal stated with dry humor as he declared the meeting closed and the group filed out after small talks in pairs of two while Jafal’s eyes kept resting on hers as the group cleared out of the room.
If Florence wasn’t getting ahead of herself, she noticed he was smiling unnecessarily, readily agreeing to her suggestions and making plans to taking her with him on couple of meetings. Akin Jolojolo, one of the ex-Vice Presidents obviously his right hand stewed on his foot and when he was dismissed for a private meeting with Florence, he all but stormed out as gracefully as he could.
“I should get to work. Some accidents need to happen” she said in a smile, declining his invitation as he raised his hand to her chin.
“It is not appropriate” Florence held his hand and dropped it firmly.
“I would have found you weak if you agreed. We need your new step-boy gone and soon. Daba!” he barked loudly as if he wasn’t ogling her moments prior. Immediately the door opened to reveal the man called Daba and she was ushered out of the hall, leaving a little chip behind.

Bello Badmus: The Elephant, June 2011

He watched as she left his 15 room mansion with enough grounds to develop a couple of structures if he wanted but he didn’t. He liked to walk from his helipad to the house. It was one of such properties one owned just for pleasures like this. He had chaired their meeting from his study. He watched the vultures try to get favors from Jafal and watched Florence impersonate her sister to perfection. How classic. He felt like a god in handling of affairs of the State and as he came downstairs, he saw his best friend, Jafal sitting with a glass of brandy, in deep thoughts.
“Easy on the thoughts” he laughed easily coming to take the seat Florence was sitting just for a feel of her scent and the thought of dominance. The grand master and ace game player, he felt invincible.
“So how did you see her performance?” it was Bello taking a mouthful of his glass of brandy.
“If you had not told me it was your wife’s twin sister, I would have fallen for her acting” it was Jafal in his usual deep voice.
“She is good. Very good” he said almost in admiration.
“Spare me master player. You faked your own death, blew up your old friends and set Kudirat take fall for it. You killed your son to keep him from talking after using his identity to import arms and he found out he was fronting for his own father….and to top it all got this new piece fine woman to go into retirement with” he said in a low laugh generating from his throat wickedly.
“Point of correction, he wasn’t my son. After all the monies him and the others enjoyed, I had to get something from him. I have you to thank for my wife’s brilliant idea to kill me. I must say it was the right kind of creativity we needed to pull it off” he chuckled enjoying the rare praise for his bosom friend.
“And the other two from George?” Jafal asked
“Oh well, remind me to send Daba to trail my new retirement piece. I need get rid of them before they squeal and for some reasons she likes to think she has things under control” he drank heavily and chuckled again. The thought that Florence would think herself smart was admirable and stupid. Of course he knew who Naomi Mambutu was. He wasn’t Bello Badmus for nothing. Investing in his company was so sweet and innocent that he had staged an accident meet in a beach she favored in Seychelles. Oh the poor woman. He really loved her innocence and sighs of pleasure. It was not like the first time but she was the purest he could find. She would do for retirement. She seems to like beaches.
“So what is next?” Jafal asked as Bello got up to refill his glass. Jafal stretched his frame and brought out a cut cigar from his pocket and lighting it expertly before dragging it to his fill.
“Well, making you the President is not as easy as I thought. I had to kill myself” Bello all but grunted.
“You owe me” Jafal smiled referring to saving Bello’s life when he had been hired to assassinate over a decade ago. It had been the first time the two would meet and become good friends.
“I don’t think so. I have paid my dues and you on your own now” Bello smiled as he took his seat, Florence’s seat.
“Not when my boy is still after me” Jafal said almost sadly.
“I can’t help that your illegitimate son has decided to become a torn in your flesh” Bello drank from his glass.
Jafal, a prominent philanderer in his days had fathered his bastard son with an Irish maiden who had taken to a black man as moth to flame. It was invariable she got burnt with black seed. Nathaniel Asiedu now Peter Osagie was indeed a torn and now more than ever, he had everything to lose if his son, now the acting Director General got his nose in the grind.
Peter had taken up the name of his great grandparents and dissociated himself from his father the moment he was old enough to know who his father was. He was everything Peter didn’t want to be and from the moment he left the house at 12 years of age to stay with his maternal grandparent, he began a career that would bring men like his father to justice. Men like his father didn’t deserve to be left to their devices but put behind bars.
Father and son knew there was no lost love but Jafal had a soft spot for his son and he hated being put in the position to eliminate because he would. He made sure his dealings with the underworld were kept away from his son but Peter liked the dark side.
“You do realize if I go down, you go down” Jafal warned as he dragged his cigar and blew the smoke in rings watching his friend.
“You forget that I am already dead. You, my friend must be firm and extremely careful. All fingers point to you now” Bello said
“Not if I pointed them to your new squeeze. Tell me, how do you get these women to trust you implicitly?” Jafal asked brightly after a while, suddenly forgetting his distrust and cautiousness when it came to Bello. They were friends but one could never be sure with Bello Badmus.
“She thinks her sister is the new devil. She has been practically in love with me forever. Not that hard if you are lovable” Bello laughed a boyishly.
“And the boy she is supposed to kill? Is he not your son, her son?” Jafal took a lazy drag.
“Her son. I am still new to the fathering table. I am sure she is going to hide him again but this time, not from me, not for long”
“You intend to kill your son?” Jafal was shocked at the evil look that came over Bello’s clouded eyes and for the first time saw the monster that sat before him.
“How else am I going to get the control of my company back?” Bello emptied his glass.
“But when you get rid of him, Florence takes over” Jafal contended
“No” it was emphatic.
“Who then takes over?”
“You” Bello answered with a sly.
“And what happens to Florence?”
“Every good thing comes to an end, sadly” he added as an afterthought and as soon as he said it, the two men looked at themselves and broke out in loud shattering laughter that rang across the empty mansion obliviously to the chip planted in between the sofa of the chair where Florence had sat down and straight into the ears of the woman who sat in her car few streets away from the house.
The cold pimples that sprouted on her arms as she listened and the wet tears that threatened to drop was stopped just in time as she joined them in the loud shattering belly-filling laughter.
There was no end of betrayal and her suspicious had proved right.
Bello Badmus, how sweet his fall would be.
“Why is the fall of great men orchestrated by women always the sweetest?” she asked herself sweetly still coming down from the laugh as she drove to Kudirat, the recorded discussion in her possession.
After 30 days in Avianwu-replica, Kudirat was ready to play ball.
And somehow, Florence was sure Josephine was really going to enjoy playing this ball.
They say the best revenge was served cold, Florence thought the best revenge was served in painful small chops.


M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks

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M.O.T.I.V.E.S Episode 6 – @UnenAmeji


Morning People!

Finally! we have got Episode 6 of M.O.T.I.V.E.S after a loooooooooonng abrupt break. We hope you enjoy it.

Read all previous Episodes here

Note from Unen Ameji
Hey guys, I must apologize for the two weeks break. Hopefully that never happens until the end of the series. The first week was the inauguration week and working in a *Buhari-oriented enviroment – whatever that means, it was a marathon. It was inevitable that I miss sending in the post. And last week Tuesday, I had an accident on my way to work – I was driving. While the facial injuries (Yup, different places) is/are healing, I sincerely hope there are no ugly scars – sexy scars I can deal. *winks
Seriously though, I am thankful and so grateful to be alive. I really am. Wasn’t the best of experience and never ever will I have a repeat.
Back to Motives – You may have to brush through the story to get flowing again, sorry about that. I promise to convert episodes into chapters and format into downloadable*s.
Soooooooo, enjoy this episode and let me know what you think – here or wherever is most convenient. I don’t mind. I love to hear/read your comments.
To Ridwan, Joesph, Ginika, Timayin, Sleekdami and her wonderful friend, Mariam, Zarah, Eve, Sim, Prince, Soulkey, Bisi, Shagkor, Temi T, ephortunate and those I have not mentioned here but have reached out…..thank you. I write most times because of your inspiring comments.
I’d love to know what you guys think – about the story; not asking me “How did it happen?” I am past telling the narrative, seriously guys.



Episode 6

Avianwu – Auchi, March, 1982

Florence woke up to the cracked dirty walls, the soggy brown asbestos ceiling with irregular water marks from rusted leaking aluminum roof covering half of the building and large cobwebs dangling merrily in the eerily lit room. The warm air was humid as it was suffocating, with stench of decaying human waste, concentrated urine and a little of what Florence would come to know as weed. The putrid smell originated from the farther corner of the room where the en-suite toilet had no door nor roof.
Florence, faint and disoriented, tried to rise up from the sack which served as her bedding and felt her legs give away. She felt sick and the strong urge to vomit was overwhelming. Struggling to support her weak frame by holding the wall, she moved albeit shakingly, taking steady breaths. Reaching the middle of the room to where the only window was, she struggled with the metal locks momentarily and forced it opened just in time to throw up the heavy greenish slime that troubled her being.
Retching loudly and hoping to turn her insides out, she noticed movement from afar in the bushes and soon heard voices approach the building. Suddenly afraid for her safety, she looked around for the door and walked over to it, prying it open. She found it locked from the outside. As the voices neared, she hurried back to the sack and lay down, feigning to be asleep while she waited for the voices to fade.
The voices faded eventually but the thin man with extremely long limbs that entered the room several minutes later reminded Florence of the story of the giant praying mantis only that his countenance belied his fragility. His unusually black face looked like it was cast in precolonial bronze and the gun he hung loosely around his neck and pistol he held carelessly had Florence nodding when he asked if she was sleeping. Fear indeed improved Florence’s hearing ability, even when she was supposed to be fast asleep. She opened her eyes afterwards and slowly sat up after she noticed the thin man go about his business of removing his black overall.
“Where am I? How long have you had me here?” she braved as he settled at the other corner of the large room that looked like an emptied abandoned classroom.
“You are in Avianwu. You have been sleeping for 3 days or more, not sure. Found you lying in the bushes. You can remember taking a nap in the bushes?” he asked wickedly in surprisingly good English and walking over to the open en-suite toilet to take a piss. She had no answer but watched as the yellow liquid splashed on his trousers before turning to face the wall in disgust. Her stomach was rumbling again.
“Here” he said when he returned, throwing her a black leather bag. The wet biscuits in the bag would last Florence for the next couple of days and it would be the beginning of their routine that would last 24 days, three weeks and three days, Florence kept count.
24 days after her escape from the spiritualists that Josephine had staged, 24 days after she found herself in the dungeon with the thin dragon, she started experiencing headaches, cough, sore throat and high fever. Constantly throwing up and feeling cold all night, all day. Her dungeon-mate who came only in the mornings became overly worried and watched her for hours when she was sleeping and mumbling nonsensically. She would wake up at intervals to see him watching her, like the vulture – the haggard scavenger that doesn’t pay the barber visits.
Waking from one of those numerous nap, Florence, dehydrated and hungry, found a tin of clean water, a bowl of sparklingly fufu and what looked like badly cooked Egusi soup plastered on the fermented cassava dough. What was supposed to be cooked meat stared at Florence with flagrant boldness until she was tempted to throw the piece of meat away. She dared not for she felt his eyes on her from his corner.
Nke ahụ bụ ewu nwa anya, n’ihi na protein” he said in Igbo, noticing her hesitation at eating the food he had placed before her. Florence simply nodded as her stomach growled to announce her hunger despite the goat eyeball he served her as protein. Swallowing small balls of the cassava dough, the thin man with the fierce countenance fixed a direct stare at her, challenging her to eat, to throw up. Surprisingly, she didn’t. Her system seemed to like the smell of the fufu and hot green peppered Egusi soup. She was feeling better after she finished the large plate with running nose and weak limbs.
“Lock the door after me and stay in. Wandering around here gets you killed” he said almost in a murmur as he stood to get ready to go out. He had since stopped locking her from the outside. If she wanted to go, she could – so he told her after her seventh day. She had taken a step out of the dilapidated building and found herself rushing back. It was literally a jungle out there. Lighting a rolled up leaf that Florence knew was marijuana and taking a deep drag, he offered her humorously.
“Please” she croaked as the smell enveloped the room. The smell always gave her headaches and coughs and he knew it. He fixed her another stare before leaving to join the group of strange looking men who always waited for him outside the deserted building every afternoon.
The broken-down building was located at what appeared to be in a valley surrounded by tall palm trees and well-rounded large trees that Florence decided were either mahogany or Iroko. The insects that stung her, night animals wailings and the cold air that made her young bones shiver every night told her she was nowhere near civilization.
She had also joined the thin man in taking dumps in the toilet by placing newspapers or fresh plantain leaves he provided on top of the cemented floor and when there wasn’t space, she simply placed the newspapers or leaves on drying excreta and took new dump. Life was unbearable and she was certain she was going to lose the baby and die, and Josephine would be happy.
The thought however strengthened her resolve to live. She decided she wasn’t going to die, she wasn’t going to give her sister the satisfaction of disappearing from the face of the earth forever. From her kidnap to her scape and her apparent rescue after she fainted in a cassava farm, she vowed she would survive and pay her sister back in kind and in coin.
He rarely spoke to her that fateful morning, the 25th day in the forest. He simply ignored her and sharpened his knives and polished his guns the day before, smoking his marijuana without caring if she was going to vomit or faint. She stayed quiet and watched him getting ready for what she knew was going to be a raid or possibility another kidnap. Her morning sickness had reduced but the urge to throw up and weakness still woke her up every morning. Somehow her rush to the window amused him and at such times, she would see twinkles in hie eyes.
“We will be leaving tonight” he said quietly as he ate what would be his last meal, a plate of white rice and palm oil stew with dried fish he brought from who Florence came know was Mama Edo, the woman who the healing fufu and Egusi soup came from. Mama Edo was supposedly the the forest’s herbalist and food vendor.
“Tonight? To where” she asked alarmed, wondering why they will be leaving in the night, in the thick scary darkness. He was surely going to give her to another spiritualist since he had figured out she was pregnant, she thought.
“Leaving to the city. What is your name?” he asked, ignoring her eyes filled with fear. His eyes dropped to her stomach and instinctively she covered her stomach with her thinning hands.
“Florence” she answered going back to her corner when he gave her the remaining food in a blue plastic plate.
“Florence who?” he asked, his voice a little tighter than usual as he stood up and took the last drag of his stem. The thin man almost always smoked marijuana after his meals.
“Florence Ohiemi” she said taking a spoon of the already mixed red rice.
“Florence Ohiemi, from where?” he continued his questioning as he started dressing, hanging his gun and wearing his black leather overall that needed washing.
“From Ibienafe” Florence answered, dropping the spoon and pushing away the plate from her.
“Eat, you will need your strength” he admonished and she picked up the plate again.
“If I come back, we will be leaving this place. Do not sleep, be ready to go immediately I get back” he said sternly to a fearful Florence.
“Why at night? Can’t we go in the morning?” she asked as he stood up to go.
“You are the pregnant one. Do you want to leave this place? he barked and she dropped her head.
“Yes” she answered meekly.
“You don’t know where you are. How do you expect to walk into this forest and get to civilization without guidance?” he asked, looking at her like a petulant child.
“Sorry” was all she could say.
“What’s his name?” he asked after few minutes of silence.
“Your child. A male child” he tried a pitiful smile that made him look like a hungry wild cat, the kind that chewed red kolanut.
“I…, I don’t know. I have not thought about it” she replied with a smile herself. Her mouth felt like an algae pond, slimy and green, her breath stinking like rat died in her bowels and her body was so filthy one could use the dirt to plaster the cracks on the wall.
“Inale” he told her and looked at her thinning frame with pity before disappearing into the forest.
“Inale” she murmured under her breath as she watched him go.
He returned at midnight. When the sun had since forgotten it rose and when the moon took over the skies. However, that particular night, the moon was taking a well deserved break and refused to give night light. The stars took their cue from the moon and they too refused to entertain the dark skies. She had been waiting for him all day. A little sleep, a little murmuring of prayers. She prayed for life, her own, the thin man’s own. God knew her dungeon-mate as the thin man.
“Florence” he called in a whisper from the window and she was soon out, following him. He was with a large bag and a pistol. His appearance disheveled and dried blood on his clothes and forehead. Using flashlight to indicate his position and walking briskly into the unknown, Florence could only follow.
She ran to meet up, wet grasses rubbing her exposed legs as they took uncharted path up the uneven hills and down the meandering plains. Once, she tripped and almost fell into a hole.
“Watch where I step and be quiet” he admonished tiredly, backing the large bag and turning to lead the way.
They walked for what seemed like hours to Florence. Night birds howling, insects biting her exposed limbs, neck and face, wild animals grunting and making strange noises as they walked the lonely bushy path. From a distance, Florence could here chanting of human beings and it sounded evil. Florence jogged to keep up.
After an hour, he stopped abruptly and pointed.
“That’s the highway. When we get there, know where you want to go or follow me. I don’t want to waste time” he all but grunted and forged on.
Florence had no idea where to go to. Until that moment, she thought he was going to kill her or sell her.
“Where are you going to?” she asked, making a conversation and at the same time trying to decide where she would run to. She couldn’t go back home just yet and going back to Zaria was out of the question. With the pregnancy and her evil sister, she knew she had to stay away for a while or else Josephine would find a way to get rid of her, this time for good. And if she wanted an abortion or to give birth to the baby, she had to find out how that worked.
“Cotonou, then Senegal” he answered as they walked hastily, the thin man holding the gun and looking around as they matched on.
“That’s out of Nigeria” she said mostly to herself.
“What’s your name?” she finally braved up to ask as he vied off another bushy path and entered thick bush obviously an attempt to get to the highway faster. She followed, albeit cautiously.
“Friends call me Inale” he answered.
“And enemies?” she tried a joke, wiping sweat from her brows.
“I don’t have enemies” he countered.
“Everyone has enemies. You wanted me to name my child after you, why?” she asked merrily.
“Not me. Yes I wanted your son named after me” he grunted.
“How is that possible? I know for sure everyone has enemies. My own is my sister” she said continued, a smile playing on her lips. They were having a conversation and he was leading her to safety. She decided that instant to follow him. Somehow she knew he would protect her and her baby.
“Because I don’t let them live. You shouldn’t let your sister live either” he said dangerously and she felt shivers go down her spine. The conversation was over.
The next thing that happened changed Florence life forever.
Few minutes after she had stopped questioning him, Inale gave a loud scream and instinctively fired his legs, falling down in a heap. He threw the large bag away and shot at his legs some more. Florence, confused, ran back and waited at a safe distance.
Inale unfortunately had stepped in a pool of poisonous king cobras and they had fastened their fangs on his legs and thighs. They bite him randomly on his long limbs as he shot into the night, killing them, shooting himself. He was bleeding profusely by the time she went back to help him up.
“Please don’t give up. We’ll soon reach” she comforted him as she placed his arms over her shoulders.
“I won’t” he grunted as they moved.
Florence dragged him from the dead snakes, tying his legs and thighs in attempt to prevent circulation of the poison and carried the bag before they started on the path he had vied from. The mixture of pain and poison soon slowed him down and he gave up after 10 minutes to lay down on the wet grasses.
“I am not going to make it. Make sure you do. And whatever you do, don’t abort that child. Take the money in the bag and invest it. Don’t spend me like a fool” he said in between pain and cough as he tried a brave smile.
“Please, please” she was crying now, sweat rolling down her face, afraid for her life, for his. She heard the first cock crow and this time she prayed, using Inale instead of the thin man. But it was too late. There were a million and one thin men in the world and God must have saved the wrong one.
“Let me bleed your legs or at least tie it again” but Inale was long gone after she opened her eyes from the prayer.
He died at the third crow.
Florence, with the bag sat with his body until dawn, crying for her lost friend, for a man she would never know, her rescuer. She waited for help but none came.
Later, Florence would bury him in a ditch beside where he slept peacefully, a beautiful smile now on his lips. She put wet branches over him, carried the bag on her head, walked to the highway before boarding a pickup carrying fresh meat heading to Lagos.
The bag contained new crispy notes in different denomination just as Inale said. The decision to go to Cotonou in the motel room two days later came naturally. Senegal was her next stop.
And Florence did right by the bag.

Lagos, December, 1999

The trip from Dakar to Lagos 18 years later with a teenager looking like his father, Florence was convinced Bello was going to be shocked and proud to have a son, Inale – a hot headed, smooth and savvy young man – carry his last name. Florence, now Naomi Mambety, was the owner of chains of hotels and fast food eateries across the capital – Dakar, Grand Dakar and Pikine and she had since understood Bello for been confused that night and forgiven Josephine after several counseling sessions for her wicked plot. She was a wealthy woman in her own right, married and divorced and was ready to return home, investment wise as well as be reunited with her sister, if ever possible. Pastor Faye Cisse seemed to believe so. Of course there was no question about her love for Bello. She still loved him deeply and she would return to find out if he still loved her. Perhaps he was married, just maybe he was unmarried or divorced like her. It was a chance she had to take, and take it she did.
The search for Bello’s whereabout wasn’t hard. The 9 o’clock night news on their third day in the country told her what she needed to know.
Bello Badmus, Nigeria’s finest entrepreneur was breaking grounds for his estate, The Castle. Slated to be the number one tourist destination in Africa, several investors were scrambling for a piece of the prime development. As the newscaster would later end, Bello Badmus was the man of the moment. Indeed he was but the woman beside Bello with a plastered smile was the beginning of another chapter in Florence’s life. The covetous smile beaming at the camera while Bello pecked her was enough to turn Florence into a burning furnace and it burnt all the teachings of the church and of her dear Pastor Faye. She knew the smile because she saw it every morning when she looked into her mirror; a smile that she shared, a smile of complete triumph.
What she feared the most, her evil twin was married to Bello and here she was, weak and a forgiving fool.
The next weeks and months, Florence would read interviews and features of the Bellos in business and lifestyle magazines. She came to know that they were married the morning of Inale’s death. She wept quietly as she thought of the months she spent leaving one boarding house to the next, trying to survive in a new country with no communication skills, no identity, a protruding stomach and a bag of money. She remembered Mama Annerose and how she had taken her in. There was no measure for the pain that went through her. Over and over, she cried and she swore. Forgiveness wasn’t the way. Inale was right, enemies were not allowed to live. They had no right to live. It was time to end it all.
Florence hired private eyes to find out more information on the Bellos as she came to regard them. The kind of dirt she needed was not available in daytime prints. She hired Eesha, an efficient Togolese to deal with these hired hands and did not go out without wearing a veil and dark glasses.
She found out soon enough that Josephine was now known as Alhaja Kudirat Bello, an architect and a nurse who supposedly carried on an affair with a prominent figure in the country. She was a Founder of a non-profit organization and friend of several ministers and politicians at the Assembly. She discovered that she, Florence Ohiemi had graduated from the Ahmadu Bello University in 1986 with a second class lower. It was the ultimate revelation – Josephine was living her life or what it would have been.
Bello Badmus also was a formidable name in the country and while everyone knew him as the ruthless man and shrewd businessman, others knew he was a silent killer and was behind many groups helped that the government to take major political decisions. No one knew what he had on the politicians but he lacked nothing and when he wanted some of them gone, the military Head of State made it happen. She found out that Bello Badmus, father to her son, was in fact a man to be feared and envied, a man rumored to have blood on his hands, facilitating executions of persons that ran out of luck with the then military government. He was no longer the Bello she had fallen in love or was he? She needed to take back her life. The greatest revenge she realized was taking her life back and getting rid of the enemy.
However, Florence would come to learn that to get things done, one did not find and trust complete strangers with semblance of honesty and dignity. One had to do it personally or at least had a great amount of control. She would learn this lesson at great cost, another twelve hard years.
As fate always have it, she saw the advert of George Ajero’s internationally-recognized law firm on the glossy pages of a legal journal in early 2000 and consulted the firm. She was told by private eyes that the firm was topnotch in handling high profile cases and after several correspondences without meeting the man in charge, the man everyone and media houses sang his praise, the man George Ajero, she decided to pay him a visit; The man she thought was going to help her bring her sister down.
George Ajero, foremost activist and SAN was a friend of the Bellos and helplessly in love with Josephine from Zaria days and Josephine loved him as much as she could but her obsession to take whatever Florence left behind had married Bello but still continued her rendezvous with him. George Ajero was the face of the man who Alhaja Kudirat Bello had her illicit sessions.
The moment Florence entered the office and he had taken a double look at her, Florence knew there was going to be a problem, but she had no idea how much.
She left the meeting hours later without telling him who her defendants were but she had a disturbing feeling he knew. She had mixed feelings of great apprehension and euphoria. George had simply waived away the resemblance of her to a friend he knew a long time ago while vowing to bring justice and making sure the father of her son acknowledge his son and the woman who had committed such atrocities be brought to justice. They concluded when she was ready, he would directly take the case and make sure the defendants rotted in jail.
It was the perfect pitch.
By the time Florence got to her rented apartment in Ikeja G.R.A after taking a drive to Bar Beach to clear her head and re-strategize, her assistant Eesha who liked to play dress up in her clothes lay lifeless in her bed, her throat slit open, her mouth opened in a muffled scream. Inale, who had gone out to play football was picked up by her driver and taken to a new apartment in Ogba. That night, she sent him out with enough money just as her friend, Inale had done and sent Ganbo, her trusted bodyguard to monitor his activities without interfering while she escaped to Seychelles, coming into the country under disguise every six months to see her son, albeit from afar and to continue her revenge plot. This time, she had to get it right and it took time.
She remembered the tears in his eyes and confusion that night. No explanation, no father, he had walked into the night just as she had 18 years ago, with a large bag of money on his back. However, with no wise words, he had squandered it in months and struggled to keep alive. Florence in years that followed invested in companies Bello Badmus owned. Naomi Mambety was vicious and on a mission and she bought shares blindly until she came to own part of his business, by proxy.
When the opportunity came to rope in the SAN, George Ajero – her new enemy, in a mining deal that failed and costed Bello billions of Naira, Florence made sure Bello walked in on his long time George and his good wife Alhaja Kudirat who was pretending to be her in similar position as she had found them over 18 years ago. Bello in turn would have George humiliated, single-handedly closing down his internationally firm while destroying years of life’s work by discrediting him in the media and releasing his black files. By the time Bello was through, an aggrieved member of Bello’s group found it worthwhile to kill the betrayer while Kudirat watched from a safe distance as they fed his wigged head some hot bullets. She had wept bitterly and mourned her lover, the father of her children for years, in dark silence. She promised George she would avenge his death and that began her quest to be in control in affairs of the State. Bello, naturally was her first target and his group of murderers followed her list; and it would take her twelve years.

March, 2011 – The Castle – Reading of the Will

“Florence?” it was Josephine, breathless and moving back steadily. She looked around to confirm that she wasn’t the only one seeing her twin sister. The other room occupants looked from one woman to the other, befuddled and sitting at on the edge of their seats, except one.
“It’s Naomi now, I take you are Alhaja Kudirat Sadika” Florence laughed halfheartedly and shook her head.
“Why in God’s name would you choose that ugly name Josephine…rather unlike you I’d say” Florence continued, slowly walking to where her twin sister,a smile of triumph on her radiant face.
“What, what is this?” Josephine finally let out, flustered and looking around the room to see eyes on them. Josephine knew that for Bello to have discovered he was not father of her three children and summarily disinheriting them, there was a reason. However, to see Florence standing before her was totally unbelievable. All these years, she made sure George had the last laugh and it echoed from the grave but now the reading of the Will had silenced it and Josephine knew that the woman standing before, the one person who she hated above everyone else was the reason for it.
“What is this? I came to see you. Or rather, came to help Bello with his Will. You don’t object to the Will now, do you?” Florence said dangerously, her words lined with meaning as she fixed Josephine a stare that meant more, Inale’s stare.
“I don’t, I mean I do” Josephine swallowed nervously.
“I thought so. We don’t want to implicate you in murder and other minor crimes. We want to be reasonable, do we not?” Florence asked lightly with a small smile as she looked across the room to her son and Charity who watched without words.
“I thought you were dead” Josephine said, trying to sound firm but her voice that was strong and commanding few minutes ago was now flat and without timbre.
“You thought you had me down where Bello is lying?” Florence insinuated cheaply.
“I did no such thing!” Josephine denied vehemently.
“Of course, what was I expecting? You need proof course. I have more surprises but at the moment, I think it’s time to answer some questions” she said immediately three men in police uniforms entered the conference room.
“Mrs. Kudirat Sadika Bello, you are under arrest” the man who suspiciously looked too stocky for a police officer said as they approached the head of the conference table.
“For what?” Josephine spat, a little too forcefully.
“Oh let’s see, for the murder of your husband Chief Badmus Bello, kidnap and murder of Florence Ohiemi, forgery and impersonation – for starters. I am sure as we sweep, we’d more dead rats, like your George. You killed him, you know” Florence said as two other officers came to stand behind Josephine.
“I didn’t kill George. Bello and his blasted goons did. If there was any justice in the world it is their death” she retorted hotly at Florence.
“You talk about justice in the world. I guess this is you getting justice. Take her to the station” Florence directed the officers.
“Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am? You will lose your useless jobs for this. Jimi, get these clowns out of here” Josephine said in a loud voice as one of the officers forcefully cuffed her.
“I am afraid you have to follow these men to the station. We are representatives of the deceased and your earlier utterances are implicating. However we will arrange for your bail. This probably is a misunderstanding and it will be sorted out soon” Jimi said with a blank expression.
“You fool! You will regret this” she threatened as she felt hands at her elbow shove her to move.
“You can’t take my mother anywhere” it was Debola finally recovering from the shock of being disinherited and the exchange that was taking place.
“I suggest you two follow us” Florence said signaling the other two police officers to take Debola and Laide into custody.
“We have not done anything to warrant an arrest. I demand you impostor leave here immediately or you will regret the outcome of this pathetic ambush” Debola declared loudly, standing up and trying fierce look while Laide sat watching the scene with amusement.
“I wouldn’t be too quick to start calling names. You have been an impostor all your life, didn’t you hear your father is George Ajero and not Bello? One would rightly assume you are more deluded than your congregation. I think perhaps it’s time the world knows of your mistress and your baby. Men of God like you should be known for what you really are, don’t you agree?” Florence said returned hotly without mincing words as she turned to face Laide who was already being escorted out of the room while Debola who looked like he had electricity pass through him was ushered out.
“Move” it was one of the police officers.
“I wonder if there is any law for women who sexually abuse underage boys” Florence added with sly smile as she stood in front of Laide. The look in Laide’s eyes went from passive to dangerous.
“It is none of your business how I seek my pleasure” she hissed back.
“Of course. Pedophiles always have entitlement mentality. You abuse those poor boys because you can and because it makes you feel good. That’s the problem we have in the society these days, everyone doing things that make them happy. No one gives a thought to how such misguided happiness affects other people’s lives” she said to no one in particular as she stopped to return the stare from Josephine.
Josephine who was trying hard to be unaffected by the turn of events was thinking of possible line of action. She knew she would get freed at the station the moment she called Yakubu, the Inspector General of Police. She gave a knowing smile and Florence returned hers. There was no need to trade words; she always won at the end, always.
The officers matched them out as Florence walked to Victor who was now standing, watching the police officers take the trio out. Charity was confused. How could her father be involved with another woman and to have fathered three children with a married woman all these years? How did that happen? She was older than the first of three children with just a two years. That meant the affair was roughly the same time her mother and father got married, if not earlier. Moreover, the inexplicable way her mother had drowned in the swimming pool when she was just 8 years old still raised questions in Charity’s mind. Could her father have been in love and killed her mother to be with his mistress? Or perhaps Mr. Bello’s wife had killed her mother to be with her father? or simply out of jealously? What happened after? Why didn’t they get married or be together? Why all the disconnection and more questions instead of answers. The woman Naomi seemed to have it all and she knew she had to have them. The three-man team that sat with Jimi, looked at themselves with unvoiced questions; only Jimi had a knowing smile on his lips.
Florence stopped in front of Victor and gave a sad smile.
“I am sorry I couldn’t be physically there for you twelve years ago. There is so much you don’t know but I promise you, you will soon. Yes I sent you away but it was for a purpose and I never left you. I knew where you where every single hour, every minute and when this is all over, we will have that talk. I promise. I hope it is not too late Inale” She said with a sad smile and held his gaze.
Victor, confused and angry, nodded his head slowly as he saw his mother’s eyes water right before she turned and followed the back stairs where the men she hired to camouflage as police officers were told to follow.
The fake police officers instead of taking the front door bundled Kudirat and her children through the exit on the second floor with stairs leading to the basement. Kudirat knew the moment they pushed them down the stairs with guns urging them down stairs that Florence was no longer the clueless sister she knew and for the first time in her life felt real fear.
Just before entering the car park, they bagged their heads and Debola fought in vain to get the bag thrown over his head, removed. Florence’s footsteps approaching instinctively brought the struggle to a still.
“Florence, what do you think you will achieve with this?” Josephine asked, starting a struggle as they held her still.
“Take her to the house and take them to the other location. That dark room should do for now” Florence said to the fake police officers as she lifted the bag and smiled evilly at Josephine who had a panicked look on her face.
“Where are you taking me? Don’t hurt them. Take only me” she shouted as Florence dropped the black bag and walked the BMW 5 Series Sedan car parked few meters from where the van was.
“Where are you taking me? What are your plans? Leave my children alone!” Florence could hear Josephine’s shouts from the van as she headed to the car.
“Florence! Florence!! You can’t do this! Florence” It was Josephine shouting as the van drove off.
“Naomi. Florence is dead. You killed her” she corrected in a murmur as she closed her eyes in relish.
After twelve years of delicate planning, nothing could go amiss now. Florence glowed at the thought of Josephine having 30 days of dirt, no food, cold and smell. It was time for the coin payment and she had enough reserve.
The driver came around to open the door for her and she entered. Silence followed briefly before the other occupant of the car spoke.
“How did it go?” the familiar voice asked as she settled into the cozy leather and took the cold glass of red wine he was holding out to her. The voice that still brought shivers to her being, the voice that had accosted her in front of her hostel over three decades, the voice she had forgiven.
“Pretty much low-key for what I had in mind” she answered simply, taking a sip of her drink.
“I like when you are bad” the voice continued in a tease.
“Glad you approve Mr. Mausoleum” she said in a giggle as he found her hand and brought it to his lips as they drove out of the basement.
“So Mrs. Kudirat Bello, what’s your next line of action?”
“Dead men don’t ask questions. They know” she said evilly, smiling into his eyes just before he took her lips in a warm kiss as the sun filtered lazily into the dark car.


Till Next week!

M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks

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Have a great week.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S Episode 5 – @UnenAmeji


10 days to public holiday! Swearing in a new government or not, a break is always welcomed.

And yes, we have got Episode 5 of M.O.T.I.V.E.S By @UnenAmeji

Read all Previous Episodes Here

Episode 5

“The new faction, Al Sahaba al-Islami, the terrorist group has taken responsibility for the bomb blast that took the lives of 105 people, leaving 126 people critically injured. It has been confirmed that Mr. Tamiyu Samson, Minister of Information representing the President, ex-leaders and President Abdulrasak Abubakar, Gana Itunu Konamu and Shola Ige Adebowale are among the dead while businessman Wole Jim, Governor Tashimu Kolo and Reuben Yakubu are in critical condition. Minister of Power and Transport, Hauwa Babale and Abdulahi A. Abdulahi are said to be recovering in the National hospital. This tragedy has been firmly condemned by the presidency in the strongest of terms and the President has vowed to bring this deadly group to their knees. The new group said that their action was in line with their earlier message to the Government. In a video released last month, they had demanded that the Government change the constitution of the Federal Republic to recognize the Sharia law which in effect means the country becomes an Islamic State. They had threatened the execution of statesmen in and out of office should the Government pay no heed. The mastermind, Aminu Hussein Waziri is on the run but other members of the deadly gang are now in custody of the state security service. Investigations are ongoing and the special adviser to the President on security, Ramsey Igoh has assured Nigerians of the commitment of the administration to ensure security of lives and properties. ‘These attacks will be stopped and these killers will not escape justice’ he is quoted to have said at the briefing with security chiefs. Meanwhile, the Federal Government has begun compensation of living relatives of the victims. Analysts say this new faction is politically-oriented and controlled by organized body with ties to International terrorist group, ISAS. However, this has not been confirmed by the State Department of Security. My name is Gbenga Ololade, reporting for NNTA” the articulate reporter rounded up his report as Charity who sat at her desk in her lingerie took her remote control to reduce the volume of the television.
It has been three weeks since the incidence and two weeks after the last email from her client Naomi telling her to forestall actions as against earlier instruction. It has also been two weeks of constant chat and teasing. It started as a joke after he called to report that there had been a bomb blast and his intention to forget about getting the inheritance money he humorously referred to as JRS – Jumbo Retirement Savings. The intrusive WhatsApp messages followed after and then it turned erotic until she had stopped it and refused picking Victor’s insistent calls. He had sent couple of messages after to reinforce his decision to forgo the JRS and Charity understood his fear but he was not in the position to determine if he wanted it or not. Naomi had her by the balls and there was no escaping the soft spoken blackmailer. She simply couldn’t afford to lose her grandmother who was in the custody of the woman.
Mama J, as she fondly called her grandmother, had been diagnosed with acute case of renal tubular acidosis. Late detection had caused her kidney to fail and the expensive weekly dialysis took all of Charity’s savings. She began borrowing funds from her friends and almost gave up hope before the call came.
The job was simple – sort out inheritance issues. It was the ideal standard request Charity got every other day but this time, the fee was suspiciously too good to be true but she needed the money and she believed in a miraculous God. The money however wasn’t enough to cover the new cost of keeping her Mama J alive. Naomi offered to take Mama J to India for the surgery, all-expense paid. How Naomi knew about her ailing grandmother did not occur to Charity at the time for Charity would have sold her dignity to see her Mama J smile one more day; and was grateful for yet another wondrous act of God. It wasn’t until Mama J reached India before the job description was given. She was to go against the big icon, Badmus Bello. A firm of one? she had asked herself.
This was a feat that she knew was above her competence and told Naomi there was no way she could deliver. Naomi, after successful transplant, took Mama J from the hospital to a location that was kept away from her. It was old school kidnap, only Mama J didn’t know she was kidnapped or in danger. She was alive but in captivity. Another heartache for Charity.
“This was not the deal” she complained after she was told she could only talk to her grandmother once a day when an unknown number would call her.
“You should focus on getting the job done. Your grandmother is in good hands” the soft spoken blackmailer had stated firmly but calmly.
Mama J, 59, was indeed doing fine. She sounded excited all the time now, recounting stories of places she had been, continuously praising her caretakers and asking for a visit from her dear Charity. At the end of every call, Charity’s heart broke and she cried for the position she found herself. There was only one option, give Naomi what she wanted. So no, it was not in Victor’s place to accept or reject his inheritance. Her grandmother’s life was at stake and nothing was going to stop her from getting her back.
Just then her phone rang.
“Hello” she said into the phone with a small smile. It was her latest admirer, as he called himself.
“It is Victor” he announced almost in a growl.
“I know” she smiled imagining the look on his face, his thick brows in knots, eyes piercing and lips tight in annoyance. She had watched as her gate-man turned him back few days ago but she knew she couldn’t afford to let her feelings get in the way. She was thinking too much about him lately and that was not good for the focus his blackmailing mother asked her to have. Why would she even consider a younger man whose father murdered hers and whose mother was blackmailing her and holding her grandmother hostage? She needed an intervention.
“I suppose you have been busy” he said looking at his reflection in the wooden mirror hanging askew on his wall and rubbing his beard that needed shaving. He wanted to hear her voice, wanted to argue with her, watch her sharp mouth curve in a sardonic smile and her eyes light up with amusement. He was way too interested in her and he wondered why he found her attractive. His dead iconic father had killed hers, there was no way she would be interested in him.
“Yes, I have” she lied, she had been sitting around waiting for an email from his mother.
“I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be pushing for the inheritance” he said for a lack of what to say. He had called but didn’t expect that she’d pick up. He couldn’t tell her the reason he called was because he simply wanted to hear her voice or see her.
“It is not in your hands” she said tersely, hating herself for the position she found herself.
“What do you mean?” he asked, biting his lower lips in annoyance.
“I mean you don’t have a say in it”
“You do realize that Bello was blown up, even in death. Someone hates him more than you do” he tried a dry joke.
“Trust me, that is not the issue” she said, a sad smile playing on her lips.
“I would like to know what the issue is” he pressed imagining her in her bikini. He really should stop.
“I can’t say at the moment. You should stop by the office if you really want to know. We have to go over a new document from your mother” she lied, biting her tongue at the invite. She shouldn’t be inviting him to her house. She knew what was going to happen and she was going to let it.
“I will be there” he said, smiling before ending the call.
He would make her and his mother understand that he was not interested in stolen money. He wanted nothing to do with the man but wanted everything to do with feeling those legs wrapped around him in ecstasy, those eyes drowsy with need. He smiled deeply, scratched his beard and decided against shaving. A hawker didn’t have time for grooming.
Charity stared at her screen after the call and like timed bomb, the email she had been waiting for all week popped at her. She took a deep breath before opening the new mail from Naomi.
Reading of Will at The Castle, Date – 21st March, 2011. Be there with Udale.
Call 08138911937
it said.
She had been looking to find a way to be at the reading of the Will with Victor, as she preferred to call him, and Naomi had graciously provided a number.
She made the call.
It was 8:20pm.

He stood, watching the doorway like a wild cat alert for his prey. In his ripped faded blue jeans and navy blue sweat shirt, Victor was tensed as he was calm. The nagging need to see her took him by surprise and at 9:45pm, he was standing in her living room. He knew there was no way he was going to sleep one more night without seeing her. He would have her and get her out of his system for good, he kept telling himself. He was not a teenager for God’s sake.
He waited.
Charity stood staring at herself in her bathroom mirror and shook her head at herself for the umpteenth time. She was hopeless. The moment her gate-man told her a Mr. Victor was here to see her, she sped into her shower and took a cold shower. Still, she felt her heart pound against her rib cage.
“For God’s sake! I am a grown woman” she scolded herself, tying her hair into a disheveled bun and dropping it on top of her head. Taking a deep breath, she walked out to the sitting room upstairs where she had told the gate-man to take him.
She walked out just as he imagined. In a bathrobe, her hair in an untidy bun and her eyes dancing with amusement. He also knew she was not wearing underwear. He knew these things.
“Some of us have curfew” she greeted, stopping to watch him stare at her calmly.
“Some of us don’t” he said, a little smile playing around his lips. Charity watched his pink succulent lips twitch and forced her eyes away from him. He looked terribly sexy standing there, his beards overgrown, teased her; his voice filling the room and she could swear she could feel his body warmth where she was standing.
“We will be traveling for the reading of the Will” she said, going over to the installed wall refrigerator where she stored her wine. Her throat suddenly felt dry.
“I won’t be going with you” he said coming around.
“You will” she smiled as she filled two glasses and handed him one.
“I missed you” he said raising a brow after he took the first sip.
“I know” she watched him over the rim of her glass and smiled. Gosh, she felt so stupid and reckless.
“Did you miss me?” he asked as he stepped into her space, collecting her glass and staring at her pale pink lips with longing.
“Tonight we are going to forget you are a client and we are never going to talk about this” she stated calmly while her heart pounded loudly.
“I want nothing more” he said almost in a whisper. She smelt like rose water, pale scent going up his nose.
“We are going to the Castle” she said softly as his hands wound round her waist.
“What are you wearing underneath your robe, little one” he teased, breathing hot air into her ear.
“Nothing. We are going to the reading of the Will” she caught her breath as he tickled her already poking nubs.
“I am not going to the reading of the Will” he countered, moving her slowly to the wall as she moved out of his reach.
“We are” she maintained as she left his arms and walked to the middle of the room; stood in a pose with her right leg raised slightly and began losing her robe. He swallowed painfully, his eyes following her hands, heart beating out of rhythm and his second half growing painfully hard in his trousers.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, running her hands all over her partially exposed body before dropping her robe, standing there in nothing but a golden body chain demarcating her breasts in an provocative manner and an untidy bun on top of her head. He swallowed loudly as he feasted his eyes on her fresh nakedness, the junction of her thighs beckoning, the lazy lightening above giving her a glow.
“Say yes” she said slowly, staring back at him with unabashed longing. He smiled, walking over to her before dropping his head to her lips.
“No” he said in a warm breath, taking her lips in a sweet kiss.
It would be a night they both would remember for a long time.

21st March, 2011 – The Castle – Reading of the Will
Alhaja Kudirat Bello had done nothing but remained in her quarters all week after she had gone to the hospital to see her daughter-in-law, Martha, who was being prepared to be taken out of the country for a surgical operation and to commiserate with the affected staff and families of those who lost persons in the bomb blast that she facilitated. Kole was in hiding, she made sure the police dogs couldn’t get him. Soon, when she assumed office, she would make sure not one uniform personnel would intimidate her last son. Debola had little stitches across his forehead, his assistant – Pastor Tayo had died in the bomb blast and he was visibly shaken.
Kudirat was disgusted with the show of weakness in her first son and wondered how he got that crowd in London to believe in his God that allowed wickedness to triumph. Laide was another thorn that had been left unharmed. Without been told, Kudirat knew Laide was busy with her manservant, Kasimu when people had gone to her father’s burial. She chuckled at the thought – uncontrollable sexual urge saving her nymph of a daughter’s life. Kasimu must have been tired by now but how else could they keep her on the leash? Such a waste. She cared less for the wench that was now helping herself with her teenage adopted sons. Bello had been right to threaten to disinherit her. The little girl indeed thought her hired gun had been the one that killed her father. Such ignorance made her want to laugh.
Kudirat remained elusive and quiet, as a widow should; waiting for the reading of the Will that would make her the President of Funtua Group of Companies in name but much more in dark circles of power. She planned to eliminate the head of the seven-man committee and soon merge with former members of the cabal who were now without leaders. She, Josephine Ohiemi, would be in charge of ruling the country. The most powerful woman in the country. It was her ultimate mission, her life purpose – to head the cabal, to dictate, to determine the fate of the country. The thrill of power was exhilarating. Such power was the reason she existed.
She had everything she wanted but in few hours she would truly own the world. The empire that she had killed and fought for would be hers. She smiled and took a sip of her herbs, adjusting her veil. If only Florence was alive to see her, gave a little triumphant chuckle. As if that was possible.
She waited for the lawyers.
It was 7am.

Victor Dakar, 21st March, 2011 – The Castle – Reading of the Will

The air was fresh, pure and cool yet it was suffocating him. Sitting behind the Lexus RX Hybrid with Charity beside him in a smart grey trouser suit and impeccable red lips. He closed his eyes as they sped past the Security Guards at the main entrance of the Estate to the venue of the reading of the Will. Charity met a group of lawyers the day before and the lawyers in their flashy cars drove ahead of them to the venue. Victor was uncomfortable with the secrecy seemed to be projecting but said nothing to her.
“You will be fine. I am here” Charity said sweetly as they watched from afar the sectioned grounds where the bomb had gone off.
“I would rather be in bed with you” he said without humor, looking into her eyes. He was serious about being in her bed but more serious about having her as his. The memorable night, if anything had made the attraction worse and all he thought about was when he was going to feel her against him. He hated the fact that he gave in to her demand that he come here. He was afraid of what his reaction would be, the reaction of Bello’s wife who he surprisingly had never seen, the legal battle that will follow, his safety, the press…it would be unending mess.
“We both want that” she said and gave him a peck. He smiled as he remembered their night together.
“Not fair” he groaned, giving a deep-throated chuckle.
“Life is not” she said and he nodded as they stared at themselves.
The large office complex sitting firmly on a large square foot was finished in glass walls and Victor remembered the building. It was the first green building project in the region and as a driver newly employed in Bello’s convoy, he had been privileged to be sent with some contractor to the site for evaluation few days before he had been detained for theft of some materials and anonymously bailed out. It was in the past now but what did they say about life as a circle? he asked himself as he got down from the car.
“Are you ok?” Charity asked, swallowing the tension that was threatening to leave her bowels as she joined him.
“Yes” he smiled confidently. She smiled and walked past him to the team from the firm handling the reading of the Will. How Naomi knew them was none of her business. It made her job easier.
The elderly man with impressive white hair stepped down from his car and walked past the team of his attorney into the building. Charity was tempted to go introduce herself to the legend Jimi Brown but she decided against and together with his team, entered the imposing structure.
She was ready as she could be.

Josephine knew the exact moment the lawyers arrived and had called her driver to come around the entrance. She stood up from the black sofa in her waiting room to go to the office complex where she had fixed as venue for the reading of the Will. It felt right to seat on Bello’s chair as she took power.
“Good morning Ma, the lawyers are here” it was Bello’s personal assistant Sakinat, the little cheater Bello had been running around with. She would deal with her in due course, she thought with light-hearted malice.
“Is Debola there?” she asked, emptying the content of her small mug.
“Yes Ma, everyone is seated and waiting for you” she said simply, not mentioning the new faces that had been admitted into the boardroom.
“I will be there shortly” she said coolly, dismissing the flat-chested girl.
Josephine had since been in touch with Dele Adewole who confirmed that the Will that he was going to read was the one Badmus had made over a decade ago where he named her his sole heir.
Dele who escaped the bomb blast told newsmen who cared to listen that the only thing that saved his life was a phone call, an emergency at work that needed his attention and that staying behind in the executive mansion for few minutes to sort out the issue was the reason he had not been blown into pieces like some of his colleagues that had come to pay their final respect.
That wasn’t the truth. The truth was that Josephine had asked him to wait for her in Bello’s office but she had no intention of meeting him there. She had done that to save his life because she needed him to read the Will. She could only imagine what he thought would happen in Bello’s office. The first and last romp was to make sure he stayed a loyal dog. And so far, he was.

She arrived at the glass house, past the reception and walked majestically into the boardroom, barely glancing at the array of suited men at the table. The atmosphere was charged with expectation and she could feel it. She turned in time to see a man in black suit jacket and blue jeans stare blatantly at her with contempt. He looked like someone she knew from another life. The resemblance had her brain scrambling for recognition. She watched him and he looked like he was about to say something when Jimi Brown, Adewole’s partner came in her line of vision. She would ask the young man of his father when the reading of the Will was over, she thought. He looked vaguely familiar and in her line of business must have met his father.
“Where is Adewole?” she asked as she shook him, taking her seat.
“I am afraid Adewole had to go to London on an indictment charge” Jimi said with a small smile, walking over to the other end of the room to take his seat. Josephine had never really liked Jimi because of his upright stance and white hair that he thought was a mark of excellence and distinction.
The week before, offline and online media had been flooded with the news of bomb blast with various editors and column writers giving their views and analyzing polls supporting the act of terrorism against the executive arm of the Government. Opinions were that the new faction group was doing the country a favor by wiping out corrupt politicians. She couldn’t agree more. This week however, the front page featured the reading of Chief Badmus Bello’s Will. Josephine couldn’t wait to have her pictures splashed across newspapers, magazine and interviews.
Seating at the head of the dark brown mahogany conference table with a seating capacity of thirty people with Debola, Laide, Feyi – Bello’s sister, Sule – Bello’s step brother, the attorneys and two strangers she believed where necessary to capture this historic moment sat, she signaled that Jimi commence the read.
“I will be presiding over the reading of the Will” Jimi said quite loud for the occupants of the cold room to hear as he sat at the other end of the table with a speaker placed in his front.
The room was silent, belying the tension in the room. Sweat was pouring under Debola’s armpits, Laide sat with her legs crossed; the excitement in the building would be transferred to her manservant; Feyi, Badmus’s sister and thorn in Josephine’s side sat expecting a showdown and Sule, Bello’s step-brother sat uninterested. He was here because he wanted to be. He had his own empire to run.
“I would like to tell all in this room that this document is the last will and testament of Chief Badmus Bello. He has chosen us as the executioners. We will proceed if there are no objections” he continued, looking around the faces as the Will, sealed was brought out from a briefcase. He waved the document to show that the sealed was not broken.
“Go ahead” Sule waved quickly.
“Alright” Jimi said
“This is the last dying will of Chief Badmus Bello. I read” the lawyer said and began to read.
Chief Badmus Bello, FSV, OON

1. Declaration
I hereby declare that this is my last will and testament and that I hereby revoke, cancel and annul all wills and codicils previously made by me either jointly or severally. I declare that I am of legal age to make this will and of sound mind and that this last will and testament expresses my wishes without undue influence or duress.
2. Family Details
I am married to Alhaja Kudirat Sadika Bello hereinafter referred to as my spouse.
I have the following children from her:
Name: Adebola Olusegun Bello. Date of Birth 17th June, 1983
Name: Laide Yejide Bello. Date of Birth 30th March, 1984
Name: Kolawole Bankole Bello. Date of Birth 2nd June, 1986
However, these people have ceased to be my family as I have since known that my wife of 29 years have been unfaithful and heartlessly imposed her lover’s children on me. Her lover, George Ajero, is their father and I have supporting documents to this claim.
I state here that I have a son with Florence Ohiemi.
Name: Inale Ohiemi-Bello. Date of Birth 1st September, 1982. He is the only son I have.
3. Appointment of Executors
3.1. I hereby nominate, constitute and appoint Adewole & Jimi, Attorneys at Law as Executor or if this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve then I appoint Florence Ohiemi as alternate Executor.
3.2. I hereby give and grant the Executor all powers and authority as are required or allowed in law, and especially that of assumption.
3.3. I hereby direct that my Executors shall not be required to furnish security and shall serve without any bond.
3.4. Pending the distribution of my estate my Executors shall have authority to carry on any business, venture or partnership in which I may have any interest at the time of my death.
3.5. My Executors shall have full and absolute power in his/her discretion to insure, repair, improve or to sell all or any assets of my estate, whether by public auction or private sale and shall be entitled to let any property in my estate on such terms and conditions as will be in the best interest of my beneficiaries.
3.6. My Executors shall have authority to borrow money for any purpose connected with the liquidation and administration of my estate and to that end may encumber any of the assets of my estate.
3.7. My Executors shall have authority to engage the services of attorneys, accountants and other advisors as he/she may deem necessary to assist with the execution of this last will and testament and to pay reasonable compensation for their services from my estate.
4. Beneficiary
I bequeath the whole of my estate, property and effects, whether movable or immovable, wheresoever situated and of whatsoever nature to my son, my blood, Inale Ohiemi-Bello
5. Alternate Beneficiaries
5.1. Should my spouse, Alhaja Kadirat Sadika Bello disagree, I direct that her three children be subjected to paternity test in full glare of the media and results published in the National Daily. I have provided my DNA at The Trinity Hospital, Ikoyi and Dr. John Gagbena is commissioned to carry out the test.
5.3. I direct that the inheritance devolving upon any of her children under my last will and testament as well as the proceeds, the reinvestment of such proceeds and the income thereon be ignored.
5.4. If any of her children are proved to be indebted to me before my death by means of a legal instrument, then his / her debt shall not be paid from my estate.
5.5. I direct that my adopted grandsons be placed on monthly allowance of $1000 until their 25th birthday and actions be taken against their mother should she be unwilling to let them go as I have constantly instructed.
5.6. I direct that the 10 hectares of farmland in Kuje, Abuja be given to my step-sister Feyi Bello.
5.7. If my spouse and her children cannot reach agreement or publish paternity tests within one year of this will coming into effect, the Executor shall transfer the whole of my estate, property and effects, whether movable or immovable, wheresoever situated and of whatsoever nature to my son, Inale Ohiemi-Bello.
6. Special Requests
I direct that on my death my remains shall be buried at my Mausoleum located at my estate, The Castle, Ondo State and all funeral expenses shall be paid out of my estate.
7. General
7.2. Should any provision of this will be judged by an appropriate court of law as invalid it shall be subject to provision of proved paternity of spouse children.
Signed on this 10th day of February, 2011 at headquarters of Adewole & Jimi, Attorneys at Law, Lagos in the presence of the undersigned witnesses.
SIGNED: Chief Badmus Bello, FSV, OON

The quiet room erupted into a high pitched laugh and Victor, who held his breath throughout the reading turned to look at the source of the sound. It was Laide. The man who looked like a known pastor sat with a stunned look and suddenly Charity looked like a car ran over her, her eyes going from the girl laughing and the stunned pastor. The only person in the room who was unaffected was his mother, who sat poised with a small smile on her lips. Was this how she wanted to compensate him? His mother was Bello’s wife? Why did she send him away all those years? To cheat on her husband to have more children? Why would she cast him away and raise another man’s children in his father’s house? Did she have them before him or went back to him after she threw him out? What was the reason for the change in the Will? Didn’t Charity say they were to get $10 million each? And why was his mother not looking at him? Victor wondered, more confused than ever. There were no answers to his questions and he felt like standing up to demand answers. Just then his mother spoke.
“Have you finished?” Josephine Ohiemi asked as she fixed Jimi a cold stare.
“Yes” he said returning the stare squarely. Jimi Brown had never been happier than he was now. Finally, his friend was doing something he approved of and moreso because he had the honor of putting the little tick in her place. How he loathed her.
“There is no truth in this document. I must say that my husband may have lost it these past months. For one, my sister, Florence is dead and she never met my husband because she died over 30 years ago. There is no son anywhere. I believe you have cooked up this Will with an imaginary son perhaps to cause a sensation or perhaps you simply have the wrong Will. Get Dele to clear up the mix. You have wasted a greater part of my day. I expect that this embarrassment should not repeat itself anymore ” she waved nonchalantly as she made to stand up.
“The Will is valid Josephine” it was a voice Josephine Ohiemi taught she had silenced forever, it was the voice of the only one who could take her down.
“I am not dead” the voice was stronger now as the woman who had being waiting all her life for this moment walked across the room to where Josephine was standing, rooted to the spot, speechless.
It was Florence Ohiemi, in flesh and she was ready for her pound of flesh.
And this time, she would get more than a good slice.


Till Next week!

M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks


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M.O.T.I.V.E.S – Episode 4


We good? And yup! We got you Episode 4 of interesting new online series from @UnenAmeji

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Episode 4

Auchi, Saturday, June 2, 1962

There is something terrifying about the night. The far-reaching darkness. The thickness of nothingness and the pure weight of cold fear. One could touch it if one but stretched out his hands. The unending stretch of blackness, the absolute stillness of silence and unsettling tension in expectation of pure evil.
Then at first ray of light, the hope of life is restored. Hope replaces fear, and man would roam the earth as one who ruled completely, one without fear – for twelve hours. Alas, darkness descends again and if one thought about it deep enough, one might discover that the earth recreated itself in 24hours.
A repeated cycle starts with these altering words – Let there be light.

It was on such a terrifying night that Agnes Ohiemi, wife of dedicated choir master, Kimi Ohiemi, after 19 hours of labor gave birth to two beautiful girls. These identical twins would grow to hate themselves and wish the other was never born. No two human beings could be any more different than these two.
The first, a rather small bundle, with a loud aggressive wail came out the moment the minute hand clocked 3: 00 am. The three women from the church shouted praises as they held the feisty baby and severed the placenta from the mother not paying attention to the weak Agnes who was fast losing strength and blood. The pastor’s wife who doubled as the official midwife of her parish began the bloody task of cleaning the exhausted Agnes when she noticed movement in the bowels of the mother.
“There is another baby coming” the pastor’s wife proclaimed and the old prayer warrior among the women broke into spiritual tongues that sounded like confused clash of vowels and Greek alphabets. The task to birth the second child proved more difficult than any other birthing they had witnessed while the mother slipped in and out of consciousness.
“Let us take her to the hospital” Sister Pamela, the new convert weakly suggested only to be rebuked hotly and told to continue in supplication for the life of their dear sister.

The thing was, the church forbade orthodox medicine and believed strongly in fruits to cure diseases ranging from prostate cancer to HIV/AIDs. As dedicated and core believers, Kimi and his wife decided to follow the church mandate and all through her difficult pregnancy refused to go to the hospital. Instead they believed in the word of God and the holy unfailing words of the prophet while taking fruits, vegetables and the Holy Communion after they broke fast daily. While Agnes had not completed the 40 days of dry fasting and prayer as required, she was severely malnourished and weak.
The battle to give birth to the baby girl turned spiritual as they began praying and singing praises like Paul and Silas, speaking in holy tongues while the old prayer warrior continued to force the baby out.

After another 3 hours, just at the first ray of light, the second baby girl glided out, pale and still. The mother, almost gone now urged the women to make her baby cry. And when she gave her first cry after a weak cough, the beautiful young woman smiled and laid down comfortably, closing her eyes with a smile, welcoming the sweet relief as her ravaged body allowed her breathe escape and her gentle spirit ease out into that place of permanent darkness.
She had finished her purpose, so the pastor said the next day in a powerful sermon in church while the distraught husband led the choir. Weakness was of the enemy and only show of strength could drive the devil far away.
The first girl would later be named Josephine and her quiet and frail sister, Florence.

Kimi didn’t mourn his wife, in fact after eight months, he got married to a dedicated sister in the choir. It was necessary because a man was not meant to be without a wife, temptations abound and this man had new born babies – two beautiful identical girls who up until the shabby wedding were with his mother in the village.
It was this new woman, this desperate repentant prostitute Eunice, that would raise the girls up in a wicked way, fueling the jealousy and hatred in their little hearts. It gave her pleasure when they fought, she always instigated it because it calmed her heart. She could not bear children because she had lost her womb several years ago after an unsuccessful attempt in aborting a child that was as a result of rape she had continuously endured in the hands of her sister’s husband.
It was only human that her sister threw her out into the streets and from where she sold her barren womb for money until she met the lord and accepted Him as her lord and personal Savior. She was a new being and she ate more vegetables and fruits than were necessary. Perhaps, at the scent of rain, her dead womb would sprout forth. It never did.

Kimi fathered a son outside his home 3 years later but it was forgivable in the sight of God and the church. A man needed an heir, and like his father Abraham, he had found himself a Hagar – Eunice’s best friend – and his Ishmael became the responsibility of Eunice.
It was this dysfunctional home that Josephine, Florence and Kenneth (Ishmael) had their childhood. Josephine, born several hours before Florence, was arrogant, selfish, intelligent, covetous and utterly wicked. She wanted everything for herself and couldn’t stand the fact that another being had her exact flawless pretty features. It became too much when Florence, quiet,brilliant, reserved and vengeful grew more beautiful. Her eyes shone bright when she smiled and her breasts stood proudly, framing her hourglass figure that stood on impossibly long straight legs. Florence despised Josephine for one reason only – her ability to take what was rightfully hers and get away with it.

From the first day they could walk and talk, they stayed away from each other like one would avoid a leper. Kenneth got into trouble at school for removing panties of his female classmates and would later lose his life as he tried to escape a robbery where he had gotten carried away and raped his principal’s daughter who teased senior boys in school.
The principal who overpowered the trio, forced their locally made guns from their hands and shot at their heads one by one.
He was a member of the Kimi Ohiemi’s church. That was the last day Kimi went to church.

Florence first memories of Josephine’s covetousness went back to their clothes, plates, school bags and boys. From the moment boys became a steady diet in their days, Josephine was perpetually on the lookout for the latest boy that Florence was dating and within days deceived them into thinking she was Florence. At the beginning, Florence threw a storm and burnt all her clothes but their step-mother had sided with Josephine and asked Josephine to burn hers in return. Kimi was far too gone in liquor to care about the fire in his home. That had been the last time Florence retaliated actively. Instead she poured purgative in Josephine meal, tore her notebooks and misplaced her assignments. Once she poured wata pia-pai inside Josephine’s plate of Ogbono soup but had a change of heart and threw away the food before she got to taste it. Florence figured she had to find a way to get rid of her sister, rat poison would be too easy. In years to come, Florence would greatly regret this.

Josephine couldn’t care less. She enjoyed the thrill of stealing whatever belonged to Florence and most especially the boys. They should be coming for her, she was the oldest and so naturally, she should have the handsome boys, loveliest of clothes and the attention of everyone, including their pastor who had since been ministering to her behind locked doors.
At 18, Florence got admitted into the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria to study Architecture and was thrilled at finally leaving home to chart a new path away from her twin, however, it was one of those dreams one had before mid-day, short, believable and abrupt. The next year, Josephine transferred herself from Nsukka to Zaria School of Nursing and became a torn in Florence’s flesh once more.
It was at this time that Badmus Bello entered their lives. It was at this time that they became mortal enemies.


Zaria, October, 1981

Badmus Bello, son of Otunba Falaye Bello, exporter of cotton, groundnut and tomatoes was known across Northern part of the country. Otunba Funtua, as fondly called by the locals had considerably amassed a good name, great influence and intimidating net worth. Badmus was funny as he was intelligent and rich on campus. Popular, handsome and domineering, it was inevitable that females flocked around him and him, having more than enough females to go round would share with his friends.
He was a Mechanical Engineering student and was in his 3rd year at the University with a lot of females vying for his attention. Life of the party, one did not host a party and didn’t invite him. His friend Abba, an equally egoistic territorial animal was hosting a party and Godiya, Florence’s new friend was invited to attend the hottest party of the semester. She absolutely had to go and needed a wing. Florence would be that reluctant wing. After several weeks of non-stop pestering, Florence gave up and was forced into a pair of tight flamboyant trousers and blouse that pressed against her breasts like rubber band. She hated herself and Godiya even more.

The teaming house with equally tight clothed females and randy males irritated Florence to no end. It was everything that she knew it would be and more. She finally snuck out of the building the moment Abba had taken Godiya to the dance floor. Practically escaping out of the big house, she stepped out just in time to see a male student hit a female few meters away from the gate of the big house in the Government Residential Area, in glare of loiters who were drunk and fooling around. Angered, Florence watched him slap her again moved swiftly where they stood and removed her high heels in quick succession before slamming him on the back of his head with all the strength in her tiny limbs and heaving chest that was beating furiously. The impact left him in deep pain as he turned to find the source of the attack.

He turned with a stunned look on his face. Speechless as he stared down at the slim pretty girl with flashing eyes and heaving chest. It did no go good that her firm breasts pressing against her blouse revealed her tight nipples.
“How does it feel now? You don’t slap her around like some slave because you can” she said in a hiss and watched him stare at her as she walked past them and found her way out of the compound, eyes of bystanders following her out.
The next morning, he was waiting in front of the hostel for her.
“You think I won’t find you?” he asked as soon as he saw her stop in mid steps, regarding him carefully. Tall, domineering and a little intimidating, Badmus Bello watched her eyes regard him coldly before matching past him in a hurry. Now that she wasn’t angry and irritated, Florence was afraid of the male leaning against his car.
“I don’t know you” she answered as he caught up with her, stopping her from breaking into a run. She was heading to her class to finish an assignment. It was a Saturday.
Florence at this time was in her second year but she was dedicated to graduating with a first class for a scholarship that would take her out of the country and forever away from her evil sister and her fragmented family.
“Sure you do. I have you to thank for this” he said removing his face cap and Florence drew in her breath. His head where she had used her shoe had a blood soaked cotton wool sticking to it.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t know I hit you that hard” she apologized, looking at the red soaked cotton wool and looking away, ashamed of her anger, afraid of what he’d do to her now or if he would ask that she pay for the treatment. She couldn’t afford that.
“I thought you said you didn’t know me?” Bello asked, trying so hard to keep a straight face. He was intrigued by the constant change of her facial expressions and the biting of her lower lips, eyes framed by long natural lashes hiding her beautiful eyeballs. She was a fine thing and he wanted her.
“Look, I am sorry. You had no right to slap her like that and I got carried away” she said as she decided to go back to her room. She didn’t feel safe standing with him while he looked down at her.
At 5ft 5 inches, she was petite as he stood at 6ft 4inches of pure maleness. In the daylight, she noticed his good looks and for a moment looked at him straight in the eyes that registered an awareness that would be the beginning of their relationship.
“I had no right. I was fuming mad at her but I know I crossed the line and I am sorry” he apologized with a half-moon smile dancing on his lips while he peeled off the red cotton wool on his head.
“You tricked me!” was all she said in a laugh as she noticed that there was nothing wrong with his head. He joined in the laugh too.
“You deserved it” was his playful reply. It was a go.

The two were inseparable after then. It would be the first time Florence would give herself to a man completely. Bello, instead of Badmus, as people called him, was her first, and her last.
She had screamed and bitten him the first time he pushed into her wetness on his firm mattress where he had taken other girls but this time, he didn’t understand his need to consume her, remain embedded in her warmness and tightness. He couldn’t even remember his name as he spilled his seed and murmured her name again and again. She was shaking like a lone leaf in harmattan and wanted nothing more than his warmth. Her heart beat so fast she counted numbers to slow down the rate at which her heart pounded against her rib cage.
The next time he saw her, after a week of trying to ignore her on campus, he felt drawn to her, like moth to flame. He couldn’t stay away and ached when she did as much as smile or laugh at something a male friend of hers said. He had taken to randomly visiting her department building in hopes of seeing her but actually telling himself he was checking on his young brother, Sule.
“I thought we were done” she said bravely as she sat in his car as they took an early evening drive outside the school. She knew the moment she left him the day he had taken her virginity that he had gotten what he wanted and was not surprised when he stopped coming by her hostel and class.
Now here he was, looking at her and smiling, occasionally shaking his head.
“I thought so too. Apparently, I can’t get over you as I have with other girls” he said easily with a light laugh. He felt the opposite. He was afraid of his true feelings. He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he had been caught in the proverbial web of love as his friend Garba had the previous year and had gotten married to Laila, his second cousin who was barely a teenager. He just couldn’t be falling into love with this Eastern girl, he couldn’t. But he was and it terrified him that he knew the end of his free days were here.
“Look, I am not other girls and certainly won’t die for you like they do” she spat almost too forcefully. She lied, she liked him terribly and hurt every day he didn’t come around to see her.
“I don’t want you to die for me. I just want you to be mine only” he said as he parked in a secondary school football field several kilometers away from the University.
“That’s not possible” she said, her heart singing for joy at his demand.
“It is. You just have to make it possible. Right now, I want to see you behind the wheel” he said in a laugh and got down for her to take over the steering wheel.
That was the start of their exclusive relationship.
He couldn’t wait to see her in school, have lunch or cook dinner with her. The moment he wasn’t with her, he wondered what she was doing. Was she with another man? Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Did she love him as he did? Bello had finally bitten the love bug and his friends teased him sore.
Then one Sunday night, he saw her in the arms of another boy at the Nursing department and was so mad that he charged across the hall and hurled the boy away from her.
He demanded an explanation and for a moment, a blank stare replied him before a smile broke out knowingly on the same lips that he had fallen in love with for the last 5 months. Only that, the girl who stood before him was not Florence but her twin sister, Josephine.

The moment Josephine knew that Florence had deceived her into thinking she was going out with Obinna, the boy who had been hurled off her, she dropped the confused boy like hot nail and moved on to Bello in a heartbeat.
“I was just telling him to let me be” Josephine impersonated Florence’s smooth small voice when she wanted to clear up a situation. Nothing gave Josephine satisfaction like seeing Florence heartbroken or sad because one of her handsome boyfriends had fallen into her trap again. This time, it was the big catch. Who didn’t know bad boy Badmus Bello.
Bello stopped at the voice and watched as she came over to take his hand. Florence wasn’t this forward but he let her hold him anyways. He felt the disconnection but it didn’t help that she kept trying to explain what he just saw and was apologizing as he drove her to her hostel.
“Where are we going?” Josephine asked, fearful at the direction they were going. She didn’t want to go to her sister’s hostel.
“To your room” he answered quietly.
“But I don’t want to go to my room now. Let’s go to your place” she cooed.
“You have to study for tomorrow’s paper” he reminded her.
“I am done” Josephine lied.
Bello, eager to show her who she belonged to did not waste time and took her straight to his house. He was on her the moment she had her leg in the door, tearing off her skirt and blouse, ripping her bra and pushing her against the wall.
“I told you, you belong to me. No man else. I want you to know that, do you understand that?” he asked hotly as he pounded away, too hot to bother about the difference in the feeling. She wasn’t snug and tight like Florence, she didn’t hold him and clinch the tip of his maleness with her clitoral muscle as she normally did.
Bello was in bed with the wrong sister and like it would always happen, Florence who was indeed done with her studying decided to go surprise him. It had been a long time without him and she missed having his arms around her when she slept.

Florence opened his front door with her key and walked quietly to his room. What she saw that night broke her spirit. Her twin sister had won again. Lying in each other’s arm, naked and blissfully asleep, she stood and wept noiselessly, sniffing and crying all over again.
She stood there for a couple of hours before Bello felt presence in his room and switched on his light to find Florence standing in front of his bed, tears and catarrh running down her nose.
For a moment, he was confused but skipped out of bed when the hand splayed across his broad chest moved. There was another Florence on his bed.
“What is this? Who are you?” he asked Florence, putting on his discarded boxers hurriedly. Florence watched Josephine wake up and curl comfortably without bothering to cover herself. The rush of pure hatred that filled her that the day was like none she had experienced over the years. She was in love for the first time and Josephine had destroyed it.
“You just had sex with my twin sister Josephine. I am Florence. Goodbye Bello” she said slowly, stemming her rage as she pointed at Josephine with dead eyes before rushing out of the house. A dumbfounded Bello stood looking at the girl on his bed, seeing no difference, he followed his heart out a minute too late. She was gone.
Josephine, shaken by the look Florence had given her knew this was the last straw. She knew it was never going to get any better than this and knew instinctively if she did not act now, Florence was going to get even. How? She didn’t want to find out. She had to get rid of her mirror image. It was settled.


Florence left Zaria to Auchi two days later, after her last paper and avoided Bello like a plague. She had found out she was pregnant the following day after the horrible night at the student clinic and was afraid of what she was going to do about it now that it was over between them. It would be the last time she would see Bello.

Over the holiday in Auchi, an attempt would be made on Florence’s life that left Josephine, family and church members to believe she was dead. The burial had taken place days after finding a faceless body that had been sacrificed to a deity and thrown on the bush path.

What nobody knew was that Josephine had sold her supposedly virgin sister to some group of boys who needed virgins because she was sure Florence was one. What she didn’t know was that Florence was pregnant and the deity rejected her because it could not take a new life, or so the native doctor said when his ige told him the girl was pregnant.
Florence, weak and spaced-out, was left in the thick forest to die. However, a new convert of the terrible gang returned for her at nightfall and rescued her. He told her days after she recovered from her state not to return home because her sister had staged her kidnap and would try to get rid of her by paying his leader who she had been sold to.
Afraid for her life and the Bello’s baby, she fled with the new convert to Osogbo.
The body belonging to an actual virgin that looked like Florence’s was left as arranged. Josephine was ecstatic. Her mirror image was gone forever.

In far north, Josephine took over Florence’s course, friends and forgave Bello, as was intended. No one was any wiser of the switch. Josephine, an intelligent girl, graduated in Florence’s stead and after another three years graduated as Josephine.
Bello, still in love, proposed and took Josephine home to meet his parents.

Later, Josephine would convert to Islam to impress Badmus father who wanted his son to follow his faith. That singular act endeared her to Otunba and not long after their wedding, she became Alhaja Kudirat Bello, wife of Chief Badmus Bello.

If life wasn’t for those who took it by force, who else’s would it be?

But this was not the end, this would only be the beginning.


M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks


Next week!

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P.S: Kindly make observations of typos and structures. Thanks guys.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S – Episode 3


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Sorry for delay in posting….internet providers messed us up…we back online though…Apologies.

We got you Episode 3 of *spanking new online series from @UnenAmeji

Read Previous Episode Here

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Episode 3
Faction Meeting – Seven meet at undisclosed location in the Federal Capital Territory
Agenda – Termination
Date – 8th December, 2010
Time – 2: 00 am

The quiet hum of the cold room registered the entrance of the last member of the deadly group with firm clicks of wooden heels on the shiny marble tiles. The bunker, located underneath the perpetually sealed off property, was eerily lit and one could feel the evil in the air as they sat still, not talking to each other. These people decided affairs of the State and they had gathered to decide the fate of some old weathered thorns, thorns who wanted them exposed and dealt with.
The fallout had come right after the nomination of the next President of the Republic. The disagreement over the candidate and the policies to be implemented caused some of the Elders- as they called themselves – to leave the coven and force the hand of the group by inciting the public in demanding for a change in governance and administration of their monies. It was the submission of the repentant Elders that the looting and bleeding of the treasury had gone on for too long, that it was time to develop the country and focus on rejuvenating dead sectors. The seven meeting in this room did not think so.
They were of the opinion that those that called for a readdress probably had more reserves than they claimed and as such was simply a farce and a case of hypocrisy.
The scheduled meeting had been called to find lasting solution to recent overturns of policies that served that interest and most recently the sentencing of two of their members to 25 years imprisonment over money laundering and embezzlement charges. It was time to put an end to the witch hunting and they were ready to do what was needed.
The meeting was set to start and the room stilled as the leader spoke.
“I see we are all unanimous in our decision” the leader, a tall domineering figure with thick voice spoke, confirming the thoughts of the seven people in the bunker. They knew why they were here.
“It must not fail. It must not be traced back to us” another said carefully, the unsure but dissatisfied element in the group was not particularly comfortable with the killing of former members but his greed knew no bounds. He simply did not want to get caught.
“You have nothing to worry about” the thick voice belonging to the mastermind of the group said with live cigar in his hands. He had no idea why he need these lily-livered fools, he thought. He knew he could do this by himself but he also knew that there was always need for scapegoats.
“A good scapegoat is nearly as welcome as a solution to the problem” his father always told him. But as he looked at the woman sitting quietly, carelessly thumbing her phone, he doubted briefly if she was working against them. Wife to a member who had decided to ‘repent’, he wondered what she was doing here. His curiosity had been the reason for admitting her into the group after several correspondence..
“We do” it was the woman.
Six pair of eyes were turned to her. She continued thumbing her phone as she spoke.
“I think the method proposed in eliminating the bottlenecks is greatly flawed, very common. Forgive my objection but if this was to come back to us, we would have a lot of amendments to make. We may lose more than what we intend to gain” she said as one who had rehearsed her speech.
“What is your submission then?” the thick voice asked, eyeing her with caution and watching as other members of the group listened to her with rapt attention.
“Why don’t you leave it to me to deal with this?” she asked, finally meeting their eyes.
“We cannot just let you handle it. If you fail, it comes back to all of us” the man who was already panicked said.
“I am ready to take the fall for it” she said, fixing her eyes on the leader of the group. A silent staring match that lasted several minutes ended as the men nodded their heads in the affirmative.
“I suppose you will keep me updated on your next course of action” the leader of the group said at last, trying to maintain his authority.
“Watch the news” she answered with confidence as she smiled.
“If I can be excused, I have a little event to plan. Gentlemen?” she smiled charmingly as she stood up and left the bunker through the secret passage to her car.
Out of the seven cars parked, she unlocked the car she had rented from the airport and headed back. She believed in working alone because she knew aides had a way of leaking secrets, leakages she could not afford.
She arrived at the private wing of the Nnamdi Azikiwe International airport at 4:30 am and casually waited for her husband as airport officials greeted her as they went about their business. He was flying into Abuja on his private jet and she intended to take it back home.
“My darling wife! I am sorry to have kept you waiting” it was Chief Badmus Bello in his usual style, wearing his starched crispy white Agbada and black Suede cap with Italian brown leather shoes to match.
“It is no problem. I just got here” she lied as she stood up to a kiss. A peck on the mouth. The time was 7:45am.
“I know, I should get you your own private bus too” he teased, holding her hand as he escorted her aboard while his female assistant, Ribina followed dutifully. He was overly jovial because he had come to Abuja to conclude on the privatization deal with the President on power.
“You should” she playfully admonished him.
“See you at home” she said as he gave her another light peck before getting into the plane
“Don’t hold your breath” he muttered under his breath as he walked back to the reception with his female assistant trying to catch up with the rest of the escort in her impossibly high heels.
Badmus knew his wife of 29 years was up to something and not the smoke screen of attending women empowerment seminars she had put up in the last months. He had hired a private eye to look into her affairs but after three months on her trail, there was nothing out of the ordinary except the uneasy way in which she regarded him. Her proper sanctimonious smiles she threw at him when she knew he was cheating on her drove him up the wall. Reports were that she was busy with the Minister of Women Affairs and Social Development but he knew in his gut that his darling wife was up to no good.
But what?
He had no idea.

23rd February, 2011 – Day of Burial – Peter Osagie Jnr. Residence

“Honey! Stop! I am serious! I am so pregnant!” it was Omoni giggling like the pregnant woman that she was as she tried to fend off her horny husband who was trying to get her to bed for the umpteenth time.
“I know you are but Sade said we could still have sex…until” he crowed, grinding behind her and dropping his head to lick her ears as she stood in front of the gas cooker making Nkwobi. The steaming goat meat peppersoup stirred Peter’s appetite but nothing could quench the hunger he had for his 8 months pregnant wife. It would seem that the more she grew, the more he wanted to have sex with her. The raw need was almost too much to bear.
“Make love, not have sex. There is a difference” she corrected as she felt his hot breath fanning her ears and his restless hands palming her stomach, breasts and thighs.
“You are so soft” he whispered teasing her sensitive nipples as she gasped, mauling her full breasts and pinching her nipples the way he knew drove her insane.
“Stop it Peter” she said, twisting from his arms.
“Say you like it, I am turning you on, am I not? Uhhmm, say it, admit you like it” he continued as he unbutton the multicolored sleeveless cotton blouse she was wearing.
“Peter! God, Yes, Yes! you are turning me on, you big devil” she cursed in a laugh as she turned in his hands and got her lips enveloped in a wet searing kiss. He feasted on her hot lips, kissing and probing as she returned the kiss fervently.
He had just exposed her firm pink tits and dropped his head to suck on the full breast when his phone rang. He groaned loudly.
“Saved by the phone” she laughed as he palmed her buttocks.
“Go and answer your call” she laughed pushing him away from her.
“Okay! I will go. But be warned, I am coming back in full force” he teased spanking her round buttocks before answering his call.
It was work. He had just gotten his one month annual leave to spend with his wife. The last he needed were work calls.
“Sir, there has been a bomb blast” it was Sani, his subordinate without preamble.
“Where?” he asked, already saying goodbye to his leave and his hot wife.
“At the Castle. The burial ground” Sani supplied with finesse, waiting for the next instruction. Peter didn’t have any. He hated the Bellos and he had chosen Sani to head the extraction of Kole Bello immediately after his father’s burial. This was a complication he wasn’t ready for.
“Who would want to kill a dead man?” he asked, not expecting an answer.
“Who would want to use a dead man to kill more birds?” he asked himself again, still not expecting an answer.
“Sani” he called
“Yes Sir”
“Get a team set up. I want to know the number of casualties, how many were dignitaries and who is taking responsibility for the act. Also, get me information from the Presidency. We need to know if they intend making a statement and what it would be”
“Yes sir”
“And Sani”
“Yes Sir”
“If Kole Bello is dead, I want to see his body or parts of it”
“Yes Sir”
“Good” he said forcefully as he ended the call.
As head of the newly formed CID special squad in handling criminal activities of the uber-rich and persons who thought themselves above the law, it was his duty to investigate and prosecute these elements in conjunction with appropriate authorities.
“What is wrong?” it was Omoni coming out of the hot kitchen with sweat sprouting on her forehead. She had buttoned her blouse.
“Apparently, there had been a bomb blast at the burial of Badmus Bello” he said going over to get a drink.
“Oh my God! That’s awful. Who would want to kill a dead man?” she said rushing to change the channel that had been on a movie channel. It was breaking news on FTV and a couple of stations she surfed.
“At least this is the first bomb blast that has a different undertone” Peter said carelessly as he watched the report live from the scene of the blast. The bald reporter was putting the casualty figure at 226 persons and commending the quick response of the Emergency Units. Although the names and identity of persons were yet to be released, the bald reporter said that it was likely several powered executives and statesmen were feared dead.
“What undertone?” Omoni asked as the report finished and she changed it to another channel reporting the attack.
“I think this was targeted at the dignitaries and not a terrorist attack. I will be surprised if the boys took responsibility for this” he said sadly as he watched the repeat report.
“I will not be surprised. Didn’t you tell me they issued some threats months back? This attack will boost their portfolio and up the stakes especially with the new demands they are making” Omoni said as she took a seat to rest her legs.
“I am certain they won’t” he said confidently as he helped her to seat on the long couch.
“Why?” she asked, signalling that he switch on the Air Conditioner.
“Because Farah has not contacted me yet” he finally revealed
“You are still in touch with Mohamed Abdirahman?” she asked sitting up in alarm.
“I am sweets” he said with caution as he watched the emotions play out on her face.
“Why?” she asked, angry.
“I need Intel and he provides really accurate from time to time” he defended weakly coming to sit beside her.
“You promised to….” he did not allow her to finish. It was always the same argument. Farah was bad news and they both knew it. It was only a matter of time before he would be found out as a spy. If they were lucky, he would not reveal the squad and the man behind it. Omoni was scared and she had every right to be.
“I know I promised. It is just hard right now but I am careful, I promise I am” he begged as she looked at him, slowly releasing her pent up breath.
“When are you leaving?” she asked, looking at the Television but not seeing anything.
“In a bit” he said as he looked away from her. She pushed herself up and made to walk past him as he stood up and caught her hand.
“Don’t be like this” he coerced.
“I can’t help it. We discussed this…remember?” she said, biting her lips from saying more.
He nodded.
“I am just using him to get inside information”
“Until they find out and come for you. I just……have a safe flight” she said as she walked into their room and locked him out.
Peter stood in the big sitting room before following her to beg.
It was going be a long afternoon

23rd February, 2011 – Day of burial – The Presidency

“Mr. President, there has been a tragedy” it was Nurudeen Soyemi, Special adviser to the President on Media matters.
“There is always a tragedy in this moronic country” the man who was voted into the highest office in the land said distastefully as he watched a rerun of the football match, paying no attention to his Special Adviser. He had missed the UEFA Championship match between his club Manchester United and Chelsea because of a late night meeting with some old men who wanted him to pay striking workers. Why should he pay when they had collected the allocated funds? He had wanted to ask them in presence of some of the overzealous pressmen but decided to let them waste his time and requested for his little Nina, his pleasure for the rest of the night.
“Yes Sir. It is the Chief’s burial” Nuru continued, a little sardonic smile breaking on the old man’s face.
“I told you to send a representative Nuru!” the President spat impatiently as he briefly looked the old man who had been forced on him.
“See our boys doing well ehn?” the President continued, pointing to the Newspaper beside him that had headlines of the National football team qualifying for the African Cup of Nations.
“Sir, there has been a bomb blast” the tired Special Adviser said grinding his teeth that had few missing from his last appointment with his dentist.
Oooooooh! Ehn! Wich kain tin be dis? When was this?” he complained loudly finally looking at his Special Adviser.
“Just a few minutes ago, Your excellency. They blew up Chief Badmus’s burial. It is breaking news on NNTA” he said pointing to the remote that the President was gripping hard.
“Are you serious? They wanted to blow me up? Who is they?” President Jang Wuyaku asked rapidly, turning back to his large screen and changing the channel.
“I don’t think that was the plan” Nuru said and bit his tongue at his blab. He should be more careful, he thought shifting on his legs.
“So they would have killed me now” the President continued, oblivious to the statement that Nuru had just made.
“No Sir, God will not allow it”
“He will o! Thank God I sent that yeye Minister” he continued as he watched the report and wreckage, shaking his head.
“I think we should make a statement to condemn the act and call the I.G of Police to get to the root of this fast” he continued
“Yes, Yes of course. That’s your job naw. Go do what Nigeria pays you for” he said with a belittling smile and waved him away.
“Old mumu” he muttered under his breath, hating the fact that he could not fire him without another old man scolding him.
“Fool” Nuru muttered as he went to his office to make a private call.
The phone rang twice as he walked over to his door and locked it.
“Good day Sir” Nuru said into the phone.
“We are secured?” it was the thick voice.
“Yes Sir, we are. It is done” Nuru continued, eagerly waiting for some kind of commendation.
“Has this been confirmed?” it was the voice.
“Yes, it has been confirmed. There are all gone. Yes, we can continue with the program”
“Good” and the line went dead.
Nuru sat for a moment, reeling in the news before calling his assistant.
He was too old to write press releases.

23rd February, 2011 – Charity Ajero’s Maitama Residence

The breaking news on the screen jotted Charity from her bed as she rushed for the remote control in her lingerie. She was preparing for the trip to the Castle with Victor and had instructed her temporary driver, Bantu to get ready to drive them to Ondo State.
“There has been a bomb explosion at the mausoleum of late Chief Badmus Bello in the Castle. While the total number of casualties is yet to be determined by the police, report say 226 people are dead and several others injured. In a new list, Mr. Tamiyu Samson, Minister of Information representing the President, ex-leaders and President Abdulrasak Abubakar, Gana Itunu Konamu and Shola Ige Adebowale, business man Wole Jim, Governors of Bauchi, Taraba, Kogi, Nassarawa and Oyo state were said to have been among the dignitaries in attendance. Others include Minister of Power, Transport, Water Resources, Agriculture, Aviation and the chief Imam. There has been no confirmation that they are indeed causalities but they are indications that they were at the site at the of the attack. The terrorist group, the Boko Haram are yet to make any claim however. We await word from the Presidency on this barbaric attack and updates on the identity of the casualties from the police. The question on the minds of many is “what is the implication of an attack on this magnitude on the country?” Stay tuned as we bring more on this development. My name is Kingsely Maduike for FTV News” the reporter said, ending the update.
Goose pimples ran up her limbs as she stood fixated, eyes glued to the television. How possible was this? She wondered, a little shaken at the names. Her phone rang just as she picked it up to make a call.
“I suppose you have seen the news” it was a female voice.
“You did not tell me this was going to happen” she accused, not raising her voice.
“I had nothing to do with this” the female voice clarified.
“Then who would do something like this?” she asked, getting agitated.
“My sister”
“Do I thank her for killing those responsible for my father’s death? How would she feel with your demand for Victor, should we still go ahead with the plan?” she asked, temporarily confused. She had taken up the case because she had wanted to shame the memory of the man who, with his friends, had killed her father. Now that those people had been killed, what was the need in continuing to represent her reluctant client?
“You may have gotten your pound of flesh, but I have not gotten mine. You will be wise to continue as planned” the female voice who had introduced herself simply as Naomi and mother to her client threatened.
“But at this time? I suggest this blows over” she said, thinking fast.
“You will do as I say. Check your email. You are to follow the instructions” the voice directed firmly.
“And if I don’t?” she managed to challenge the female voice.
“Let’s say you won’t be alive to find out” the line went dead.
Rushing over to her office downstairs, she accessed her mail.
Downloading the attachment, she closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer.
Scanning through the document, she nearly bit her tongue as she stopped herself in time from crying out.
She was to organize a press release to expose illegitimate offspring of the late Badmus and demand that his net worth be published and shared equally between his legal heirs.
There were two issues – Calling for the published net worth of the man who expose the Government in dirty dealings. And she had been blessed with three more claimants. More update soon, the email ended.
She was caught in her web of revenge

23rd February, 2011 – Alhaja Residence, several buildings from bomb blast

The moment she heard the bomb explosion go off far in the distance, she smiled underneath her veil as she lay on her bed, about a thousand meters away from the blast. She had cried herself to exhaustion and got hysterical when they had suggested that the burial ceremony start. Her doctor had given her tranquilizers and recommended bed rest after she had staged a major breakdown.
Josephine Ohiemi rubbed her red nose and took a deep satisfying breath. The deed was done.
After 29 years of marriage to Chief Badmus Bello, she had successfully killed him and his cohorts. Now, all she had to do was inherit the empire, the legacy that she had killed her sister for.
It would only be a matter of days before that silly lawyer will dance to her tune and change the Will.
She smiled.
If only her good for nothing sister was alive to see her victory.
Yes, she had killed Florence. She had destroyed her sister and married Badmus, the lowly worm.
There was nothing she, Josephine Ohiemi, now Alhaja Kudirat Sadika Bello could not accomplish if she put her mind to it. Her phone rang then. She picked it.
“I suppose congratulations are in order” it was the thick voice.
“I suppose so” she said proudly, sniffing.
“We are not crying, are we?” the voice teased.
“Only because we are happy” she replied proudly.
“Yes, one should cry for joy. Abubakar and Ige were beginning to get really personal” the thick voice said slowly referring to the ex -Presidents Abdulrasak Abubakar and Shola Ige Adebowale who were taking a strong stand against their former colleagues.
“They were. Flies that refuse heed follows the corpse to the grave, literally” she said in a little chuckle.
“They certainly do Madam Badmus, I fear you” it was a tease but the owner of the voice knew better. A woman who single-handedly kill her husband in order to achieve the feat she had achieved wasn’t a woman to be toyed with.
“Good. In the next few weeks, I expect some sort of power shuffle”
“Good. Now I shall continue to play the widow”
“My condolences” he joked and she laughed lightly.
“Thank you” she said as she slipped into deep sleep.
It was time to get rid of the mastermind.

23rd February, 2011 – Praslin, Seychelles

Florence Ohiemi sat watching the screen quietly and sipping on her homemade pineapple juice.
The news of his death and bomb blast did not come as a surprise to Florence. She knew what her twin sister was capable of and had since waited for this day.
Josephine had reached her zenith but it would be her destiny to bring her down.
There was no forgiveness.
There would be no mercy.
It was time to play a game of the dead.
“Now we play” she said over the rim of her glass.
“Now is my time”

M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks


Next week!

Comment, Share….support!
P.S: Kindly make observations of typos and structures…important. Thanks

M.O.T.I.V.E.S – Episode 2


Hey guys,
Good week?
Looking forward to 1st May? We are…
Read Episode Two of M.O.T.I.V.E.S by Unen Ameji

Didn’t catch Episode One? Yup, Read Here
Episode Two – M.O.T.I.V.E.S

“Gala, Gala, Gala, Gala, Ptttff! La’Casera” it was Victor Dakar shouting like the determined hustler that he was on the Nyanya-Maraba Expressway, hawking. Victor Dakar – a name he had given himself 11 years ago – was a name without roots. He was a man with no identity but a man who instinctively knew his worth, even if it came by hawking to meet his needs. He was a man who would find himself, a man who would be a victor. He knew he had been born in Dakar, Senegal – that much, his mother had told him before tossing him out on that cold rainy night with nothing but his backpack filled with crispy notes amounting to a million Naira. The unwanted was cast out.
A loud blare of car horns brought him back to the present as he narrowly missed been hit by a bus. He couldn’t afford memories now and consciously replaced irking thought with the thought of the car he was going to buy as soon as he made the last deposit. Skillfully, he watched for forlorn faces in cars stuck in the heavy traffic waiting for a facial expression that looked like hunger, boredom or a mixture of both. Most often than not, these expressions made sales and he had packaged his dynamic duo – Gala and La’Casera in light green almost transparent leather bags. It was easier to sell and made profit for two products with just a single sale.
“Gala! Gala” he bellowed as he held the last two leather bags for the day walking in the direction of his shack nested beneath the footpath leading to his Kubgo residence, as he fondly called it.
Just then, a white Lincoln Navigator parked across the road and a lady came out.
“Gala!” it was a single call but a ton of eager young boys flew across the Expressway to answer the call. He looked at the owner of the voice and turned back to continue his search for buyers of his last two leather bags.
He had just sold the last of his bags when he felt a sweaty hand on his bare back.
Na you she dey call” it was a cashew nut seller.
Victor looked across the road to the woman in a body clinging black gown that stopped at her knees, standing in impossibly high pink pumps. She didn’t look like she was interested in gala or his La’casera, moreover he had just sold the last of it. He obliged her all the same and crossed over.
“Good evening Ma” he greeted, holding his empty bag.
“Good evening. I saw you hawking your gala in leather bags and must say I am impressed. You see, I have a new product and I think you will do great with the marketing” she said airily.
“I can give you my number and I come see it tomorrow” he replied watching her face intensely. Something told him she wasn’t about selling anything.
“I would rather you see it now” she insisted.
“Madam, it is late and have to make report at my supplier after selling” he lied. He had no supplier. He bought outright and sold for his pockets.
“Alright Inale, I have a message for you from your mother” she finally volunteered laughing at a private joke.
“My mother is dead” he said painfully, his jaw twitching. This woman knew who he was.
“No, she is not. You know it. Now do we continue this discussion here or are you coming in?” she asked indicating that he enter her car.
“I would rather you tell me who you are and how in heaven’s name did you find me?” he asked getting angry.
“I am Charity, Charity Ajero, your mother’s lawyer. Your mother has, well, I’d say interesting network. I would not say it was an easy find but she did” she said coolly regarding him with sharp eyes.
“What does she want from her dead son?” he spat dispassionately, refusing to acknowledge the fact that the woman who had thrown him out was suddenly looking for him after 11 years.
“Your father is dead” the lawyer said waiting for his reaction.
“I do not have a mother and I most certainly do not have a father ” he declared, turning his back and making to cross the road.
“You will be inheriting roughly about ten million dollars” she said in a raised voice. She caught his attention.
He stopped and turned to look at the woman. Clearly, she was serious and without meaning to, broke into a loud heartfelt laughter that echoed and had passersby look at them.
“What is in it for her?” he finally asked, coughing and rubbing his eyes clean of the tears that had formed as a result of the belly-filling laughter.
“Revenge” she said after a while. She didn’t find his amusement a tad bit funny.
“That sounds like her, a lot like her” he said looking past her and into the green hills, remembering the last time he set eyes on the woman who had bore him.
“You should come in” she made for the car again.
“Look emmm, ….” He called trying to remember her name.
“Charity” she supplied graciously.
“Charity, I don’t want to have anything to do with that woman” he continued stubbornly.
“She wants you to get what is rightly yours” Charity maintained coldly, she needed him to get with the program and not waste her time. Patience was not her virtue and she didn’t care for it.
“Wait, let me get this straight. She disowns me, throws me out and refuses to tell me who my father is for 29 years and then suddenly, she wants to take revenge and give me the right to inherit a million dollars?” he asked as he wiped the last of the tears from his eyes.
“Ten million” she corrected as her phone rang. She ignored it.
“You get ten million dollars, not a million dollars” she corrected impatiently as her phone buzzed.
“What is in for you?” he asked noticing as she expertly typed a message.
“Minus my legal fees?” she asked jokingly breaking into a smile. He was coming around.
“I suppose everyone is on board with this”
“Just you” she flashed her best smile.
“Right” he answered watching her.
“Well, here is my card…just in case you change your mind. Come by my office tomorrow”
“Will she be there?” he asked, apprehensive.
“No. she won’t be dealing with you directly” she said sweetly getting into her car.
“Of course” he swallowed bitterly.
“I will be expecting you though” she said as she closed her door and keyed her car.
“Uhmmm” he nodded. She watched emotions play on his face. He would come, she concluded.
“How does one get loathed just because you reminded one of your father? A man you have never met or chose?” he asked, his eyes grave.
“You will have your answers soon enough Inale. I will be waiting for you” she said kindly.
“It’s Victor now” he corrected, feeling a little triumphant at his new alias.
“I know, Victor Dakar” she said in wink before driving away.
“And that my friend is how I got to the hawking profession” he said to no one in particular, walking slowly to his house and tearing open a gala wrap he had reserved for himself.


Her office, located in a Residential Estate in Maitama extension, was not an ‘office’. It was a modern terrace duplex, completely detached and heavily guarded. He wanted to turn back but his curiosity at finally meeting a dead father had him knocking on the intimidating steel gate with a security camera.
“Do you have an appointment?” it was the security guard in yellow and red uniform. His green wool cap made Victor cringe visibly at the ridiculous outfit. The getup looked like a deliberate attempt at belittling the guard and everything he stood for, and it was working. This was the reason why he stuck to hawking. He decided what to wear, sell and what time to close.
“Yes” he answered after a moment, handing over the nicely crested business card.
“Please fill this form” the guard handed over a form and collected it once Victor had filled it satisfactorily.
“Please wait here” he instructed with authority.
“Will do” he mouthed.
Few minutes later, he was ushered into the house and left in an empty room with white walls and huge Plasma TV on the wall. The empty room which looked like a reception, had no chairs. He stood waiting for the next instruction. He smiled at the thought.
“I see you decided to show up” he turned at her voice to see a scantily-clad woman in black bikini, furiously rubbing her wet hair with a white towel. She had curves that threatened to spill from her bra and firm rounded hips that could make a man want to be a dog for a long time.
“Yes” he answered thickly, his eyes stopping at her tight nipples. Her navel captured his attention as he traced the tattoo carefully with the writings leading directly to her crotch.
“Like it?” she asked as she watched him force his eyes back to her face.
“It is an interesting tattoo. I should study it sometime” he flirted with a serious face.
“I would like that. Thank you” she flirted back.
“So here I am” he said lightly, looking at her with desire curling in places he didn’t want noticing her.
“I can see that. Please follow me to my office” she said taking the lead as she wrapped the towel around her waist.
Her office was surprisingly professional, furnished with an impressive library and dark brown mahogany shelves carrying law books and extremely large blue bonded book collections. The cold office had a Yanni’s First Touch playing softly in the background and News on Al Jazeera on her TV playing noiselessly. It was the news on the late tycoon’s death on repeat.
She walked over to the wardrobe and eased a wrap gown from the hanger over her shoulders, letting the towel fall and walking over to her desk. He was tempted to ask her to pick up the towel, he hated littered room.
“You can pick it up if it bothers you” she said simply, catching the disapproval in his eyes.
“So, who is my father?” he asked as he took a seat across from her.
“Was, he is dead”
“Right. Who was my father?” he asked watching her power her laptop and reach for a file simultaneously.
“You may know him, you may not” she said handing him the heavy file.
“This is one hell of a file” he commented dryly but felt a little heart kick.
“I decided not to print all of it. Enjoy. What do you want for lunch?” she asked picking up her intercom.
“Pounded yam, Vegetable soup and assorted meat. Pineapple juice, freshly squeezed would do. Thanks” he smiled.
“You know, for one who hawks for a living, I am surprised you know what pounded yam and assorted meat is” she said sarcastically dialing her kitchen.
“I am going to be roughly ten million dollars richer, I think it is about time I started ordering like a millionaire” he threw her words at her with a piercing look and a twitch in his lips, stopping a grin from coming out.
“I see” she smiled repeating his order and asking for spinach sauce and samosa for herself. Victor made a face before standing up with the file and going over to the comfortable sofas across the office. He sat down and took a deep breath and then he opened the file.
The moment Victor opened the file, his eyes popped at the identity of the man who was said to be his father. Chief Badmus Bello, the dead Tycoon and political Godfather. The one man who he had tried to meet severally and had had the honor of driving in his convoy for a day before he was accused of stealing and picked up by the police only to be warned off after an anonymous bail was posted.
He could not believe and closed it to look at Charity. She nodded, the seriousness and intensity told him this was not made up. He took a deep breath before opening it again. And he read. The exact dates, early pictures, his present net worth, investments, his family, rumors and alliances, the double-shady dealings and the women – it was a complete biography, only that he probably had the only copy. All doubts on the genuineness of the file and motive behind his mother finally revealing his father dawned upon him. There was not enough truck to take the filth and atrocities.
It took 3 hours of carefully studying the file to finally reach the last photograph.
“He was on the news yesterday” he croaked, stunned and disbelieving. Chief Bello could not be his father.
“He died yesterday” she supplied watching him.
“He has been buried?” he asked. He was clueless as to the emotion that was appropriate. Anger? Joy? Gratitude? Pain?
He had all of those and more.
“Not yet. I suppose today? Informants tell me his son, the Pastor your brother that is, is making the arrangements and won’t allow him be buried immediately”
“Is he requesting for autopsy?” he asked, his throat filling up.
Victor was overwhelmed with the revelation and the last piece of information in the file had been a young picture of Chief Badmus. Victor was a perfect copy of his father at that age.
“That’s the premise” she supplied pitying his predicament.
“Why now?” he asked her after five minutes of reflection and squeezing his eyes shut.
“You would have to ask your mother that”
“You should ask her on my behalf. That’s part of your job, is it not?” he spat hotly.
He couldn’t believe it. Victor Dakar, son of Chief Badmus Bello, late Chief Badmus Bello, he corrected himself as he stood up and walked around her office. He pressed his eyes with his hand to stop the tears coming to his eyes and the anger at his mother. He didn’t deserve any of it, all of this.
“Where is their history?” he asked, hands in pocket, turning to face her.
“What?” Charity was a little confused at the question.
“How did the two meet? How did I get here?” he asked, his eyes blood shot.
“Again, you would have to ask her” she stated calmly.
“Hmmm, I wondered what she is paying you for. One would think she was paying you to tell me all I need to know” he said with a tight smile.
“She is paying me to represent you. I am going to get you your inheritance” she retorted, confident of her abilities.
“It is all about the ten million dollars” he said darkly.
“What if I don’t want any of it?” he continued walking over to painting at the end of her office. He wanted to cry but he couldn’t show his weakness.
“I am assuming you are still shocked. I suppose there may be more of you”
“And how many of us will be coming out of the hiding to claim our settlement package?” he asked disgustingly.
“As many as he fathered but none who has me as their legal representative” she smiled smugly at his look of disgust.
“I sense you have an axe to grind too. What did he do to you?” he asked staring at her. She looked at him back from her seat, a minute later, she stood up and went to him.
“This is my father. George Ajero” she said simply as they looked at the painting on the wall in front of them.
“A SAN too” he noticed.
“Yes” she said simply with a pained smile.
“Where is he?” he asked.
“He is dead. Your father killed him”


“These were your father’s wishes. He said categorically that on his death, he was to be buried without any autopsy carried out” it was SAN Dele Adewole, Chief Badmus Bello best friend and lawyer in an emergency meeting called by the late Chief’s brother, Abdullahi because Debola wouldn’t bulge on committing his father to earth without an autopsy and basically delaying the rites to be performed according to the Islamic faith.
“What else were his wishes? Did the wish include not finding out if he was killed?” Debola barked at the old dignified man in black suit and grey shirt.
“My son, I am telling you what the provisions are for his burial. If it pleases you, the documents can be presented. Your mother is aware of this” he said steadily, not flinching as he watched Alhaja with clouded desire. He wanted her so much it hurt but he had kept his feelings away all these years, now that the Chief was dead, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. He had never seen a more devoted mother and supporting wife. He would convince her to marry him, he thought unashamed that his coveted his best friend’s wife.
“Mom, is that true?” Debola asked watching helplessly as his mother blew her nose into her handkerchief.
“Yes” she whispered and blew her nose again, nodding and drying her red eyes.
Laide was seated beside her beautiful mother because she felt obligated. She had shed tears the moment she had arrived but had since stopped, trying to keep a strong face as she had been told by many to. The truth was that she couldn’t wait to have the old man committed to earth. She wanted to get out of here. She looked around for Kasimu, their eyes met and she lowered her eyes to his crotch. He froze and moved away from her view. She hid a smile.
Kole had been bailed out but the presence of policemen on the premises reinforced the fact that they were not going to let him walk away just yet. He wore dark shades and no one knew whether he was high or crying. He simply sat, watching as the conversation flew over his head and waiting for the ceremony to start before slipping away.
“I am not convinced but if that was his wish…, I have to respect it” Debola said finally defeated.
“Thank you” his mother whispered as he came close and held her.
“All will be fine. You will be fine” he hugged her and watched as his Uncle Abdullahi, the family Alfa began coordinating the burial arrangements. He had tried his best but if the old man wanted to be buried immediately, who was he to stop it. He didn’t have the spiritual capacity or faith to raise him from the dead and even if he did, he would rather let sleeping dogs lie.
The truth was that Debola was relieved and had staged the delay just to make a show. The autopsy episode was sown out of the need to object to something to prove that he, Debola Bello was in charge and wanted to be sure there was no foul play. At his arrival at the airport, they were so many reporters; his team had had to block the myriad of microphones that were pushed into his face. Now, he was sure the man was really dead. He could use the money to settle a lot of things, like his new family and the new baby he had just fathered with his former choir mistress. He saw Martha approach and the thought died a natural death.
It was going to be harder than he thought. He was a desperate sinking man who couldn’t divorce his wife because he was a pastor to one of the biggest new generation churches. He had a responsibility to his members all over the world but could ten million dollars liberate him? The answer was not comforting

The man watched from a distance as they came. Each in a convoy, each one of them a rogue, cheat and killer. He watched them come out of their exotic cars and watched others drop from their private chopper. It was the perfect setting.

The dark grey skies thickened furiously as family and friends of the Late Chief arrived at The Castle in convoys that flooded the grounds. Former Heads of State, past and present Governors, Ministers, Spiritual heads and Executive Officers of international and indigenous companies came in troves to pay their final respect to the icon, the big heart who was now lying in state. The condolence register had since been opened and the dignitaries flooding the exquisite large room already prepared for guests overwhelmed Sekinat. Thankfully, his body would finally be buried and everyone could leave. The sooner the ceremony was over, the sooner she could leave The Castle with the baby growing inside her. She watched Alhaja Kadirat cry from afar and took a deep breath. What did they say about widows who grieve the most?
The mausoleum stood poignant and imposing like the man who was going to be lying it. Painted in crisp white with tall Victorian columns located on manicured lawn few meters away from his favorite wild mahogany tree, the Alfa, Badmus’s step-brother, read out words from the Quran and delivered a message with Debola itching to say few words. This was his father’s funeral and here he was standing on the sidelines. He felt like shit. He smiled at the profanity and looked at his wife who looked like she would laugh out any minute now.
The official pressmen had set up cameras from the moment Chief Badmus’s body had arrived at The Castle on his private plane and the live streaming as event unfolded had taken over several stations across the country. Martha had been impressed with the turnout and with the level of dedication the political vultures came to pay their last respect. Of course he was one of them and it was only normal that they would troop out enmasse to be at his burial. She imagined his Will and smiled. She knew just what Debola had planned and she would simply ask for more than half of whatever he gets. What would one do with $5 million dollars? She fantasied. Just then, Martha noticed movement behind her and felt a piece of paper being pressed into her hand.
She turned around quickly to catch a man in black suit leave and disappear into the crowd. Looking around, she noticed the rapt attention of everyone, staring at the Alfa and reciting the last recital before they committed the body to the mausoleum.
Secretly opening the piece of paper underneath her phone, it simply read – Leave Now.
Her head jerked up and looked around again for a clue. There was no one looking at her or acting suspicious. She stood for few minutes, her heart racing when her phone vibrated. It was a text message – Leave Now!. There was no sender number.
She watched Debola focus on his Uncle. Should she take him along? Perhaps she should, just in case it was a kidnap attempt, she thought looking around again.
She found his hand and pulled at it. He looked at her with impatience.
“What is it?” he muttered under his breath.
“Come with me now” she replied in a mutter before dragging him along, eyes following them. Debola nodded courteously at the onlookers and followed Martha who was obviously in a hurry to reach the main house 500 meters. She was standing by their car when he reached her.
“What is it now Nomso? You do realize that my father will be laid to rest any minute and as the first son, I must be there” he said, heaving.
“Get in” she ordered.
“Bola, get in” she said entrusting the piece of paper in his hand. He entered the car reluctantly.
“What is this?” he asked throwing the piece of paper on her.
Just then, the loud thundering sound of an explosion filled the car that reverberated and shook so hard, the glasses shattered. The heart wrenching sound traveled the distance and they felt the impact as it flung their car against other parked cars.
He fell sideways, pushing his wife to the ground as he opened the car door, feeling pieces of glass on his body. He felt her move and then watched in horror as blood flowed from the back of her neck. The windscreen had shattered and large chunk of sharp glass was lodged at the nape of her neck.
“Nomso, Nomso” he called weakly, the ringing bell in his ears was beginning to clear as he looked around littered bodies everywhere. Shouts emanating from persons he could not see filled air but a look at the direction of the mausoleum confirmed what he thought it was.
A bomb blast at the mausoleum.

M.O.T.I.V.E.S is written by;
Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks


Next week!

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M.O.T.I.V.E.S Episode 1


New Series by Uneñ Ameji is finally here. To be posted every Tuesday, Motives is an intense story of hurt, revenge, lust and lucre. A story where Uneñ Ameji, in her usual fluid style takes her readers on a dark journey into what goes on in the life of the rich and famous.

African Stories is most delighted to publish her series and hopes you all enjoy her *love stories.

Episode 1.

Somewhere in Maitama, Abuja – Nigeria
20th February, 2011

The sound of clinking wine glasses, bright lights from the outrageously expensive Arabian chandelier reflecting on gold-plated surfaces and deep-throated patronizing laughter coming from stylishly dressed gentlemen and breathtakingly beautiful women in exquisite flowing gowns and blinding jewelry…..ah yes, this was the kind of life Laide Bello was born to live. Ace socialite and fashion designer, Laide knew she was at her zenith and nothing could stop her now. At 27, unmarried and a foster mother to two teenage boys, she wondered when her secret would be found out.
She blinked momentarily as the dark thought snuck up on her. Clearing her throat loudly and looking around for her teenage boys, she smiled as she saw them across the room, her heart swelling with passion and love. What would life be without them at her side? she thought, admiring the men they had become.
“Excuse me Ma” it was the shrill reproaching voice of Kasimu, her frog-eyed butler.
“Yes Kasimu” she answered over her shoulders, watching her guests mingle and wondering for the umpteenth time why in God’s name she always ended up sleeping with him after swearing she wouldn’t spread her legs for his thick piece of equipment.
“There are two police officers here to see you Ma” he said in low voice, coming closer to her than necessary. She stepped away from his hot breath.
“Why are police officers here? Step back” she ordered sharply as he pressed on, not masking her irritation at his boldness. This was the problem with rolling in the sheets with subordinates….they lose sight of drawn lines.
“I don’t know Ma. They said that they had news about your father” Kasimu said, his jaw twitching. He wanted to stab the haughty pig to death, shameless thing. The “shameless thing” was Laide’s alias in the servant’s quarters. The only thing that stopped Kasimu Adesina Adesida was her old man, and until the man took his last breath, Kasimu would continue to be sexually exploited by his disgraceful nymph of a daughter.
“Oooooh God! That man won’t let me be! The old delusional man” she hissed, throwing the content of her glass to the back of her throat and carelessly dropping the empty glass in his hand before walking to her visitor’s quarters at the other end of her impressive 6 bedroom duplex in an large manicured compound. He struggled to catch the glass and took a deep breath to calm down his nerves.
“Good evening officers” she said pleasantly, smiling brightly as she entered the room. Opulent and cold, the room painted in brilliant white with black cushions and steel furniture felt anything but welcoming.
“Madam Laide” it was Inspector Daniel Abati, wearing a summer shirt with two missing front buttons, black and white striped short knee-length trousers that needed a quick press and flamboyant brown hat that had seen better days. Team-Naturals would envy his thick black beards that looked like lush fern in the Amazon. Known for his brilliance and unconventional dressing habit, Laide thought him a complete joker but a friend of the family in his rights.
“Laide would do, Dan. I hear you have a message from my father” she said, correcting the badly dressed inspector and taking a seat while signaling Inspector Dan and his unusually tall colleague to do the same. Her eyes straying to the midsection of the tall police officer and wondering if the bulge in front of his trousers housed a good plowing equipment or simply a pseudo boxer-effect. She smiled at her thoughts. Insatiable.
“I am afraid there is bad news” Inspector Dan said coldly.
“I suppose I have lost another illegitimate sibling” it was a sarcastic question, signaling Kasimu to get her a glass of wine.
“Not exactly. It is your father. He died this morning. His body is being taken to the Castle” he informed her, his eyes watching her closely for her reaction.
The Castle – the enormous 40 hectares estate of business tycoon and political godfather, Chief Badmus Bello, was located atop Idanre hills in Ondo State, Nigeria and known across Africa as the largest luxurious estate held by a single man for personal residence. It was here that Chief Badmus Bello had built his massive mausoleum valued at $2 million dollars. It was rumored that he buried gold and money in his money bank underground and has a refinery somewhere on the premises where he refines oil and sell to marketers across the country and smaller African countries. Although none of these rumors had been proven, Chief Badmus was certainly a force to be reckoned with, larger than life some people say but certainly he was not larger than death.
This place would be his final resting place amidst his mini golf course and farm.
“That man is incapable of dying. I suppose you are joking Inspector. Why really are you here?” she asked as she took a sip of the warm diluted glass of Chapman. She shot Kasimu a look as her tongue tasted the watered liquid in a glass. He had the decency to step out immediately. She hated Chapman, and to be served with the warm and diluted abomination, he knew what was coming to him.
“I am afraid that’s the truth. Your father fell from his balcony today. He is to be buried before night fall according to the rites” it was Yusuf. Yusuf J. Sani, Inspector Dan’s newly assigned partner was a fine officer but was particularly displeased at being assigned with Dan. He hated the Chief and wondered why he had been assigned to the case.
“Fell or pushed?” Laide asked, standing up and turning away from the officers, her mind racing.
‘Could this be true? He finally did it?’, she thought furiously as the two inspectors watched her closely.
“Your presence will be required” Yusuf continued, not answering her question
“Of course. Of course” she answered solemnly, keeping the grin that was about splitting her lips and putting on a pained expression.
“I will be going to the Castle right away Officers, if that’s all. My mother needs me at this dark hour. I suppose there is to be an investigation” she had the graciousness to look forlorn, tears pooling in her round beautiful eyes.
“Yes, we take our leave” it was Inspector Dan. She nodded at their exit before breaking into a grin as she walked back to her party. She felt hot and looked around for Kasimu.
The old bastard was dead. Finally.
“Do you think she is sad that the old devil is gone?” Officer Yusuf wondered out loud as they walked out of her house.
“I don’t think I will be sad if I am to inherit $10m from a scumbag. Would you?” Inspector Dan answered, picking his nose.
Someone had murdered Chief Badmus Bello and Dan had a feeling this was going to be a little too much to sweep under the proverbial carpet.


Mandola Hotels & Towers, Somewhere in Lekki, Lagos – Nigeria
20th February, 2011

Kole sat still, watching the smoke from his cigarette float lazily into thin air. He was high and as he watched the black whore before strip naked, he wondered briefly if her opening was wide enough to take his legs. He laughed at the thought and sniffed his white “dew” some more. She didn’t know what he had in mind when he had picked her from the club hours earlier. She looked wild and greedy too, her eyes sparkling with pure greed the moment he started throwing money around.
He didn’t feel like selling this one to Alhaji for his rituals, she didn’t look pure enough for the rituals either ways. Perhaps he could watch Billy tear her apart or simply plug her to the pleasure machine and film her for his collections. He laughed again.
“You like my boobies” she said coyly, shaking her large mammary glands in his face.
“They are exceptionally beautiful” he all but groaned, taking a drag of the marijuana wrap in between his filthy fingers.
“Mommy is going to make you feel so good” she continued, fingering herself as she climbed the bed and moving her hips in rhythm to the slow R&B music playing at the background.
“And Papa is going to make sure you do” he answered, dialing his phone and dropping it. In few seconds, two hefty men entered his suite and the next hours would be the worst for the girl with the mammary glands.
“Please, don’t do this. Don’t kill me” she begged, crying and shouting as a result of the pain inflicted on her by the hideous men. Her hands had been secured to the bedpost and her legs tied firmly to the foot of the bed.
“Baby, I won’t” he laughed, coughing and sniffing some more.
“Please, Please” she wept as another of the big brute climbed over her.
“You will enjoy this one. I promise” he laughed again as the brute drove home and the scream filled the room, his camera recording the rape scene.
“Hey Boss” it was Zino, his body guard entering the inner room.
“Yes Zino” he looked up as his bodyguard stood before him.
“You have been called home” his bodyguard said.
“Why? What now? Can’t they see I am busy?” he cursed, throwing the remaining marijuana joint on the floor.
“Your father is dead. They will be burying him within the hour”
“How sure are you?” he asked, his eyes turning bright, a smile breaking out on his face.
“It is the breaking news” he answered as he briefly watched the two figures on the bed and turned on the large Plasma TV. It was indeed the breaking news.
“You are right Zino! That son of a bitch is dead!” he shouted, going to pour scotch into his glass and adding iced cubes.
“Cheers” he saluted to no one in particular.
“Hey! Hey you! Stop fucking that loof and go get my car ready” he spat crudely to the man who was almost climaxing. He kept thrusting, not stopping for he was far too gone.
“Zino?” he called his bodyguard angrily.
“Hell” Zino cursed before pulling out his silencer and putting bullet into the large man’s hanging balls as soon as he removed his obscene organ from the girl. A loud scream filled the room before the bulky frame collapsed on the abused girl beneath him. The room quieted except the whimpering sound of a female.
“You would think these men had enough holes” Kole said nonchalantly. Zino shrugged.
“Now you have to take me” he informed Zino carelessly as he walked out of the room.
“Today is your lucky day sherry….., my father is dead. See you soon” he called loudly to the girl on his bed before leaving his penthouse suite.
“Tell Tank to clean up the mess and let her go. I am in a good mood. So he is dead! I can’t believe it” he laughed, pointing at Zino and entering the elevator opened to him.
“He is your father” Zino reminded him as he also stepped into the elevator.
“Who cares? He had it coming. Now I can have my $10m. Whooop!” he danced unsteadily as they reached the underground car park.
“Mr. Kole Bello?” it was a clear police voice.
“Who wants to know? My father is dead” he said shouted, excited; not noticing Zino had taken steps back into the elevator.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Philip Aguda and Miss. Josephine Uton”
“Are you seriously arresting me right now?” he laughed as they cuffed him.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to your lawyer and if you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Take him to the station” a dark lanky officer read him his rights.
“I am $10m richer you fools! I can afford the judge” he shouted on top of his lungs as he resisted arrest.
“Take him away” the officer signaled and they pushed him into the police sedan.
“My father is dead assholes” he shouted and broke into laughter.


TrueWord Evangelical Church of All Missions, London – United Kingdom
20th February, 2011

The electrifying evening sermon, the shouts of praise, the expectant faces. Martha Chimnomso Bello pitied the congregation as they bellowed on top of their lungs. Pathetic really. If only they knew. She smiled as her face lit up the biggest screen in the auditorium. She really had to talk to the media unit. She hated when they picked her face when she was not ready.
“This week is your week!” it was the man of God shouting at the end of the service.
“This week, your enemies will wash your feet!!!!” he thundered
“Amen!!!!!!” thousands shouted.
“This week, as you go, the devil will not and cannot stop you” he continued strongly
“Amen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” they roared.
“My God will surprise you this week!!” he shouted fervently.
“Amen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” a louder roar.
“As you go, may the favor and grace go with you. The Grace” he said at last, watching the impatient look on his wife’s face.
“May the grace of our Lord Jesus, the son of God and the sweet fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with me, now and forever, Amen” Martha recited the grace as she followed the man of God, her darling husband of 8 years with the security personnel paving way to their office.
“Finally! One can throw away this God forsaken hat” Martha said as soon as they were left alone in her husband’s office.
“Please don’t start. I am tired” Debola said, removing his outer jacket.
“If you were called like you claim, you won’t be tired” she threw hotly at him.
“If the devil is using you, I bind his hold over your life. The God I serve, the same God who has called me will….”
“Oh please, will do what? Raise our children from the dead? All four of them? When He does, I will repent of my unbelief, until then, I believe Lord, help my unbelief” she said sarcastically, standing up and going to the fridge.
“Nomso, you have to let it go. God knows why and it has been 3 years”
“So we should try getting pregnant again” he said sadly.
“We? So that your God can kill them again. No thanks” she said, taking the cold water bottle in her mouth and sucking it until it cracked under the pressure. Debola Bello was tired of his wife and honestly had no idea how to continue living with her as man and wife but divorcing her was not an option he was willing to consider.
First son of Chief Badmus Bello and General Overseer of The TrueWord Evangelical Church of all Missions aka TEC, Debola was absolutely tired and heartbroken. He had lost his faith but the last thing he would do was admit his unbelief and disappointment in God to his wife. The death of their four children, two set of twins in a fire accident that left them alive but scared was the beginning of his problems. Nomso had lost her faith and her ability to support him spiritually.
Just then, his phone rang.
“Hello Mami” he greeted fondly. Martha scoffed. It was his mother. She sounded tearful and as soon as she sneezed, Debola knew something was wrong.
“What is wrong Mami” he coerced gently as she cried some more.
“Your father, Baba rẹ kú yi owurọ” she cried informing him that his father had passed away that morning.
“What? Kini” he screamed into the phone, standing up. Martha came close.
“When, how did this happen?” he continued, getting rid of his necktie. Mami cried some more with hiccups as she tried to explain that he fell off the balcony but the police were insinuating he was pushed.
“Why didn’t you call me since?” he said already dialing his personal assistant, Pastor Tayo from his intercom
“You were in service” she cried.
“So what?! I am on my way. No one should touch my father’s body. I said no one” he dropped the call and looked at his wife.
“Your father is dead. Are you going to raise him up?” she taunted wickedly.
“He was pushed or fell from his penthouse this morning” he said gravely.
“That is not good” she replied with a little frown.
“I have to get to the Castle. My uncles are hurrying to bury him according to their rites”
“I will come with you” she said knowing she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the beast finally lowered into red earth.
“Thank you” he said as Pastor Tayo came in.
“I have just lost my father. Assemble the team, we will be going to the Castle immediately”
“I am sorry sir” Pastor Tayo gasped.
“God is in control” he nodded, his eyes glazed and unfocused.
In their minds, the trio laughed triumphantly.

Uneñ Ameji
Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger on
See new book Love on the 25th on Okadabooks


See you next week.

NEW FOUND SOUND – #Adamant by PasQal


Ok guys…..#hidesFace
It has been long, long time a post came up here but this music video has got people talking and wondering if music in Nigeria has found new direction – lyrical content on point, no boobs shaking and the beats……..uhmmm! We likey.
Without long story….here’s Adamant by PasQal
pasqalThe grinding hustle and sight and sounds of the streetz are evident throughout this attention arresting, undiluted hiphop single aptly titled “Adamant” by PasQal, a Nigerian born Cameroonian underground hiphop/ RnB artist – with the determination and hunger necessary to propel him and this record to the top of charts.

Adamant, a hiphop & ragga infused track off his soon-to-drop GhettoWay EP, carries the resonating message of resilience and determination, motivating and propelling the average person to attain their goals in life and living out their dreams regardless of the ever present challenges they may be faced with.

pasqal 3
The Lagos born and bred – now Abuja based – artist has actually been knocking on the doors of the music scene since way back, first was in 2011 with “Eni timba mu” that received massive hype from radio stations, major blogs and websites like, followed by “Still Fly (Cover)”“True Stories” and “6Foot7Foot (Cover)” which can be found on almost all the major online platforms.

“I never knew this guy PasQal till a few days ago and boy am I happy! The beat is crunk, the Hook is crunk, the verses are crunk. Korrect hiphop tune, I’m already a fan!” – Ovie O #Quoted.

pasqal 2


PasQal (Tambe Paschal) was born in Sari Iganmu – Orile – one of the slums of Lagos city to Cameroonian parents. Growing up in an environment similar to a jungle where “survival of the fittest” is not just a phrase, even as a boy music has always been an escape from it all singing along to almost every music he hears as it was easy for him to absorb the lyrics.

Realizing his passion for music, PasQal started trying his hands on his own materials across multiple genres especially hip hop and RnB. As his musical ambitions continued to grow, aided by the sights and sounds of the streets – which have had a profound influence on the direction his musical journey has taken – PasQal has matured into a multitalented and multi genre artist to reckon with.

Finally, after honing his unique sound over recent years, he is now working on his debut EP “GhettoWay Plan” which underlies the struggle that PasQal has gone through over recent years and his resolve to lead a better life. The project will affect the industry in a way that has never been experienced before.

pasqal 4
Connect with PasQal on FaceBook, Twitter, YouTube and Instagram

Watch/Download here…

And yes, we will post some more…
Have a great week!

New Author! New Book! Azubike Ahubelem is now on African Stories


African Stories is most delighted to announce new African Author Azubike Ahubelem

About Author: Azubike A. Ahubelem has an MSc in Information & Communication Technology. He gets inspired by things around him and tries to relate it to things he writes. He writes pure fiction but has been privileged to have his opinion expressed in Punch Newspaper where his article, “Taming the Monster of Crime,” was published.

Here is a blurb from his new book “DON’T JOIN”
Don't  Join (1)

About Book: “Don’t Join” is a story set in the Nigerian university environment; a zone in which the most rugged takes it all. Passion violence and intimidation are its characteristics. It is governed by unwritten laws and ruled by cult gangs. These were the forces that pushed Uche around till he decided it was time for him to get his courage up and join men in a treacherous adventure where nothing is gained apart from pain, fear, and bloodshed. This book is an eye-opener that would enable you to experience the nitty-gritty of this filthy environment in all its glory from a safe distance through Uche’s eye and leave you with only one ultimate advice:
Category: Fiction

“Don’t Join” is available on Jumia.Com in Hard Copies.

Get One. Support Author.

Don't Join by Azubike Ahubelem

Don’t Join by Azubike Ahubelem

Find more about Author and Book here

New Listing, New Author: The 93′ Conspiracy by Tijani Ridvan now on African Stories


African Stories is most delighted to announce the addition of African Author – Tijani Ridvan

Tijani Ridvan grew up in Nigeria. His work has appeared in various publications including the Reader times and Mystery eye magazine. He is the author of the novel ‘THE 93 CONSPIRACY’ which won the annual Book critic award and was the Legion house Best thriller of the year. A student in the US, he divides his time between the United states and Nigeria.  He is @RidwanTijani4 on twitter.

Tijani Ridwan

Tijani Ridwan

The 93′ Conspiracy tells the story of James Bola, 35 is an ex-navy seal who accidentally shot a boy in the heat of Iraq. His superiors tell him the ‘kill’ was justified as the boy was holding a weapon but he still feels guilty and leaves the army. He decides to go back to his home country Nigeria, a country in the state of political corruption because the time for elections is drawing near, politicians become backstabbers and dirty deals are made. James Bola begins to show symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder. On independence day, a bomb goes off in the biggest market in the region, killing scores of people including James’s mother. The CIA contacts James, he begins to investigate and he discovers an unbelievable conspiracy.

The 93′ Conspiracy, in E-book format, is now available for sale for just N1,000 (One Thousand Naira) only.

Send “Buy” to today and get reading.

Book Review coming up!



Countdown of Ex-Boyfriend’s Gifts


Hey guys!
Had a nice weekend? Stressful morning? Thought to post funny article for your lunch break….
Do not hesitate to comment or add your list…

Countdown of Ex-Boyfriend’s Gifts by @UnenAmeji

So it is a Sunday and I am going through my wardrobe. Music playing in background, clothes all around and I am tripping on shoes, brushes, books and toiletries. Definitely chaos in my room and this dude down here – Leo is responsible for most of it. He makes sure I have more work to do than necessary.

Leonardo in his element

Leonardo in his element

Sidebar: If you are in a relationship and have issues giving gifts, you should not be in one. Needless to say you won’t be remembered when it ends (trust me it ends with me sooner than later) or rather you’d be remembered for the measly rat that you are. #AkaGum
Without much ado, here are gifts received in no particular order;
1. House Still pending
2. Car Still pending
3. Diamonds Still pending
4. Exotic Trip Still pending
5. Spa session Still pending
6. Brazilian Hair Still pending (I will sell it and buy more shoes since I don dey eye dreadlocks)
7. Cash – millions Hundreds of thousands
8. Books e.g Monster by Frank Peretti _ never going to read it. (I am willing to trade it for book on Nigerian Slavery though- contact me at @UnenAmeji on twitter)
9. Sony Camera (Had an artistic phase and he suffered the consequences – sorry)
10. Mobile phones (Nokia, Blackberries – change phones a lot)
11. Part of Laptop (We saved for it – cute no?)
12. Bottles of Perfumes (Seems like I’m cursed with this one)
13. Hand bags (Had some ugly matured ones though..kai)
14. Shoes (Kitten heels – Maka Why! And ah, the cute twin slippers family members decided it was for public use – beefing)
15. Biggest pant (knickers) I have – Mr. I.I
16. Smallest pant (knickers) I have – Mr. I.I
17. Smallest bra I have – Mr. I.I ….(Don’t know what he was thinking)
18. Wristwatches (constant K)
19. Blouses, T-Shirts and Tank Tops (some hideous blouses – it’s a challenge to wear)
20. Jean trousers (Faded – don’t know how new)
21. Night wear (There is one I have worn to shreds…damn too comfy and makes me feel really sexy…hehehe)
22. Running shoes – (I would rather have a personal trainer)
23. Jewelry – (Leo found the box and had a little session with some, sis-moi swept the most recent one into the bin – she denies this allegation with straight face)
24. 1 no. fresh Rose flower (I hated the thought, I loved the gesture – it was romantic *kissed and I tried to preserve it _ No such luck )
25. Ah! Boxers (I steal borrow and don’t return – wearing one as I type)
26. Traditional outfits and Ankara fabrics (traditional outfit looked too serious – like a married woman with 8 children – nah)
27. Eye glasses (Looked like I was trying too hard to be hip and young – gave it out)
28. Weed – admirer (to treat glaucoma for a close relative – I SWEAR I didn’t take it)
29. Chess board – admirer (can’t find it but can play it _ thanks Mr. U)
30. Vintage piece of furniture – bribe from informal recruiter (long story)
31. Sweater (more appropriate name should be furnace)
32. Towel (lovely until you want to wash it – wet blanket is lighter)
P.S – The above list excludes lunches, dinners, cinema dates, air time and driving lessons from my two and a half boyfriends. Items in plural indicate gifts were given on numerous occasions. I may have left out some gifts…perhaps an updated list? If I am jobless again.
Unsolicited advice: Give good gifts _ I do…… keeps the memory alive. I see some of these things now and remember these men and wonder what life would have been like with them and then again I remember why it was never going to work. Lessons learnt, growing days and forging ahead. I don’t remember measly men as a rule. And while we are still at giving gifts, be wary of men who don’t give gifts because they feel and tell you “you are a rich and independent woman”. Most often than not, they are just there to feel vacuum, waste your time and get what they can from you. Even a rich “independent” woman deserves a real man who will impress and give her meaningful gifts.

While I would like to continue making the list, ‘travel down memory lane’ and give unsolicited advice, I have got to clean and get back to writing the Gentlemen’s Club series. So….drop your comments, your lists and unsolicited advice.

Gentlemen's Club ....Anonymous.Front page

Get the first of the series Here if you haven’t.…consider it as a gift or helping a determined writer raise funds to publish her big book….

I am off to continue cleaning….

Nice week!

Read Gentlemen’s Club Excerpts Here 18+ #Erotica #Suspense #Fiction

Book Release: Gentlemen’s Club by Uneñ Ameji is Finally Out


Uneñ Ameji, African Stories affiliated Author is out with a new mini series titled “Gentlemen’s Club“. It is exclusively available on the Okadabooks App.

Kindly click here to download the Okadabooks app

Get the book here

An erotica series, Gentlemen’s Club, set in modern day Nigeria, tells a different story of love amidst suspense and heated sexual scenes. She promises it would get hotter as she unveils each part, connecting myriad experiences and stories for the enjoyment of her readers.

Gentlemen’s Club…Anonymous the first of the series is about Talatu Sani-Sabo, owner of an art gallery and independent woman who wants a child at all cost. Tally is introduced to sex services rendered by the infamous club by her friend, Lucy – a bisexual.

All is set until she meets the wrong man.

Yakubu Aman, an artiste and ace music producer is searching for the right woman. He is ready for love but he finds lust. By fate, he meets a woman who he can fall in love with but she solicits for sex – A 21st century desperado.

Will Yaks choose love over decency? What becomes of their night of erotic pleasure?

Find out.

Kindly click here to download the Okadabooks app

Get the book here

Front Cover-page-001

Remember to comment after reading the book on the app. You can also send in your reviews to or simply comment below.

Enjoy your weekend!

Release Date: Gentlemen’s Club (18+)


Hey guys!

As promised, we have a release date for the new series “Gentlemen’s Club”.

The #NewErotica Series “Gentlemen’s Club” by @UnenAmeji will be available in electronic format on the 30th of January, 2015. Keep watching this space on how you can get it.

Below is an excerpt….enjoy
Front Cover-page-001


THE DEEP-THROATED MOANS, SQUISHY FUCKING SOUNDS AND HEIGHTENED gasp coming from the twisted bodies on the large white bed barely made visible by light rays from the flat screen TV excited the man sitting at the dark corner, the perfect angle where he watched eager body parts sinking into each other with such ferocity and precision.
It would be any moment now – their climax. His eyes glued to the wet juncture of their thighs and ears listening to the pathetic pleading sounds of the girl whose body could no longer take the onslaught, he climaxed just as she did but the initiation ceremony was nowhere near completion.
The newest member of the Gentlemen’s Club who was keen on becoming a member was fit as a horse, endowed beyond belief and vastly skilled in fucking. The man smiled with glee as he watched the young man reach over and flip the girl like a doll before positioning himself firmly behind her, all pleas from the girl falling on deaf ears as he found her hot wet hole and penetrated deeply. The young man needed to cum but more important was to prove himself. And from all indication, it wasn’t going to be anytime soon.
He fucked like his life depended on it and Imonike knew he had found a money maker. The small sobs spilling helplessly from the busty girl soon turned violent as he fucked her; ruthless and relentless, she metamorphosed into a raving lunatic spewing abuses most abominable and demanding to be fucked to death amidst cries to make her cum and a cackle that sounded like a wounded hyena.

Metamorphosis – Imonike’s favorite word.
“ noun (n) [met-uh-mawr-fuh-seez]…a complete change of form, structure, or substance, as transformation by magic or witchcraft.” he recited under his breath as he watched the young man reach his end. Holding strangely still as he climaxed, he emptied loudly into the unprotected womb of the local prostitute picked from the brothel downtown. The condom was in shreds and none of them had asked for extra.
For some reason Imonike ‘Joku Adibe loved magic and sex; and a sex magician who owned a laundry outfit he became. He often thought the art of sex was in itself magical and only dedicated fuckers blessed with the magic wand had the right to call themselves men. His father had an enormous wand that he had given to each of his sons and Imonike was grateful for it even if the man who had given him was a complete waste of creation.
Imonike had discovered sex early by watching his parents fuck night after night oblivious to the watching eyes of their five sons lying on the floor in the hot dark tiny room. Even the mosquitoes who constantly sucked their sick blood would pause to watch. Sometimes, Imonike was sure his parents might have been putting up a show for them; perhaps some form of sex education or simply because they were shameless animals who lived to breed and abuse. His father died fucking the neighbor’s wife on a Sunday morning while the faithfuls went to church. His mother moved in with the husband that night. Imonike left home in the morning – never to return.
A laundryman whose mind was far dirtier than the clothes he washed, Imonike knew he was going to be someone important one day but how important was left unknown. The Gentlemen’s Club, the name of his dry cleaning outfit he started while in his second year at the University doubled as the name of his ‘group’ of two fuckers. Ebele, his partner had ‘resigned’ from active duty after graduation. The club founded 10 years ago was for the dark and wealthy – desperate women who needed discreet sex services. This line of business was common yet Imonike knew the niche was evergreen and over the years, he reformed, re-strategized and groomed his men to provided excellent services for lonely, vulnerable and rich women.
Yes, the Gentlemen’s Club had just found their 10th member and he knew he had to expand his operations soon.
“That was one good fuck” he said darkly, his deep baritone filling the room as the young man tried to locate the man sitting in the dark.
“Seems like you have found a place with us Melvin. Welcome to the club” he continued with punctuations as he lit his cigar before pressing the intercom.
“Cancel the rest. I have what I need for now”.
The Gentlemen’s Club prided itself on recruiting only one member every year and this was the tenth year. He smiled smugly as he remembered his beginning – A broke undergraduate and laundryboy who stumbled on a group of neglected rich housewives and desperate old maidens.
“Metamorphosis” he repeated and watched the young man stroke the fair thighs of the prostitute with relish before parting it to the juice he had created. Imonike nodded his approval and the young man dug in.
It was time to dine.

Please drop your comments and ‘share’ discreetly with adults – if you can admit to reading Erotica…hehehe

More information as it comes….enjoy your week.

New Erotica: Gentlemen’s Club by Uneñ Ameji


So there is a new mini Erotica series from @UnenAmeji and she has decided to tease us a little. A story of wild love and sizzling sex scenes, it sure is going to be a hot tale in her usual fashion….a mix of humor, fluid and captivating storyline.

See cover below
Front Cover-page-001

Keeping fingers crossed for release date people and you’d be the first

What is wrong with being different?


Hey guys!

It’s been forever! Happy New year! Many more refining years ahead. We will get back to postings and hope to make your days. Starting off, we have Collins Arikor’s article. Enjoy😀

It seems the world opposes, or even fears, anything perceived to be different from subscribed norms. When people are different or they try to do things differently, they must be ready for opposition. Stories abound, even in Biblical times, of men and women who had contributed so much to the progress of society in almost every conceivable field and yet they had to endure tremendous criticism, judgment and persecution. The reason for such imbalance obviously can be traced to the nature of humans. Anyone who tries to keep all the people happy all the time will never fulfill his/her destiny. Likewise the one who ignores all the people all the time. Everyone born into this world has the same starting point. We all have equal opportunities to either succeed or fail in life. Some others would definitely succeed, while others would end up in defeat and frustration.

No doubt success is a universal desire. It is innately present in every human; everyone yearns for success in one form or the other. Unfortunately, many go about trying to succeed by chasing shadows; chasing the winds. Unquestionably, someone’s success in life should not be dependent on man’s fabricated opportunities, but should be monitored and guided by personal inputs. I don’t spend time listening to growth experts who are not exhibiting any outward sign of growing themselves. They are just propounding theories. Theories and ideas that are probably not workable. Rather, I engage in trying it out, even though I might be laughed at. Let me say this with all humility: we are a people of equal destiny, what distinguishes us is insight.

The future of any endeavor is absolutely bleaks without that extra-ordinary self-confidence in one’s one capabilities and abilities. This is because the quality of confidence, is what ultimately determines the degree of triumph. The criticisms would come in their numbers. Scoffs and jibes would be plenty, but, because being successful is not a seven-day wonder, only self-confidence could drive those ones who would eventually turn out winners. There is always a period of challenges and adversity in life. Endurance, in the form of self-confidence, is the key needed to travail. At various stages of life’s race, challenges may arise but do not give in. It is your duty to resist discouragements when they come. It may not appear to be working today, but by keeping at it, it will surely work tomorrow. Most champions have marks of failure in their past records. But because they refused to remain where they fell, they ended up turning their stories for better.

This discourse certainly cannot be complete without humble reference to one of the greatest minds to tread planet earth: Benjamin Franklin. Benjamin Franklin’s story, today, is well-known throughout the nooks and crannies of America and beyond. Even though he had no formal education, Benjamin Franklin was one of the most admired men in the Western world, during the last half of the 18th century. Till this day, Americans still commemorate the Benjamin Franklin Day; a day off in honor of a great brain, which came entirely by personal development. Even when Benjamin Franklin sought to write for his elder brother’s newspaper where he was an apprentice, he was outrightly rejected. He wrote stories anyway, under a pen name, Silence Dogood, a fictional widow who was highly opinionated, particularly on the issue of the treatment of women. “Silence Dogood” later became popular, but that was just the platform Benjamin needed to become successful, for his jealous brother beat him which resulted in his running away. He subsequently started his own printing shop and took over a newspaper, the ‘Pennslyvania Gazzete’ which became a success story in America.

After inventing the telephone, Alexander Graham Bell struggled to come up with the money to make his invention a household name. Particularly, no one really took the invention seriously at first and even his family and friends encouraged him to focus on his improvements on the telegraph instead of that “speaking telephone nonsense.” Today, the world is regarded as a “small village”, largely due to improvements on Graham’s invention.

The point being made here is that being different is the basis for success in life. How a person responds to your actions, and, for that matter, how others respond is really up to you. Life is a race. Anybody can be a winner in life. It takes those who are willing to be different. Champions are not born; they are made. Your desire of becoming a champion starts with the task of identifying the race set before you, and, it inevitably ends with you succumbing to life’s adversities that may present themselves. Dare to be different.

Take charge of your destiny. See you at the top.

This article was submitted by Collins Arikor. He is @CollinsOgo on twitter.

Writer’s Block and what it truly is…WARNING: Reader Discretion is Advised.


“A Writer’s Block is a fancy phrase to justify absence from writing or simply a case of complete cluelessness” ~ Uneň Ameji

There, I said it! Boom-ba! (Blame Patoranking…..)

So it has been a while since my hasty fingers made contact with these black responsive keys. The clicking sounds, the euphoric feeling of emptying your thoughts, seeing your thoughts come alive and walk on pages’ streets, the magic or absolute chaos created….oh! the rush…..but then, I have been suffering from this condition for only writers – “Writer’s Block”.

It has been a while since I called myself a writer with a straight face or truly meant it – of course I still call myself one when I am in the mood to create an exotic personality that’s increasingly becoming common and embarrassingly cheap – a fact I believe has something to do with free blog sites and freedom to spew rubbish and call it art.

This reminds me of a time free notebooks and pens were given and the cute English Aunt told us to write and draw whatever we wanted to….the outcome as you rightly anticipated……utter rubbish. But the beautiful toothless smiles on faces of the happiest culprits… the greatest writers and artists the world would come to know – the exercise was a memorable one. Fast forward decades later and I am in need of round glasses, bulgy eyes, brown dusty libraries and a secluded writing pad to go with this bold but demanding title….writing is hard work if you did not know…..especially if you regard it serious enough to be good at it.

Now, imagine you are lying down, prepped for surgery on the operating table about to go ‘under’ and the Surgeon walks in, with a solemn look on his pious face, he takes his scalpels and he announces he has just experienced a serious pre-surgical condition called a “Surgeon’s Block” or a Bank Teller can’t get your Cheque cashed because suddenly, he can’t seem to figure out how to confirm the Cheque because he is having a “Teller’s Block”. I am pretty sure the manager will be the next place you’d be stopping and if he has “Manager’s Block?” I pity you.

You see, if we must be taken seriously as writers and not freelance loafers aka twitter fighters with amusing hashtags such as #PayWritersNow #NoMoneyNoWriting #PayBeforeIWrite #SupportWritersOrDie #NeverSayDieTillYouWrite, #MoneyForBankWritersForGround, the phrase “Writer’s Block” must be removed from the words that exist in our writosphere…..yes, I made that up. I am a WRITER. Professionals in all fields do what they have to do because their job or dream is on the line. How about they do what they must to survive and pay bills?! You should know that whether you are comfortable or impressed with what you have written, you should keep writing. After all, No be all the time puff-puff dey dey golden brown.

So again, why do I use the term “Writer’s Block” you ask?

Here are some of my deepest reasons…be nice.

1. To sound interesting and mightily mystical

To be a writer_ unpublished, unknown, unfaced or relatively published_ you have to appear to be soooooo interesting that the next person will feel like if he/she does not appreciate the permutation and combination of the words swimming in your head, the evidence of kryptonic books, articles and poems you have written under intense bible-like inspiration and the rapturous boom ba explosion when you open your mouth to read the book that you painstakingly and haphazardly wrote or give a half-baked speech at TEDx, then life as they know it will cease to exist – literally. Now imagine if this force of nature, this interesting life’s source suddenly experiences an unexplainable condition known as “Writer’s Block”? Oh my!

2. To have opinions that are taken as the absolute truth or nearest in meaning…especially after an episode of “Writer’s Block”
Remember the fanatical twitter fight on who pays tithe, why it should be paid in the first place, to whom it finally reaches and how it mysteriously disappears after you drop it in the divine collection bowls or the bottomless altars? Ok…..just adjust that a little and you will understand why it is absolutely necessary to once in a while experience a condition that is somehow likened to a celestial mandate that must not be understood but swallowed without any form of doubt or stupid questions. No such thing as common sense as to the validity of this tithing “Writer’s Block” celestial mandate.
P.S (Google Tithing and Nigerian Pastors if you have no idea what that is)
3. To impress really fabulous men. Not just any man….a fabulous man who can read!
Okay….so I don’t know if this really works but it had to make the list…..Yes, I like men who can read! It is a turn on huge deal if there is any need for the handshake to go beyond the elbow as Okonkwo in Things Fall Apart would say. Being good at making lies stories up as I breathe, having light bulb moments in traffic or when taking fat ass-splitting dumps in the mornings but finding it difficult and time-consuming to write down these lovely inspirations (forget the writing pad and pen approach – it doesn’t work when I am in serious meeting with Mama Ngozi….na who wan stand up); it therefore becomes fashionably cute to talk about these bright ideas and stories straight from your celestial brain and have no evidence whatsoever in written words. If he asks why it has never made any of your writings (of course he has read some good writings from you), simply roll your eyes and name the most fathomless condition of all time for exotic species – “Writer’s Block”. That should keep him engrossed for a while.
4. To refuse writing gigs for over-bearing, no-paying, rude original article hustlers.
I am hoping the person I coined this reason for doesn’t get to read this…..not because I’m afraid of hurting feelings but because he would get to know the real reason behind my all time favorite excuse – I am having a “Writer’s Block” and will continue to bug my life. Really though, how can I write when I am in this deep black condition? A condition where I’m deaf to my surroundings like in August Rush but somehow orchestrate a masterpiece, a terrible condition where my eyes see nothing – not even the fashionably dressed dude who heavily drops weighty ke-le-be suffering from yellow fever on my right foot. This condition makes my nose lose its ability to smell scents and odor even when overloaded soak-aways are opened right before me and my tongue? It since expired the day I ate fermented rice and cow-piss stew from a food seller who cooks behind a “motel” after an awful episode of hunger bolt struck me – like Samson. Don’t get me started on my fingers…..they experience some strange form of selective rigor motif when it comes near any form of keyboard or pen when it knows I am about to write an article or a book. I am sorry dear but I can’t help that I have this condition – “Writer’s Block”.
P.S (Real Meaning – I don’t ever want to write another article for you ever-ever-ever again. You gete-it?)
5. To enjoy my free time without feeling remorse about lying in bed curled up with a raunchy romantic novel and a large bowl of Ice Cream
And yes, I dey read “ashewo” novel. To you that turn your fat flat nose down on romantic erotic novels….who cares if they had, have, will have sex or made love? Na why I wan read am bifor. I’m going to forget their soppy love scene soon enough _ they get tiring after a while plus I have got bills to pay but then, who says we can’t go hot under our skirts once in a while eh? Hehehe…so where was I? Ahhh! Writer’s Block.
So I flame up this myth, introduce it to my subconscious one time too many and it automatically shuts down all forms of writing process. It also neutralizes guilt at wasting precious time on some other person’s writing rather than creating perhaps an award-winning article or story….God knows I need to win something soon but then again…..maybe this “Writer’s Block” is responsible. We all need a reason not to do what we ought to do.

Seriously though, there are times when a writer truly does not know enough on topics, doesn’t know where to start or how to end or continue an interesting story. Research most times helps or simply read some more! Get looking, keep asking opinions, keep looking…you never know when your next Einstein moment is going to be. Keep writing, second-guess yourself once in a while, praise yourself often too. Writing should not be hard work but it is. It should be rewarding enough to buy a house but sadly it is such a slow process one is often tempted to rip off Chimamanda’s cover pages and just put yours. The truth is you are no writer if you don’t write. Or perhaps a new title is urgently needed?
Seasonal Writer
A seasonal writer (n)… person who writes seasonally.

But from me to you, next time you feel like you have hit that imaginary brick wall, write on something else – not your usual genre. You’d be surprise what you’d come up with. It may not be perfect or nearly even good or totally the opposite of what you want to write. You could decide to write your thoughts as you think, write a hypothetical letter to that hypocritical cow person you want dead – don’t just save it in case you have to go to the police station to make a real statement…Ha!…don’t do that but I guess you know what I’m talking about…just write – anything.

Find something that really floats your boat or rides your keke; travel to Osun State and go see a real deity and not just those ones they terrify us with in Yoruba movies or you could check out Mubi in Adamawa State! I heard that’s a fertile ground for award-winning journalism….although I am quite confused as to how the orator for #WhatDoesBHWant has his location as UAE ……..just an observation. Perhaps he is _ was in Mubi but forgot to inform us or he Skype’s with a ‘local’ staff…..either ways, what ‘they’ want is not what we want. If they could just stop abducting, forcefully marrying and raping our girls and women, perhaps we could understand what they want. It is disrespectful to keep abusing the hole place you came out from. For now, nothing matters except the safety of our women and the innocent lives lost in this senseless power tussle.
How was that for a breakout from “Writer’s Block” eh?
And most importantly what do you think this piece is? Satire? Or just another proof that I am actually experiencing an exotic writer’s condition known as “Writer’s Block” and just won’t accept it exists? I particularly like the latter option….it confirms the peculiarity of this irreversible condition. I should experience it more often. *Winks*

About Uneň Ameji
A writer and humor-lover, Uneñ has written articles and books focusing on contemporary issues and old school romance. You can download her latest book – Love on the 25th on the Okadabooks App available in PlayStore Global-wide😀. She tweets as @UnenAmeji on twitter. Check her out on African Stories.

6 most important things to do as a Nigerian Lady before you turn 30 by Arikor Collins


Hey guys….thought you might like this….first of its kind here but then again, it just might be what we need! This article by Arikor Collins is a reply to a certain Nigerian Girl and it certainly makes an interesting read….have a good time reading it ….and don’t forget to hit the comment button…and the share too😀

Dear not-yet-30 Nigerian girl,

I duly received your earlier letter asking me what you must do before you turn 30. It was a very expressive letter, though only flawed with a couple of grammatical errors here and there. You are forgiven though, English has never been your father’s language.
Nevertheless, and in response to that, I shall be very brief with what I have to tell you, but if I happen to be long, please bear with me for it is how deeply this issue has touched me for the past three weeks that I’ve been having this argument with a very good friend as to the ‘unprecedented’ achievement of getting married before you turn 30.
I clearly detected the belated and relished tone of your letter. It might seem crazy what I have to say, but I would say it nonetheless. Let me go straight to the point. Forgive my brusqueness and mindlessness in replying you like this, for I’ve never had the ‘golden’ opportunity of experiencing what am telling you myself. So, see below the six most important things you need to do before you turn 30:
1. Marry: Because that is the only way you become complete as human. That is the only route to be acceptable to society. Things would get better if you get married, notwithstanding that your father might be richer than Bill Gates. The institution known as marriage remains the only fundamental basis of your worth as a member of our larger society. Don’t be like those incomplete women who tag themselves ‘feminists’ and ‘independent women’. Those ones parading themselves as independent women or feminists are nothing but some bunch of failed women! They are not truly speaking of the psychological torment they undergo on many sleepless nights when they don’t have any man to warm their beds. So, don’t emulate them. Marry! It doesn’t even matter that you have to throw away your father’s sweet-sounding and much-meaning surname to bear a husband’s own meaningless surname. Haven’t you noticed? the media is majorly overshadowed with subtle, yet powerful messages that being married is the fons et origo of feminine existence. You would constantly be reminded of your flower-like longevity as a woman. That he might be bad-tempered, randy and a serial wife batterer is of no significance. You would even be expected to throw away your own body’s autonomy. And if you are able to miraculously scale the hurdle of being accepted by his family members – most especially his mother and sisters, go to a nearby church and give the highest amount of thanksgiving ever given in that church. Haven’t you noticed that even church messages are heavily furnished with this marriage-mania? “My husband must not pass me by this year,” calls out that church’s crusade banner. “You must receive your heavenly husband by this month!” the preacher would triumphantly declare on radio. “I must get married this year!” the T.V would echo, while reminding you of the 3-day single sisters crusade being organised by the local church. But, that certainly is not the end of the matter, for a mother in-law’s arms were specifically created to rock babies. You know what to do. And where the babies have refused to leave wherever was their initial abode to grace your marriage, quickly go for a spiritual cleansing or to a very potent babalawo who would inquire into unfathomable depths to know what is preventing them from coming. It doesn’t matter the despicable things you have to do in order to have babies. When the babies finally decide to let go off where they initially reside to grace your marriage, and your husband is going about showing off his bloated ego of how he has made you a complete woman, suffer in silence sister. He is right. Lest I forget, remember to give him sons especially, or else mother in-law literally show you hell. Wherever it is you know sons are made, go to any length and give him because that is the only way his ancestry would continue. If you don’t give him sons, he might be publicly scorned, and where that happens, you would bear the brunt of it alone.

2. I said marry: Even though you might never have the slightest iota of ‘love’ for him, don’t worry, just go ahead and pretend as if you love him. Its just a matter of time. With time, you would learn to love him. His roof over your head, his wealth at your beck and his surname that you are now sharing are enough consideration for you to love him. Where’s the place of love in marriages today? After all, you are far better than those old sourpusses spinsters parading themselves as independent women. Those lesbians! Psychological wrecks! Do you know what it means to have your own man – whether he is the type that has hotter-than-fire loins? He might not even get to fulfill your emotional needs, but don’t worry, dear, you are married. That’s all that matters. The sex timetable is according to the frequency of his sexual urge. It is just one ‘fun-less’ boring routine like that. In the middle of the night, his hands would ‘mistakenly’ stray across your breasts. You instantly become awake. You immediately spread your legs as his plaything because you understand. The sex itself is a slapdash, lacklustre affair. When he’s sexually satiated, he rolls over to sleep without bothering to see the furrows of unfulfilled desires stealing over your soul. Don’t ever open your mouth to speak of how unfulfilled you are, sister, or else you would be sent back home to your parents – and consequently bring shame upon your family. Telling of how unfulfilled your emotions and needs are is only done by loose women – women of easy virtues. Or do you want to be labelled a nagging wife? And if he ever forces you to have sex against your will, that is not rape sister. The law backs him for that. He can demand the services of your body anytime he wants. Your body is his to be sated with pleasure. Its his right. It doesn’t affect him in the least that you might be famished after a tedious day nor that some ‘unhappy’ and ‘envious’ ones in the guise of feminism are advocating for your own rights, too.
3. You should marry: Even though you might be the one single-handedly feeding and housing the able-bodied man and your children from the meager salary you receive or the little business profits you’ve managed to pool, don’t bother sister. Just bear and pretend everything is perfect. Its just for the now. Even if tomorrow he gets a job and decides not to do his own duties of providing for the family as the head of the house again by making Madam Vero’s beer parlor as his place of permanent abode, don’t worry, just go ahead and continue doing the husband’s work, that’s marriage. Its for better or worse – however for better or worse as it suits the husband. He might even come back at 1am and is heavily smelling of a woman’s cologne – you knew this because he bought you the same type on your last birthday. She (side chick) might have even suggested he buy it as your birthday present – but don’t worry sister, he’s a man and would always be one. Bottom line is you are married. In any case, just remember to make ready your body for the night, in case the stud hasn’t gotten enough feel of his extra-marital concubines. Should you complain to a senior, more experienced wife, she would duly tell you of how men are lords in our society. “Don’t you address him as my lord?” she would coldly ask. That settles it. And when you meet the pastor in your perturbed state, he would joyfully tell your sorrow-laden soul that Mark 10:9 has finalized your case. i.e, “What God has joined together, let no man, trouble, pain, predicament, suffering (the list goes on) put asunder. He would quickly point out the bible portion in Ephesians 5:21-24, which requires you to submit to your husband, while stressing how important it is for you to be humble, gentle, and tolerant of your husband’s unsavory behavior. And where your confused mind is still seeking for more explanation, he would gladly guide you to 1st Timothy 2:11-12 which says, “Women should learn in all silence and humility; I do not allow them to teach or to have authority over men, they must keep quiet.” (Good News Bible).
4. Marry: Or if you don’t, there would be a very big problem. A very big problem. When at Tessy’s baby shower or Amina’s birthday party, and you listen to all the old girls effortlessly and endlessly mouthing out the ‘heavenly’ bliss their marriage has thus far fruited, you would become heartbroken I assure you. Even the mannish Amaka, whose hair was always cut short, and had little or no feminine charms would join in the gossip to point out your odd-one-out status as the only non-married member remaining from secondary school because she happened to have joined the league of married women. A bevy of them all, praising to high heavens their perfect marriage. However, Susan would never tell that the week-old bruises she’s manfully wearing were administered by her abusive husband, nor would Stella ever tell of how her ten-year old son, Junior, is gradually turning into a full-time thief by ‘taking’ money from her purse and throwing a class-break snacks bash for his friends, nor would Vicky tell of her pubertal daughter’s well-known shameful conduct of being a runs girl, nor would even Jumoke tell of her well-known he-goat of a husband’s widely circulated rumor of impregnating 5 different women. They would only be telling of how wonderful and heavenly their respective families have been. You would become a mental wreck after listening to them and you don’t have your own husband. You see, there’s no problem with you having your own impish ‘Junior’ or a reprehensible character as a daughter. It’s just a mere price to pay for being married. You are far off better than any unmarried, and of course, unhappy spinster. It doesn’t matter the near-death experience of childbirth nor the fact that you’ve turned into a constant HBP in-patient of the nearby hospital for time without end because you happen to be a mother of stubborn children. Just marry. That’s all that counts.
5. Yes, marry: You are getting to 28 and you happen to be of the Igbo ethnic affiliation and no male homo sapiens is showing the slightest interest in you, do you want all your father’s ‘investment’ on your head to become a waste, if you don’t get married? Your mother would not longer hide her disdain for you remaining in her own house to share her husband with her. Just go out and marry anything. More so if you are of Bini customary origin and you are getting close to 25, 26 or 27 and no suitor is knocking on your father’s door, then my sister, that wicked old witch in your village really needs to be appeased. For beyond 30, your bride-price starts depreciating. You are of the Muslim stock and your father unceremoniously announces that you would be married off to Alhaji Danladi, you grandfather’s age-mate, immediately you turn 18. Alhaji Danladi already has 3 wives, but because you have been betrothed to him when you were born and Islam allows a man to have as many wives he wants (can control), you must marry him whether you like it or not. Don’t complain sister, just go ahead and play a subservient handmaid role in Alhaji’s house, because that’s what you would end up being. Alhaji being the omnipotent master. It doesn’t even matter that you might be in your 2nd year in the University then. And if by chance you ‘mistakenly’ like one very good non-Muslim boy in your class, don’t ever increase the mistake by falling in love with him, or else you would spell doom for yourself and your remaining sisters. Because your father would construe such ‘irresponsible’ conduct to be the ugly fruits of sending a girl to school, and thus would stop sending your other sisters to school. “Haven’t I said it that nothing good comes out of that their western education when given to girls? The girls would only turn out to become disobedient and rebellious to their parents!” He would angrily thunder in a family meeting. And all his 3 wives -your stepmothers – would speechlessly nod their approval in unison. It is inimical of a properly brought-up Muslim girl, they would all echo in their hearts. And you that your parents happen to be far down the rungs of societal ladder, or they are even classless, you are excused for getting married (or being auctioned off, to put it appropriately) to 60-year old Oga Monday at 14.
6. Last of all, you need to be married before you get to 30 sister. By all means marry! The reason is simply because marriage is the be-all and end-all of your existence as a woman in our society. Marriage is the subsistence of your societal standing. Society has made it so. It doesn’t matter that you’ve gone to school and learnt, learnt, learnt and acquired all the certificates in the world and you are now emitting book, book, book all about you. It would all end up in the house of something that parades himself as a man. It doesn’t sound okay to us that you labured to get a very good PhD. added to your name, without bearing ‘Mrs’. You see, when you write your name as Dr. Prof. Miss Tope Williams, the ‘Miss’ doesn’t fit at all. That you might have been a first-class student is of no consequence to us if you don’t end up married. If you happen to be reading this private letter and you are a Nigerian lady getting close to 30 and not yet married, sister, the witches and wizards in your village are seriously at work. Its time to visit that prayer house, native doctor or white-garment church. Let your prayer point all through be, “God, give me my own husband this year.” And if the lascivious prophet suggests that you personally come for a personal deliverance by 11pm in his bedroom or a spiritual bath at the nearby stream by 12 midnight, don’t worry sister. Its all for the good of getting married. It doesn’t matter that he gets a first-hand taste of what you are preserving for your future husband. After all, the thing has no meter. So just marry. Marry anything at all that happens to label himself a man even though he might not have the slightest inkling of what manhood is about.

The greatest barometer, as far as our society is concerned, is whether at the end of all your endeavors as a woman, you have a husband to ‘gloriously’ crown your efforts. Therefore, if on the voyage called life and on the path to greatness, you perchance forgot to marry along the line before you clock 30, you should be gravely sad and depressed for life should not be worth living in your case. Well, I think that’s about it for now. Until then, thank you for your understanding.

Yours Solemnly,
Arikor Collins Ogonnaya,

Do you agree with Collins? Let’s know what you think.

Arikor Collins Ogonnaya is Nigerian Writer and blogger. He tweets as @CollinsOgo. Feel free to “attack” him there…:D

Missing the Bus by Tolu Daniel – A Short Story


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Tolu Daniel

That was how you missed the bus; you had awoken earlier than the usual time and skipped your normal morning routines. Yet, you still missed the damned bus! Only three buses made the journey from Abeokuta to Abuja daily and you missed the last one and the only one that would get you to Abuja in time for you to sleep and prepare for the examination.
You stand by the bus stop to contemplate upon traveling to Lagos or Ibadan to get another bus, your earpiece blasting sad tunes from your favorite musician Regina Spektor. You swayed your shoulders to the left and then to the right, singing along offhandedly.
You missed the call of another Abuja bus conductor calling aggressively for three more passengers. You move slowly towards the Ibadan cabs, the extra fare that you would need to pay to get to Ibadan turns your stomach. You bite your tongue and wonder why you had punished yourself. You mistook the driver’s gesture of trying to point you to the fact that the Abuja bus still had two more seats, to him insulting you because you felt embarrassed when you caught some people watching you as you did a dance move that you had practiced overtime.
You trembled at his huge tribal marks; a warning rang in your head not to exchange words with him so you turn quietly towards the cab. You entered his cab and sat down at the front seat, ready to go to Ibadan. Then your earpiece falls off and you hear ‘Abuja one, Abuja Enikan’. You jumped from the Ibadan cab forgetting about the restraint of the seat belt and fell back. You slowly detach the belt and made your way to the Abuja bound bus only to meet the pretty girl who lived next door whom the neighbors had told you said that you were proud and arrogant, going towards the same bus.
You keep walking, eyes on the prize, seriously concentrating and pretending as though you had not seen her. Then you get to the bus before her, you notice that she had seen you make the last minute dash for the last seat on the bus, yet she still kept coming towards the bus, smiling as though she had just won a lottery.
“You are David Agboola, are you not?” she said as she spoke to you, her face still aglow with that victorious seeming air as she got nearer to the bus. You couldn’t find your voice and hoped that you never find it so that you would not have to say something wrong, so you nod instead. She brought something that looked all too familiar from her hand bag that had the letters MUSCHINO largely printed on it, evidence that it was probably a knockoff; that was when you realized that you had misplaced your wallet. Your hand went straight to your back pocket to seek succor but you were left disappointed.
She had made the effort to bring you the wallet all the way from your house at this hour of the day; it suddenly began to dawn on you that she expected gratitude as she handed the naira filled wallet over to you. There would have been no way for you to pay for the bus that had gone earlier, if you had not missed it, you manage a grunt and suddenly felt out rightly emotional and since words were failing you, so you get off the bus and gave her a hug.

Tolu Daniel is a fiction writer, blogger and administrator of A Poet’s Diary. He blogs at and is @iamToluDaniel on twitter.

Sisi by Tolu Daniel – A Short Story 18+


SISI by Tolu Daniel

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‘Sisi, touch me, touch me in that sweet and sexy way, the way you touch those boyfriends of yours’ Chief Kunle said in that husky tone of his, as though he was whispering to some unholy genie that would appear as he rubbed the tip of his penis back and forth. He was already far gone, intoxicated by his drive for sex and not planning to get sober any time soon. He wondered for a brief moment how any woman could resist him especially since his instrument of digging was already out and throbbing for a ground to sink. He thought about the way Sisi smiled and laughed at his crude jokes, he had been certain that she wanted him and hence any resistance she gave would probably be likened to a chicken dance.
The way she’d wiggled her tiny waist, whenever she walked out of his office always made him crazy. He had been watching her for a longtime, sometimes through the security camera that was attached to his office. He had imagined a lot of things that he could do with her, how she would stay on top and ride him like a cowboy on a bull and ride him into oblivion, he didn’t give a shit about the consequences. Who thinks about consequences when the girl is as set and as sexy as Sisi.
The first time he had tried to pin her down and ensured that he got a piece of her. He had ensured that he grabbed her breasts, the two generously swollen mounds on her chest that made her look like a black Kim Kardashian; he had not imagined that she would not be all over him and begging him for more. But she had resisted, mustering all the energy she could but he had still blown his load on her before she could escape, the white mucus thingy falling haplessly on the sofa and landing on her dress. She had had to clean herself up before she left his office and he had continued doing the same thing, believing that someday, she would stop resisting and give in and probably give him some head too.
His colleagues from other departments had seen her too and the mere sight of her ass had sent them drooling but he had warned them off her and told them in no small words that she was his and they had stayed away. Some of them had advised him to ensure he smashed her as much as he could reminding him of the legend of Edo girls and their monstrous sexual appetite and he had sworn to get his piece from her. None of them knew that she was resisting of course. After all, he was taking care of her, buying her gifts, making promises of retaining her services immediately her service year was completed, isn’t that the dream of every Corp member? To get a job after their service year, she had never rejected anything from him not even the meager five thousand Naira he always threw at her after their numerous episodes hence he believed that her resistance would wear thin sooner than later and that delicious looking ass of hers would be his to excavate. He knew about the legend of Edo girls, how crazy their sexual appetite was and he was certain that Sisi’s was probably as crazy as the legend’s if not crazier. The last Edo girl that had completed her service year in his office had been a Yoruba girl of Edo descent and had done crazy things with him.
He had never been able to satisfy the girl sexually except maybe sometimes when he had his Viagra around or when he had taken some of the concoction that the Baba whom his driver had brought to his office when he hinted him of his situation as regards his inability to last longer than three seconds. The mixture had done wonders the last time he spent his vacation with his wife in the United Kingdom. Since he had taken up this political appointment, he had decided that it was a sensible thing to keep his wife and kids abroad, so that he could keep them safe from the prying spectacles of the press and also the unfortunate eyes of the detractors of his political party and rival groups that may have mischief on their minds.
The first week he had flown his family out the country, he had spent most of his nights in hotels and brothels; Oloshosor roadside prostitutes as they were called were his specialties. These girls would ensure that they milked him well before they left him; some of them even stole from him. And the result had affected his accounts way too much.
He stopped using this method and adopted a simpler and cheaper way of satiating himself sexually but he never enjoyed sleeping with any of the women that he had to settle for, married women and unattractive spinsters that worked with him at the office and moreover there was too much drama about it all; once he was sleeping with a particular woman who was so possessive of him as though he was married to her. He decided thereafter to keep his little man zipped based on a philosophy that cheating was way too expensive and dramatic and as such, he would rather get laid whenever his wife was in the country or whenever he visited.
All these resolutions were till an old friend of his, introduced him to his niece and informed him that she wanted to complete her service year in his office, reminding him of a business deal. With a wink of an eye, the deal had been agreed and the niece was be payment. Chief Kunle could not be certain if the girl had been briefed about her role in the deal but agreed immediately and requested that the girl, Jessica be posted directly to his office.
He didn’t need to say much to get Jessica’s attention as it seemed as though the girl was compensation for all the money that he had spent while whoring the city because not only was she ridiculously pretty, she was ready for whatever he offered.
He found out sooner enough that sleeping with the Corpers posted to his office was more cost effective and had never looked back ever since. Since her first day on the job, Kunle had been certain that he was going to have her. And have her he did, for one full year, taking her along with him on all his official assignments at home and abroad only careful enough to avoid taking her to the United Kingdom till a replacement came and that had been how the cycle had been for all those years with the other female Corp members.
‘Sisi, come on’ Chief Kunle said, walking close to her as nicely as his baulk could muster. ‘Don’t deny an old man of your sweetness’.
Sisi looked at him, her eyes filled with disgust but Chief Kunle could not see it, infact he kept walking towards her with a solemn grin playing around his face, his hands still holding on to the flaccid attachment to his body. It was clear, Sisi was confused, she wasn’t sure she knew what she was doing, either by refusing him or by allowing him, it was all registered on her face, perhaps this was what the Chief saw . Revenge was heavy on her mind, she wanted to do something that would hurt her ex-boyfriend but she wasn’t sure this was it.
It was almost certain that the one that would hurt most from this would certainly be her. It had been quite a rough week, the idiot had broken off her relationship of over five years only two nights ago, a relationship she had given so much of herself into, and the worst part was the fact that he had not given her a tangible reason but she was sure that it had something to do with that Skunk of a girl that he met the month before, the one that he kept telling her about.
She was in such a bad shape, normally it would have been easy to escape Chief Kunle, she had done it so many times, even though in recent times it had not been a clean escape, but it had been an escape nonetheless; she was in such confusion that her mind could not play out an escape route for her. There was nobody she could talk to; it was as though the other members of staff in the department were in on the conspiracy somehow, because there was always a strange smirk on their faces whenever she emerged from the office of Chief Kunle.
The coolness that the air conditioner in the office brought seemed to have vanished as Chief Kunle closed in on Sisi, trapping her with his round belly to an angle in his office that have served him so well whenever he strafed any of the other girls. There was nowhere to run to now, she couldn’t possibly back away any further, the wall was a willing ally for the chief. The chief was sweating profusely like a buffet pig and it seemed like he might die if he didn’t get what he wanted, his eyes were bloodshot and his face was void of an expression. Chief Kunle wasn’t exactly optimistic about what could happen or what will happen with Sisi, because he was not thinking with his head any longer, he had lost control of it; he was like a zombie trying to capture a person in order to eat their brains.
‘No sir, I can’t do this…..’ Sisi managed to say, as the bigger man drew her closer for an involuntary kiss but before she could finish talking, Chief Kunle’s larger lips had already crushed hers and they were locked in a perverted kiss that looked as though the Chief was going to eat her up if she didn’t disentangle her mouth from his. Sisi was not totally surprised at the audacity of the chief, he had done it before. She felt like she might pass out because his cologne could knockout a fully grown whale. All she could muster was a soft moan that escaped from her throat that made it look as if she was enjoying it instead of trying to breath just as the Chief molested one of her breasts.
The moan was all the encouragement that Chief Kunle needed as his mouth left hers and made its way to her chest where he fought her for the right to taste the sweetness of her breasts. His beefy fingers had violated her enough because she could feel his hands already in between her legs and she really was not gonna have him go to second base without her permission. This wasn’t the first time that he would be fighting her for the rights to touch her down there, Sisi slapped his hands away and from some strange reasons, the Chief snapped out of his trance momentarily and allowed his eyes to settle on Sisi’s half exposed cleavage.
Sisi seized the moment and made to escape the trap that she was in. Her head was clearer now; maybe it was because of the little triumph of winning the battle against the chief. She adjusted her shirt and made to clean her face while trying to ensure that she kept him within at least three feet from her. But as she was making for the door, Chief Kunle grabbed her ass from behind, it was so unexpected that Sisi tried pull away from him jerking her hands free of his hold with such force that they both fell down flat on their backs, the Chief on the marble tile and Sisi fell on the chief.
The fall was awkward for two reasons, the Chief’s shrieked like a girl who just saw a ghost and Sisi for a brief moment thought maybe her tight trouser had let her down and that the Chief’s hard penis had gotten a safe passage into her because he had been so stiff just some minutes ago when he had hugged her but then again, it didn’t seem right, because she only felt his stiffness for a couple of seconds after she fell.
As she made to stand up, she realized that the Chief was not moving and when he in fact opened his eyes, tears pooled in his eyes. Sisi saw why he had screamed and she stood up as fast as she could, he looked sorry and helpless. She had accidentally broken his penis, it was still rounded and had lost its outright stiffness, the white tip now had a shade of purple – an eyesore.

Sisi heaved a deep sigh, stood up and left the office without casting a glance backwards. Chief Kunle had it coming.

Tolu Daniel is a fiction writer, blogger and administrator of A Poet’s Diary. He blogs at and is @iamToluDaniel on twitter.

Ineffable by Tolu Daniel – A Short Story


Hey Guys!

Yes…..too long. A while since any post made it here…Apologizes…

Today, we will be posting series of short stories by our Tolu Daniel and a new writer Arikor Collins….do enjoy.

INEFFABLE by Tolu Daniel

You wished you could say those words, that you’ve been told she wanted to hear but you couldn’t, logic says no, logic does not understand the language of the heart, so you are stuck with throwing mindless and thoughtless tantrums till you lose her.

Four years later, you meet her at the airport on your way back from a journey to the states, she smiles sweetly at you waving her hands at you. She told you that she has been seeing you on television and had read all your books over the years hoping you’d be impressed that she had finally taken a liking for books like you always wanted her to. You felt a tinge of pride; your success had been a major hit. You had expected that she would definitely have heard about it. And you were indeed impressed that she had chosen not to forget you even if she never contacted you.

Then, it suddenly dawned on you, the reason for her wave of hands, as the blinking ring on her engagement finger caught your sight. She’s getting married she announces; You are not moved, you didn’t smile nor congratulate her, Logic who had always been your best friend starts denying you like Peter at the Crucifixion of Christ.
You are still single, she is now engaged; you couldn’t confess your feelings for her back then because you were scared of immediate commitment. You were scared that you were not man enough for her; your bank accounts as at then couldn’t boast of a thousand naira. She had told you that she didn’t mind starving so far she was with you.

You didn’t believe her; you had seen what the lack of money did to your parents. How it was your mother that had been responsible for most of the things in your house because your father lost his job and broke his spine in an accident that condemned him to the wheelchair the rest of his life. You saw what that had done to him, how hurt his pride had been whenever he had to collect money from your mother to do anything. You had sworn to work as hard as you could possibly work to ensure that your father’s fate never befalls you.

You felt sorry that you couldn’t ask her out back then or call her your own. You felt that she deserved better than you could give; not that you had anything to give her anyway. Now the same commitment that you had eluded back then is all you are looking for but it is nowhere, four years down the lane; you are a successful writer and speaker of international repute. You had slaved yourself over the years to editors and publicists to make a hard living and when success came it had not come with all the perks that you had imagined it would come with, though it had been overwhelming but you couldn’t find anyone who could love you for who you are and you feared that you were still in love with someone who you never expressed your feelings to and whom you are now finding out that she’s engaged.

So you mouthed the words in a mumble that sounded like the gibberish that came readily available to you and didn’t allow them to come out clearly.‘I loved you back then and I still love you’ Bisi strained herself to hear you clearly but you did not say those words again. This is not a movie, you thought to yourself, this is life and this is the shit that happens when you don’t talk when you were supposed to, so sulk it up and move on.

“I could almost guess what you were thinking you know” She says watching your mouth drop as you fear that she may have figured out your gibberish. “You’re thinking of what happened between us those years ago and how it was possible for me to move on after you broke my heart.”

Words failed you; you stared after her in disbelief and wandered for a brief moment if you would ever have the chance to tell her how you really felt about her. “It’s not like that Bisi, and I know you know that too” You say, your guilt renewed like a newly fueled fire.
“It’s never like that with you, everything has got to be complicated and you never talk, you never truly open up except maybe in your books. I read all of your works and hoped that maybe somewhere inside it there was a hidden message for me, something to hold on to, but I found none!”
“That’s not true Bisi, all or at least most of my works were a message to you. I didn’t want to start something that I couldn’t finish with you. I thought you understood that.”
“Understood? Sola was right about you. You really are heartless. Did you ever sit down to consider how I felt?” The mention of the name Sola brought back cruel memories to you. You remember him clearly; he had been the one who gave her the attention that you were not willing to give; the rich boy who roamed campus with his father’s car, who had almost everything given to him on a silver platter. He had been your arch-rival from the get go and despite your best efforts to stave away the trouble which his rivalry might cause to your friendship with Bisi, he had continued to debase you at every opportunity he got.

She could see the effect of her words on you, so she backed off. “I had feelings for you back then and I think I still do. I just couldn’t do it as at that time. I couldn’t handle a relationship then and I didn’t know how else to break it to you than the way I did.”
“I don’t know what to say to you…I’m sorry” she said as a tear rolled down her ebony cheek. You blink back the tears yourself.
“I’m sorry too, so when’s the big day?” You managed to say, struggling to catch your breath, you felt a lot better after saying those words to her because it had been at the tip of your tongue since you discovered the rings on her finger.
“It’s next Saturday and I’m getting married to Sola.” You stared at her in utter disbelief, you felt really angry, not at her nor at Sola but at yourself. You managed a smile even though your heart was in sharp contrast with what your face was producing. You felt like a thousand knifes were stabbing your heart at the same time but you smiled still and urged her to send you the invite to the wedding.

Tolu Daniel is a fiction writer, blogger and administrator of A Poet’s Diary. He blogs at and is @iamToluDaniel on twitter.

Caught – A Short Story


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Caught by Tolu Daniel
I have heard about the stars that encircle around a dazed man’s face after receiving a knock on the head or a brutal blow to the face, but I never thought any of it was real. My unbelief could have stemmed from the fact that I saw so many cartoons while I was growing up. Those yellow suspended birds that hover around the cartoon characters always seemed mythical to me; I never imagined that they could ever become so reachable, almost touchable. But there I was, standing in front of the igbo trader with the enormous sausages that were supposed to be his hands, as he dazed me with the biggest slap that my face had ever encountered. It felt as though I had run into a moving train, for a split second, I was in a universe that was neither here nor there, it was though all was on a merry go round. The birds danced, they even sang, so was the glory of Chibuzor’s slap on my face.

I would have cried a fountain, I would have shed buckets of tears there and then, because the sight of Chibuzor’s beefy hands should have been enough to make any child cry, but I was not a child or was I? A scrawny looking and witty nine years old with what many described as a bad habit would describe me. I didn’t feel any pain after the slap; however my head suddenly felt lighter, the world appeared as a shade of many colors with my brain suspended for a little while in a sepia configuration; the little birdies were still dancing around my head. I knew what I did was termed as wrong by the society but I had issues with societal stereotypes and what everybody defined as wrong or right. I couldn’t help myself, I felt as though I had a responsibility, like superman’s was to save the world, mine was to defy the generational belief system that certain things were wrong and certain others were right; I had questions that nobody was willing to give me answer to. So I developed theories for myself and ensured that I live by these theories, these seems a little too impossible for a child of nine, right? But I was not just any child.

For as long as I could remember, I had developed an affinity for seeing movies; I loved seeing movies, in whatever genre the movie was, I would watch. I remembered once when my mother needed to send me on an errand and after she had yelled my name over six to seven times, she had decided to come looking for me and found me sprawled carelessly on the rug, body facing down and my two arms holding my head firm, mouth slightly opened in reckless abandon as a long slimy salivary rope connected the floor and my mouth as I paid raft attention to the movie that I was seeing. My love for movies was never derailed by the fact that I lived in a town that could not boast of a single cinema, the best we could do was to buy these movies from the movie store at whatever price.

So whenever I went to Chibuzor’s store to buy movies, I always picked one extra without his knowledge. I was subscribed to the school of thought that stated that Chibuzor was cheating me, that the movies that he was selling to me were a lot cheaper than the amount that he was selling them and that I needed to ensure that I did my own back, a tit for tat philosophy from a nine year old could never go wrong, but I was mistaken, the music of the birdies still lingered in my head and was an unsubstantial proof.

Today Chibuzor un-customarily asked to check the backpack that I had brought into his store. As a witty nine year old, I tried to get myself out of the mess, I stalled, insulted him in Yoruba but unfortunately Chibuzor insisted that he had to see the contents of my bag. So, reluctantly I allowed him to check and the expression on his face was one that would remain with me even in my adult years.
Ewo….oooo!!!” Chibuzor exclaimed, his eyes bulging like a ripe volcano ready to explode, I should have made a dash for the door at that instance, but I didn’t want to, I thought that I could talk myself out of it like most of my usual escapades. I was certain that he would understand once he heard my opinion and the reason why I was doing what I was doing, but like many of the things that happened that fateful day, I could not have been more wrong.
“You skinny little thief” He screamed as he threw my bag at me and followed it with a thunderous slap. I would have replied him like I normally do to my older siblings when they accuse me of testing out my theories on them, ‘what sort of nonsense was that? How dare he insult me like that? Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am? Just a mere road side trader’: but the slap was so resounding, that it drowned every thought from my head, Mr. Kokosari my Elementary School teacher whose palms my face had grown accustomed to would have been proud of Chibuzor.

I was still in my dazed state when I realized that our little squabble had attracted several on-lookers and interested participants and there was a crowd gathering slowly at the store and somewhere in my head, in the deepest of my recess, I could hear some diabolical chants or maybe it was my mind that was playing games on me.
“Ti owo ba te ole, Pipa ni e pa, ka roun jeba lola”
(If a thief is caught, he must be killed to make an example for the rest)
For a child that grew up in a very superstitious environment, who watched tales by moonlight without missing an episode, who was subjected to listening to ‘Nkan nbe’ by Kola Olawuyi on the radio every Friday night and who never missed a chance to sit by grandpa who was a major exporter of unrated and scary tales, I was certain that I was going to die; that song was always accompanied with bloodshed in all of grandpa’s tales and those crappy Yoruba movies that we saw at home, and yes, there were no age restrictions to most of them.

Chibuzor dragged me with the back of my shirt and dragged me outside to the main-street, and rained down another set of slaps on me, I didn’t wince once, neither did I pretend nor behave as though I felt any tinge of pain but I didn’t miss the chirping birds that hung over my head. The scene was so overwhelming; I could not bring myself to look up, by now I was feeling ashamed that I got caught. I still felt that I was supposed to get a chance to defend myself, because my unfortunate theory still lurked somewhere in my mind.
Among the several persons that were gathered watching the seeming movie that was unfolding, was a rather strange woman; she was strange because of the fact that she was strangely attired. Garbed in a traditional white attire, the blouse was hanging loosely to her lean shape and the Iro was held tightly too, she was jeweled in cowries and shells, and fairness of her skin made her all the more attractive. Chibuzor and his slap seemed to become the last thing on my mind as the woman got nearer. There was a longing in me to know more about her and the longing consumed me: She reminded me of the Yoruba mythical character called Yeye Osun , the first wife of Sango, the one whom a river in South-western Nigeria was also named after, she moved nearer to the scene where I was being manhandled and said something that I could not really understand to the orderlies that were with her and the next thing that I could remember was the manner in which the orderlies yanked me out of the clutches of Chibuzor and his cohorts.
“Don’t you know that this boy is the son of the soil?” the weird looking lady screamed at the angry igbo traders from whom I was just yanked off. “Do you want to take the law into your own hands?” I wondered what she meant by ‘the son of the soil’, I wondered if my crime was made any easier by the fact that I was an indigene of the town or the fact that I was a Yoruba and Chibuzor was Igbo. And why ethnicity was always a tool so easily used during the smallest of squabbles.
Madam, I no send law o, do you know wetin my oga don do me because of this brat?” Chibuzor barked back at her. “Where law dey that time?”
“So you think beating him to death because of a few Nairas won’t cause you wahala? Abi?”
Chibuzor was angry and for good reasons too, the woman seemed as though she was not trying to understand at all. Ignoring Chibuzor she just snapped her fingers, a rather strange act that seemed overtly dramatic but which he orderlies understood only tool well as they came to drag me inside an ancient looking white 505 Peugeot.
Madam, make I no disrespect you o, where you dey carry that pikin dey go? Me I wan collect my money…you think say I dey crase?” as he was uttering those words, the crowd was slowly thinning out, some of the onlookers were slowly losing interest, that was how such matters were solved these days, when the intertribal sword was drawn, nobody dares tackle it without having a better weapon in the fight. And without uttering another word back to Chibuzor, the lady checked her white handbag and removed a minty whole one thousand naira note and handed it over to Chibuzor. Despite myself, my eyes twitched with rage, I struggled to get free of my captors but they were a lot stronger than I was.
“But ma’m, he does not deserve the money”
“Did you deserve to get beaten?” she asked looking at me with face like an eagle, as though she could follow it up with a scarier version of Chibuzor’s slap. I had to change the direction of my gaze; her hawk face seemed to have had some sort of Kraken effect on me.

Tolu Daniel is a fiction writer, blogger and administrator of A Poet’s Diary. He blogs at and is @iamToluDaniel on twitter.

How We Fall – A Short Story


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    How We Fall by Uneñ Ameji

    It was like every other Monday.

    The traffic was long enough to compete with the legendary Niger Bridge under political contention and Ms. Joe as usual was running late. A last-minute being and an uncompromising sleeper, Joe was one to sleep to her fill and took motorcycles from her house to wherever the traffic stopped before jumping on the next available bus heading to her work place 3km from home. A journey indeed it was. She didn’t mind – a good boss and an impressive salary didn’t come easy in the capital city.

    But today was not like every other Monday.

    The black bearded ruffian in what Joe decided were lice infested rags sped and maneuvered the meandering traffic as if hoards from hell pursued. She wasn’t in the least worried about the speed. The faster she got off the death trap, the better chance she had at escaping invisible lice that she felt crawling up her skin.

    In what will be only fit for the movies, Joe in the middle of her thoughts saw the door of a moving vehicle in the go-slow open and within seconds was flying off the bike with her large bag and landing heavily in the green lush bush few meters away from the main road. Her first thoughts were for the safety of her laptop and phones as she lay there momentarily confused at the flight and why she wasn’t hurting.
    Hanging on to the wet grasses and hoping she wasn’t bleeding internally; she mentality scanned her body for pains and felt none.

    A look at her black shirt revealed she was not stained but a look at the scene unfolding before her caused creativity to pool at the base of her brain. A crowd had gathered with cars stopping and bike drivers holding the passenger who had opened the door without looking. A slap from a bike man initiated a little drag with the man that had opened the car door. The black ruffian on the coal tar was shouting to the heavens as if he was great pain. Joe knew he wasn’t. He wasn’t an actor.

    “Are you okay?” it was a good looking man in a well fitted black suit blocking her view. With smart looking glasses perched on his nose, Joe did the next thing she knew would get her to the office without transport fare. Tears clouding her pretty brown eyes, she shook her head in the negative.
    “I am sorry, I didn’t see you guys coming” it was the man who had opened the door joining the man who offered her his hand. Supporters as well as castigators moved to her.
    “Can you stand?” it was the handsome man. He had lovely pink lips and bushy knotted brows too.
    “I can’t” Joe said, the tears already pooling at her lids threatening to drop if she blinked. It was going to smear her makeup for sure but the prospect of getting a free ride to work wasn’t too much a price to pay. Moreover, she got kicks acting. It was her first love.
    “Here, let me help you” he said as another supporter helped her up.
    The whimper was fake but they didn’t know that. Joe was the ace faker when it came to dodging work or getting freebies.
    “You need to get to the hospital” the man in black suit said as the traffic began to clear. A look at her wristwatch told her she didn’t have time for checkups.
    “I am good” she answered as the tears rolled down her eyes.
    “No, you are not” he stated and indicated they help him carry her to his car parked just few meters from the scene.
    “I will go to the office and sign in first” she sniffed as she saw the lice-ladden bike man collect 2 notes of a thousand Naira.
    “Where do you work? Let me take you to sign in and then take you to go checkup” the man whose perfume spoke volumes helped Joe along to his new Toyota Camry. Joe smiled inwardly.
    ‘A.C’ she almost sighed aloud.
    “Fiji Consulting, Maitama” she said as she tip toed along with their hands, stopping momentarily to make sure her acting is believed. Just then, a woman who had since followed her decided to speak up as she settled on the passenger seat.
    “Let me stretch it. It will swell up if you leave it” and just like that, she was on her knees grabbing her right leg immediately. Her eyes had dried considerably but as soon as the woman touched her, she twisted free and fresh tears flowed.
    “Pleaaase” she cried holding her leg and twisting it free from the strong grip. Taking a hand she came to realize was the man in suit, she pulled him closer as she smelt him and he held her closely.
    “Sorry” he muttered as she nodded and let her tears fall.
    ‘When will I get a part in the movie industry?’ she asked herself with an evil grin as she pressed her face into his stomach.
    Soon, the woman decided she heard a click and stood up feeling like the latest traditional leg puller.
    “She will just rub Aboniki. It have set” she said to no one particular, clapping her hand.
    “My dear, sorry ehen, all this bike men are very careless” she continued breathlessly.
    “Sorry oo” she rubbed Joe’s head and Joe raised her head in a nod. Her big eyes were already red as she sniffed. She saw the crowd stand up in roaring applause at her performance.
    “Feel better?” the man in suit asked with such sweetness, Joe gave a small smile as the invisible audience disappeared.
    “Let me take you to work and then we check the hospital” he said as if he didn’t just hear the leg puller declare her leg ‘set’.
    “Ok” was the only word that came out from her mouth. Joe wanted to get out of here.
    “Here” it was her zipped bag. The supporting man who had helped her up handed it over to her.
    “Thank you” she tried a small smile with a sniff.
    The crowd, desperate to continue hanging at the accident scene dispersed slowly and soon Joe was headed to work in a cold car and a handsome man beside her.
    “Still aching ….” He asked as he joined the highway.
    “Joe…., no, it feels much better” Joe answered settling into the ride. She would be in on time.
    “I’m Kene” he said looking at the being sitting beside him. Kene had seen her fly from the back of bike and had stopped to offer his services as a ‘life saver’. He smiled inwardly at the thought. Kale, his closest friend called him a life saver ever since he decided he was going to be a doctor at the age of 10.
    Joe nodded and stared ahead only too happy for the free ride.
    He was cute but she was in a relationship – surely she couldn’t go out of her way to be friendly with fine men especially as she knew how scared she was of her approaching nuptials. When she was afraid, Joe was a flight risk. Yomi, the groom was sweet. The perfect man for her but sometimes, she wished she would just catch him cheating and have a valid reason to be single again – to take a breath of fresh air. She longed for the days she didn’t belong to no one; days she could decide to stay indoors and sleep rapture. But those days were days of old.

    She was getting married.

    “Are you okay?” his voice startling her from her sad thoughts.
    “Yes. Thanks” she released a small sweet smile and she saw him smile back.
    “You fly really well” he cracked and he was rewarded with a hearty laugh. Kene liked what he saw and when that woman had gone down to twist the poor girl’s ankle; it took him a lot of restraint not to tell her to leave it alone.
    “Thanks” Joe said.
    “So Joe?” he continued the conversation.
    “Josephine” she said and he nodded like he understood.
    “I like Joe” he smiled as he neared Maitama and she directed.
    “Me too” she laughed again and she pointed at the blue building at the Close.
    “I will wait and take you to the hospital” he said as she made to get down.
    “No, no need really” she was already hopping out.
    “Did I mention that it is my hospital?” he asked coming out to help.
    “No. you omitted that” she said in a small laugh.
    “Well, now you know. And it is free too” he said as he helped her out.
    “Now how can I refuse?” she feigned disappointment and he laughed. It sounded like a snort.
    “You simply can’t” he said as she leaned in and he helped her past the curious security guards.
    “Let’s have your card doctor. I will come in as soon as I get the vibe that I’m becoming an invalid” and that got her a hearty laugh. Joe was dismissing him.
    “Right” he said after she limped into the reception.
    “Thanks” she waved his card as he left. She waited for him to leave, limped to her office and as soon as she sat down took out her heels and her laptop.
    She got to work.
    It was 3:00pm when Anna called her from the reception.
    “Your Doctor is here to see you?” it was a question.
    “My doctor?” Joe asked trying to finish tidying her accounts.
    “Dr. Kene”
    “Oh! I am coming” Joe said changing into her flats and taking a quick look at her mirror. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and a clean wipe of her oily face she made to the reception with slow calculated steps. Perhaps he could take her back home too.
    “Hey Doc” she called happily as she approached the good doctor without his suit. The sleeves of his purple shirt folded at the hands and neck opened at the collar, he looked friendly and younger.
    “You didn’t come, I was in the neighborhood and I decided to checkup” he said smiling.
    “I …….” Joe was saying as an awkwardly tall male walked into the reception. His eyes looking out for someone and then he focused his round eyes briefly on her before walking up to them.
    “I see you have found her” he said and the good doctor turned to acknowledge him.
    Joe looked at the tall man and suddenly felt like a dwarf. She itched to climb some inches. She could tell he could see into the middle of her head and she didn’t like the feeling it evoked.
    “Yes, I did” Kene said smiling.
    “How’s your leg?” the tall man was asking. Joe didn’t know if she should answer. Kene helped her.
    “Better” he said and Joe looked at him with a smile.
    “So are we taking her in?” he asked fixing her with a look that Joe didn’t find pleasant.
    “No, you are not taking me in” she finally found her tongue as she looked from one to the other.
    “See! I told you she was okay” he finally said smiling at a confused Joe. Anna, who had been watching the exchange, picked up her ringing intercom.
    “Oga is calling you” she said after dropping her intercom.
    “When are you closing?” Kene asked.
    “5:00pm” Joe said feeling the eyes of the tall man piercing into hers.
    “I will come take you home” Kene said excitedly and Joe simply nodded.
    “Kale Kanwa” the tall man extended his long hands fit for a pianist and Joe momentarily wondered if he played. His Adam’s apple danced as he laughed at Kene hitting his hand away.
    “Joe…” she said simply as she smiled at their exchange. They looked like an interesting pair.
    “Joe who?” he asked as Kene pulled him out of the reception because Anna was already beckoning to Joe.
    “Joe Nathaniel” she answered as she made to walk away.
    “Joe with the broken ankle, we coming to pick you up at 5:00pm” he said as he gave in to the tugging from Kene.
    “Don’t let him scare you. See you soon” Kene called and they left soon. Joe smiled as she watched them go. An odd pair…she shook her head.
    The next hours flew past and by 5:10pm, she looked like she needed to be re-hydrated. Hanging her large bag containing her laptop on her shoulders, she stepped out of the building and decided to make it to the junction. Calling Kene to take her home will be asking for trouble.
    “Are we ready?” the familiar voice called from the car park and she turned to see the awkwardly tall man leaning on a white SUV that looked like a jalopy. It was covered in dust.
    “Like my car?” he said reading the expression in her eyes. She smiled.
    “Where is Kene?” Joe asked looking around.
    “He asked me to come pick you up. He got another bleeding case” he said without emotion. Joe laughed.
    “Great! She has a wicked sense of humor” he laughed and made to open the door for her.
    “Anything for a short woman” he called as he gave an evil laugh.
    “Awkwardly tall man” she retorted and laughed at her reaction.
    “Put on your seat belt” he said as he walked over to the other side.
    “So are we going to meet Kene?”Joe asked as they left her office.
    “Awww, she has fallen in love with the good doctor” he said looking at her briefly before focusing on the road.
    “I have not fallen” Joe answered angrily and amused at the same time.
    “Nopes….we are taking the little woman home after buying some ligament nonsense – Doctor’s order” he winked and Joe laughed. His Adam’s apple danced again as he swallowed a laugh.
    “So how’s the leg?” he asked as they joined the express and he sped on.
    “Doesn’t need amputation” she said and he laughed again, sparing her a side glance.
    “So what do you do at Fiji Consulting?” he asked as they drove in silence for a while.
    “Keeping their account. Thinking of committing fraud though. Just in case you see my photo in The Guardian” Joe said and she got another side glance. He laughed through his nose and the sound sounded lovely yet strange. She was definitely getting in over her head.
    “Why The Guardian?” he asked after his original laugh.
    “Boss reads only The Guardian” Joe replied as they reached the traffic.
    “Makes sense” he gave a smile. His lips upturned and Joe wondered how it would feel in a kiss. A quick mental slap and she was good.
    “You live in Karu?” she asked as he kept a straight face and drove with rapt attention.
    “Nopes” he answered, another side glance.
    “So Kene requests that you take me home”
    “Yes. He wants to know where you live so that he can monitor your leg” he gave another evil laugh.
    “Evilly” Joe said as she heard him laugh.
    “Goodily” he replied naturally as if they were longtime friends
    “So you want to listen to your favorite song?” he asked as they inched closer to home.
    “I don’t have a favorite song” she answered and watched him play a track.
    “Miranda Lambert – Over You, if you are wondering” he said as he turned up the volume and continued to stare straight ahead.
    “I wasn’t wondering” Joe answered as they neared the diversion that was taking her home. Luckily, the traffic flowed and she briefly wanted an impromptu traffic that will keep the conversation going.
    He was awkwardly tall – she couldn’t get past that but then he was cute with his round roving eyes, hyena-like laugh, impressive hairline and an Adam’s apple that should worry her but it did more to fuel the quiet interest that was building within her. She didn’t dwell on the lips and long fingers; that would be asking for trouble.
    She definitely shouldn’t ‘like’ any other man and in less than 12 hours, she had met interesting ones.
    “What do you do?” she asked.
    “I am waiting for my inheritance” he answered seriously with a wicked look that got a laugh he wanted.
    “Construction. Lovely to build masterpieces. I’d take you to some of my sites when your leg lets you. Be warned – my works are taller than me” he answered easily as they arrived at the roundabout.
    “Left” Joe answered with a shake of her head as she directed him to the house.
    Soon she was home and he remained in his car clutching the steering while he waited for her to get down.
    “I’d love to” Joe answered surprising herself on agreeing to see his sites. If she was any truthful, she’d say she wanted to spend more time with him.
    “Great! And you should give Kene a call. Tell him I drove like a human being” he winked and soon he was zooming off. Joe stood smiling as she watched him drive off.
    She definitely was going to get tangled with this one…
    …Kale…she turned to walk into her flat and missing a step, she was falling into the gutter……a thick blackness overwhelming her as continued to fall…..
    Grrrrrrrrrrrrggh! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!!!!
    Joe woke up to the angry doorbell blaring so loud she jumped off the bed and rushed to the front door to open it without asking who it was. It was probably Maimuna – her flat mate who liked to play with the doorbell just for the fun of it after her club nights.
    It was a Saturday and Joe was earning her beauty sleep.
    What was she dreaming about again? She searched her fuzzy brain as she unlocked the door. She blinked and shaded her sleep-raw eyes as the hot sun blinded her with her right hand.
    “Good Morning” a familiar voice greeted.
    “Yes?” she answered finding the source of the voice as she cleared the mass of long borrowed hair from her face.
    And there he stood looking down at her with warm brown eyes, amusement lighting his roving eyes and his twitching lips as he studied her appearance. Dressed in a flimsy sleeveless shift shirt that hung off her shoulders and clearly displayed her provocative chest, Joe looked like a sleep-demon. She looked down at herself and back at him.
    “Do you find it to your liking?” she snapped, irritated at his height advantage and the delayed smile tugging at his lips. He laughed then and Joe found herself stepping back.
    Surely he wasn’t real.
    “Is that stubborn Maimuna home?” he asked as he fixed Joe a stare after his original laugh. It was him, the dream guy; her brain trying to retrieve her dream as fast as it could.
    “And who wants to know?” she asked heating under his stare. His Adam’s apple.
    “Kale Kanwa” he answered.
    A rush of air from her tensed lungs.
    It couldn’t be.

    She was getting married in 2 months.


    Read more from Uneñ Ameji on the Okadabooks App. Love on the 25th – a corporate love story set in Nigeria is her latest. Get Courting Baida and Finding Baida on African Stories. She is @UnenAmeji on twitter.
    **How We Fall is dedicated to a new friend. #AwkwardlyTall

Acidious – A Short Story


Today is Short Stories Friday!

African Stories brings you three short stories for your reading pleasurezzzz…..Happy Holidays!

Love Stories, Share Stories…

Acidious by Tolu Daniel

You were furious, she had just broken up with you and this time she informed you that it was for good. There was no was plausible cause nor a possibility of redemption this time. You had tried, really tried to get yourself on the same page with her and like a diamond with many edges you had kept on scraping her edges and hurting her without really doing anything; that was the story she told you. You didn’t understand it, not a bit. It all seemed a wee bit strange to you but you played along, understandingly.

You were the stuff of fairy tales, the Prince Charming that Princess Fiona was waiting for after all the Shreks that she had met in her life, her friends confirmed this too. You were not just good looking; you were cool and spontaneous too. You were godly and fun to be with; little wonders you always had people around you. She didn’t believe you when you informed her about your vow of celibacy because your shrink had diagnosed you of nymphomania after you had an affair with her. An affair that started during one of those sessions that the organization you worked for insisted you attend.

You had walked into her office hoping to see an old man or an old woman but upon entering her office; you had tripped beyond measure, she had been so fine and sexy that you couldn’t imagine not getting down with her; and the rest is as better imagined than told.
That was the problem she had informed you one of those nights while you walked her home; it was under the mango tree that stood proudly like a peacock in its prideful glory in front of her house. ‘I want more from this relationship’ she had said as though you were not giving her enough. ‘I want you inside me, and I want you to be committed to me as I am to you’. You stared at her in disbelief; the words coming of her mouth were foreign to you. You had chosen her because of her innocent outlook; the definition of a good girl was what she represented to you. You had assumed that she would want to stay pure till marriage; and by pure you meant a virgin but now you are finding out that looks can be deceiving.

You decided not to preempt her not for any other reason but the fact that you could have easily misunderstood what she was saying. “I want to you to make love to me and make me scream like all those movies, I want you to be my first and only” she had said to you. You stared at her unbelievably horrified, it occurred to you at that moment that she must have put a lot of thoughts into it. She had continued by challenging you to do it, just to prove to her that you loved her.

Two warnings rang on your head at that moment, one was that of your shrink but it was easily replaced by an X-rated memory of you banging her inside her office; the other warning was that of your priest. Sunday’s mass had been abnormal, the priest had mentioned something about running away from all appearances of evil, not that you were the religious type but it was still ringing in your head because your innocent seeming girlfriend at the moment seemed like the stuff of horror movies, pure evil.

Then there was you philosophizing, you were in love with her and she had just challenged you about proving your love for her and if you couldn’t you guys were done for good. You couldn’t blame her, she had met two of your ex-friends with benefits and you could see that she longed to have a taste of what ever drug made their eyes tingle whenever they saw you, not that they were better looking than her. You were amazed at how stupid and naïve she seemed but you kept your mouth shut and let your mind wander. She had decided there and then that it must be the fact that they had had sex. You wondered why she had waited for so long and why she was in such a hurry to let it go now.
You stop thinking for a bit and look into her eyes; you fell in love with her over and again. But you still couldn’t make a decision on what to do.

***THE END***

Tolu Daniel is a fiction writer, blogger and administrator of A Poet’s Diary. He blogs at and is @iamToluDaniel on twitter.

Beautiful Stranger: Episode 14. Season Finale


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I turned off the engine as I pulled up under a big tree. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car to take a walk. The vacation had turned out to be longer than forever. We had lived more than a week. I know I am supposed to be excited about Toni seeing a month since the proposed one week, and I am, but I am also worried. I don’t know if getting my hopes up would be appropriate. I have spent the last one month watching Toni sleep and wake up. I have also spent it on my knees praying that she should see the next day and not just leave me. We have all kept vigils around her bed hoping that she didn’t give up anytime soon, and she really is giving it a fight. It looks like she’ll be staying. I can’t help but smile at the thought that she might actually be here with me.
“Hey, man!”
It took a tap from Emeka to bring me back to reality. I turned at him with a frown from the effect of the tap. “What is it?” I asked.
“I saw you pull up and I decided to join you, and now I find you smiling to yourself. Is everything okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “It couldn’t be any better.”
“Great.” He replied and walked by my side.
I stared at him. “Emeka, it’s a month today. Toni is still alive.”
Emeka smiled. “Man, I understand your joy.”
“I don’t think you do, this is beyond joy. This is like a miracle.” I said. “One month and counting. She is still here.”
He nodded as he stared at me. “I know.”
Emeka was silent. I sighed as I stared at him. “Am I wrong to get my hopes up?”
“No, I think it is fine. I think we are right to stay optimistic.” Emeka replied.
I smiled. “I am going to ask her to marry me.”
I nodded. “I think it’s the right thing to do. When two people love each other, they should be together.”
Emeka took a deep breath. “Jerry, I don’t think you do this right now. Do you have an idea what the proposal might do?”
“She would accept it. I know.” I replied.
Emeka took a deep breath. “Toni won’t want to marry you.”
“Why are you so sure?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I am not sure. But, I just know she won’t want to do that to you.”
“What are you trying to say?” I asked.
Emeka stared at him. “Jerry, you know better. Don’t do this to you…and to her.”
“Do what?!” I shouted.
“What hopes are you trying to give her? Toni is living every day so positively that we can’t see the traces, but they are there. Don’t weigh her down by presenting a ring now. She doesn’t need it.” He replied.
I swallowed painfully.
“I am sorry if I came off harsh.” He said. “You don’t need this now, enjoy the days.” He added.
“Well, you just ruined my day.” I replied and walked away.
I don’t know what I am doing in a very unfamiliar environment. I am at the back pew in a church and staring at the altar. Toni thinks I should talk to God and she wants me to do it for me. I don’t even know where to start or what to say to Him. All I know is I am really thankful for this last one month. I just thought I had a week more to spend with my sister, but I have enjoyed a lengthier period and I am thankful to God for it. Toni might not know this, but I am glad God has given her more to write about in her book.
I took a deep breath and approached the altar. I have nothing else to do than to give thanks to God for what I had, what I have and what I hope to still have. Toni has been more than a sister to me, she has been a gift. One I’d forever be thankful to have had.
“We have to go.” James called from the back.
I turned and stared at him. “Why?”
“Toni is alone.” He replied. “She shouldn’t be left alone for a minute.”
I nodded. “Give me one minute.” I replied.
James walked out.
“Thank you, Lord, for sending James my way.” I said.

What would I love to do before I die? I guess I have done a lot of that already. Most of all, I have only cared about one thing after my purpose on earth is fulfilled, and that is, making Heaven. What would life be if I didn’t get to meet God after all? Meeting God would be amazing, I would like to ask him what I am still doing in Obudu three weeks after the Doctors say I would be gone? Isn’t it just amazing? One week was the set time and I am still here. It is true that God is not a respecter of any man.
I loved being here. It was fun while it lasted.
Till we meet again,
With that, I slipped into the bed and drew the blanket over me. A lot seemed to have changed in the last one month. I felt the necessary strength and courage to go through each day.
‘They say you know when your day comes’ I don’t know why, but every passing day in the last one month seemed like a date with Heaven, but yet, it didn’t come. Maybe today seemed more like the day.
I took a deep breath and rolled over to my right. I stared into my mirror. Surely, I have seen a lovelier Toni than who I see now, but then, I have never seen a more ready Toni than the one I see today. It has to be today.
The door opened and Nora walked in. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She replied and joined me on the bed. “How are you feeling?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t feel at home anymore.”
Nora nodded. “I understand.” She said. “I went to Church today.” She added.
I smiled. “Thank God.”
“Toni, I love you so much and there is nothing that could ever change that.” She said.
I chuckled. “Of course, it’s not like you have a choice.”
Nora blinked. “Toni, when you see Jesus, tell Him I am grateful.”
“Of course.” I replied and pulled her close for a hug. “I’ll tell him just that.”
Nora smiled. “What about Jerry?”
“You’ll take care of him for me.” I replied. “I am sure he would find someone beautiful too.”
Nora broke down in tears. “Toni.” She muffled amidst tears. “Toni.”
The door opened and Jerry stood by the door.
She nodded as she pulled away. “I love you.” She said and kissed my forehead. She turned in Jerry’s direction. “Hello.”
“Hey.” Jerry replied with a faint smile.
Nora hugged Jerry and shut the door after him.
Jerry took a deep breath as he walked over to me. “Hey, Stranger.”
“Hello.” I replied with a faint smile.
He took his seat beside me. “How did it go?”
“I am done.”
He took a deep breath. “So, what’s next?”
“I have sent it to the editor and from there, they’ll take care of the rest.” I replied.
He drew me close and hugged me. “How are you?” Jerry asked.
I stared at him. “Ready.”
“Are…Are you saying-”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
Jerry blinked as a tear drop rolled down his eye. “Don’t do this.”
I raised a finger and wiped the tear from his eye. “I love you, Jerry.”
“And I love you, Toni.” He replied and hugged me tight…till I knew I was truly done.

“Toni was a really special woman and we are here to celebrate her. Her lovely and only Novel titled “I WAS HERE” is officially launched today.” Nora announced over the microphone. “As earlier announced, Doctor Jerry and I would be signing the autographs on behalf of the Late Toni in the next forty-five minutes down the hall. Thank you all for coming.” Nora said and descended the podium.
The hall roared with applause.
I smiled from a corner of the room as I watched Nora leave the podium.
James joined me from the right with a drink. “Isn’t she lovely?” he asked.
“She is. Nora is my sister, you can’t mess with her.” I replied.
Emeka joined us. “Are you set for the interview? The press is here.”
“Almost ready.” I said
He nodded and hurried back to meet the press. James tapped me. “I’ll go and help him out. Later, man.”
Yes, I assumed the role of being Nora’s brother and friend, just as Toni wanted it. James was really going to make her happy and I knew it. They were in love.
Toni was everything for me and the last six months have been painful for me. It’s as though I have had a portion of my life taken from me, but every little moment we had together was enough for me to hang on to. The last months have all been about thinking, shedding a tear for the pain but I hang on to the hope that someday I’ll wake up and it won’t have to hurt so much. That, I know.
Toni came into my life and gave meaning to everything that had no meaning. It was all in the little things she did. My gift from God was Toni and I could not question that.
I know I’d find love in another woman someday, Maybe not today or tomorrow or the next, but I know I will.
I turned to the wall and stared at the giant portrait of Toni that stood there and smiled.
I love her.

“To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die” – Thomas Campbell


Beautiful Stranger is written by @tomi_adesina; Author of Dear Future Husband available for Free on African Stories. Follow @tomi_adesina on twitter for more thrilling stories. Her new book “All Fun and Games” also available for FREE on African Stories

New Book: The Other Side by Dennis Agyeman now on African Stories


Good news people!

Happy to announce that we have a new Author in the house….yes, yes...we dey increase small small…hehehe…

The Other Side, a book written by Dennis Agyeman is about love and societal expectations. A preoccupied doctor finds love after all his travails. Is love true? Does love heal? Will he be able to save his own? This is a book about that digs deep into simple issues in life, health issues that we consider to be trivial and living in the new age. Not a long read…lazyreaders…

Dennis Agyeman is a young and inspired African writer sharing what he calls ‘gist’ and stories to entertain his readers on his Blog. He is @persiux on twitter and you can mail your reviews to He joins African Stories.

Dennis Agyeman

Dennis Agyeman
Click to download The_Other_Side_-_Dennis_Agyeman[1]

Get more books on African Stories

Enjoy, Spread the word.

Have a great week!


Beautiful Stranger. Episode 13


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A beautiful morning? Read and share today’s episode of Beautiful Stranger
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Jerry pushed the door open as he walked into the bar. He had not set his feet there in a long time. He didn’t know if he would be in the right frame of mind to help her live the desperate days and he was sure that he needed an encouragement. What better friend than alcohol at this moment? He had said to himself as he stepped into the bar.
“Jerry!” Tunji called as he saw. “Where have you been?”
Jerry smiled faintly. “I have been everywhere but here.”
“That’s good. Working on your addiction, right? That’s good.” Tunji remarked as he cleaned a glass. “How’s that pretty girl?”
Jerry sighed. Toni was dying. How best could he respond to Tunji? Traditionally, it was almost ‘Nigerian’ to say ‘fine’ or ‘I am fine’ regardless of your situation. Maybe it was optimism, maybe hope, maybe faith…our words oozed more positives than our actions.
“Are you so struck by her?” Tunji asked, noticing Jerry’s silence. “Say something, this place opens in about an hour.”
“Yeah…words are not enough. Toni-is-is the complete package.” Jerry said as his voice broke.
Tunji stared at him. “What is it, man? What happened?”
“I am just scared.”
“About what? Did Toni break up with you?”
Jerry sighed. “Honestly, I am not here to talk. I just want a drink. Can you at least do that for me?”
Tunji took a deep breath. “No.”
“Really? There are a thousand and one competitors and you refuse me a drink?” Jerry asked.
Tunji nodded as he took a seat beside Jerry. “The other guys, yes, they want to sell liquor to you. I want to sell too, make no mistake, but not when you can do the right thing…if you are running away from something and you think this place is going to shelter you, bro, you are wrong. You have got to face it.”
Jerry clenched his fist. “I am not running, Tunji. I just the need the courage to face it.”
“Trust me, courage isn’t in the bottle. It’s in you.” Tunji replied and returned to his desk. He poured a glass and placed it before Jerry. “Have some courage.” He said and continued cleaning the glasses.
Jerry stared hard at the glass. He swallowed painfully as he fought his inner desire to just drink his pains away. He abandoned the drink and rose to his feet.
“Good choice.” Tunji said.
Jerry stared at him. “Toni is not doing fine. We are going away for a while.”
“What is it?” Jerry asked.
Jerry blinked. “Cancer.”
Tunji cringed. “I am sorry, man.”
“Yeah…I know.” Jerry replied.
Tunji sighed. “You know I would be here for you, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Jerry replied. “I’ve got to get going.”
Tunji stretched out his hand to him. “Jerry?”
Jerry stared at him. “Yeah?”
“Make it count.” Tunji said.
Jerry took his hand firmly. “We will.”
Toni pushed Nora out of the way as they walked into the suite. “No way!!! Seriously, Nora?” Toni said as she surveyed the room in one glance. “This is a presidential suite.”
“Only the best for you my darling, only the best.” Jerry said as he pushed the boxes into the room with Emeka. “Why are you complaining? You want a vacation and we are here to give it to you.” He added immediately.
Toni stared at him. “And that includes bringing us here? We can save a lot of money with some other regular suite. How much is this place per night?” she asked.
Jerry and Nora started to whistle.
Toni gaped. “Seriously guys!”
“Oh Toni, you whine too much! The money is nothing, if you have got it, you spend it.” Nora replied.
“Or you invest it!” Toni retorted.
“Would it make you happy if I told you that Jerry is paying for all these?” Nora asked.
Toni widened her eyeballs as she stared at Jerry. “What?!”
“Are you going to spank me for spending my own money?” he asked with a smirk.
Emeka nodded. “Ladies take these things too personal. I mean, it’s a brother’s money.” He replied with a smile.
“He should learn to invest in his future.” She retorted at Emeka.
“I am spending some of my dividends too…don’t be worried.” Jerry replied with a smile.
Toni sighed. “You should save that…argh…men! Anyway, where is James anyway?”
James walked into the room carrying a box of pizza and a pack of juice. “Food is here!” he announced with a grin.
“Food?! But we ate on the plane.” Toni protested.
Jerry stared at Emeka. “She is going mummy on us all. Duck!” he said and they hurried out.
Toni turned to James. “Why do we have to eat Pizza now? We had something to eat about thirty minutes ago.”
“Err…I thought we could make do with in-between meals.” He replied with a smile.
Toni turned to Nora. “In-between meals? Since when did we start in-between meals?” she asked.
“You don’t remember? We absolutely love to eat as many times as possible.” Nora replied as she picked up her purse. “James, we should go and see the landscape.”
Toni stared at them. “And what about me?” she asked.
Nora stuttered. “Erm…you can stay here and have some pizza and juice while James and I make a quick look of the environment.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you all are trying to push me away?” she asked.
James gaped. “No…Not at all. We just want you to get some rest, you know. Jet lagged.”
“And you all aren’t jet lagged from Lagos to Calabar? I won’t get any rest if you all keeping flipping on me. First, Jerry and Emeka and now, you and Nora. Am I such a bad habit?”
“When you start whining like this, you could be a real pain.” Nora replied as she took James hand. “For once, Toni, enjoy your money.”
“Well, this is Jerry’s money and I am allergic to spending his money.” Toni replied as she sprawled on the bed. “But damn…this is the real life.”
“See…it didn’t take long to bring out the hidden you which is the real you. We’ll be right back. Take care, love.” Nora replied and walked out with James.
Toni took a deep breath and pulled the Pizza close. “The only reason why I am having you is to prevent wastage, I am not a fan of people wasting money or resources, so here we go…” she said and took a bite.
“Good thing you guys were able to escape from her.” Jerry said as Nora and James joined them in the restaurant. “So, what’s the next plan?” he asked.
Nora pulled out her journal. “I was thinking we could do a road trip round the town, we would camp wherever night falls.”
“I have the sketch books for the photos and other important documentation.” James said. “There is also a map just in case we get lost.”
“I was thinking we should rent a space bus.” Emeka said. “Big enough for all of us.” He added.
“I was thinking a convertible. I mean, it is so much fun when you go on road trips with convertibles. That way we can get to spread our hands and head into the sun.” Nora replied.
“That’s the effect of seeing too many movies. Hollywood.” James cut in.
“Are you kidding me, James? It would be fun!” she echoed.
“We are five in number. It won’t be very comfortable.” Jerry replied. “Maybe the space bus isn’t such a bad idea after all.”
Nora frowned. “It is a terrible idea. Who goes on road trips in a space bus?” she stressed as she sulked.
James kissed her forehead. “Get used to this one, babe.”
“I think I agree with Nora.” Emeka said cutting in. “We could actually use the convertible.”
Jerry turned at him as he widened his eyes. “Dude!”
Nora smiled. “See…even Emeka agrees with me.”
Jerry stared at his friend. “We are taking a space bus whether you like it or not.”
“What have I done wrong? I only think it is right that we make the lady happy.” Emeka added.
James nodded. “True, we could get an Audi or BMW, there might be some space at the back.”
Nora smiled at James. “Now you are talking.”
“Or we could just take the Space bus.” Emeka said, staring at Nora and James.
Nora frowned. “Why are you teasing me?”
Jerry smiled. “That’s who Emeka is…very funny guy. A tease.”
Emeka nodded. “Yeah…my friends say I am Kevin Hart.” He said laughing. Jerry frowned and so did James and Nora. Emeka stopped laughing. “I know…I know.”
Jerry rose to his feet. “I am going to the bar, please come with me, Emeka.”
Emeka stared at him. “Oh really?”
“Yes!” Jerry said pulling him along.
“I thought you quit alcohol.” Emeka said as they got to the bar. “It didn’t take long for you to backslide.” Emeka chuckled.
Jerry nodded. “Sure I did quit booze, but I couldn’t help but notice how you were hitting on Nora there.”
“Me? No o…I…I was just making a conversation.” Emeka replied defensively.
Jerry hissed. “I don’t even believe you! Emeka, you have a fiancée, respect yourself so James doesn’t beat you up. He is fit, you know?”
“But you are also fit. Won’t you defend your man?” he asked.
Jerry nodded. “If you were right, fine. But you are scoping another guy’s babe, my hand no dey there o.”
“I…I just like her. That’s all.” Emeka replied. “Just like.”
Jerry nodded. “Put a leash on it, else, I am calling your babe.”
“Guy, you can’t do a brother like that na.” Emeka protested.
Jerry scoffed. “Watch me.” He replied and returned to the others.
“I am racing against time. Officially, the Doctors think I would be here for about five more days, but I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon. I mean…that soon. My book would be done before I leave this place, that, I am sure of. My whole life has been one huge fairy tale. Finding love in the strangest places and wishes for more than I could get. To be fair, I have done my part here, so, I don’t feel nervous about going away…it’s just that I am allowed to be human sometimes and let fear creep in as I think of my loved ones.
Nora is the best sister in the world, she is my father, my mother, my sister and my brother. I couldn’t have wished for a better sister. She had fewer nights than myself as she would sit and watch me sleep, keeping silent and lonely vigils while I enjoyed my sleep. Honestly, I had fun putting Nora through all that. Family is everything and even though my own family was Nora, there were no boundaries for us. With Family, you have no idea how much you can do.
I have come across tonnes of guys in my journey in life, but I had never really given anyone a second thought until I met Doctor Jerry. Jerry was the first person to make me dread my situation. Every battle I fought from the day I met him was all about survival. The thought of seeing him, talking to him made the difference. I always thought I was the only one with that special effect on people, but then, Jerry held me spell-bound. I might not have been smitten outwardly, but thanks to him, I knew what it was to be more beautiful on the inside.”
I shut my laptop as I took a deep breath and took another bite from the Pizza. It had kept me company since the last hour. I didn’t want to bother them with my calls, so I just turned on the Television and fed my eyes. What could a girl do?
The door opened and Jerry walked in with a smile. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hi, stranger.” I replied with the warmest smile I could produce. “I love that name, you know?”
Jerry nodded as he joined me on the bed. “What are you watching?”
“Documentary channel. Amazing how these Giraffes neck.” I said.
He nodded. “It is lovely.” He replied. “It’s a sign of strength.”
“They are necking to prove strength, most of us depict it as love…who knows what else we misinterpret about animals?” I asked with a smile.
Jerry shrugged. “I am sure that we are not mistaken about the peacock’s pride.”
I chuckled. “Jerry…what are you guys planning?”
“Planning? What do you mean?” he asked.
I smiled. “I am not stupid. You all disappearing in groups can only mean there is a plan in the offing. Come on, tell me.”
Jerry shook his head. “There is nothing other than the ordinary.”
“Go on…you can tell me everything. I promise not to tell Nora.” I said as I blinked my eyes playfully.
Jerry tripped. “Fine. We are doing a road trip.”
“Wow!” I exclaimed.
“B…But you can’t tell the others I told you, else, they’ll just think I am fickle.” He replied.
I nodded. “But then you are fickle. It didn’t take you a minute to tell me the truth.”
He scoffed. “Seriously? Is that what I get?”
“For betraying your team, that is what you get.” I replied.
Jerry sprawled on the bed. “So, are you now teaching me life lessons?” he asked.
I smiled. “Not exactly, but, teams should come first. I might even rat you out to them.”
“No, you won’t.” he replied. “I should come first.”
I grinned. “The truth comes first for me.”
“You are such a kill joy, Toni.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“How is the novel coming?” he asked as he tried to pick my laptop. I immediately shielded it from him. “Are you not going to let me see it?” he asked. “I should read it before everyone else.”
“That’s after my editor has read it and the publishers have it ready for sale.” I replied. “Trust me, it would be soon, besides, I am not yet done with the novel.” I concluded.
Jerry nodded. “Fine. Mrs. Aiyenugba called while I was on my way up here.”
“How is she doing?” I asked.
He smiled. “She has made very important friends. She told me to lay emphasis on ‘important’, that you’ll understand.”
I nodded. “Of course, I understand.”
“So…what did she mean by important friends?” he asked.
I sighed and pecked his forehead. “You really don’t get it, do you? I don’t tell on friends.” I said and grabbed my towel. “I am off to the bathroom…be gone before I am back…and don’t think about touching my laptop, it is password protected.” I concluded and shut the door to the bathroom.
“What do you want to talk about?” James asked as he strolled with Nora.
Nora sighed. “Nothing. When is the car coming so we can get on with the road trip?”
“In about an hour or so. Jerry and Emeka went to get it.” He replied.
She nodded. “That’s good. I should go to Toni.”
“She wants to be left alone, I checked on her earlier.” He replied. “Now, about Emeka.”
Nora stared at him. “What about him?”
“I think he likes you.” James said.
“Is it wrong?” She replied.
James smiled. “Nice touch with the humour there, but, I think you know what I mean.”
“I do?” Nora asked. “Are you getting touchy here, James?”
James stopped walking. “I am not getting touchy. I just think that he is showing too much interest in you…and you are taken.”
Nora stared at her finger. “I am not engaged.”
“But we have something, right?” he asked.
Nora grinned. “My sarcasm has definitely improved.”
James sighed. “For once, I thought you were for real.”
“James, if another guy hits on your girl, you should be happy.” She started. “It can only mean that she is really attractive.”
James scoffed. “How attractive is that? That is scary. What if you fall in love with him?”
“Then something is actually boring about you.” She replied with a smirk.
“Is that a joke too?” He asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “Does it sound like one?”
“I am not joking, Nora.” James said.
She nodded. “I know.”
“So?” James asked.
Nora smiled. “You are making a big deal out of it. The fact that he likes me in the direction you feel doesn’t mean I am on the same lane as he is.”
“That’s very comforting.” James replied.
Nora smiled. “Now let’s go find the others.”
“I knew it, we should have taken the convertible!” Nora groaned as we all got off the space bus for the third time. “This bus isn’t in its right frame of mind.” She added.
I fetched my camera and started making a video coverage of everyone as they reacted to the event.
Nora wasn’t going to stop grumbling. Ever since the space bus arrived at the hotel, she thought it was a bad idea. She was dreaming of cruising in a convertible as we travelled across the beautiful town and its landscape. “This is a terrible idea. I knew it. We are so not going to pay them in full.”
James chuckled at her last statement.
Nora flipped at him. “What’s funny?”
“Apart from the fact that you are acting like Toni was when we initially got here, you pay in full to rental services and even an increase for guarantee.”
Nora cringed. “No!!! They have robbed us of our money.”
For Jerry and Emeka, it was more of who has got the cleaner abs contest. There was a clear winner though. Jerry. Tada!!! But seriously, did they need to take off their shirts to check the car’s radiator and some other things I don’t know that a car has? I can make a case for Jerry. He is putting on a white t-shirt, so it is understandable that he wants to take it off and also, if you have got it…you are permitted to show the world. Besides, he is my Jerry. Now, about Emeka, I don’t know why anyone who is still in the process of denial regarding differentiating between fat and crops would take off his shirt? That has me confused and slightly sorry too.
Can I blame him for efforts? No. Nora and I have countless numbers of push-up bras and many ladies too. I am not making an excuse for the female gender, but we have got to look ‘it’.
Back to the matter….the car is now fixed and we are ready to go…and guess who takes over the wheels? Yours truly.
Jerry took his seat beside Toni in front as she fixed the keys into the ignition. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.
Toni smiled. “I am not redundant, babe. I can drive a car.”
He nodded and focused on her as though she was the road. “Toni…” he muttered. “Let me drive.”
“No!” she replied sharply and stepped on the pedal. “Here we go people! Hold your breath, ladies and gentlemen…it is Toni time.” She echoed and wheeled off.
Jerry watched her every turn and every step on any of the pedals.
“You are starting to freak me out.” Toni said.
He sighed. “I can’t help it.”
“Well, I am not going to kill all of us, so you can relax.” She said with a smile. “We are here everybody!” she announced as she pulled up.
Jerry looked into the car. “It’s camp fire time.”
They all carried their bags as they walked into the woods. Finding a spot for their camp fire wasn’t hard, they were all well-equipped.
Jerry wrapped his arms around me as we passed cards. Emeka was the only without anyone to cuddle. I felt guilty having Jerry around me, after all, Emeka was here for us too. He didn’t need to feel alone, besides, Jerry says he has a fiancée, I am wondering why Emeka didn’t ask her to tag alone, but then, I couldn’t feel sorry for Emeka…Jerry was going to miss me. That would be more devastating than this.
“So, you all know the rules, as we pass the cards, we fulfil the command of the game. If the card stops with you, you answer whatever question it presents you.” He said. “Are we clear? As the moderator, you all know I am not allowed to participate in this game, so, I would just watch from the side lines. After the first turn, we change the cards.” He said and passed the first card.
As soon as the card got to Nora, Emeka called. “What says your card?”
Nora flipped it open and stared at it and then at James before reading. “Do you really love the person you are with?”
James clenched his teeth. “What is this?”
“Hey bro…it’s just a question. It could have fallen on anyone, no offense intended.” Emeka said.
Jerry stared at Emeka and then at James. “Yeah, man, it’s just a question for the lady.”
“I think Emeka is hitting on Nora.” James said. “I don’t like it.”
I chuckled. This seemed to be more interesting than I had envisaged. Emeka was really causing a rift. “Guys, I think we should chill. I don’t think it is a big deal. It is just a question and I think that dragging it longer than necessary is actually going to mean something else.” I said, cutting in.
Jerry nodded. “Toni is right. Let Nora answer the question and we all could just move on from here.”
All eyes were now on Nora. “Nora?” I called. “Answer your question.”
Nora smiled as she read through the card again. “Yes, I do love James.”
James smiled victoriously.
Emeka scoffed. “Pass the next card.”
“What’s in your card?” Emeka asked as I held the passing card for too long on the second time of passing.
I stared at it. “What would you love to do before you die?” I read with a smile.
Jerry’s face went stone as he stared at Emeka. I took Jerry’s hand before he could make any statement.
“What I want to do before I die?” I said. “I have accomplished a lot of things I want to do before my dying day. I have lived, I have laughed, I have loved.” I said and stared at Jerry. “I am glad to have met you, Jerry. You are everything and much more than I wanted and you may think that life hasn’t given us enough time, but I think it is just perfect, every step of the way with you has been worth it. Jerry, I wish you love, peace, happiness and most importantly that you find yourself in God and be true to who you are. Jerry, I would always love you and I am happy for every love you have for me.”
Jerry looked away.
“I hope not to break your heart in the end, I hope to leave a stronger man with a braver heart behind, should I have to…and trust me, you deserve to read my novel first, and you would.” I said as I drew his face closer. “I love you, Jerry.”
“I love you too.” He replied.
Emeka, Nora and James stared at us quietly.
“And to what I want to do before I die? I damn right want to kiss you, Jerry.” I said and we kissed.

Beautiful Stranger is written by @tomi_adesina; Author of Dear Future Husband available for Free on African Stories. Follow @tomi_adesina on twitter for more thrilling stories. Her new book “All Fun and Games” also available for FREE on African Stories

Beautiful Stranger. Episode 12


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Nora shut the door after the lawyer and turned in Toni’s direction. Toni smiled faintly at her and slipped into the bed.
“How do you feel?” Nora asked as she took her seat beside her sister.
Toni sighed. “Tired, but I am optimistic. What about you?”
“I am okay. I just think that calling the lawyer today speaks a lot about your optimism, Toni. How optimistic is drawing up a will?” Nora asked, feeling sad.
Toni shrugged. “I am being realistic here, Nora. We have gone over this before…I don’t think we need to do it again.”
Nora nodded. “Sure.”
“I haven’t seen Emeka or Jerry around here today. Have you?” Toni asked.
Nora shook her head. “Neither have I.”
“That’s strange.” Toni said. “Anyway, let’s talk about my book and the big plans I have for it.” She said.
Nora stared at her. “Can we go on holidays first? We would discuss the massive book launch during the holiday.” She replied.
“You are still offended because of the will, right?”
Nora shrugged. “Why would I be offended?”
“Why won’t you be offended? You think I am throwing everything away by drafting that will, right? You think I don’t have the zeal to live and all I want to do is disappoint everyone?” Toni asked.
Nora sighed. “I don’t think you aren’t fighting hard enough.”
“What do you see when you look at me, Nora?” Toni asked.
Nora took a deep breath. “Don’t start asking questions like this, Toni. I love you and that’s all that counts.”
“Nora, what do you see when you look at me?” Toni asked as she swallowed.
Nora stared at her. “A beautiful, strong woman.”
“Then give me some credit. I am making efforts to live, and I am fighting with everything in me to make sure that you don’t come in here and realise that I am gone. I am afraid to die, I am not feeling better, but yet, I want to be here for you…and I will keep fighting. So, Nora, don’t you dare give up on me…because, I am not giving up on myself.” Toni blurted and then wiped her eyes.
Nora took a deep breath. “I am sorry.”
“You don’t have to be.” Toni replied.
Nora exhaled. “It’s been tense for me. You…you don’t understand how it feels to be in my shoes.”
Toni chuckled. “Trust me, Nora. It feels better to be you.”
Nora smiled faintly. Her sister had made a joke out of it and it made her feel better.
“Life is precious, Nora. You have to enjoy it while you have it. There are a lot of people who would rather have these days, don’t waste it.” Toni said.
Nora blinked as she took Toni’s hand. “Save the pep talk for later.” She said with a smile.
Toni laughed. “You have a crooked sense of humour, you have got to work on it.”
“Was I trying to be funny?” Nora asked.
Toni nodded with a grin. “And you suck at it.”
Nora exhaled with a smile. “Stay with me, Toni.”
“Have you booked our flight tickets? I’ll soon be out of here, you know? That vacation has to rock.” Toni replied as she smiled.
Nora nodded. “It’s going to be a perfect holiday.”
“Yeah…I know it will be.” Toni replied. “Now, where is Jerry?”
Nora smiled. “You are missing him already, aren’t you?”
Toni nodded. “I don’t know, it’s unlike him or Emeka not to have at least dropped in by now. That has me worried.”
“I suggest you get your mind off it. I will go and ask the Nurses if they have seen any of them this morning.” Nora replied.
Toni shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe, they are busy with surgery or something. I don’t want you bothering yourself about it. I am just paranoid.”
“Paranoid? You miss the guy you love and you call it being paranoid? That’s not paranoid, lady. I will go out and find anything I can regarding his whereabouts.” Nora replied.
Toni smiled. “Thank you.”
Emeka and Mrs Aiyenugba rose to receive Jerry as he walked out of the Police station.
“Thank you.” Jerry said to Mrs Aiyenugba.
She smiled. “It’s okay, dear. I am sorry for everything I put you through. I didn’t know Shola would do this.”
“It’s okay. It’s nothing serious.”
Emeka grinned. “How was it?”
“Did I go there to eat food?” Jerry replied harshly.
Mrs Aiyenugba smiled. “It’s okay, boys. I have to go now, my son is waiting.” She said staring in the direction of her son.
Jerry nodded and walked over to meet Mrs Aiyenugba’s son. “Hey!”
“You do know who you are talking to, right?” Mr Aiyenugba replied.
Jerry nodded. “A stupid and ungrateful man.”
Mr Aiyenugba stared at him. “Are you sane?” he asked.
“Yes. But to me, you are quite insane.” Jerry replied.
Emeka and Mrs Aiyenugba rushed over to them. “Jerry, stop this.” Emeka said.
“No.” Jerry replied. “Let me teach this man how to respect his mother.”
Mrs Aiyenugba took Jerry’s hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell him anything.”
“Kini gbogbo radarada yi? (What is all these rubbish?)” Mr Aiyenugba voiced in Yoruba (A Nigerian Local dialect.)
“You have suddenly lost your ability to speak English?” Jerry asked. “You don’t care enough about your own mother and when another man cares about her, you want to punish me for it?” Jerry asked angrily as he drew closer to him.
Emeka pulled his friend back to avoid another detention. “Dude! Think about Toni. Do you want them to lock you up again?”
“On what grounds?! Have I even assaulted him yet?” Jerry shouted.
“You won’t dare to touch me.” Shola retorted. “I will have them lock you and your family up for good.”
“Shut up!” Mrs Aiyenugba yelled at her son. “Who are you? What power do you have to lock up anyone and his family? I am under the impression that you have completely lost it.”
Mr Aiyenugba took a deep breath and stared at his Mother. “Mum, let’s go.”
“I am not going with you, Shola…at least, not yet. If I am going to be put away in that facility permanently, I want to make a quick stop at the Hospital to see someone.” She replied.
Mr Aiyenugba nodded. “Fine, I’ll drive you down there.”
“I heard what happened to you.” The Director said as Jerry walked into his office. “I told you to give up that woman, but you wouldn’t.”
Jerry sighed. “It was worth it.”
The Director nodded. “Toni had her session an hour ago. She is resting at the moment.”
“I know. I saw her sister outside.” He replied as he took a seat.
“We would have to stop the treatment.” The Director said.
Jerry stared at him. “Why? What is going on?”
“I have been consulting with the specialist here all day and he thinks she has to go home now.”
“What do you mean?” Jerry said as he jumped at the Director.
The Director sighed. “The cancer is competing with her brain mass.”
“Let me cut it!” Jerry shouted.
“This is not about cutting anymore, you can’t even get in if you tried to cut, but, we can only hope that the effect of the radiation melts it away. If we put her under more radiation, you know the adverse of that.” The Director replied as he placed his hand on Jerry’s shoulder. “Son, I am sorry, but this time, you have done so much.”
“I have not done anything and I am going to come back with something on this case. I am not pulling away.” Jerry replied.
“Listen to me, Jerry. I know how you feel-”
“-You don’t! You don’t know what it is like to love someone and not be able to help her. I won’t let her down, I swear I won’t.”
The Director sighed. “Jerry, you might need some time off from here to go and take care of her, she has medications which she needs to take every time. These drugs will be very useful to her and from time to time, she has to come here for other treatments.”
Jerry buried his head in his hands. “This can’t be happening to me.”
“Listen to me, Jerry. There is a slight chance.”
Jerry stared at him. “I understand. I…this, this is just not right.”
“All that is left for us is to pray. We would discharge her tomorrow.” The Director said and returned to his seat. “You should go and be with her.”
Jerry nodded. “Does she know about this?”
“Not yet, we would talk to her in the evening.”
Jerry exhaled. “Let me do it.”
“Jerry? Are you sure about this?” The Director asked.
Jerry nodded. “I am, Sir. I can handle this one.” He replied.
“But you do know that you can’t lie to the patient, Jerry? You have to tell her everything, we have reached the stage where we prepare her mind.” He said.
Jerry nodded. “I’ll do just that.” He replied and approached the door.
“And about the leave…take two weeks off from here, please.” The Director said. “I need you in good condition.”
Jerry sighed and walked out.
“What’s up, man?” Emeka asked as Jerry walked into the office.
Jerry stared at him. “It’s time to prepare Toni.”
“I am sorry. I also spoke to the Oncologist and he didn’t sound too positive about her chances.” Emeka replied.
Jerry took a seat. “How do I start? Where do I go from here? This is too much for me, Emeka.”
“Jerry, I know this is hard for you and I wish I could say something or do something to make it all go away-”
Jerry stared at him. “-but you can’t. There is nothing you can do or say to me right now, it’s just sour.”
“Do you want me to be there when you break the news to her?” Emeka asked.
Jerry shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I want to do this alone.”
“I don’t think you should let Nora know about it yet. Toni seems more prepared than she is.” Emeka replied. “Maybe Nora can learn about this later, after she is discharged? Just not to bring it to her as it is, this would hurt her more.” Emeka said.
Jerry nodded. “You have a point, but we can’t exactly keep it away from her. Maybe, she should know about it first, before we talk to Toni. We owe it to her as Toni’s relation.” Jerry replied.
“True. Nora was talking to me about taking Toni on a vacation, you think I can come with you guys?”
Jerry stared at him. “You want to come?”
Emeka nodded. “I have grown attached to her in these last days and I think you are going to need me there.”
Jerry sighed. “Thanks a lot for the help, man.”
“It’s nothing, bro.” Emeka replied as they hugged. Jerry’s grip was firm and his chest pounded hard. Emeka knew he was scared. “It’ll be fine, Jerry. God’s got this.”
Jerry stared at him. “I am losing her.”
“Trust me, man. You’ll be fine, pull it together.” Emeka said. “You want something to eat?”
Jerry shook his head sadly. “I can’t eat anything, man. I don’t know what to do without her. I just need to breathe right now. ”
“Take it easy, okay? Please, man.” Emeka said.
Jerry nodded. “I would do everything I can. Anyway, where’s Mrs Aiyenugba? I haven’t checked on her since she came down here with us. Has her son taken her away?”
“No. She is waiting to see Toni, but since Toni is asleep, she is somewhere at the reception.” Emeka replied.
Jerry nodded. “I’ll go and see her now. If the Director asks for me, just page me, okay?”
“Okay.” Emeka replied and watched his friend leave the room a downcast man. He swallowed painfully as he took a seat. He had not known Toni for a very long time, but he couldn’t imagine losing her.
“How are you, Jerry?” Mrs Aiyenugba asked as he approached her.
“I am not doing fine.” He confessed. “It’s time to prepare Toni.”
Mrs Aiyenugba swallowed as she held her chest. “Oh God.”
“I don’t know why this has to happen to her. If I could at least find some answers… why would I have her for such a short time and it seems like I have known her all my life? She came and made everything that didn’t make sense to me, make sense. How can I come to terms with losing such a woman? I can’t.”
She nodded. “Jerry, in this life, we are always going to meet people like that. Maybe for a short moment, or maybe for a lifetime, but the truth is, we have to learn to cherish every moment we have with them, don’t ever forget to tell them that you love them and in the end, you won’t have to regret anything.” She said.
Jerry sighed. “She’ll be glad to meet you too.”
Mrs Aiyenugba nodded. “Of course.” She replied. “Jerry, make every moment count.”
“I will.” He replied.
“Have you called your mother? Else, you would have been throwing the wrong stones at Shola.”
Jerry sighed and pulled out his phone. “I am calling her now.”
“Good boy. Love your parents now that you can.” She replied.
Jerry dialled. “Hello, Mom…”
James handed Nora a paper. “Receipts from the bookings. Flight leaves tomorrow evening.”
Nora nodded as she stared at it. “I hope Toni enjoys this vacation.”
“I bet she will. We all will make it the best for her.” He replied and took Nora’s hand. “How are you doing?”
“I am not fine, but I guess I have to look the part of the sister that is doing fine.” Nora replied. “The Doctor says they are discharging her tomorrow morning.”
James nodded. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Seems more like a bad thing to me. Toni doesn’t look like she is doing better, yet, they want to discharge her. It can only mean one thing.”
James waved it off. “No, babe, don’t see it that way. It could also be a better avenue for her to go home and complete the recovery. You know, sometimes, the doctors think it is better to have the patient go home for a better atmosphere.”
Nora chuckled. “Do I look like I am five? Even five-year-olds don’t believe that crap.”
James sighed. “I don’t know what else to say to you.”
“Say nothing, James. Let’s just sit and watch it all pass by.” She replied.
He nodded. “Fine. I can do that with you.” He replied as he sipped his drink. “Is Toni awake?”
“Yes. She has a guest. Jerry’s friend is with her.” She replied.
James smiled. “She can make do with all the family necessary right now.”
“I know…she needs us now more than ever…and, I need her too.” Nora said as tears rolled down her eyes.
James went over to her and hugged her.
“You are as amazing as Jerry says you are.” Mrs Aiyenugba said as she laughed.
Toni smiled. “I think I can be a little more amazing than I am right now.” She replied.
“Yes, I think you are.” Mrs Aiyenugba said with a smile. “I hear you are going home tomorrow.”
Toni nodded. “I am happy about it. I get to finally finish my book and go on a vacation. I am quite excited.”
Mrs Aiyenugba smiled. “You should be. You need to have fun.”
“I always do have fun…in on own little way. Jerry told me about Victoria’s Home, are you ready for it?” Toni asked.
Mrs Aiyenugba rose on her feet. “I am not ready for it. But, I don’t have any choice, besides, I don’t think it would be so bad in there. Who knows, I might pick up a new profession from there?”
“New profession?” Toni asked with a smile.
Mrs Aiyenugba nodded with a smile. “I bet there would be lots of bitter women there, I could get close to them.”
“Oh! And touch their lives? That’s noble.” Toni said with a smile.
Mrs Aiyenugba scoffed. “Not that. I would find out who they are and who their children are and why they were put in there, then, I would pass scoops to journalists and help get mud on those that have important children.”
Toni gaped as she laughed. “Seriously?”
Mrs Aiyenugba nodded. “Why not? It would act as a stress reliever for me and also earn me a few bucks.”
Toni smiled. “This is interesting…and good too.”
“See…good thing you understand.” Mrs Aiyenugba replied as she returned to her seat. “Are you planning towards a book launch?”
“I will ask Nora to help me with it.” She replied as she relaxed in her bed. “I am glad I met you.”
Mrs Aiyenugba took her hand. “Same here. I have to go now, my son is waiting to take me to the facility.”
Toni nodded as she hugged Mrs Aiyenugba. “Do take care.”
“Be strong, Toni.” She replied and walked out.
Jerry walked in almost immediately. “Hey there.” He said as he pecked her forehead. “How are you?”
Toni stared at him. “Prepared.”
“Prepared?” he asked.
She nodded. “I am getting discharged tomorrow and I still feel like this, don’t I know what it means?” she asked.
Jerry swallowed. “Toni, I…I want you to know that I am doing everything I can to-”
Toni sighed. “-Babe, let it be already. What did the Doctor say?”
He blinked. “You want me to tell you?”
She nodded. “Why not? I would like to know.”
“You have to tell me the truth, you know?” she said.
He nodded. “Toni, this is hard for me, but, I won’t want anyone else to let you know this, we have tried so hard and I swear I want to try harder, I am going to do everything I can and I promise you, I am not giving up on you yet, I-”
“-Stop it. Just talk.”
He blinked as he took her hand. “They have to stop the radiotherapy because the cancer is well spread into the brain and now, we actually can’t cut it, also, further therapy is quite dangerous as we have implemented the regular dose required for this treatment and we can’t go overboard with it.” He said as he squeezed her hands. “Toni, I want you to know that there is a slight chance that the medications that you are going to be placed on from tomorrow are going to help melt the tumours and you can survive.”
She nodded. “Okay, how long do I have? Medically?”
Jerry swallowed and closed his eyes. “One week.”
“Wow!” Toni said. “Wow! Wow!” she reiterated as her eyes were wet. “One week, Jerry. Man, this is so fast.” Toni said as she looked away. Her heart raced fast. It was like a ticking bomb was tied around her waist. “Oh my God.”
Jerry took her hand. “Look at me, babe. Don’t care about what they say, okay? Babe, look here.”
Toni swallowed and stared at him. “I thought I’d have more time. I thought we’d be able to have a nice vacation and stuff, I really thought we’d enjoy the holidays.”
“Toni, it is okay to be vulnerable. Don’t hold it all in, just let it go.” Jerry said as he lifted her face to his. “You have held it in for me, for Nora, for your foundation, for everyone. Just let it go now.” He said.
Toni couldn’t hold back her tears. “I don’t want to die, Jerry. Please.” She said as she cried and wrapped her hands around him. “I am so scared, I don’t want to go.”
Jerry closed his eyes tight. This couldn’t be happening to him. He had asked Toni to let it all out and her tears frightened him. He was scared as it loomed that he was going to let her down. “I am sorry.” He said.
“Jerry, please.” She cried.
He stroked her hair. “It’s okay, Toni. It’s going to be alright. Don’t do this, please.”
She stared at him with tears. “This will pass, right?”
He nodded. “Yes, it will. It is just a phase, everything will pass.” He replied as he wiped her tears. “Don’t cry anymore, please.”
“Jerry…” she called.
“Yeah?!” he asked.
She blinked. “One week is too close, but I am going to buy me more time…because I am not going to give up easily on us, we might not have a month left, but we are going to make it memorable and special.”
Jerry stared at her looking confused.
Toni smiled. “This is it, Jerry. Nora has the tickets we need for our flight, we are going to leave tomorrow evening.”
“Are you serious?” he asked, still feeling off the place. A moment ago, she was in tears and now, she had worn another personality. “Are you okay, Toni?”
Toni nodded with a faint smile. “Right now, I just want to live the rest of these desperate days in the best way, and that’s what we are going to do. So, would you come with me?”
Jerry stared at her and nodded. “Let’s make it count.”

Beautiful Stranger is written by @tomi_adesina; Author of Dear Future Husband available for Free on African Stories. Follow @tomi_adesina on twitter for more thrilling stories. Her new book “All Fun and Games” also available for FREE on African Stories

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Beautiful Stranger. Episode 11


Hi everybody,

Had a great weekend? Have a better week. Remember to get interesting books AllFunAndGames and DearFutureHusband by @tomi_adesina on African Stories and share the news to other readers.

Happy reading!


“It’s two am. Your shift has been over since the last three hours.” Emeka said as he dropped a coffee cup on the table. “You might want to have some of that if you are going to be stuck in here all night.”
Jerry stared at him. “Man, I just need one more hour.”
“You said that an hour ago and I am sure you would say it when I return. Look, man, you have been having a success streak in the theatres in the past one week and I think it is great that you are this enthusiastic about work and reading and applying more, but don’t push your luck.” He replied.
Jerry closed his book and stared at him. “What are you trying to say?”
“Late nights. Tiring surgeries. Reading into the dead of the night. Where is your medical sense? You need to rest.”
Jerry nodded cynically. “Yeah. I have been successful in the past week and I am thankful to God for that. But there is one person I am still here for and until I find a solution for Toni, there is no way I am leaving this place.”
Emeka sighed as he leaned on the table. “I get it. You love her. She loves you but she is in a radiotherapy session and getting a lot of attention from a team of able doctors. But who is taking care of you? Look at you.”
Jerry smiled. “You are beginning to sound like a woman, man.” He said with a soft chuckle. He was expecting a smile from Emeka but none came. “Look, Emeka, I understand that you are concerned for me, but nothing is going to make sense to me until that woman I love is on her feet.”
“Food too?” Emeka asked.
Jerry sighed. “What do you want me to do?”
“You have to take care of yourself. Eat. Sleep. Then you can come back to work.” He replied.
Jerry looked away. “Emeka, she is not doing well with radiotherapy. You have seen the way the tumour multiplied…I don’t understand anything happening in that room anymore.”
“I spoke to the Director and we are thinking of merging Chemo because of the-”
“-Just stop there. I thought the whole idea of this radiation thing was to shrink the tumours formed from the cancer cells that had spread in the brain. Why are you thinking of Chemo now?” he asked, angrily.
“Jerry, you know the possibility of complications can’t be undermined in any treatment.” Emeka replied.
“You should have thought of that when you pushed for it.” Jerry replied.
Emeka sighed.
“I am sorry, man.” Jerry said. “I…I just feel so helpless right now.” Jerry replied. “I am sorry for coming at you like that.”
Emeka smiled faintly. “Well, maybe I can give you a light tilt of your new faith, Trust God.”
Jerry nodded. “I know. Thank you.”
Emeka took a seat. “Jerry, what we know is we are doing everything we can and Toni is fighting hard too… Don’t worry about it, man. It’ll all be alright.” He replied.
Jerry nodded. “I am fighting too… And if this is my way of fighting, please allow me fight for her.” He replied and focused on his book.
“I won’t you let you fall apart, bro.” Emeka said as he hugged Jerry.
Jerry couldn’t hold back his tears and he let them flow freely.
“Good morning, Toni.” Emeka greeted as he drew the curtains back.
Toni turned her face away from the light. “I don’t want the light.” She muttered.
Emeka nodded and drew them back. “How are you feeling today?”
“Not too good. I am getting closer, right?” she asked.
Emeka took a deep breath. “I have to keep you optimistic. That has been going well for you for a long time now and you can’t give up.”
Toni sighed. “Optimism is tiring.” She said with a soft chuckle.
“It means you should still hang on.” He replied. “I saw Nora on my way here. She is down the hallway.”
Toni smiled faintly. “This would be hard on her…but then, she has got James.”
“…what about Jerry?” Emeka asked.
Toni struggled to breath. “I don’t know. He has been doing well with surgeries, I am happy for him.”
“Who is going to take care of him?” he asked.
Toni smiled. “Are you also terminally ill?” she asked as she managed a smile. “Daily doses are killing me. When would this treatment be over?” she asked with leery eyes.
“I need you to put more effort into this, Toni. Don’t go giving up now.” He replied.
She nodded. “I am fighting for as long as I can, but when my time is up, Emeka, my time is up.” She replied as she gripped his hand.
He took a deep breath. “How is the book coming?”
She reached for a journal which fell carelessly from her hand. “I am sorry.”
Emeka picked it up. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine, I know it.”
“I am almost done with the novel.” She replied. “Coming slowly but surely, but eventually, I’ll be done.”
“It’s an autobiography of you.” He said as he opened the book.
Toni winked. “I thought I’d hype myself a little. I mean, if I don’t do that…who will?”
Toni smiled. “I love that man.”
“He loves you too.”
The door opened and Nora walked in with James. “Hello everyone.” She greeted as she walked over to give Toni a kiss. “How are you, darling?”
“I am fine.” Toni replied.
Emeka rose to his feet. “I’ll leave you all alone. And guys, you have just fifteen minutes with her. I need her to rest.” He said and walked out.
Nora took her seat beside Toni. “You look tired.”
“I am tired.” Toni replied.
James sighed. “This should be the last week of the dosage right?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait for it to be over.” She replied.
Nora took her hand with a smile. “I’m thinking we should travel when you leave this place. We could go to some resort. Enjoy a new air, you know?”
Toni smiled faintly. “You know what I want to do when I get out of here?”
“What?” Nora asked.
“Be with Jerry.”
James and Nora cooed with a smile. “Now, I am jealous.” Nora said.
Toni smiled. “You don’t have to be…James is here with you.”
“Yeah, babe…smile.” James said as he kissed Nora’s cheek.
Toni cleared her throat. “You haven’t asked about my book.”
“Oh, come on, Toni…I was going to. Nora replied as she picked the journal. “How’s it coming?”
Toni smiled. “Almost over. “I don’t have the strength to write with much gusto as before, but I still try.”
“You can leave the book for now while you concentrate on your treatment.” Nora replied.
Toni smiled. “The book is doing a lot for me.”
Nora stared at it and then at Toni. “I spoke to the lawyer.”
Toni cleared her throat. “What did he say?”
“He is coming in tomorrow.”
Toni nodded with a faint smile. “That’s sounds nice.”
James stared at Toni. “Toni?”
“Yeah…” she replied tiredly.
“Can I have a moment with you in private?” he asked.
Nora looked at him with some concern. “Uh?”
Toni nodded. “Please, excuse us.”
Nora stepped out.
“How is she?” Toni asked.
James shook his head. “Bad. She doesn’t sleep at night and she is always crying.”
“I thought you said you would move in with her?” Toni asked, with some concern.
He nodded. “I already did. Not helping matters. All she does is talk about how God already has your parents and that He doesn’t need to take you too.”
Toni smiled. “Oh well…I see she has started saying the same things to you too… Honestly, Nora is the best sister in the world. She is strong. She is a fighter and a lover. She is a woman I look up to a lot and she might not know it now, but, she is phenomenal and I tell you, you are getting a goldmine for a woman. Don’t mess it up.”
James exhaled as he took her hand. “Are… Are you not scared?”
She chuckled. “Of what? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Come here.” James said as he hugged her tight.
“Good job, Doctor Jerry.” A Nurse said as they came out of the theatre.
He nodded as he dismissed her. Emeka approached him. “How was the surgery?”
“Fine. The Nurses are taking care of the rest.” He replied as they started to walk. “How is Toni? Has she had her dose for today?”
Emeka nodded. “Yes. I was wondering why you haven’t been to see her in days.”
“Did she talk about it?” Jerry asked.
Emeka shook his head. “No. But, it is a little disturbing, don’t you think?”
“I want to show up when I have good news for her. All you guys have done is give her a reason to know it is over, I want to go there when there is some hope.” Jerry replied.
Emeka sighed. “Jerry, don’t be silly. You have to go and see her today.”
“I just want to have good news for her. Is that too much to ask?” Jerry asked.
Emeka blinked. “Do you know Toni at all?”
Jerry looked away.
“Man, this is not the time to play the hero. Go and meet her.” Emeka replied and walked away.
Nora approached Jerry. “Hey!”
“Hi. How are you?” Jerry asked with a smile.
Nora shrugged. “I don’t know. How are you?”
He smiled faintly. “I don’t know too.”
“I guess you have been really swamped.” She said.
He nodded. “I am trying to find some answers somewhere.”
“Toni is not doing better. I can feel it. Her spirit is down.” Nora started as she took a seat. Jerry sat beside her. “She is giving up, Jerry…and there are tonnes of things we haven’t done together, you know?”
Jerry blinked.
Nora sniffled as she continued. “Our weddings. Baby showers. Vacations. I mean, real vacations without any worries or fears. Mountain climbing. Bungee jumping. Sky diving. Surfing. We haven’t done these things, Jerry. We may never do them,”
“You don’t look like an adventurous person to me.” Jerry said with a smile.
Nora nudged him in the waist. “You sounded like Toni just now.”
Jerry chuckled. “She does have that effect on us all, right?”
“Yeah…I love her so much. She is my strength.” She replied as she wiped her eyes.
Jerry exhaled. “I think we should do something lovely for her.”
“Such as?” Nora asked.
He stared at her. “Throw a party?”
“Oh please! Toni would call it a farewell party.” Nora said smiling. “And trust me, she is going to ruin that party.” She added.
Jerry nodded slowly. “Or, we could actually go on a vacation. South Africa?” he suggested.
“Nah. We’ve combed that country…well, not on vacation.” She replied.
He shrugged. “Or we could go to Calabar. Obudu.”
“Now, that’s an option.” She replied with a smile. “We should tell Toni about it. She would love it.” Nora said as she rose to her feet.
He nodded. “I’ll join you there.” He said
“Okay.” Nora replied and walked away.
“He still won’t come?” Toni asked as Nora read through a magazine.
Nora closed it. “I think he is really busy.”
“You guys need to pull Jerry together.” Toni replied.
Nora sighed. “I think he is fine. He is just occupied with a lot of work. Besides, what did you discuss with James?”
Toni smiled. “Personal.”
“Really?” Nora asked. “You know we are sisters.”
Toni nodded. “It’s not working for me. Sorry.”
Nora sighed. “So…what do you think about a vacation after the last session?”
Toni shrugged. “Like I told you earlier, I really don’t care about it.”
“Yeah…yeah…because you want to be with Jerry…but, what if Jerry would go with us on the vacation?” Nora asked.
Toni smiled. “You would do that for me?”
“It’s his idea.” Nora replied.
Toni folded her arms. “Jerry’s idea? Really? He did say something about vacation?”
“Why are you finding it so hard to believe?” Nora asked.
Toni giggled. “I didn’t think you all were that exciting.”
“We could make it a vacation for the four of us. You, me, Jerry and James. We would spend a lot of money and have a lot of fun too.”
Toni nodded with a smiles. “That works for me.”
“Great! We have a date then. I would start scheduling everything for the trip.” She said with excitement. “Where would you love to go to?”
Toni stared at Nora. “I don’t know really.”
The door opened and Jerry walked in with a smile. “Hi.”
“Hey!” Toni replied. “Come and give me a hug!” she ordered. “Who is ‘Hi’?” she said with a grin.
Jerry smiled as he hugged her.
“You can let go now.” Toni said with a chuckle.
Jerry stared at her. “I am guessing Nora has told you about the vacation…”
Toni nodded with a smile. “Really? Are we going to have the vacation?”
“Yes, where do you want to go?” he asked.
Toni stared at them. “Guys, we have to do everything fun on that vacation. From Bungee jumping to sky diving. It has to rock!”
Nora stared at her. “Err…I guess you are forgetting something.”
“And what could that be?” Toni asked.
Nora pointed to the bed. “We can’t have you jumping up and down.”
Jerry nodded. “She is right.”
“But we still go on the vacation, right?” Toni asked.
“Sure!” Jerry and Nora replied at once and then laughed.
There was a light tap on the door and the Director walked in. “Everyone is all smiles here. That’s impressive.”
Toni smiled. “We could all be happy.”
The Director nodded. “Exactly.” He then turned towards Jerry. “Could I please steal Doctor Jerry for a couple of minutes?”
Jerry rose to his feet as he smiled at Toni. “I’ll be right back.”
“Have him for as long as you want.” Toni replied.
Jerry pecked her on the forehead and walked out with the Director.
“Now what trouble has he gotten himself into?” Toni asked.
Nora folded her arm. “Come on, he is a Doctor and that is his Director and this is their hospital… It has to be work related.”
“My instincts tell me that he is in trouble.” Toni replied.
Nora sighed. “Oh come on… No one ever admits that their instincts could be wrong.”
“Well, mine isn’t.” Toni replied.
Nora sighed as she took a seat

“So what do you think, sir?” Jerry asked with a smile.
The Director greeted his smile with a stern frown. “What do you think you are doing, Jerry?”
Jerry looked in the direction of Toni’s room. “I remember staying off her case. What have I done?”
“I am not talking about her. I am talking about Mrs Aiyenugba. What do you think you are doing?” he asked.
Jerry took a deep breath. “Mrs Aiyenugba is my friend.”
“She is someone’s daughter and grandmother and our patient before being your friend.” He shouted.
Jerry exhaled. “What is the matter?”
“The matter is Mrs Aiyenugba’s SAN of a son is threatening to sue my hospital if you don’t produce his mother.” The Director replied.
Jerry sighed. “That…that is not my decision to make.”
“Excuse me?” The Director probed.
Jerry nodded in defiance. “Mrs Aiyenugba happens to enjoy where she is living at the moment. It is of no use to send her to a family that don’t want her.”
“That would be for her and her family to decide. We have done our part and that is treating her so you are going to let her family do the rest which, again I say, is not our duty.” The Director replied.
Jerry nodded. “Okay.”
“I want you to take care of this matter today.” He said and walked away.
Jerry sighed and returned into Toni’s room.
“So, what did you do?” Toni asked as he walked in.
Nora hissed. “Leave the man alone, Toni. Do we all have to do wrong?” she asked.
“It’s about my housemate.” He replied.
Toni grinned at Nora. “Told you.”
“The hospital wants me to get her out of my house, but her family don’t want her, so it seems pointless.” He replied.
“You have a housemate?” Toni asked.
He nodded. “Mrs Aiyenugba. She is an elderly woman.”
Toni sighed. “Thank God.”
Jerry chuckled as he took his seat. “I should tell you all about her.”
“Yes, you should.” Toni replied.
Nora picked up her purse. “I want to take a walk. I’ll be right back guys.”
Toni blinked. “I’ll be here.”
Nora nodded and walked out.
“She wants to go and cry.” Toni said.
Jerry stared at her. “No. It’s a walk.”
“No. she is going to shed some tears.” She replied.
Jerry raised an eyebrow. “How can you be so sure?”
“I am sure.” She replied.
Jerry rose to his feet. “In that case, I think I should go and check on her.”
“No. She will be fine.” Toni replied. “And let’s look on the brighter side, shedding tears actually washes microorganisms from the eyes.” She said with a smile.
Jerry nodded with a smile. “I love you, Toni.”
She smiled back. “And I love you, Jerry.”
Nora wanted the vacation more than anyone. She wanted a new air…some respite for her soul. As she sat in the garden, she watched as Nurses or family members wheeled patients around for some air. She wanted someone to wheel her around. She didn’t want to think about Toni for a minute. She just wanted to be happy…she didn’t want to expect the worst. She wanted to live in denial for a day…maybe a day was pushing her luck. She thought. An hour seemed just fine. If she could just live the next hour without thinking about Toni, maybe she would be fine.
She knew she wasn’t going to be fine. These things don’t just go away. She raised her head to the sky as she fought back tears, the more she tried, the more her throat hurt. She felt pain. Maybe no one really knew how she felt. She cried.
“It is pointless, guys, I am not having this conversation.” Jerry said as he knotted his neck tie.
Emeka stared at Mrs Aiyenugba. “I have told you he won’t listen.”
“Jerry, I understand you don’t want to see me go, but if they are threatening to sue the Hospital, you should understand. It could also cost you your job.”
“I’ll get another.” Jerry replied.
Emeka sighed. “Bull-headed cock!”
Jerry laughed. “Bull? Cock? Dude?”
Emeka blinked as he looked away. He was so angry that he didn’t know that he had not put the words out rightly. However tacky Jerry thought it sounded, he had made his point clear. Jerry was being adamant.
“Jerry, I know how much you care about me, but my son can be a real pain. I know that first hand.” Mrs Aiyenugba said. “You don’t want him throwing his Legal weights around.”
Jerry shrugged. “I can’t be bothered. No one will take you to that facility against your will.”
“But I hear it is a fine place. Just that I would be surrounded by old people… And I am old too.” She said with a smile. “Let me go.”
Emeka swallowed. “Come on, man. The Director expects you to have sorted this out yesterday. We shouldn’t go to work today with a negative answer for him.”
“At least, let her meet Toni before she leaves. We would take her in the evening.” Jerry said with a frown.
Mrs Aiyenugba smiled. “Thank you. I can’t wait to meet her.”
“It’s okay.” Jerry said as he took a deep breath. “I would be back to pick you at lunch time.”
The doorbell chimed. Emeka opened it. He was forced back by Police officers.
“Doctor Jerry?”
Jerry stepped forward. “What is it?”
“You are under arrest.” The officer said flashing a warrant before him.

Beautiful Stranger is written by @tomi_adesina; Author of Dear Future Husband available for Free on African Stories. Follow @tomi_adesina on twitter for more thrilling stories. Her new book “All Fun and Games” also available for FREE on African Stories

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Love on the 25th by Uneñ Ameji
Beautiful Stranger by Tomi Adesina
All Fun and Games by Tomi Adesina
Life of a Barack Boy by Ojay Aito

Love on the 25th – Season Finale


Hey guys!
So sorry for weeks of absence…lot of work and script writing….yes, yes… got a scripting gig and it’s been great – just out of lies stories..but will keep you posted…when dem act am….hehehe.

So today is final episode of Love on the 25th… after months of writing about Debbie Black and Vince Fatasho, we rest their bitter-sweet story. Do comment…let’s know what think, your own ending version and share ….


Episode 17. Season Finale
Timothy Benjamin Dickson was a vengeful man. No one crossed him and remained within close radius – if life was precious. Victoria Motosho knew better than to have let him live after she pulled a handgun on him and his ugly mistress demanding for her daughter 16 years ago. But it happened that Ben who wasn’t a cat still found a way to survive bullets sprayed in his midsection; a miracle that left Victoria fleetingly in mortal fear of a strike back and an unhealthy appetite for cold revenge after she found out that he was alive and had killed her best friend. The strike back never happened.

The look of shock and loud scream from the ugly woman Ben had left her for fueled her confidence and hatred as she held them at gun point on that dark fateful night. The ugly woman who had been cocky and annoyingly displaying a self-satisfied smug prompted a heartbroken Victoria to whip out the shiny weapon she had obtained from her father’s old box. Ben’s thick lips that Victoria loved had tightened when she waved it at the ugly woman who suffered from acute color blindness; bidding her to let her tongue wag one more time.
“Put the gun away” he had commanded firmly as his bleached mistress stood like Lot’s wife – a pillar of poisonous salt. Victoria had raised it with the intention of shooting her thighs but then Ben made an unplanned move to collect the gun from her trembling hands. An involuntary press of the trigger as they struggled and a bullet was logged in the ugly woman’s chest. She slumped on the black settee, almost in slow motion, lifeless body devoid of sound sprawling obscenely as blood soaked through her flowery shirt and yellow pants.
Ben ran to her, knelt beside her, jerking her dangling head and getting soaked with her abnormally red blood that gushed from her left breast as he called her name with tears stinging his eyes, his voice for the first time cracking and catching in his throat. He loved her – Victoria had come to realize as she stood afraid of what she had done.
He buried his head in her neck as he cried and pleaded for her to come back. Victoria should have left but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Victoria didn’t know how long she stood there until Ben came charging towards her in rage and she knew there was only one option. She raised the gun, closed her eyes and released strays of bullet into his wide chest and thick legs as he approached, tears falling from her eyes. She should have listened to her father.
“He is no good” he had told her on his death bed. But she didn’t listen.
His heavy body fell to the ground with a loud thump and Victoria stood in the cold room with the gun hanging from her hand as she looked at the dead bodies. Just as she made to leave, the stillness was interrupted by a teenage boy who opened the front door and stepped into the room albeit gingerly. He stared at the bodies and a look of recognition registered in his eyes as they stared at themselves.
“Alama’s mother” he said out loud. She buried a bullet in his head. She couldn’t afford loose ends. She had come to get her daughter but a murderer she had become. She stood, the bodies littered around her as their warm blood leaked out of the remaining of what was once alive. Weak and afraid of what she had done, she hurried out of the house, the bloody scene and smell of warm blood threatening to overcome her sanity, the need to retch overpowering her being. She rushed out.
The old gateman who tried to get a glimpse of the night visitor was given away by creak of the rusty door of his gatehouse. A bullet had entered the old gateman’s head as he begged, stopping his words forever.
She remembered everything.
The look of fear in her tiny ugly eyes, the angry look on Ben’s face as he charged towards her, the arrogant stare from the teenage boy and the last words from the dark lips of the old gateman
“Madam, please….I get children”
Time of murder – 10:55pm.

She opened her weary eyes as she always did when she couldn’t sleep. After 16 years, she still regretted the killings but knew she would not hesitate to put a bullet in his head if she ever set her eyes on him again. A cheat and a rogue, Ben had taken her for a fool, leaving her penniless and without a daughter. The days she had begged for contracts and favors on goodwill, selling her body to her so-called father’s friends for funds to execute government contracts but it had paid off in the end; an end that did not justify the means. She had come to understand that there were no endings – just series of unfortunate events with transient happy moments interlaced with unending days of regrets, fear and pogoing hope. Life as it were was nothing but just time and moments – there were no justifications.

The killings were never unraveled but she had been contacted after the bodies were found twelve hours after the shooting. An overbearing inspector with his timid partner had found her in her Lagos home 48 hours after the murder. She had driven back to Lagos from Benin the night of the murder and had gone straight to Kaita’s house. Dumping the gun in a small pool of water across a mini bridge as she drove on the lonely road at midnight, she wept for her missing baby, the lives she had taken and the children of the old guard. She wept because she had lost everything and he had chosen the worthless ugly woman in the end. Kaita, her best friend had taken one look at her and dragged her in without questions.

The ill-mannered policeman with beady accusatory fowl eyes reiterated that her daughter was still missing; her husband and his new ‘wife’, a teenage boy and an old security man had been murdered in cold blood at his Benin residence and she was the prime suspect. She knew he was buffing and like a shark circling, he smelled blood but couldn’t prove it. A play out of emotions of one who was suffering the anguish of a missing child, hatred her husband but still human enough to tear at the news was appropriate and Victoria played the part to perfection. There was no way she was going down for the crime when her daughter was still out there.

Kaita, a renowned lawyer stepped in when the crass inspector asked for Victoria to remain silent and cuffed her to the station with mere suspicions and few witnesses’ account of seeing Victoria two days before murder asking for her daughter in the street with flyers of a child. With a lawyer as an alibi and legal representative, it wasn’t long before the case fizzled out after series of appearances in court. In the cause of investigation and thanks to Kaita’s digging skills, it was discovered that Ben had embezzled millions of Naira of a very dangerous man in the creeks that couldn’t be named. It was also established that Ben had swindled Victoria of her inheritance along with other persons who were faceless. Soon the case quickly turned to one with more suspects than admissible – ‘above-the-law’ kind of suspects. Ben became the fraudulent dead man who killed his family and guard because of his recklessness and unmatched greed. Ben’s stash however was never found and the inconsequential amount in his accounts was frozen by the court. The case was dismissed.
“Give it time to breathe and we can check back” a determined Kaita to unravel where Ben hid his stash had told Victoria as she drove her to the Murtala Mohammed Airport after she was acquitted and was on her way to her home country – Ghana.

All was quiet until Kaita stumbled on a keg of gun powder 5 years later and was murdered few days to exposing the rot that was buried deep in the Nigerian Stock Exchange and big stalwarts in Government.

Ben was not dead.

A silent investor using a new name, Ben controlled companies worth billions Naira with subs that did whatever they were told. Not one to stay in a place long enough to reveal identity, Ben was steadily on the move and rise to acquire businesses across Africa with pseudo names. Kaita had found out the stunning discovery when one of her clients complained of shares bought in a company that had been declared non-performing by the Nigerian Stock Exchange and wanted to sue the company along with other investors who bought. His investments to the tune of five million Naira had gone down the economic drain and he wanted it back at or to be compensated. The story was that FAT Communications had issued IPOs – Initial Public Offers for the company clearly with the intention of not reporting to the NSE quarterly as stipulated. After 6 years, the company alongside others was declared non-performing, investors didn’t get a single kobo on shares bought because “they were supposed to share in the risk” and worst off, they couldn’t recover their investments. Their lives savings, borrowed funds and seed money was gone and they wanted Kaita to represent them.

Kaita, the notorious digger had dug deep into the company and discovered monumental dirt in the modus operandi of the perpetrators. These companies had the Director-General of the Nigerian Stock Exchange in their pockets and as such could default without any slap on the wrist. More also, not only was FAT Communications a cover up company, four other companies on the list of the non-performing companies had the same chairman – A Tim Bent.

Kaita, dogged, continued to track down the evasive man until an old copy of his passport stared at her from the laptop of the clerk she had seduced with her fine legs and a promised bed rump after work.
Tim Bent was no other person than Timothy Benjamin Dickson.
Victoria was the first to know and together they had worked on how to expose the system that sold shares to unsuspecting public for the purpose of raising millions for personal gain and Victoria – with the sole aim of destroying Ben.

But sadly, few days after Kaita had an incriminating document she wouldn’t show Victoria, she was taken off the 3rd Mainland Bridge by a truck – one belonging to one of the companies under investigation. An autopsy after refusal of company to pay huge compensation demanded by Kaita’s firm revealed enormous dose of cocaine in her system. The case had not only destroyed her reputation as the best female lawyer in the country, it had also left Victoria mad with grief and ambition to take Ben down at all cost, even if it were the last thing on earth she’d do. Now, Victoria decided was a good time to contest ownership of the company – Zenith Group and expose him for what he truly is – evil in human form.

Tim Bent owned 70% of Zenith Group with a miserly 30% shared between unknown fronters including Abel Fatasho, her father’s P.A before her father died and she had married Ben. It took Hanna Towel, Victoria’s new forensic accountant 2 years to dig out and trail Ben’s investments across Africa and in the UK but Ben remained ‘dead’.

There was simply no trace of his existence.

Whether he was alive or his ghost existed, Victoria was going to make him pay for his crimes. She might have pulled the trigger that ended lives but he had gone long enough wrecking more havoc and needed nemesis badly. If she was a hypocrite, then so be it. Victoria was ready to bare the economic rot he had long cultivated and take her pound of flesh. If he thought he had powers at the top, she had garnered alliances from top officials and international bodies….this time; Victoria was ready to see the nail go down his coffin – firmly.
It was her life ambition. It was time.

The long talk with Alama now Debbie Black revealed she had worked with the Group and had a fling with Abel’s second son. Victoria had smiled at the new name her little princess had given herself and admired her strategy for survival – she was really her father’s daughter. Alama had no idea of the power at play and the recount of her life had Victoria pasting a wide white smile as Alama continued to jab away on her friends, work and achievements. Did Abel know Alama – now Debbie was Ben’s daughter? Was Ben aware she was alive and working in his company? If so, what was his plan? He always had a plan and Victoria was sure Alama was going to be caught in between them once again.

She lied when she told Alama her father was dead because she wanted her daughter to smile, to stop the tears that flowed but mostly because she desperately wanted him to be. She hoped for both of them that Ben was indeed dead and that someone was acting on his behalf or impersonating him. Despite the task at hand, Victoria was thankful for the wedding interview – she had found her daughter. And now, she waited for tomorrow – Alama’s wedding day before flying to Abuja to go see Abel to make her demands. God help them. God keep her.
A smile at the thought of witnessing her baby girl walk down the aisle as she dropped her legs on the cold tiles tugged the corners of her mouth. Her phone rang. It was Alama. She smiled and picked it.
“Hey baby”
“Mum, Mum!” Alama called in panic. Her voice is shrill like she has seen a ghost. Victoria was sitting up as fast as she could.
“Yes Alama, what is it?”
“He is alive, He is alive” she said in quick breath.
“Where? Baby, where?” Victoria asked, panicking as she thought of the worst that Ben could do to her baby just to spite her.
“With my boss, with his son, I don’t know..I can’t be here. I am sorry the wedding is off” her voice barely in whispers.
“Calm down baby” she calmed her.
“I will find you” she said as she swallowed a sob and ended the call.
“Hello? Alama! Alama?” she called, staring at the dead phone in her hand.
Victoria Motosho knew Alama had slipped past her fingers once more and as always Ben was the denominator.
It was time to face Ben and face him squarely.


Her eyes closed, long lashes fanning her flushed cheeks and tempting swollen pink lips. Head on white soft pillow and hand placed delicately along her curved hips, she slept peacefully and I resisted the urge to wake her up for another romp. Watching her even breathing, I couldn’t resist anymore and planted a kiss on her warm soft lips as her eyes fluttered open. She woke up with a sad smile.
“Hi” I smiled as she looked sleepy and blinked to focus on me. I placed light kisses on the tip of her nose and she purred, smiling.
The sound of light rain caused her to turn, the movement revealing her pebble-like nipples on healthy sturdy breasts. I could see the receding love bite from my sucking and I smiled recalling her eagerness, hot dirty talk as she rode me and her twenty seconds blackout. She had screamed into my mouth as we came together and I felt the flimsy material between us rip as I filled her with my essence.
“Hey beautiful” I said, dipping my head to give her a full kiss. The room was dark and cold, the Air Conditioner humming in distance as we moaned, sucking and kissing. I could kiss her all day.
“I have to go” she choked after the passionate kiss, looking at me with unfathomable eyes. I didn’t know what she was thinking and the fact that she showed no emotion made me flinch.
“No, you don’t” I murmured as I tried to drag her soft warm body under me but she twisted free, standing up and going to the bathroom. I followed her.
“Really Vince, you don’t need a bath” she said as I joined her in the shower. Silence followed as we took turns washing each other and she smiled, shaking her head as I pressed her up against the glass wall.
“Someone is determined to get me pregnant” she said as she felt me slip my fingers in her tight love hole before going down on her. She had insisted on condoms right from the start and I had obliged her. It wasn’t my fault it ripped. I simply wasn’t built for condoms. After a thrashing orgasm from my mouth, I was determined to leave a piece of me in her and I plunged in, deeper, without a single thought of retracting until the deed was done.
“You are mine, only mine” I said as I pushed into her womb, standing and bracing her legs up. Her squeal and tightening of her legs round my waist, flexing of her vaginal muscles became too much for me as we went at it slow, raw lust building up as I fed her; and then she had shattered in my arms; crying and clinging to me. I came unexpectedly as we stilled; each afraid of moving, holding on to the moment. I was spent, sedated but surprisingly hard again in few seconds. This was too much.
“You have to get that sorted and don’t you dare come close” she laughed as she came down from her climax and felt me growing hard in her canal. Unhooking her legs, she moved away for a thorough bath. Words were not exchange afterwards as we washed; looking at each other and smiling.
“Marry me” I asked as I relished the feeling of teasing her pebbles on firm flesh.
“I am not going to leave you” I said with profound determination as her silence washed over me. Pressing into her and trailing kisses under her earlobe, she remained stiff but gradually got excited again as I sunk my index finger in her. I couldn’t resist – I had her again.
“What time is it?” she asked as we finished ‘bathing’ for the umpteenth time, getting into her jeans and looking around for her bra.
“Let me help you with that” I said going behind her and slowly putting it on but holding it lose as my hands covered her firm round breasts that were defying my persistent attention to cause them to fall.
“Vince, stop it. It is not a toy” she said trying to push my hands away
“Are you sure? Coz I am pretty sure I could play with them all days” I said tweaking the already hardening nubs.
“I can’t do this right now” she snapped as she walked over to where her shirt lay on the sofa.
“I am sorry….I just can’t get enough of you” I said as emotion caught in my throat. Never did a woman get under my skin this deep and the thought that she was walking down the aisle in less than twenty-four hours caused me great discomfort. It also made me feel less of a blockhead for what I was about to do. A desperate man really could be a foolish man. I had no idea of what I intended to achieve but doing nothing to stop the wedding would be waiting to be spoon-fed.
“Do you love me?” I couldn’t believe the words had come out of my mouth as I watched her adjust her shirt in the mirror. She froze, not turning to look at me. Few seconds passed as she found her bag and walked around the room almost too afraid to acknowledge I had spoken as she picked her phone.
“I asked you a question Alama” I pushed and she turned to face me; her eyes begging to be let off the question.
“I need to know” I pressed as I noticed her lips clamping together.
“Debbie?” I called, reaching out to her.
“Vince, I can’t”
“Do you feel anything for me? Some kind of connection, likeness, love maybe?” I asked standing in her front, almost begging her to let me know what she was thinking. It seemed like she only wanted me for sex and then couldn’t get away fast enough once it was over. It was unfair to have these feelings and not have them reciprocated.
“Even if I did, what would be the point?” she said looking straight at me, then dropping her eyes.
“Marry me Debbie” I asked again, tilting her chin to look at me. Her eyes watered and her lips tightened; I could feel her heartbeat and noticed the uneasiness in her breathing. I could see the conflict of emotions in her eyes, fear, desire and loyalty.
“I am getting married to Kole in less than 24 hours” she finally answered, looking at the door. She had decided. I watched her as she walked out of the room but not before long heard her gasp.
I closed my eyes.
“You are such an a**hole” I muttered underneath my breath as I followed her out, grabbing a shirt on my way.
Perhaps a meeting of ex-husband and soon-to-be husband might just stop wedding.
I could only hope.


For the umpteenth time, I wondered what was wrong with me as I rode him hard, twisting and gyrating for all I was worth. I couldn’t get him out of my system and the fact that I transform into some devious sexual being whenever I was with him confounded my confusion. Why Vince? Why did I have to get mushy and brainless the moment I’m left in the room with him? To say he is the best I ever had would be an understatement. He was firm, long, big, curved and his measured strokes took my breath away. He knew his way around my body and I didn’t care if he had 10,000 hours practice with 10,000 women to get it right every single time. I lost it when his lips found mine and all I could think about was having him.
“You have to stop this wanton behavior. This isn’t you” my inner Being said, frowning in disapproval as I voiced phrases that would put the highest porn star to shame. Using the last ounce of self-control, I stopped and made to climb off him but he was quick to anticipate my move. He switched and I was on my back before I could blink. Thoughts flew out of my head as he drove in with one purpose. Domination. I blanked out as I came and I felt him rip the protection I was counting on.

His lips taking mine hours later woke me up and I felt my treacherous body respond in a way I knew would cause me to misbehave again. His hands, his hard-soft body and lips tempted me as we showered until he asked if I loved him and repeated I marry him. His continuous chant of the two-word sentence was beginning to get personal and serious. I freaked out. Hurrying out to the sitting room to escape the tensed atmosphere, and there he was. Sitting with his back to me, I knew even before he turned. I felt my lungs collapse and my throat clamp up as I watched him turn.
“Caleb?” I called. I couldn’t believe he was sitting here after so many years. My legs needed support at this point and I found myself leaning on to the sofa in the large live-in space.
“Alama?” he called, his eyes meeting mine. A smile? A confused look?
“Caleb. Why are you here?” was all I could come up with. The questions were whispered and my heart beating so fast I had to consciously tell myself to calm down.
“I thought you were dead” he said standing up and advancing slowly. I raised my hand to stop him.
“You left me.” I said in a strange high pitched voice. Like the frightened 16 years old who was left in the fire.
“I..” he couldn’t find the words.
“I am sorry” he whispered as I waited for him to explain why he deserted me. Why he wasn’t with me in the burning hut. Why he let me suffer knowing I was carrying his child, our child.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated, my eyes filling with salted water. Vince had told me Caleb was with him in his message but seeing him here was overwhelming. What was his plan? To reconcile us? To get a confession from me? From Caleb? Surely it was just a ploy to get me in bed and it worked. I wasn’t angry, I felt cornered.
“Mr. Vincent” he said looking anxious and uncertain as he lifted his eyes to the approaching figure. I knew without looking back that Vince was standing behind me. When did he let Caleb in? Most probably when I was sleeping. And for how long was he here? Did he hear me scream? I shifted on the sofa as I gathered my thoughts.

Vince went straight to the bar across the room and got a glass of spiked vodka for himself eyeing both of us, and just as he screwed the lid back, a knock sounded on the door.
“Right about time” he said without looking at me, questions on who he was expecting and what he wanted to achieve with the ambush trapped in my throat. He walked over to the door and opened it. I saw his body tense before I heard a familiar voice. A voice that would change the course of events.
“We need to talk right now” it was an angry Mr. Fatasho. What was Mr. Fatasho doing here? I tried to process the connection between my wedding Kole, Caleb and Mr. Fatasho and came out blank.
“Tobi can host the government official father” Vince sounded pissed and I wondered what was going on. Caleb sat looking at me quietly and I stood up, uncomfortable at his silent direct stares. I approached the door and decided to find out what was the cause of the raucous exchange.
“Good evening sir” I greeted sweetly and a flick of alarm registered on his face. He looked like ashen; like a blow had been delivered in his midsection; and as he glanced beside him, my eyes followed his to the subject of his agitation. A mass of living body occupying gold plated wheelchair stared back at me.

My heart literally lurched; fear, anger and an emotion I knew as hatred flushed down my body all in one second.
A look of shock etched on his lined face and dimpled nose, I saw the proud man I knew as my father seated in a wheelchair with a pregnant young woman; his hair white, lips drawn to the side imitating a sardonic smile and a little glint in his eyes. If I wasn’t any wiser, I would have concluded he was happy to see me but I knew better. This was the man who was responsible for a terrible childhood, this was the man I wanted dead, this was the man who was dead yesterday but today lives. This was the man who changed my life before and who had the power to change it yet again.

What was the connection here? What did Vince and his father have to do with my father? And how did they all get here? Caleb, my father and just as I lifted my eyes….I saw Kole at the landing of the stairs few meters from the door.
It was official. There was no way I was going ahead with the wedding.
Just in a second, what took me sixteen years to forget was staring at me in the face and this time it wasn’t any different. I did what I knew how to do.
I ran.


I knew without being told that she was with Vince the moment her line rang off repeatedly. The text from Vince after the fourth ring confirmed it. Although it barely stated why he was inviting me to his apartment, the vague message from Vince was all I was hoping to avoid few hours to my first wedding. It was obvious that Debbie had tuned out since the Alex episode and whatever I said afterwards evoked passive of smiles, the signed agreement serving to divide us further. The little spark that existed between us was long gone and we were going ahead with the wedding because it was too late to stop and I, hoping for a fresh start and giving my sexual orientation a break.
How did Vince get my number though? That wasn’t an issue with Debbie’s phone on her person. I was furious and as I got ready, I vowed he wasn’t getting away this time without a disjointed jaw. Taking two hours off the guys to “go sort out some issues”, I drove roughly to the address. Alex had gone MIA and wasn’t returning my calls. I had to make sure he wasn’t going to try some crazy stunt at my wedding tomorrow. Perhaps he was why Vince had invited me to his apartment – I hoped not.

The drive to Ikoyi took the last shred of patience and as soon as I found a suitable parking spot, I was out fuming and eager to put the little boy in his place.
My phone buzzed. An email from Alex.
I knew the content of the mail before opening, call it premonition and you’d be right. Taking a deep breath, I opened it nonetheless.
Get married and I will release our love video” an email
Staring at me as attachments were sex videos. Alex, a weirdo had recorded one of our session because ‘it kept him warm’ and wanted to get kicks from editing the footage. But from the attachments, he probably must have recorded more sessions. I felt heat climb up my neck and took a moment to take in air. I sent a reply instantly.
I will be there in 1 hour. Don’t do anything rash” I replied.
I cursed my addiction to the fine specimen…Alex was going to be my downfall, I knew it and yet I couldn’t wait to get to his apartment – mostly to ‘reassure’ him of my love the only way I knew how.
‘There goes my bachelor’s eve’ I muttered as I looked up the apartment number from Vince’s message.
‘Get her and leave’ I muttered again all the way to the 1st floor chastising myself for thinking she was with him and using the stairs to work up anger.
And then I saw her.
Her face red, like she faced a furnace, as she ran down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her. A look at the little group at the door of the apartment told me they were responsible for the tensed atmosphere and they stared back at me as Vince dashed past me in hot pursuit.
“Debbie! Debbie!!” he called as he ran after her.
I briefly considered asking what Mr. Fatasho what was going on but decided against it and I followed suit.
“Debbie!” I called as I ran down the stairs but she was already out of the mini estate and had waved down a taxi.
“Debbie! Listen, I had nothing to do with whatever that was back there” it was Vince shouting as Debbie got into the car. Her hair askew, eyes red and nose running, she was on a call.
“He is alive, He is alive” she was saying into the phone in panic as I came within hearing distance.
“Debbie” I called and she looked at me.
“I am sorry Kole. I can’t” and she was gone. I knew even without her saying it – the wedding was off.
My phone rang. It was Alex.
“I can’t talk now Alex” I said into the phone as I watched the car speed off.
“Then you leave me with no choice Kole” he threatened.
“The wedding is off” I barked into the phone, exasperated at his timing.
“I need you here with me, please” he tried the pitiful tone he knew got me every time.
“Give me few minutes” I said grudgingly into the phone and I cut him off.
“The wedding is off” I said looking at Vince with a straight face. Vince stared after the long departed car, rubbing his nose violently and cursing in muted tones.
“I hope you are happy” I said to a distraught Vince who finally looked at me with heated eyes.
“Yea, I guess so” he said maliciously and he matched back into the estate with anger oozing from his pores.
I had less than 25 minutes to get to Alex. It wasn’t a good time to find out what the little gathering was all about and moreover the wedding was off…..I sent the three worded sentence to my ever efficient P.A and switched off my phone.
She knew what to do.


I knew even before I boarded the plane that Alama’s rumored wedding would not hold. Against Umar’s advice, I had taken the plane ticket from Mr. Vincent and had left for Lagos – hopeful, excited and ashamed at various times as I prepared for the trip. Mr. Vincent didn’t know this but Umar was a friend of a friend I briefly housed when he came into Abuja for his job interview years back. It was a huge relief when he had stepped into the house weeks ago.
“I really don’t know what you did or didn’t do. I think it will be wise to stay off for now” he had advised as we left Mr. Vincent’s house. Two days later, Mr. Vincent strolled into the lounge and handed me a Lagos-bound ticket. I took the decision to end the suspense. Yes, I was a murderer or almost a murderer and yes, I wasn’t going to confess, I wanted to see the woman she had become – the woman who had the attention of millions. I simply wanted to see her just one more time.

And I had seen her – more radiant and confident….until she had seen her father and fled, Vince in pursuit. I knew I wasn’t going to see her again; maybe in another decade. I could only hope.
Vince returned alone with eyes so bright with anger and chest heaving with words unspoken.
“Who is he? What are you doing here?” he shouted the moment he walked in, slamming the door as he pointed a look at the mean looking man in wheel chair. The atmosphere had been quiet but tensed in the airy room as the old men and young pregnant woman made entrance few minutes earlier; my eyes refusing to meet the man I knew was Alama’s father. I didn’t introduce myself and frankly I didn’t know what I was still doing there.
“I am Tim Bent – Alama’s birth father” he said without missing a beat.
“We need to talk” it was a man who looked like Mr. Vincent in his mannerism and thick brows knotted in determination to maintain aloofness. Mr. Vincent simply ignored him and went into his bedroom but exited shortly after.
“Book yourself a flight” it was Mr. Vincent handing me two bundles of one thousand Naira notes. The look in his eyes told me I was free to go.
“I am sorry” I said for the first time meaning it. He didn’t know what I was sorry for but he nodded.
I was sorry for keeping Alama when her mother was looking for her.
I was sorry for taking advantage of a 16 year old
I was sorry for killing an innocent baby.
I was sorry for deserting her
I was sorry for the chance lost to apologize to her.
I was sorry.
“I am too” he answered and showed me to the door.
One last look at three domineering men and I gave a sad bow.
I got what I came here for – I got to see her one last time.
But I was not going back to Abuja.
A new life in Lagos beckons – Another fresh start and I welcomed it.


The two old men sat staring at each other and I was tempted to scream the roof off.
“I see you are her father” I started after the silence followed Caleb’s exit.
“You knew she was alive and you didn’t tell me!” the old man in the wheel chair snapped at my father.
“I didn’t know” father said in low tone looking out of the window.
“I see” he replied and turned to face me.
“Where is my daughter now?” The intimidating man in wheels turned to ask me and I blanked out for few seconds.
“That is irrelevant” my father voiced coming to stand in the middle of the room.
“What do you mean it is irrelevant? If you have nothing to say, it would do you good to keep quiet” he barked again; I could see him with legs looming over the room.
“She ran away again and I want her back” he continued without a breaking, looking at me.
“I am out in the open. I am not supposed to be seen out and if you were thorough and smart as I thought, you’d have known my daughter was right under your nose all these months” he seethed with malice; his words coming out in hisses.
“I suggest you take a vacation then” father voiced bitterly.
“I want to see her” he said almost to himself than to the occupants of the room.
“I don’t see that happening” father stood his ground with the hot tempered man. “Can you get in touch with her? I see you two may have some kind of relationship” he waved.
“I suppose?” I answered meeting his eyes.
“Look for her” he instructed.
“She knows how to remain elusive. I looked for her for years” my father answered.
“She was right under your nose. Don’t speak anymore” he commanded and I was surprised to see father bite his tongue for the first time in my life.
“I told you to receive a visitor in Abuja, if only you had. We’d have devised a way to keep her where we can always find her” father growled at me.
“What has that got to do with the fact that Debbie is out there and unreachable?” I said, exasperated at my father as I called her number. It was switched off.
“You were supposed to receive me. I guess you should have told your boy to keep her an eye on her since you knew there was a probably of finding them together” he was saying to no one in particular and the young woman sat, her eyes trailing one mouth to the other.
“You, my boy refused to receive me. I demanded this meeting to tell you to help me keep my daughter safe and well, guard until I could tell her …” he stopped and looked out of the window.
“Dad, is that my sister?” the young pregnant girl asked as stillness came over the room and the operator’s voice telling me Alama’s number was switched off came to an end after the 6th dial.
“Such a fool….who will inherit my empire” he rubbed his eyes and I felt pity for the pregnant young woman.
“I will leave the country in few days” the old man said tried as he wheeled himself out. The young woman clambered after him.
“Right. We will find out where she has gone this time” father reassured.
“Don’t bother. It will be another decade before I see her again. She is my daughter afterall” he said with shiny eyes and a smile on his lips.
“If she contacts you, tell her I love her and need just five minutes of her time” he said as he reached the door.
“Will do” I nodded.
Soon the crowd of three piled out and I poured myself a full cup of whisky and dialing her number.
You must know that I have no knowledge of what happened earlier. Please don’t let this come in between us. Call me
An email sent. A text sent.
But somewhere deep down, I feared I had lost her. Forever.
I poured the hot drink down and felt tears running down my eyes involuntarily
“Debbie….please” I choked as my heart broke for the first time.
It was love on the 25th.

The bright sun was significant on Monday morning as Victoria walked into the reception of Zenith Group HQ. A look at Victoria and a card made the stoned faced receptionist skip like ram as she called Abel’s office. Victoria having spent 48 hours waiting for Alama to contact her was exhausted but saturated with anger.
“Please come with me Ma” she said as she led Victoria and Hannah to Abel’s office at the penthouse; heels clicking with the sparkling marble tiles.

Abel was already on his feet as she walked into the rich space that oozed authority. She faced the green snake who was christened Abel after 20 years and with him, his son – Vincent sitting heavily with blood shot eyes. The receptionist bowed out.
“I suppose you have more than enough time to chat with an old friend today” she said sweetly as she swayed into the room.
“Of course! Victoria! So nice to see you” he said coming around for a hug.
“Been a long time my faithful friend” she said with sarcasm.
“Ah! There she is….the acid tongue” Abel laughed; the chuckle not reaching his eyes.
“You chose sides…I wasn’t happy with you for a long time” Victoria said with a small smile of her own.
“Oh! You don’t blame me…he was a very dangerous man” he laughed off the comment.
“I suppose”
“My son, Vincent. Vincent…this is Victoria Motosho, Alama’s mother” he introduced and passed a look to his son, who looked temporarily lost.
“Debbie Black, just in case you were wondering” Victoria sitting down and extending her hand to Hannah who produced a bulky report.
“It is my pleasure Ma’am” the young man said in a small uninterested voice. He looked sick and worst off; he looked like he would rather be at home sleeping than at sitting here.
“Heard from her, have you?” Victoria asked noting he was probably love sick.
“No” he said, sitting up.
“Me neither” Victoria said looking at Abel.
“So to what do I owe this visit?” Abel asked wriggling his hands.
“We both know Ben is alive and probably out of the country…it took me a while I confess but I think he will be interested in this little compilation. I have had the pleasure of making this compilation and I am sure you’d find it quite expository” she said as she dropped the bulky report mid-way between her and Abel who had long taken his seat.

His face tightened as he pulled the thick volume close and opened it gingerly, each page a revelation. Like a well-researched project, each page revealed names of companies under the Group and supporting documents that showed the amount raised through fake IPOs, companies delisted, taxes evaded and monies transferred to offshore accounts, fictitious transactions and bogus fraudulent figures that could bury the Group and all directors. The report really was the end of Zenith Group should it reach the wrong hands. This amount of information could only have made its way out of Ben’s den and he knew how. Akin had died because he had been careless with the documents.
Now, here it was after 11 years.
“From your look, I bet you know what those are” she sneered.
“What do you want?” he asked closing the report and meeting her eyes.
“Well, since you asked…I want Ben”
“You do realize that is impossible”
“Not as impossible as publishing this page by page. I wonder what your business partners and international friends will do”
“You are not going to bring all of us down because of your vendetta with your ex-husband who you killed” he snapped.
“I am aware of a court judgment that says otherwise. Can’t say the same for you Abel. You are a fraud, accessory to murder of Kaita Lawal and more importantly a betrayer. I wonder what Ben would say if he knew you were the one that gave Akin the documents to bring him down? What were your plans? Take over the Group?” she asked taunting him.
“I was in love with Kaita goddammit! He killed her and he will pay for it” Abel said, looking at his son that watched without an expression – almost bored to death by the banter.
“I don’t see it that way. I remember you were the C.E.O of Gabs Transport at the time. Your truck pushed her off the bridge” she said wickedly
“My hands were tied but I have not forgotten”
“I wish I believed that”
“Victoria, I can assure you that going this way will not lead to a satisfactory conclusion” Abel said palming the report.
“What will you have me do? Keep this well written report all to myself?”
“You can’t win”
“I can’t?” she asked as she stretched out her hand to Hannah. A piece of paper was given to her from a file.
“Just a copy of a court action” Victoria said as Abel reluctantly collected it and skimmed it.
“You are suing the company for its ownership? On what grounds?” he asked, sweating.
“Well, his last will had me as his next of kin. And he is dead. It is only logically I take over the Group as stipulated”
“But you can’t prove the Group is his”
“I can’t?”
“How do you propose you will do this?” Abel asked, alarmed now.
“I presume the report will fill in the missing blanks in court. It boils down to who will be held responsible for fraud and countless forgery – Ben is dead but his name and signature keeps appearing on incriminating documents. It could mean one of two things – Abel Fatasho is an impersonator or an accessory to murders and fraudulent diversion of funds, tax evasion…..need I say more? Either ways, you will be spending a long time with Jamie Ibory – I remember he was a friend of yours” Victoria said taking back the court action.
Abel didn’t know this but Victoria was bluffing. The court action had been doctored but Abel couldn’t tell the difference seeing that she flashed it and retrieved it just in time. She could see him fall under the pressure. No one wanted to take the fall for Ben – it was too big a fall for one man.

Abel feared Victoria and knew she would do as threatened. He couldn’t take the fall for Ben especially since he wasn’t even going to show up if the court action were instigated against the Group. He would lose everything. All he had worked tirelessly for –sweat and blood. Moreover, it was time Ben paid for taking Kaita from him.
“I believe we can work something out” Abel said after long minutes.
“I am willing to consider your options. I will be waiting for your call” Victoria said with a smile. She knew that look.
Abel was back on her side.

Abel Fatasho thought hard for days, his grey hair turning white in less than a week and experienced what his doctor told him were the early signs of a heart attack. He had given all to serve the man called Timothy Benjamin Dickson. He was not going to give his life too.
He was ready to relegate the control of company to Victoria but surprisingly, Ben had named his daughter Alama Dickson as his next of kin as he found out from his friend Tunde – Ben’s lawyer. Tunde was one who didn’t know the definition of the word “confidential” after a few too many bottles. A discreet visit to some of the directors revealed their absolute readiness to save their necks when faced with public humiliation. Some mentioned the need to eliminate Ben to save their necks if push turned to shove. There was no one ready to take the fall.

Abel made the call.

Ben was excited to receive news of Alama’s return and readiness to meet her. A meeting in his home in Nairobi had been fixed and he was exhilarated. He wanted to tell Alama he was sorry, he wanted her to know he loved her and all he did was for her. He wanted her to have all he had worked for, to take over his legacy. He couldn’t wait.
And while he sat sipping his favorite drink of freshly blended ginger and cinnamon, he knew he had been poisoned as soon as Victoria walked in.
In white apparel, she let her hair fall as she approached him under the palm trees where he relaxed. Abel, who had met him hours earlier, told him Vince was bringing Alama and so they waited; sipping drinks and sharing laughs.
“We meet again” was all she said as he felt his eye lids begin to fall. Trying hard to keep his eyes open, he turned to look at a straight faced Abel who had dropped an enormous amount of abrin into his drink when he brought his glass from the house.
“You filthy betrayer” he choked as he held his chest, piercing Abel with a heated look. His eyes closing and mouth trying hard to reveal the last secret, Abel was fast to block his view from Victoria as the words escaped his dried lips in gasps.
“He killed your father for me” he voiced but Victoria didn’t hear it.
“It was a pleasure to have worked for you” Abel returned as he stepped aside and they watched him choke; trying to reach for his phone. Abel shifted it from him and both watched as his heart gave out, taking his last breath, pointing a long accusatory finger at Abel.
“Kaita would be happy” Abel said as he looked beyond Ben; seeing nothing.
“Yes, she will be” Victoria said and unexpected allowed pent up tears flowed down her cheeks, for the first time grieving for Kaita.
Abel stood up and walked into the mansion to alert his young daughter and his body guard.
“Call an ambulance, He is having seizures” he said to the hefty guard who called the hospital immediately.
“Is he dead?” Abel heard the timid voice of the girl as he turned to return to Victoria and nodded solemnly.
“Thank God” she whispered as tears fell out of her eyes.
She was finally free from his hateful words. She had sinned because she wasn’t Alama. Mary had been in school when her mother had been murdered and soon after, Ben discovered that Josephine, the woman he had left Victoria and Alama for, had lied about Mary.
Mary wasn’t his and she had paid dearly for her mother’s deceit. But still, she called him father and regarded Alama, her sister.
Where will she go? Who would she tell? Who would believe she was carrying her his child?
She sunk to the floor and wept; until the woman in white apparel had reached for her and helped her up.
“I am sorry” she chanted continuously as she cried in Victoria’s arms.
Victoria had found the shaken girl on the floor and she knew God had given her a second chance to redeem herself. She was going to be a mother. She would take care of her.
The next day, the death of a Kenyan business man Jela Chane hit the local news. He had died in his home from a heart attack. Ben was laid to rest in an unmarked grave at the public cemetery with Victoria, Mary, Abel and his body guard paying their last ‘respect’.
An orphan, Timothy Benjamin Dickson had died the way he fought all his life against – To be unknown.
Tunde who read his will in presence of Victoria, Abel and Mary revealed what Abel already knew – he had given everything to his real daughter – Alama Dickson. But in absence of her, Victoria would take over affairs till Alama returned.

That was the end of Timothy Benjamin Dickson.

The resolution of Group directors was unanimous too – until the return of his next of kin – Alama Dickson, her mother and ex-wife of Timothy Benjamin Dickson would be the new President of Zenith Group.
Victoria Motosho on her first day of work collected names of all shareholders and through the legal department returned monies to them. There were no profits but surely a refund was a most welcomed idea. In an unexpected move, shares of the company soared in six months – if there was goodwill and assurance to get a refund, most investors trooped in.
Never one to shy away from the camera, she granted interviews in hopes to reach Alama. She knew she was watching.
Victoria knew one day Alama would return and she waited.


I remember like yesterday the move to Abuja with Debbie, the shameless absolute need to have Vince, the wedding of the decade and Debbie’s disappearance. Kole wouldn’t tell. Vince wouldn’t see me or the girls. He worked all the time and he looked like he had an acci
dent with life the weeks that followed. Months and five years, Vince became the eligible bachelor that had vowed off women. He looked hurt all the time and the last time I saw him, he drank whisky all day barely meeting my eyes.
“Have you heard from her?” was all he asked.
“No” I answered and he had let out a fake laugh.
“Will you let me know?” he asked in a murmur.
“Yes” I reassured and he had nodded. That was the last time I saw him.
I remember her text.
“The wedding is off. I am on my way to Abuja. See you soon”
At first I thought it was a joke and had called her line. Her phone was switched off. Panicking, I told the girls and we had gone into overdrive calling her.
“The number you have dialed is switched off” it was the electronic voice of the female operator.
“Call Kole” Tina suggested.
“The number you have dialed is switched off” it was another operator.
“His number is switched off” I said panicking further.
It was midnight before we saw him drive in. Kole looked flushed and sad.
“What is happening?” I fired still trying Debbie’s line.
“Where did you keep your phone?” It was Uloma.
“Have you spoken with Debbie? Have you seen her?” It was Eva
“Debbie said the wedding was off” Tina continued and at that point, he looked like he wanted to throw us out.
He looked tired, his shirt showing a rip and his hair totally spiking at all angles.
“The wedding is off” he said as he walked past us.

Undoubtedly the news of the broken engagement made pages of papers and front covers of soft sells in coming weeks. Debbie’s twitter account was deleted and all that was left of her were personal pictures, mentions of her in write-ups and the legendary interview uploaded on different blogs and websites.
Debbie had disappeared from our lives. Her line was switched off and at some point, the operator simply didn’t reply when the line was dialed. Emails went unanswered.
That was 5 years ago.
I am married and pregnant.
Uloma relocated to the UK with an Igbo man who still drank palm wine as tea and called everyone ‘Nne.’
Eva was in series of relationship – it was Frank, then Moses, Ebi was the last after Nathan…I had lost count.
Tina was having the time of her live in Paris with her new catch – Alhaji Bello Fatagi.
Kole is the father of my baby and I am his trophy wife. It happened in Dubai during a fashion show we both attended. I had no issues with his sexuality and it was fun to have the freedom to desire another man should I ever get tired.
I don’t regret the one night stand or the outcome.
Yes, I know……..I am a good friend and should not be with Kole. But I am. Sometimes life is more than rules, more than expectations, more than girl-code. Most times, life is just what it is – series of interesting unfortunate events.
I keep waiting to see her again.
Will I?
I don’t know.

5 years, 9months later

Dinan, Bretagne – France
Catherine Ejor held the hand of her little baby girl. Eyes deep as her father’s, she sang nonstop as they headed to the local market to get her favorite lunch of baked potatoes and greens. Long limbs springing into a run, Catherine called after her.
“Alama” she called as she bumped into the solid frame of a black man who turned to look at her with the same set of deep set eyes that tormented her at nights. He looked so much like him. No two people should look this good…
“Hello” his voice reverberates.
“Hi” she is breathless. He smiles as he released his hold on her arm.
“Lanre” he offered
“Catherine” she called still looking at him.
“Mummy” it was Alama coming back to drag her.
“You live around?” he asked as she smiled and made to follow her excited daughter.
Catherine nods.
“Yes” she answered as she walked away.
“See you around” he said as he stepped into the art shop.

Jaja Fatasho didn’t like his name mainly because he didn’t like the sacrificial tone. Almost gone for 8 years and constantly been hammered to come home, he made a hasty decision; picked an ugly vessel and without second thoughts went in search of the beautiful woman he had seen in the small market minutes earlier.
She wasn’t married, that he was sure because her dainty fingers revealed no rings and her eyes said more about her need. Perhaps he could return home with her as his wife and the pretty girl his daughter – the thought soothing his return plans.
That will shock his father and his little brother…and step mother.
With a smile as he found the beautiful females taking a seat at the sidewalk restaurant.
“Catherine” he called.
“Lanre” she waved.
“You call it well” he sounded surprise.
“Yes, I lived in Nigeria for a while” she replied.
“I think we might just have a lot to talk about then…Lunch sweety?” he asked the shy pretty girl hiding behind her mother’s skirt. She nodded and looked up at her mother with missing front tooth.
“I am hungry” she said and Catherine laughed.
“I know what you will like” Lanre offered as he held out a seat for the little girl.
“Green” she called as she pointed at the plate on the waiters hand going to another table.
“My! You are really hungry” he teased and she hid her face behind her small hands.
Catherine laughed; her heart filling with joy at his easiness.
“God please, let this man not complicate our lives” Debbie Black prayed as she watched him feed a happy Alama who was ecstatic at having a new friend and vegetables in her toothless mouth.

If only God didn’t have a wicked sense of humor. There was more than enough humor in the days ahead.
‘Let the pilot begin’ He says.


Love on the 25th is written by Uneñ Ameji; Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger. Get a copy. She is @UnenAmeji on twitter

Download “Love on the 25th” on the okadabooks apps for Android users.

Beautiful Stranger. Episode 10


Good wet morning Guys! It’s August, so…lets enjoy the downpour yes? Remember to get free eBooks on African Stories Here and if you are a writer or authored a book, Kindly mail us your articles, books and series to post here. It is free service but works must be edited….although we will go through it, it seems only fair that you make our job easier….you are afterall a writer, are you not? hehehe….#ThursayJokes…send it to and we will take it from there.

Now, your episode for today
Beautiful Stranger. Episode Ten

Read All Previous Episodes of Beautiful Stranger Here

“Come on, man. Think like a Surgeon. Let’s cut!” Jerry said as he dropped an envelope on the table. He bent over and flipped a Surgical Textbook open.
Emeka took a deep breath. He had never seen Jerry so enthusiastic about something and maybe that was a good sign but at the same time, someone had to be reasonable here. Jerry had just stepped out of Toni’s room with the ‘get me on my feet’ rule and he didn’t seem to be thinking straight here. All he wanted was to get her on her feet in its literary context, but that was not going to give a lasting solution. He sighed as he watched Jerry look through a book. “Bro, I think we should talk about this” Emeka said.
Jerry was engrossed in the textbook he was looking through. “Not now.”
“Jerry, I know you feel you can go all Ben Carson on her right now, but we have to be logical here. She has had epileptic seizures from her history and I don’t think we should take that chance again.” Emeka started.
Jerry closed the book. “You are not getting the point. We can cut through and remove the mass of the tumour, do you know what that will do for her?”
“That will buy her more time and in the end, you will still lose her.” Emeka replied. “I think she should start the treatment as soon as possible. Besides, it is the patient and her sister’s wish that she does Chemo and since we know it is the brain we are focusing on, we can switch to Radiotherapy for effectiveness. Don’t start putting your emotions into this thing.”
“You and I know how Radiotherapy works…I can’t watch her go through it. It is so much pain.” Jerry retorted.
“You don’t have to watch. You just have to be there for her, man. I think we shouldn’t waste any more time with these decisions. It is obvious the tumour is escalating to other parts of the system and if we keep dilly dallying about it, we would get nothing done.” Emeka replied.
Jerry shook his head. “The Director asked me what I think we should do and I think surgery is fine, I would go over to him and tell him about my decision and I would try to make Toni and Nora see reason. Besides, AEDs can be given for the seizures.”
“Jerry, you and I know that cytoreduction of the tumour is the best we would get out of this. You have seen the neoplasm, it is better to let her do radiotherapy. Besides, I think we are going to have problems gaining access to the tumour because of the size and location. It is at the skull base, man. Think. There are many possible outcomes of the surgery, we could tamper with her brain tissues, she could suffer memory loss or something worse, are you willing to take that chance?” Emeka asked.
Jerry took a deep breath and leaned against the table. Emeka was right, but he still believed he could remove as many tumour cells as possible, but he had a very slim chance because of the size and location of the tumour. He fumed as he sank into a chair. His eyes were soon wet. “I am out of ideas, bro.”
“Look, Jerry, radiation therapy will kill the tumours but won’t harm her brain tissues. Let’s take a chance on this.” Emeka replied as he took a seat beside him. “Toni is trusting you to get her back on her feet, but not for a month or two. She wants it to be forever.”
Jerry nodded. “This isn’t going to be easy for her.”
“Well, we both know it is not going to be, but she is a fighter. Let’s believe.” Emeka replied.
The door opened and the Director walked in. “What would it be?” he asked as he picked up a copy of the scan that was lying on the table. “Hmm…this is big.” He said and replaced the scan on the table. “Jerry, do you think we can cut?”
Jerry blinked. “Err…Sir, I…I was thinking-”
“-We are thinking radiotherapy would work.” Emeka said, staring at Jerry. “We can’t cut this.” He said through clenched teeth.
The Director nodded as he stared at Jerry. “I hope you know that you would be off most of her treatment.”
“No way!” Jerry objected.
Emeka took Jerry’s hand. “Man.”
Jerry blinked. “Sir, I can’t afford to be kicked off her case. You know what she means to me.”
“And it is exactly for that reason that you have to sit out of this one. I would get you tonnes of cases-”
“-I don’t want anything. I just want her.” Jerry replied, cutting in.
Emeka cleared his throat. “Sir, I think Jerry can be on the team for the Radiotherapy since we won’t be doing surgery.”
“No. I won’t bend the rule even a bit. There is a surgery in about an hour. He is the lead surgeon.”
Jerry fumed. “Sir! Don’t do this.”
“I can’t have you mixing emotions with this.” The Director replied.
Jerry clasped his hands together. “Sir, I have put my emotions aside. I am just a surgeon and her Doctor.”
“It is not so easy, Son. Sit out of this one, we’ve got it.” The Director replied and stared at Emeka. “Come with me, we need to go and prep the patient.” He said and walked out.
Jerry pulled Emeka back. “He can’t do this to me. Please beg him. Toni wants me to do this.”
Emeka blinked. “Jerry, you know how it is. You can’t. You need a right frame of mind.”
“Don’t give me that crap! You can convince him. It is not surgery.” Jerry replied angrily.
“This is why he won’t let you in on it. Cool off, man.” Emeka said and walked out.
Jerry fumed as he kicked the door.
Toni brushed Nora’s hair. “So, I want to draw up my will.”
Nora flipped her head over her shoulder. “What is that?”
“A will. Legal statement showing who I give my share of our family’s fortune to.” Toni replied with a smug smile.
Nora frowned. “I know what a will is, I just don’t know what you need it for right now.”
“Oh come on, Nora. You and I know that it is only necessary I do this now, besides, amendments can be carried out in the nearest future should events change.” Toni replied.
Nora took a seat opposite her. “Are we being less optimistic now? Jerry is doing everything he can and you are here throwing it all away with wanting to draw up a will.”
Toni sighed. “Nora, why are you talking like this? I want to live, but in case I don’t, I want to leaveve something behind for my foundation and stuff.”
“Are you saying I am going to collapse your foundation in the event of your death? Give me some credit, Toni.” Nora said, standing up.
Toni sighed. “I didn’t mean it that way, sis.”
“I don’t care how you meant it, but it hurts.” Nora replied.
Toni nodded. “I am sorry.”
“Yeah. I have got to take a walk.” Nora replied.
Toni sighed. “Are you for real? I said I am sorry.”
“I know you are. I just didn’t expect you to have that sort of opinion of me.” Nora replied.
Toni smiled. “Are you trying to pick up a fight with me? I promise I will be dead before you are back from your walk and you are going to carry the feeling that you fought with your sister before her death to your grave.” She concluded with a wide grin.
Nora rolled her eyes. “Don’t start guilt tripping me.”
“Oh yeah…it worked. I am sorry.” Toni said with a smile.
Nora sighed and took her seat. “Don’t start scaring me, Toni. You have to be in the right frame of mind for any treatment to be effective on you.”
“Trust me, I am motivated to live.” Toni replied.
Nora smiled. “James would be here to see you in the evening. He left early this morning.”
Toni nodded. “Hmm…that’s cool. I need to have a talk with him anyway.”
“What talk could that be?” Nora asked.
Toni shrugged. “It’s personal.”
Nora folded her arms. “Personal?”
Toni nodded. “It is important I talk to him, that’s all. Don’t be scared.”
The door opened and the Director walked in with Emeka. “Good morning, ladies.”
“Good morning, Director.” Nora greeted.
Toni stared at the door expecting it to open but it didn’t. She stared at Emeka looking for an answer.
Emeka cleared his throat. “Jerry is not coming.”
The Director stared at her. “As you understand, Doctor Jerry can’t be let in on this due to his emotional attachment to the patient.”
Nora nodded and took Toni’s hand. “Okay, so, what’s going to happen now?”
“We are going to start the radiotherapy by tomorrow. We can’t have any more surgeries as the tumour is in a delicate position of the brain. So, are you ready?” The Director asked.
Nora stared at Toni. “You ready?”
Toni nodded. “Yes. I have always been.”
Emeka smiled. “Okay. So, we would move you into a new room tonight and we can start off from there.”
“Can I see Jerry?” Toni asked.
Emeka nodded. “I’ll tell him to come.”
“No. I want to go to him.” Toni said.
The Director shrugged. “We’ll get a chair for you.” He said and walked out.
“I’ll go with him.” Nora said and walked out.
Emeka took a deep breath as he sat beside her. “I have heard a lot about you and I…I am honoured to finally meet you.”
Toni smiled. “Trust me, I am more beautiful than this. I am just allergic to Hospitals.” She said with a smile.
“Of course, you are.” Emeka said with a soft chuckle.
Toni stared at him. “Jerry is a good guy.”
Emeka nodded. “I know. He is one of the best men around. I am glad he found you.”
“Me too…”
Emeka took her hand. “Would you please not leave him?” he asked as a teardrop rolled down his eyes.
Toni gasped. “Oh…I think you are also emotional. You can’t be on this case too.” She said as she laughed.
Emeka laughed as he wiped his eyes. “You have a good laugh.”
“I know. I can’t help being a diva.” She replied.
He nodded. “You stay alive, okay?”
“I am alive.” She replied.
Nora returned with a wheelchair. “Let’s go, baby.”
Toni smiled as she got on the wheelchair.
Jerry sipped his cup of coffee as he stared at his wristwatch. He had a surgery in about thirty minutes. “Make this count, Jerry.”
The door opened and Toni wheeled in.
“Toni?” he gaped as he went over to her. “How did you…?”
Toni smiled. “Never mind…not like you don’t know how I got here.”
“Emeka.” He replied.
She nodded. “So…you won’t be my Doctor?”
He nodded. “Yes. I…I am sorry. I wanted to be there, but the Director won’t let me.”
“Neither would I.” she replied.
He knelt before her. “The session starts tomorrow. I will be by your side every step of the way. I promise to hold your hand throughout.”
Toni rolled her eyes. “Don’t get all mushy okay. Besides, it means you would hold one hand while Nora holds the other. How am I going to cope with two of you professing love?” she asked with a smile.
“I love you.” Jerry said.
She shrugged. “The question is, who doesn’t love me?”
“Are you going to class me with the majority?” Jerry asked with a smile.
She shook her head. “No. You make up the vast minority.”
“Vast? Minority?” Jerry asked.
She grinned. “You are everything…and much more than I wanted.”
“Oh my…I am honoured.” Jerry said as he kissed her hand.
She nodded. “You should be.”
“I have a patient who is due for surgery now.” He said, staring at his wristwatch.
She smiled. “Oh really?”
He nodded.
“Come here.” She said as she kissed his forehead. “Go save a life.”
Jerry smiled. “You got it.” He said and walked out with a smile.
Tears rolled down Toni’s eyes as the door closed after him. “God please…allow me love this man.”
Who knew surgery could be fun? Tearing…sewing…tearing…sewing…fixing…smiling. I didn’t understand that it could bring me so much joy…until today. Being a surgeon is everything I have always wanted and I forgot what it was to have that dream until today. They say love can do a lot for you…much more than a lot for you. It gives life. It gives light. It gives hope. It gives much more than you have ever expected.
As I walked into the theatre with optimism, my team lit up. I had never seen them smile. It was as though I was ready to lead an army into battle and they were willing to fight with me…for the first time. Toni. It all came from her. Maybe Magic…maybe a fairy tale, but Toni is pure and true. I couldn’t ask for anything more, the gift of Toni to my life was something I couldn’t question.
And yes, my patient lived.
Toni rolled over to see Jerry. “Hi. How was it?” she asked.
He smiled as he took his seat beside her on the bed. “Patient is fine. I am fine.”
“That’s good to know.” She replied. “I am nervous about radiotherapy. At first, I thought it was going to be chemo…but now it has a different name.” she said with a soft chuckle.
Jerry nodded. “Yeah. Radiotherapy is more effective and it is a better option.”
“So I heard.” Toni replied. “I pray I survive this.”
“You will survive it. I know that you are strong and you can go through this. I am here for you…every step of the way.”
Toni stared at him. “Would you?”
He nodded. “I am not going anywhere…you just have to promise me that you will stay.”
“That is not in my power, is it?” she asked.
He looked away.
“Do you love God, Jerry?”
Jerry shrugged. “He created us, right?”
“That’s not the question. Do you love God?” she asked.
He turned in her direction. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” she asked.
He nodded. “He doesn’t have much love for me either.”
“Why would you say so?” Toni asked as she sat up.
He stared at her. “Frankly, I have never had the best things of life except for good grades.”
“Good grades are something.” She said, cutting in.
“They didn’t save my first patient.” He replied.
She smiled. “You lose some, you win some.”
“Not your first. It is unforgivable.” He replied.
“By who?” she asked.
He stared at her. “I don’t understand.”
“By whose standard is losing your first patient unforgivable?” she asked.
He was silent.
“I know the pain hurts so much, but, we tend to take ourselves too serious and important that we forget the essence of being human.” She started. “Would saving your first patient have mattered if you went on a failure streak afterwards?”
He stared at her. “You don’t understand.”
“Make me.” She said with a smile. “Look, Jerry, we are allowed to lose, but the only thing you are not allowed to do is give up. You saved a life today because God was with you.”
“Why didn’t he save my first patient? Why did he let you have Cancer? Isn’t he God?” Jerry asked. “You talk so much about him, and it is obvious you love him…why did he let that happen to you? Why?”
Toni sniffled. “I am writing a novel. I don’t know if I would have all the time in the world to tell you who Toni was before I got Cancer…but I want you to know that there isn’t so much of a difference. I am still happy. I am still alive. I just have Cancer…and oh, I quit drinking.”
“You used to drink?” he asked.
Toni smiled. “Heavy boozer!”
He smiled faintly. “Toni, I want to understand God the way you have come to understand him, but he has to keep you alive for me to like him.” He said.
“Giving God conditions, are we?” she asked with a smile.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Let him keep you alive, then, we have a deal.”
“Ever heard of Job in the Bible?” she asked.
He nodded. “Sort of.”
“Try to read the Book of Job in the Bible. I am in no way comparing this situation to his, but that is a man that never stopped loving God. I am living proof that God cares about you and I. Talk to him. He listens, Jerry.”
Jerry blinked. “I don’t know about that…what am I going say to him?”
“First, you ask him to forgive you of your sins and give him your life. Let him be in charge of it all.” She said.
He smiled. “I think you should rest, Toni.” He said as he rose to his feet. “I have to go home to get a change of clothes and then I would be back for the night. Nora is outside. I would tell her to come in.”
Toni smiled. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”
He blew her a kiss and walked out.
“So, you ran away because she was telling you about God?” Mrs Aiyenugba asked as they ate.
Jerry shrugged. “Not exactly. But, I don’t understand why she is so passionate about him when clearly he isn’t about her.”
Mrs Aiyenugba dropped her spoon. “Jerry???”
“Yes! You don’t let Cancer come near someone you love…I know he is God and he can do everything. Why can’t he take it away?” he shouted.
She sat back as she watched Jerry rant.
“All I want is for her to be fine…he should know that.” He shouted as tears rolled down his face. “He doesn’t have to take her away from me. I thank him for bringing her my way, but I want to have her.” He shouted as he broke down in tears.
Mrs Aiyenugba nodded and walked over to him. “When I lost my husband, I felt God was unfair too…he knew I loved him, but God loves him more and I had to understand that.”
“Just like that? No disrespect, but you have had the best days with your husband, but God isn’t even giving me a chance with her…” He protested.
She smiled. “The best days are yet to come. As long as you live, you make the most of each day and every moment and who told you that Toni has not had the best of her days with you already?”
“Don’t try to patronize me.” He replied.
She nodded. “Not my plan to do that, but I feel you should give yourself some credit already. Every man has his purpose and duty to fulfil, and when we are done, we are done.”
“Toni can’t be done.” He replied.
She stared at him. “Jerry, talk to God. He listens.” She said and dug her spoon into the food.
“So James, what are your plans for Nora?” Toni asked.
James stared at her. “I like her a lot. I know we can make it work.”
“Really?” she asked.
He nodded with a smile. “Am I on the hot seat here?”
She nodded. “Yes. I love my sister and I want to be sure that I am leaving her in the right hands.”
“You are not suggesting that you are going to die, are you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “We would all die someday…or face rapture.”
“Look Toni, I know it seems I hit on you the first day we met, but-”
She raised a finger. “I don’t care about that. I want to know your intents.”
“I want to be there for Nora. I want to love her, protect her, and take care of her. I know I can do it and I want you to trust me to be able to.” He said.
“James, I have nothing against you…Nora would do this to Jerry if she were in my shoes. I wish you guys the best.” She said.
“Are you saying goodbye already?” he asked.
She sighed. “I don’t know…but for as long as I am here, I am here.”
“God, I know I am not a good guy. I have not been to church in a long time. I have been drinking too much and maybe a little more than too much. But, I have found a good girl and I can’t let you take her away from me. The Director already said I won’t be treating her, but I don’t believe we even treat anyone, I think you do. Please, God, can you treat Toni for me? God, I…I won’t be able to go on without her…If you knew that you won’t keep her alive, why did you bring her my way? Were you trying to tease me? God, please…I can’t do this on my own…Teach me your ways, help me to understand you and everything that happens around me. Let me love you and help me to be a better man.” Jerry said as he knelt down in his room.
“God, forgive me for all the wrong things I have said to you, but I am hurting so much and I want you to fix me. I want you to take care of Toni. I can’t do this on my own…God, please.” He cried as he slid into the floor.

Beautiful Stranger is written by @tomi_adesina; Author of Dear Future Husband available for Free on African Stories. Follow @tomi_adesina on twitter for more thrilling stories. Her new book “All Fun and Games” also available for FREE on African Stories

Life of a Barack Boy. Episode 5


Episode 5: Bail Ya Goat
Read all Episodes of Life of a Barack Boy by Ojay Aito Here

There are many advantages of living in the barracks; or let me say, growing up in the barracks. One was the fact that it was a perfect representation of what the country is. That is you have
people from every part of the nation in one single community. So it was easy to come across diverse culture, language, religion, and belief system. It was one of the best things that happened to us as children. Even though we never traveled to many parts of the country, we knew how someone from any part of country would act or react to things. It afforded us the luxury of understanding the very commonly used words of most languages. And if you easily ‘slide into the matter’, you already know what I meant when I say ‘commonly used words’. Unfortunately, this episode is not about words, or most used slangs in the barracks. It’s about the relationships and fun we had together as not just children, but barrack shildren.
Leggo, our closest neighbor who was the Chief Medical Officer of the division had (and still has, I think) two wives. We sometimes called him Doctor. The two women did not live under the same roof, or the same city for that matter, but all his children lived in the same house with him. So, ‘many’ wasn’t a word that was used to say the number of children that lived in that three
bedroom duplex of our neighbor’s house. We used ‘plenty’ and sometimes ‘numerous’, though the only difference between them and us was that they were all siblings, and we were a mixture
of siblings, cousins, nephews, and house helps. And because we shared a very large compound we had many things in common.
We shared two hectares of cassava and maize farm; we shared security; we shared a plot of green lawn turned soccer pitch, plus a few other luxuries. And responsibilities.
Because of what we got from farm and vegetable gardens, we didn’t visit the market everyday just to prepare a pot of soup. Remember we had a poultry. But with all these came a huge challenge: securing the farm.
We were on holidays at the time and we took on the
task of building bamboo fence around the farm. As soon as Doctor saw our little initiative, he made it a law. A rule. So with the help of a few friends and tenants, we drove the stakes deeper,
and raised the fence higher. What we intended to do as fun became work as soon as Doctor got involved. All our effort though didn’t stop the goats and other ruminants from breaking in and destroying
the cassava and maize stems. So we thought of what to do: we set traps, and built cells to keep any goat and sheep caught within our farm.
So once again we had some fun to wake up to, apart from the morning and evening sessions of playing football. We took shifts at the ‘gate house’- the entrance of the farm; we patrolled
round to check for any break-in of some sort. Even our dogs, Whiskey and Motty had some chasing to do. Trust me, we caught many goats. Many-many goats. That made Doctor feel good
that we were busy doing something worthwhile during the holiday. Soon, our cells were full, which resulted in another problem. We hadn’t really thought of what to do with the goats except to
starve them to death. But after a little over a week, we had over fifty goats, and of course an awesome idea.
People started coming to our house to beg for the release of their goats. After our parents were gone to work, we would host and receive a number of pleas from the barrack
men and women alike. “Come back when Doctor is back from work,” was always our respond. It was just fun seeing people come to our balcony every morning and afternoon. Some begged, some cursed, some cried, and some just stood there looking straight into our eyes like they wanted to hypnotize us. Of course, we were afraid that some of those women were witches, but my cousin Mudiaga and one of our neighbor’s son, Ochuko gave the rest of us the boldness to continue with our mission.
To create more fun we asked some of them to write guarantor’s letter promising that their goats would never stray to this part of the barrack again. It was a whole load of fun reading requests
and appeals from these wonderful women. We would laugh over grammatical blunders, and ask them to come back later in the evening when Doctor was back. Although many of them swore
to come back, but we never saw anyone come around when our neighbor’s father was home. We were sure their husbands warned them not to.
I can’t remember exactly, but I think it was Mudiaga, my cousin who brought up the idea that we released the goats on bail. Four days down the line, we had made a little fortune for ourselves,
our parents not knowing exactly the details of what we did. As long as we told them that we were simply trying to guard our precious farm, they didn’t push for any major detail.
To spice the fun, we would take on ‘flogging sessions’, where we spend time beating the goats to the point of coma. Ochuko was particular with breaking the horns, or one of the legs of
the animals. It was a brutally enjoyable experience for us. Sometimes, we would deliberately release one of the goats and let it run around the compound, then we would chase it as a form
game – The Arena? Anyone?.
In the space of three weeks our notoriety had spread around the barrack, and we were beginning to have enemies and fans alike. After the fourth week, the little group had become a
club where membership was extended to other ‘quarters’ boys and privileged fine barrack babes. Our effort at chasing and stopping the goats from entering into our farm was hugely appreciated by Doctor, who one day bought everyone of us catapults. But even the few goats that remained in the barracks had stopped coming anywhere close to a fifty metre radius of our compound. Soon splinter groups came out, and before we knew it there were no more goats in the barrack again.
But the game had to continue, the rave dared not cease. At this point, we resulted to go hunting for goats wherever the goats hid and brought them into our compound. We marked their bodies with paint so that should the goats find their way to the hands of the opposition, we would have a just cause to embark on an invasion of our opponent’s territory. It all got to the stage where we organized goat-fighting competitions within the barrack. There
were the feather weight, middle weight, and heavy weight categories; which resulted in us giving the goats names like Idiamin, Babangida, Maradona, Hulk Hogan, Undertaker, etc.
But it all came crashing down when schools started resuming from the long holidays, and our siblings and friends who attended federal schools started returning one after the other. I remember vividly the face of our special goat, Otegi, which got to the semi-finals of the competition… That was the first and only time I ever saw a goat smile.
It was a holiday well spent but one which did not make it to the pages of our English Language notebooks. Hehehe

Ojay Aito blogs weekly at and he is @1ojay on twitter.

Other Posts on African Stories
Love on the 25th by Uneñ Ameji
Beautiful Stranger by Tomi Adesina
All Fun and Games by Tomi Adesina
Life of a Barack Boy by Ojay Aito

Love on the 25th. Episode 16


Love on the 25th. Episode 16
Read Previous Episodes of Love on the 25th by Uneñ Ameji Here

It was a dark. It was raining. It was midnight. The quaint white bungalow sitting heavily like an obese woman in our large compound was quiet as usual and as I lay my head on my soft feathery pillow, I waited for their voices to create the ruckus I knew would start very soon…that was the norm. They waited for the world to sleep before they woke them up with shouts so loud, the echoes stayed within the walls throughout the day until they made new ones the very next day. I counted in confusion as I stared at my ceiling; I didn’t need to wait long.
“I am the man of the house and you and your dead father cannot tell me what to do” it was his voice, loud and authoritative as ever.
“Nobody is contesting that you are a man and so cannot keep his pants up! I want you out of my house and out of the company. It was my father’s and I won’t stand by and watch you cheat with your indigenous breed and work in an honest man’s office. God knew my father warned me! You silly goat” it was mother in her usual abusive fashion. I didn’t understand the word indigenous and breed at the time and I made the mental note to check the big Oxford dictionary in the library when they had both gone to work. I was learning new words these days and they weren’t good words. Perhaps I was too smart, perhaps too pampered but as an only child, I had all I wanted – until the day mother discovered daddy was a “lying bastard frolicking with a whore who he spent all her father’s money on”.
“I have worked in that company for ten years! Ten good years and you think you can command me to leave my life’s work just because it was your father’s? I am the managing director for a good reason, and nothing is going to stop me from sitting on that chair till I say otherwise. Get that? And you better get used to having an indigenous breed as your mate. I won’t give her up. Never!” and the door to their bedroom was slammed shut; the vibrations reaching the earth core.
It was not over yet. I waited for mother to follow and follow she did.
“Ben! Ben! Come back here. You won’t have the last word and for your information, the board is ready to vote me back in. You will lose everything and you will go back to the dishonest hole you vermin crawled out from. I swear Ben, I will destroy you and take my daughter from you” she said as she followed him past the hallway and down to the guest room where he always slept after their nightly ritual. But that night, something happened that changed our lives forever.
A loud slap, a high-pitched shout and the sound of crashing glasses, I was out of my bed and was running out of my room in complete shock and fear. The sight before me had me rooted in the hallway, afraid to move. The shelf with glass decor and plates had fallen and there were shattered glass particles all over the floor. Then I saw him, holding her up against the wall in strong grip as he snuffed the life out of her, her toes barely touching the floor and her hands reaching to unclasp his hands from her neck, struggling.
There was a little tear at her mouth and a spill of blood running down her mouth. I inched closer and felt a piece of glass sink into my right foot. I saw finger marks across her cheeks, light-skinned, mother bore the evidence of his slap and her eyes red with blood clot. He was determined to shut up her, I could see that.
“Daddy!” I shouted as I stood, too scared to move, afraid of him, afraid for her. This was the first time I had witnessed anything like this and I knew our lives had changed forever. He looked at me intensely for few seconds before relaxing his hold on her neck. She coughed loudly as his hands left her neck that bore more red welts from his grip. She slumped, rapidly feeding her starved lungs with fresh oxygen as she stretched out her hands for me.
“You will not take my life from me. You won’t take Alama from me” he said quietly as he dragged me back to my room despite the shout of mother to let me be.
“Daddy, please leave mummy alone’’ I said as he lifted me up with one hand.
“Shut up your mouth and don’t ever leave your room when adults are fighting. Like mother, like daughter” he said as he yanked my door and flung me inside. I landed on the bed with my hand hitting my wooden bedside locker.
That was my first fracture. That was the beginning of my hatred for the man whose DNA runs in my blood. That was the end of my family.
The clicks, flashes and steadily increasing looks from the crowded hotel lobby as they pointed and confirmed their suspicion about who I was brought me back to the present. The tears ran up my tear duct and I pasted a wide happy smile as I hugged my long-lost mother some more. She seemed to take the cue knowing we were in a delicate position. She smiled and gave me a princess perk on the forehead as we took our hands and tried walking away from the crowd that was beginning to irritate me. Thanks to the security at the hotel, we were ushered to the closest elevator but a persistent busybody followed in determined pursuit.
“Is this your mother? Why are you both crying? When is the wedding? Is the public invited or just Invites only?” all these questions spilling from the lips of the thin girl who I was sure was uploading the pictures to some sorry gossip site or her instagram. A word was not said as we walked into the elevator holding our hands, not letting go.
“My God! You are so beautiful” mother whispered as we got off the elevator with the security man and a manager escorting us to her room.
“Thank you” I said to the duo who looked like they wanted to wait around. I waited for the door to close before flying into my mother’s arms in relief and tears.
“I thought you were dead, I thought you left me….”I cried, as I hiccuped, trying to keep it all in but I couldn’t. The last time I had seen her was at Christmas. I had just turned 7 and several months after the night father broke my hand and nearly suffocated mum. I was little but I remembered the commotion that followed afterward; the fights were rough and deadly from then on. I heard of schemes and abuses. Mother took over the company and father nearly had her head for it – until Inspector Sunday, a friend of father’s had mother detained for few hours to “maintain the peace”. That was all father needed to put his plan into action.
He ran away with me and from what I heard years later, I wasn’t the only thing he took from mother. He had already sold properties left to mother by her father and taken a huge chunk from the joint account after he forged her signature.
Mother came just as the truck loaded with some boxes pulled out of the driveway. I remember her chasing the truck as I struggled with my hands and head out of the window….tears flowing down our faces as he sped on, her distraught image was reduced to nothingness after few meters but I could never forget as she collapsed on the tarred road right before I lost her.
I cried for weeks refusing to say a word, barely leaving the room I occupied alone in where I came to know as Benin – Nigeria and in few years, I became an object of abuse. Dad was never around, his wife slapped me around any chance she got, John the old guard found a way to sexually abuse me on the pretext of consoling me and the little devil of a bastard, Oman raped me repeatedly much to the amusement of my father’s wife….she knew, Dad knew but I was all alone. I was without a mother. He had his ultimate revenge against ‘the woman’, his sole enemy, who he repeatedly said was responsible for his downfall. I hated him and waited patiently for my mother to come rescue me. She was in Ghana and I hoped for the day she’d find out we were now in Nigeria but the day couldn’t come fast enough and that was when I decided I was going to look for her. I was 16 years.
“Your mother is dead” he had said without looking up from his Sunday newspaper after I announced boldly I was leaving to go find my mother. Oman had forced his little snake into me the night before and when I had beaten off a huge chunk of flesh from his shoulders, his wife had flogged me and called me a witch like my mother. I was ready to leave and I was not going back on the decision.
“I know you are lying. You are lying. When? When?” I shouted as tears formed in my eyes. He continued reading without as much as a look in my direction.
“She died five years ago on her way to America, you were too young and I decided to spare you the grief” he announced without lifting his eyes from the newspaper he was reading. When I demanded to know how, he stood up and left the sitting room. I felt myself go weak, the hope of rescue turning into smoke and heated pain traveled up my chest.
“See this fly” it was the devilish woman laughing at my predicament.
I ran away that night without a thought to where I was going. That night I met Caleb. My first husband. My heart lurched at the name; the last conversation with Vince and follow-up picture made me hold her more, sniffing in her scent.
“I am here….I am so sorry” she said as we sat on the bed as I cried and she did too. We stayed there for hours. Looking up to her and we’d stare, a sad smile and we’d cry again.
“We have to stop crying baby” she said, patting my hair as I blew my nose.
“I can’t ….” I struggled to speak, sniffing thick gobs of mucus in. I was a mess and I didn’t care. I just wanted to curl inside her arms and never get up. I remembered the smell, the pecks and little gifts she gave me every day.
“I know…I know” she said planting a thick kiss on my head.
“I thought you were dead, he told me you were dead and I believed him, I stopped searching, I was lost mum, I was lost……” I cried some more and she joined.
“I killed him” she said in strange voice and I turned to look at her.
“When?” was all I could say.
“I finally found you, him in Benin and when I asked of you, he said you ran away. I searched everywhere, the street boys helped with your poster. The police wasn’t any good. I got so mad I emptied bullets on him and his wretched wife and I left Nigeria. I was heartbroken and I had failed you. If only I had searched hard enough…” she was saying ashamed of what she had done. I knew the guilt she was feeling. It was the guilt of taking a life, of keeping secrets buried and the wish that things were different.
“Did you kill the guard and the boy?” I asked in hope, relishing in the knowledge that I had been avenged. I took her hands as she tried to get up. I was dried eyed now and she looked at me strangely.
“I must have…..I didn’t leave a witness” she said with an evil grin and we smiled for the first time since we hugged at the reception.
“Thank you” I said and hugged her as I contemplated telling her that I had also murdered a man in cold blood. That was my secret I decided and until it absolutely had to come out, I wasn’t going to ruin the evening any more than necessary.
“My baby is getting married” she gushed as she planted a loud kiss at the center of my head and I giggled, forgetting the schemes and lies involved. The thought of having her at my wedding made the lie inconsequential. I was going ahead with the wedding – even if it was for just three months.
“I missed you” she said and hugged me.
“Let me show you my pictures” I said for a lack of a better thing to say. I switched on my phone just in time to have flood of messages and calls fighting over themselves to reach me. A call came in.
It was Kole.
“Where are you?” he sounded miffed.
“Ikeja” I answered.
“You didn’t take my driver” he accused. I knew what he was thinking – that I was with Vince.
“I didn’t”
“You do realize that we are getting married in two weeks” he sounded terse.
“I know”
“Goddamit Debbie! I can’t have your affairs making headlines before the wedding. You know what is at stake here” he sounded desperate and for a moment I wanted to believe he liked women and wanted me. A happy part of me wanted the lies to be real but then Vince ….
“I am not with him”
“Are you sure?” he said releasing his pent up lungs.
“Please Debbie, just come back home let’s talk about all these” he said with a touch of a British accent and I could see imagine him running his hand through his head.
“I am with my mother Kole, can we do this tomorrow?” I said as I noticed her eyes now smiling.
“Your mother? You have a mother?” he asked, shock lacing his doubtful voice. I handed over the phone to mother.
“He doubts you exist” I said as I gave her the phone and went to get myself a bottle of water. The knowledge that she had killed the people who tormented me brought me strength and joy. I felt vindicated but I wondered how she must be handling the guilt knowing she murdered them in cold blood. What else was she capable of? I didn’t dwell on it.
“I take you think me non-existent” she started and I watched her with awe. My mother as I remembered her…smiling and nodding her head to whatever Kole was saying.
“Yes, I know. She just told me about it and I flew in last night.” She answered the questions that followed.
“Yes, we have a lot to catch up on, she is staying the night. But of course. I need to meet my son-in-law soon” she said as she looked at me and I smiled. She gave back the phone after few lines.
“So I hear mummy loud and clear. I will see you tomorrow. We should talk Deb…and I am sorry about Alex. I do want you. You should know that” and he dragged the last line and was gone.
“Trouble before the vows not a good sign baby. I am sure you know that” was all she said and I nodded. She already knew.
“We are working out few details” I braved.
“He doesn’t trust you before marriage, he won’t trust you after either and from what I think, it seems there is another young man in the picture… huhmm?” she said coming to take my hands and I laughed, shy and shaking my head in the affirmative. If only she knew there were two young men in the picture.
“Come tell me all about him, we have all night” she said as we headed out to the balcony but not before I rang for a plate of fruit salad.
I had 25 years to make up for.
I waited for her. I knew she was going to come. There was no alternative. The apartment was on a short lease, felt empty and impersonal. Two weeks after I had sent her Caleb’s picture and she was yet to get back to me. My calls were rejected, text messages went ignored. I was out of my wit and tomorrow was the wedding. I had to stop it. I had to.
I took the first flight to Lagos on Friday morning against father’s directive to host a government official. Over the weeks past, I had barely functioned at work and planned tirelessly on how to stop the wedding without making it headline news. There was only one way and I was going to need Caleb.
At 9:15am I was in Lagos, at 11:15 am, I had showered and shaved, brushed twice and changed my shirt thrice. I was excited because it was more than four weeks since the last time I saw her and was in her bed. In that time, I thought about her constantly, wished she would just stop the madness and call off the wedding. I had dreamt about her with my baby, I had thrown cups at my wall and was constantly moody and snappy. She had to call it off or I was going to disrupt the wedding publicly I had threatened in a message – that too had gone unanswered. With the arrival of her mother on scene, the wedding fever had gone higher and it was the constant rave everywhere. It was time to put my plan in motion.
‘I have your husband with me.
Doesn’t look good.
Tomorrow could be your big day, ….or not
We need to see.
C21, Block F, Boston Apartments, Alvan Ikoku, V.I’

I sent the message. Barely two minutes later, she replied.
‘See you in one hour’
Now I waited. Half expectant and half-tensed. What if she was truly married to him, what was their history? Who was she? Debbie or Alama?…..I heard a small knock on the door and knew instinctively she was the one. A deep breath, I went to open the door.
She stood there, a little frazzled, a little bold, her eyes already darting past my shoulders and licking her lips as she held her dark glasses.
“Where is he?” she asked as I stood aside to let her pass.
“He couldn’t make it today” I answered as she turned to face me.
“You said…”
“I know what I said”
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, getting angry.
“Because I wanted to meet Alama” I said piercing her with a heated look.
“You don’t need to know her. I am getting married in less than 24 hours Vince. I can’t afford this kind of meetings” she said almost in a plea. I frowned.
“You can’t get married when you are already married to another” I said almost in a thought.
“Vince, I was married but we are no longer together”
“But not divorced” I pressed.
“It was a long time ago, I was under aged. I was 16 years. That is contestable”
“That is not what he said. I am pretty sure he said you were 20” I said looking at her mouth, tracing it to her chest and back to her face. All I could see was her naked underneath me and I found her avoiding my gaze as she swallowed self-consciously.
“He lied, we lied in court” she said suddenly looking at her hands and finding a seat. I walked over to her.
“I had a feeling he wasn’t telling the real story but he will, soon enough” I said taking the opposite sofa.
“What did he tell you?” she asked looking at me, tensed.
“You were supposedly in a fire and he thought you were dead”
“That is true”
“Why didn’t you find him after the fire?”
“I didn’t want to be married to him anymore. I had enough of men”
“But you are getting married to Kole”
“Yes. I am. It has been a long time”
“Why?” I pressed.
“Because it is the right thing to do. Career-wise, and we are compatible”
“Do you love him?” I asked jealous, unable to remain objective and unattached. Here she was and the only thing I could think of was making love to her till her wedding day was over.
“I am comfortable with him” she answered licking her lips.
“What happens to us?”
“There was no Us” she corrected.
“I don’t think so”
“Vince, don’t make this about you…” she shook her head.
“You could be with my child. Are you?” I asked, serious.
“Vince! I am not with a child”
“It has been over a month. Have you seen….”
“My God Vince! I can’t believe you called me here to talk of a nonexistent baby” she said standing up and pacing the space.
“What if you were with my baby, would you still marry Kole?”
“Well, I am not with your child” she defended, her hands going over her stomach in a possessive stance.
“That doesn’t answer my question”
“What question?”
“Will you go ahead with the wedding?”
“Will you?” I shouted as I stood facing her.
“Good” I said firmly as we stared at ourselves.
“You have a lot to answer for” I said, my head and all the questions I wanted answers too forgotten.
“I know”
“God! How I have missed you” I said tracing her lips with my fingers
“Vince….” She didn’t move.
“I want you, I don’t care if you are Alama or Debbie, I don’t care if you were married…to Caleb, to Kole, I really don’t care what your past is Debbie. I am not letting you go, I’m in love with you” I said as I placed strands of hair behind the back of her ear.
“Vince, we can’t” she said, her breath fanning my hand, she was aroused. I could tell.
“I know” and with that I hooked my hand to her waist, pulling her close. All thoughts of finding out who she was, why she changed her name and what led to marrying a misfit like Caleb was lost as I found her lips. She gasped as I teased her open.
“Vince…” she called, trying to resist.
“Don’t fight it love” and I pressed. She responded slowly as I found her willing tongue and sucked on it. She moaned, her hands finding their way to my neck. Pressing closer, I found her aching nipples underneath the silk blouse she was wearing. She arched her back and without second thoughts swept her up her feet and was soon carrying her to the bedroom without a protest. If she wasn’t pregnant before, I was going to make sure she left with me inside her, the thought tightening my already stiffened groin and my heart leaping with joy.
I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
There was no way I was letting her get married.
Not on my watch.
Love on the 25th is written by Uneñ Ameji; Author of Memoirs of a Justified Gold Digger. Get a copy. She is @UnenAmeji

Beautiful Stranger. Episode 9


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Beautiful Stranger. Episode Nine
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Emeka pulled Jerry. “Come on, man. Emergency.”
Jerry stood stoned. “That is Toni.”
Jerry nodded. “My Toni.”
Emeka blinked. “Oh my God! Busted.”
“What could be wrong with her?” Jerry asked.
Emeka swallowed. “I don’t know, man. Let’s go find out.”
“Oh God.”
A Nurse approached them. “The Director is asking for you both.”
“What’s going on?” Emeka asked.
The Nurse stared at them. “We are trying to stabilize the patient.”
Emeka nodded and pulled Jerry along. “I know you are scared of going in there right now, but, you have to know what’s going on.”
“No, man. I will wait here. You can tell me.” Jerry said, backing out.
Emeka nodded and hurried into the theatre. Jerry took a deep breath as he buried his head in his hands.
He looked up as Nora stood before him. She was in tears. He took a deep breath and allowed her crash into his arms. “She-just-crashed.” She struggled to say. “She was singing and then I didn’t hear it anything anymore. She just went down.”
Jerry gasped as he felt Nora’s heartbeat pound heavily. It seemed serious. He looked at Nora. “It’s going to be alright.”
She shook her head. “It won’t be. Toni is sick.”
“She is here with us now. She is going to be fine. We would take care of her. I promise you.” He assured.
She took a seat. “You don’t have an idea, do you?”
“What?” he asked.
Nora sniffled. “Toni would kill me if I told you, but, what the heck? You are going to find out anyway.” She said as she cried.
Jerry knelt before her as he wiped her eyes. “ What is going on, Nora?”
Nora stared at the stethoscope on his white overall. “You are a Doctor?”
Jerry took a deep breath. “Nora…I…I can explain.”
“You lied to her…to us.” She said.
He nodded. “I…I just wanted to protect her.”
“Protect? From what? From who?” she asked.
He swallowed. “The other part of me that I didn’t want her to see. It is a long story, I swear and I can’t start explaining it now. But, what is wrong with Toni?”
Nora sighed. “You think changing the topic will change things?”
“No, it won’t. I would come back to the issue. I would explain it to you…to her. But, what is wrong with her?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Why don’t you go in and find out for yourself?”
“Nora, I can’t show up there. I…I can’t let her find out this way. I swear that I will come down to the house and explain everything to you and to her when she is better. But, I need you to tell me what the problem is.”
Nora shook her head. “It might take a while before you visit both of us in the house. We actually would be your visitors here.”
“What do you mean? Stop it!” He cut in, feeling offended.
Nora stood up. “Don’t raise your voice at me.”
He took a deep breath. “I am sorry, but, please tell me what is wrong with her. I can’t go in there and you know it, it might upset things. She can’t find out about me like this. You have to help me.”
“It is all about you, right?” she asked.
Jerry sighed. “I just don’t want to upset her right now. She didn’t look good and since Emeka is not here to brief me on the happenings, I just want you to…”
Nora forced back her tears. “I…I can’t.”
“Please. I care about Toni. You can’t lock me out.”
Emeka approached them. Jerry hurried to him. “What’s up?”
Emeka took his hand. “Let’s talk inside.”
“What is going on?” Jerry shouted.
“Dude, you have to calm down.” Emeka replied.
Jerry yanked out of his grip. “I don’t want to calm down. Tell me. Now!”
Emeka took a deep breath. “Jerry, you don’t want to do this here. Let’s go inside and I will tell you all you need to know.”
“I don’t want to go inside! Just spill it!” He shouted back at Emeka.
“She has cancer.” Emeka replied.

Cancer? Cancer? Right? Not sure I heard it right but it sounded like Cancer. Cancer at this moment seemed like a zodiac sign and not the disease I knew it to be. I am not sure why my trousers are wet but think I have been laying on the grass outside the Hospital for over three hours now. Now I know why the grass is wet, it should have been sprinkled. I have been here staring into the sky. It is really blue.
Emeka said she has Cancer. Nah…Toni can’t have Cancer. Sleeping on the left side of your bed can give you bad dreams. I would sleep again and by the time I wake up, this would all be a bad dream. Emeka would run out to me from the ward and say ‘she has malaria’. Yeah. Malaria. That’s more like it.
All my life, my wits and guts have been put to test…for the larger part of it, I have failed. As far as this field is concerned, I have tried and failed. I have never counted those failures as one that might pierce through my heart even though it did prick it. But when you face a test that is bigger than you…when you see someone you love on that surgical table and you fail, then, you have really failed. This is Toni. My life. She had come into my life and changed everything for me.
Call me ‘deep’ as the society might want to term it, but her smile and laughter were artistic. It had a pure reflection, one that took me forever to fathom. I was enchanted from the first day I set my eyes on her. Maybe Magic. Maybe Love. Maybe Life. All I know is that I felt something pure and true, and it was Toni.
I had every reason not to show up before Toni. One, my lies had found me out. It would be a total shame for her to find out about me under the circumstance and two, I have nothing to offer her. Of what use would it be if I showed up before her and still didn’t save her life? Pointless. It is time to go home…maybe travel…maybe run away…maybe nothing. Maybe I would just watch her from the side-line.
Why did she never tell me? Or had she tried to tell me? It must be the day we went to the movies…that day, we had seen a movie on Cancer. It had to be that day. Yeah, Cancer is a bitch. She wasn’t wrong. It is a bitch!
“Sir, he has been here like this for the past three hours. He won’t let anyone come near him.” Emeka complained to the Director.
The Director stared at a lukewarm Jerry and then back at Emeka. “I can’t have him like this. Get security to bring him in.”
“He has rebuffed them, Sir.” Emeka replied.
The Director stared at him. “Why do we pay them if they can’t bring one man inside?”
“Sir, he is related to Toni. Our patient.” Emeka replied.
The Director sighed. “Well, if we don’t get him out of this state, we are going to be treating a depressed Surgeon soon. Tell them to use whatever force in the universe that they can to bring him in.” he said and returned into the Hospital.
Emeka approached Jerry. “Hey.”
Jerry ignored him.
“Dude, I…I know this is all a shock for you, but, Toni doesn’t need this from you.” Emeka said.
Jerry didn’t say a word. He just stared.
“I am not going to lie by saying I know how you feel because no one knows how you feel right now, but, I am going to tell you the same thing that you are going to tell any man who is torn right now, you can’t afford to pull away.”
Jerry stared at him and sighed.
“Look, Jerry, I know you are breaking up inside. I know everything about now seems senseless, but trust me, man, you would pull through. Toni needs you. We have stabilized her and she might start Chemo soon. Are you going to be the guy who runs away when she needs you most or the guy who sits her through this one?” Emeka asked.
Jerry took a deep breath.
“Bro, I love you…and I would be here for you every step of the way…we would fight for Toni. We won’t let her go. Are you with me?” Emeka asked.
Jerry wiped his tears and rose to his feet.
Emeka stretched out his hand to him. “Let’s go in.”
“I can’t.” Jerry replied and walked away into the streets.
Nora hurried to Emeka as he approached her from Toni’s room. “How is she?”
Nora sighed. “Don’t you have another term? This is all you have been saying in the last few hours. Can I see her? Talk to her? Just say hi?”
Emeka nodded. “She is…”
“-Please. I beg you. She is all I have. There must be something you can do.” Nora begged.
He nodded. “You can’t be in there for a long time.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” She said and hurried into Toni’s room.
Toni turned as Nora took a seat. “You’ve been crying.” She said as she managed a chuckle.
Nora burst into tears as she kissed Toni’s forehead. “Toni…”
“Don’t cry on me.” She replied.
Nora sniffled as she stared at her. “I am sorry.”
“About what?” Toni asked. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Nora drew her chair closer. “Toni…I…I don’t know what to do or what to say.”
“Say nothing, Sis. You panic too much.” Toni replied. “I am going to be fine.”
Nora took a deep breath
“Has Jerry called?” Toni asked.
“Uh?” Nora asked.
Toni smiled faintly. “Jerry…Mr Nice outfit. Have you suddenly forgotten who he is?”
Nora shook her head. “No, I haven’t. There is a lot of work at the Bank. He has been busy.”
“Okay. Don’t tell him anything.” Toni said.
Nora blinked. “Oh.”
“Have you?” Toni asked, looking concerned. “I…I want to be the one to tell him.”
Nora nodded. “I didn’t tell him anything, Toni. I swear I didn’t.”
Toni swallowed. “Thank you.”
“Do you want me to call him?” Nora asked.
Toni shook her head. “Chemo starts tomorrow. I am going to look really horrible. Just tell him I travelled or something. What’s the time now?”
Nora checked her wristwatch. “Ten pm.”
“It’s late. You should go home.” Toni said.
Nora shook her head. “No. I am staying right here.”
“Come on, Nora. What could possibly happen to me?” Toni asked. “Nora, go home and rest.”
Nora sighed. “You know I am not going. Quit trying.”
Toni nodded. “I know. I just thought I could try harder. So, what are you going to eat?”
“James is on his way. He would bring me some food and a change of clothes.” Nora replied.
Toni smiled. “That’s good.”
“Are you sure you don’t want Jerry around?” Nora asked.
Toni blinked. “I can’t deny I want to see him, but not here, and certainly not like this. So, just stop bugging me about it.”
“I don’t want to bug you about it. I…I just want to do the right thing.” Nora replied.
Toni stared at her. “Right thing? What do you mean?”
“I don’t mean anything in particular. I am just concerned about keeping Jerry in the loop on this matter.” Nora replied.
Toni sighed. “Look Nora, I know this seems wrong but, I…I can’t let him know that I am sick. If he finds out, he would be broken. I can’t do that to him.”
Nora nodded. “I know how you feel and if that is what you want, I respect it.”
“Thank you.” Toni replied. “I want to rest.”
Nora nodded. “Take care. I would be outside.” She replied and walked out.
Jerry smashed another bottle into the wall. “Let me see if you can top that.”
Mrs Aiyenugba hurled her bottle into the wall. “I did fine.” She said with a chuckle.
“Tell me…what’s the point if you are going to lose the one you love? Nothing.” He said and laughed. “I deserve another bottle.” He said and opened his drink.
Mrs Aiyenugba watched him drink another bottle of alcohol. “You have had too many to drink, Jerry.”
“Too many? She made me quit…and what for? She has Cancer, she didn’t even tell me a word. She let me fall in love with her. She is selfish. Just like every woman, self-centred and -”
Mrs Aiyenugba silenced him with a slap.
“What did you do that for?” he asked as he nursed his cheek.
She stared at him. “One, Feminist. I can’t watch you talk about the female gender like that. And Two, How dare you say she is selfish? She loves you.”
“I am hurting here. Where is she? She is there. Sick. Tired. I can’t even look at her!” he yelled.
She sighed. “Jerry, you left her in the Hospital. She needs you. You can’t run away right now.”
“But I don’t know what to do. She is dying. I can’t help her. What use am I to her?” he shouted amidst tears. “I want her to stand up from there and not be sick. I want her to be fine.”
She nodded. “Jerry, do you think she wants to be there?”
Jerry drank more from the bottle and threw it into the wall. “I want to drink more.”
“Come on, Jerry. It’s late into the midnight and we have been drinking forever. I think you should rest so that you can go to the Hospital tomorrow to see her.” She replied.
Jerry stared at the door as the key hole rattled and the door knob turned. “Emeka is here.”
Emeka walked in. “Dude.”
Jerry wiped his tears. “Hey, man.”
“How are you?” he asked as he collected the bottle from him.
Jerry stared at him. “I want to die, Emeka. I want to die.”
Emeka sighed and hugged him. “It’s going to be alright. It is going to be.”
Mrs Aiyenugba smiled. “There are no drinks for you, Emeka.”
“I know ma’am.” Emeka replied and then focused on Jerry. “Toni is stable. I think you should come and see her.”
Jerry sniffled. “You know I can’t. I am just useless to her.”
“Jerry, you are not useless to her. You are the man she loves. She would always want to be with you.” He replied.
Jerry shook his head. “How do I tell her? I can’t look her in the face and say, ‘I have been lying about being a Banker’.”
“Jerry, right now what matters is not that you are a Surgeon. What matters is that you do what is right and love this woman.”
“I love her. Are you blind?” Jerry shouted.
Emeka nodded. “I know…but love is not shown when you are here tearing apart. You have to be by her side. Fighting. Working. You can’t be here doing this to yourself, Jerry.”
Jerry nodded. “Fine. How do I talk to her?”
“Just talk. You don’t have to worry about anything right now. You just have to be there for her. Fight for her. Let her know that you won’t leave her.” Emeka replied.
Jerry sighed. “I am so tired. I just want it all to go away. It’s just like a nightmare. I love her so much, I don’t want to lose her.”
“You won’t lose her.” Emeka replied.
Jerry shrugged. “I don’t know about that, Emeka. I am scared.”
“She is a fighter. I met her. She is lovely. Go to her, don’t leave her alone.” Emeka replied.
Jerry nodded. “I’ll go there tomorrow.”
“I still can’t believe that someone like Toni could have Cancer.” James said as he stroked Nora’s hair.
“We don’t choose these things, James.” She replied.
James nodded. “Yeah. I…I just don’t understand. She is so beautiful, so special, and so kind. Why her?”
“I ask myself those questions every time. But, I have never found the answers to them. I just want to see her okay.” She replied.
He nodded. “Maybe Chemo would do fine.”
“She believes in surgeries, but the problem with the surgeries is the seizures she gets. She had a relapse yesterday in Church. I never saw it coming, the drugs had been working well.” She replied.
“Nora, I want you to know that I would be here with you forever, okay?” James said. “And we are going to be strong for Toni too, because she needs us right now.”
Nora nodded. “I don’t know how to tell her that Jerry is not who she thinks he is.”
“Jerry? The guy with the Pyjamas?” he asked.
She sighed. “He is a Doctor here at the Hospital, but he has made us believe that he is a Banker.”
“Really? Why would anyone lie about their profession? Especially being a Doctor? It’s a noble profession…anyone would be proud of it.” He replied.
Nora nodded. “My sentiments exactly. I am shocked he deceived us all. I can’t get my head around why he would do such a thing. I am too tired thinking about my sister to worry about him.”
“It’s okay. We’ll get through this…all of us.” James replied.
Nora nodded.
“Good morning, Toni.” Nora said as she drew the curtains back.
Toni smiled. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Did you sleep well?” Nora asked.
Toni nodded. “Yes. I didn’t have you staring at me all night. That made my life a lot easier.” She said with a smile.
Nora chuckled. “Interesting observation.”
“You do know that you can be really boring, Nora?” Toni said as she rolled over. “The Nurses will soon be here to prep me for my first session.”
“How do you feel about it?” Nora asked.
Toni sighed. “Enthusiastic.”
“You don’t sound it.” Nora replied.
Toni nodded. “Correct. How can you ask such a question?” she asked with a chuckle. “How does anyone feel about Chemo? Hair loss? It’s a good thing I have prepped myself for it by cutting this hair.”
Nora smiled. “How many hours to go?”
“I don’t know.” Toni replied.
The door opened and Jerry walked in.
“What are you doing here?” Nora asked, staring at him in his overall.
Jerry swallowed. “I want to see Toni.”
Toni stared at him confusingly. “Nice outfit, Jerry.”
He smiled. “Hi.”
“Hey…” she said.
Nora clenched her teeth as Jerry came closer. “What are you doing?”
Jerry stopped as he got to her. “I want to make things right.” He replied.
Nora shook her head. “I’ll excuse you both.” She said and walked out.
Jerry walked over to Toni and took her hand. “Hi,”
“So…Nora told you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. My friend did.”
“Your friend?” she asked.
Jerry nodded. “Doctor Emeka is my best friend.”
“Oh? He is a really nice man.” She replied. “I am guessing he gave you his overall so you could feel like a Doctor?”
“I am a Doctor.” Jerry replied.
Toni smiled. “Nice try, Jerry.”
“I lied to you all this while about being a Banker.” He replied.
She sat up. “Jerry…what are you saying?”
He took a deep breath. “Toni, I am sorry. When that kid saw us at the mall and called me Doctor, it was because he had been my patient here at the Hospital. I…”
“Go on.” She said as she stared at him.
Jerry nodded. “Being a Doctor has been a nightmare for me. I would do anything to avoid being called Doctor Jerry. I am a failure in this field, a lot of people die under my watch. I…I don’t get to keep people alive. I am scared, I am nervous and I fail a lot. I also drink badly and I…I know I would have sounded irresponsible if that day when you met me at the bar, I said I am a Doctor. I would have disappointed from the start.”
“But you did disappoint me from the start.” She said with a smile. “But, it doesn’t matter, Jerry. You are a good person, you don’t have to lie about who you are or what you do.”
“Or that you have cancer?” Jerry said as tears rolled down his eyes.
Toni smiled. “I never lied. You never asked.”
“Was I supposed to ask you, do you have cancer?” he asked.
Toni shrugged. “I just didn’t tell you and yes, Jerry, I am sorry.”
“Toni, you don’t understand. This is too much for me, why you? You are so…so…beautiful, so full of life, so nice, everything right. Why you?”
Toni smiled. “Why not me?”
“Just stop it.” He said as he took his seat beside her on the bed. “My record of success here is zero. I don’t do well. I have never done well.” He said.
“What happened?”
Jerry cleared his throat. “I…I lost my first patient. I just came off fresh into the theatre and they placed a dying woman in my hand. I was scared, I didn’t know what to do. I lost her. I disappointed her family and…and I never made it through it. I don’t think I ever will.”
Toni took his hand. Jerry took a deep breath and released himself from her grip as he rose to his feet. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Toni. Forget it.” He said.
She took his hand again. “I don’t care if you are a Doctor or a Banker. I don’t care if you have tried hard and failed in the past. All I want you to know is that I love you so much and I would be there for you until our dying day. And I also want you to know that this lady on this bed is desperate to live and afraid to die and so, I want you to get me on my feet, Doctor Jerry.”

Beautiful Stranger is written by @tomi_adesina; Author of Dear Future Husband available for Free on African Stories. Follow @tomi_adesina on twitter for more thrilling stories. Her new book “All Fun and Games” also available for FREE on African Stories

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Beautiful Stranger. Episode 8


Beautiful Stranger. Episode Eight
Read All Previous Episodes of Beautiful Stranger Here


Jerry pushed the door open as he put the bags in. “It is not too large, but, you are going to like staying here.”
Mrs Aiyenugba looked round. “Petite. I like it.”
“Thank you. So, you can stay here while I talk to your children on your behalf.” He replied as he closed the door.
She smiled as she took a seat. “I don’t need you to talk to them on my behalf. If they don’t think I am needed there, it would be unfair of you to force me on them.”
Jerry nodded. “Fair enough. I have enough room for two here.”
“Does she stay with you?” Mrs Aiyenugba asked.
Jerry smiled. “No. She won’t…at least, not yet.”
She nodded. “Good. When do I get to meet her?”
“Ah…I don’t know. I am going over to her place in an hour.” He replied.
“Don’t worry, this Old woman won’t be here to bore you for too long. I might kiss my grave soon or maybe I would just check into the home and make new friends there. Come to think of it, I don’t think there would be boring women there. They would all have tales to tell.”
“And men too…Old men too! Who knows…you might fall in love.” Jerry said with a sneer.
Mrs Aiyenugba smiled. “I love the fact that you know there are no boundaries to love.”
“Of course, there are no boundaries to love.” Jerry echoed.
She chuckled. “I know. I just said that.” She replied with a smirk.
“I like your sense of humour.” He said.
She smiled. “I try. But sometimes, my jokes get really flat and maybe that’s why my children and grandkids don’t want me around. But who cares? I am person first before I am their family.”
He stared at her. He was in awe of her. She had a full depth of knowledge about life. She knew she was a person before having a family, hence, she owed it to herself to be happy. She took his mind to Toni. Toni amazed him. She lived one step at a time, full of life and beauty. He’d be damned if he didn’t spend the rest of his life with Toni.
“Have you called your Mother?” Mrs Aiyenugba asked.
He shook his head. “No. I…I should call her today.”
“No, you are not going to call her anytime soon. Hmm…what happened?”
Jerry relaxed in his seat. “I haven’t saved a life yet.”
“I don’t understand.” She said as she sat up.
He took a deep breath. “My career has been a huge mess.”
She smiled. “They dread you at the Hospital.”
“I am the worst. No one gets to live when assigned to me.” He replied.
She shook her head. “I am alive.”
Jerry chuckled. “Well, you know what I mean. Critical conditions.”
She nodded. “You always have a special relationship with your patients.”
“But I always let them down in the end, the patients that need me always get disappointed in the end.” He replied.
“Do you believe in yourself?” she asked.
“No.” he replied, bluntly.
She smiled. “That’s honest.”
“And trust me, there is nothing to believe in. This is a bare case of a man who has failed at everything that he thought he had loved.” He blurted.
“I beg to disagree, I am a happy woman because of you…and that girl is lucky to have you.” She replied.
Jerry smiled. “No. I am lucky to have her.”
“Do you think you are handsome?” she asked.
He shrugged. “People say so.”
“Do you own a mirror?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, I do. Where are you going with this?”
“I would like you to check the mirror and answer that question again.” She said.
Jerry walked in and returned almost immediately. “I have checked it.”
“Now, are you handsome?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“You don’t always need everyone to make you feel good about you. If you don’t love you for who you are, no one can make you feel loved.” She replied. “So, I think that lady is lucky to have you and you have to learn to understand that.”
Jerry took a deep breath and then smiled. “Thank you.”
“One more thing, you are going to save a life. Then, you would save lives. You just have to believe in yourself and trust God. He gives life.” She said and yawned. “Now, you have made me talk much more than I bargained. I am tired.” She said with a smile.
Jerry smiled. “I have to get ready to go out now and prepare for my evening shift. What would you have for dinner?”
“Are you going to cook for me?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes.” He replied, standing up.
“I am coming with you.” She replied.

“So, what’s the plan? The Doctor wants to see you this evening, right?” Nora asked.
Toni smiled. “Yeah…I should head out to the Hospital for some examinations. He has the results from my last scans so I guess I won’t be out for long.”
“You know what I mean, Toni. When are you telling Jerry?”
Toni took a deep breath. “I don’t think I ever want to.”
“What! That’s wickedness, Toni.” Nora protested.
Toni relaxed in her seat. “You don’t understand. It won’t change anything.”
“It changes everything.” Nora retorted. “Besides, I thought you didn’t like getting attached to people. This seems to be overdoing it.”
Toni was silent.
“Don’t go quiet on me, Toni. We have to face this now or never. You are going into Chemo and you can’t be quiet about it to him.”
“I want to be quiet about it. Please, respect it.” Toni replied.
Nora hissed. “Toni, I don’t like this.”
“Well, you are my sister and you owe it to me.” Toni replied. “Besides, the Doctor said I have to see him today so we can know the stage of the cancer before Chemo starts.”
Nora nodded. “That is normal. But, I am not in support of you hiding this from Jerry.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Toni replied. “Have you thought of the possibility that I might just survive it and he doesn’t need to even know that I once had cancer?” She asked with a smile. “Let’s see the positivity in everything.”
“I am trying to see that with you. You just have to stay alive…for me.” Nora said, quietly.
Toni grinned. “I am not going anywhere.”
Nora smiled as she hugged her sister.
“Enough!” Toni said, wriggling out of the hug.
Nora sighed. “You can be really boring, Toni,”
Toni nodded. “So, James, right?”
“Yeah. He asked me out, I told you, remember?” Nora said with a smile as she sprawled out on the couch.
Toni crawled up to her sister. “And you are really cool with him, right?”
Nora popped her eyes at Toni. “Get on with it, Toni. What is it?”
“I don’t know. I…I just have my reservations.” Toni replied and took a seat.
Nora stared at her. “I know how you feel, someone is coming in between the both of us, but I think-”
Toni started to chuckle and eventually burst into a horrid laugh.
“You think it is funny?” Nora asked.
Toni nodded. “Yes. You are sounding as though you were my single mother.”
“I am your mother, Toni, Deal with it. Now, as I was saying, I know you are jealous of James’ presence in our life, but I want you to understand that nothing and no one would ever come in between us.” Nora concluded with a smile.
“Except death.” Toni chipped in quickly
Nora frowned. “Do you always have to ruin the moment? That was the closest thing I had to being romantic and you just had to ruin it.”
“I chipped in reality.” Toni said with a smile.
Nora stared at her with a grimace. “I don’t like reality.”
“Who does?” Toni asked, standing up. As she rose to her feet, she slumped to the floor.
Nora hurried over her. “Toni!”
Toni took a deep breath. “I am fine. I…I must have hit the table or something.”
“There is no table here! Oh my God! Toni!” Nora gaped as she helped her up to a seat. She stared at Toni hands. “Oh my God! I have to get the Doctor. Have you stopped your drugs?”
Toni rolled her eyes. “How can I stop the drugs that you feed me with every day?”
“You are looking pale.” Nora said.
Toni shrugged. “I will see the Doctor this evening. Nothing to worry about.”
Nora sighed as she watched Toni sit up. “What time is your appointment?”
“7pm. Besides, it might have just been a spasm. Nothing to worry about.” She said with a smile.
The doorbell went. Nora rose to her feet. “I’ll get it.” She said and hurried to the door.
Toni looked over her shoulder as she watched Nora usher Jerry in. She immediately faked a smile. “Hey!!!”
Jerry smiled. “Hi, how are you doing?”
“Amazing!” she replied.
Jerry took a seat. “That’s smooth.”
“I would be in the kitchen.” Nora said as she walked away.
Jerry took a seat beside Toni. “You don’t look as good as you sound today.”
Toni raised an eyebrow. “Really? I am fine.”
Jerry lifted his hand to her forehead and she immediately gripped his hand. “Hey…I…I am just checking.”
“You are not a Doctor…and please don’t tell me that service as a paramedic passes for that.” She said with a smile.
He nodded as he returned his hand to his lap. “Fever?”
Toni nodded. “Yeah. But it would pass. I already have some drugs for it.”
“That’s good. So, I have a new housemate.” He started. “She is very lovely.”
Toni smiled. “She? That’s something.”
He nodded. “Yeah, she was kicked out of the Hospital with no place to go.”
“Oh? What about her family?” Toni asked.
“They don’t want her home. Her children are sending her to Victoria’s Homes. She doesn’t want to go there.”
Toni tried not to smile. She was glad he was talking about an elderly female. She cleared her throat. “So…so, is she comfortable at your place?”
“Sure. It’s not as big as this place, but, it is very spacious.” He replied. “Do you want to take a walk?”
She checked her wristwatch. “I have to be back before 6:30pm.”
He nodded. “I got you.” He said as he stretched out his hand.
She smiled as she took the hand. “Nora!” she called. “I will be back in about an hour.”
“Be careful!” Nora called back from the kitchen.
“Okay, Mom.” Toni said with a grin as she pushed the door open.
Nora couldn’t take her mind off Toni and what she had called a spasm. She knew it wasn’t. It was a good thing that they had to see a Doctor soon. Nora knew it would be unfair of Toni not to tell Jerry what was going on. She had to tell him even though it would hurt her sister…or maybe she would just keep quiet and honour her sister? She sighed as she battled with her thoughts. She wanted to cry. She needed their parents now. When their parents had died, she didn’t think she was alone because she had Toni with her. But now, Toni seemed to be fading away. She didn’t want to let her go. It was not right to let Toni go. But then, how was she going to keep Toni alive? Who would fight for Toni?
Tears started to roll down her cheeks as she sliced the onions. It had to be the onions that brought the tears. But then her heart ached as she tried not to cry out. The onions couldn’t have touched her heart. She couldn’t hold it in anymore as she broke down in tears. The maid in the kitchen stared at her boss as she cried freely. She wasn’t shocked. Nora cried almost every time. She walked over to Nora and put her hands around her.
“Chocolate flavour for me.” Jerry said as he handed Toni her ice-cream.
Toni took a seat as she started to scoop. Jerry joined her almost immediately. “So, what do you want to talk about?”
“You.” She said, quietly.
He smiled. “Okay…here I am.”
“Is there a difference between lying and not telling someone what they ought to know?” she asked.
Jerry choked on his ice-cream. Could she have found out about him already? He knew he’d be damned if she found out before he told her. He coughed.
“I am so sorry. What happened?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “I guess the ice-cream went wrong. Anyway, what were you trying to say?”
“I want to know if there is a difference between lying to someone and not telling them what you think they ought to know.” She said.
Jerry took a deep breath. He didn’t know what his next word should be.
“I don’t know really, that’s why I want to know. Would be right if I was to tell you something and I didn’t?” she asked.
Jerry sighed. This question made it easier for him. “Erm…I think it would better if you did, that way, no one holds something against the other.”
“No. This is not about holding something against you or me, let’s say more like hiding important information. If the information was going to hurt you, would you want to know?”
Jerry took a deep breath. “I am not sure. It sort of depends on the kind of information, you know?”
Toni smiled. “Just forget it. Been enjoying quizzing you.”
She nodded. “I like seeing a serious mood sometimes…you fared fine.”
He smiled. “So, what if I was hiding something from you? Or…what if I have lied to you?”
“All is forgiven.” She replied.
He stared at her. “Really?”
“As long as you have not lied about your name.” she said with a smile.
He nodded. “I am Jerry.”
“Good.” She stared at her wristwatch. “I have to head home.” She said.
Jerry mouthed.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Toni, I…I like you so much and I…I want to know if you would go out with me.” He asked, squinting his eyes.
Toni smiled. “Is that a rehearsed speech?”
“No. But…I can try again.” He said.
She smiled. “I like you too…so…that’s life made easy.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
“Don’t make it sound like a proposal. You are too formal.”
Jerry smiled. “Wow! Cool! So, we are official.”
“Now, that’s formal.” She said with a smile.
Jerry knew he couldn’t do anything to jeopardize their relationship. He watched her as she checked her wristwatch again and rose to her feet. “Toni, I have something to tell you.”
“Now? I am very late.” She replied, without looking at him. “We could attend to it later…if you don’t mind.” She said as she gathered her bag. She was feeling weak and didn’t want to have to pass out before him.
He nodded. “Let me take you home.”
“So you lied to her?” Mrs Aiyenugba asked as she sipped her drink. “What were you thinking?”
Jerry sighed. “I didn’t feel proud about it, it was pointless to tell her the sort of Doctor I am.”
Emeka laughed. “Still she would find out…and when that happens, your life would be over. This new thing you think you have going on would be cut short.”
“Don’t be such a killjoy.” Mrs Aiyenugba shot in Emeka’s direction. She then turned towards Jerry. “If I had known when you came in last night, I would have tossed you back to go and tell the truth.”
“It is not too late.” Emeka cooed.
Mrs Aiyenugba stared at Emeka. “You are such a good friend.”
“I really did try to tell him the truth, ma. Jerry is just a born liar.”
She nodded. “And he has a worthy accomplice in you.”
“Well, I try to be a friend.” Emeka replied.
Jerry smiled at him. “I love you, bro.”
“Mutual feeling.” Emeka replied, coldly.
Jerry grinned. “Would it kill you to say you love me too?”
“No. It might just hurt my ego a little bit.” Emeka replied.
Mrs Aiyenugba smiled. “Don’t you guys go to church?”
“I am going to the Hospital.” Jerry replied, standing up.
Emeka nodded. “Me too.”
“What is wrong with you both?”
Jerry smiled as he approached the door. “Later ma’am. There is enough food.”
Nora stared at Toni. “We can leave now.”
Toni shook her head. “The choir is about to minister.”
“I should have forced you to see the Doctor yesterday, I don’t know what made me weak.” Nora said angrily as she stared at Toni’s face.
An Usher walked past them.
“Service in session.” Toni said as she turned to Nora with a smile.
Nora frowned. Toni had returned from her outing with Jerry yesterday and gone straight to bed, so she missed the appointment with the Doctor. Nora had to accompany her to the church because of her sister’s frail look.
The choir rose as it was time for their ministration. Nora watched Toni as she smiled. She loved God. Nora didn’t understand why everything bad was happening to Toni. She had seen herself as the perfect alternative if anyone was meant to suffer. She was the one angry at life and at herself. Toni on the other hand, loved life. She lived every moment of it.
The church rose to sing and dance. Nora was the only one sitting. Toni was dancing, swaying from left to right. Nora swallowed painfully as she stared at the Altar. She didn’t understand where Toni got her joy from. Nora was angry. All she wanted was for her sister to live, was that too hard? Tears started to stream down her eyes as she thought hard.
Nora lifted her head up as she watched Toni. She was no more dancing, her eyes were shut. Toni dropped to the floor.
“Emergency Unit!” The announcement went off in the Hospital.
The door flew open as the paramedics rushed Toni in on a stretcher. Nora cried as she ran after them.
Jerry and Emeka ran towards the Hospital Entrance.
“Toni! Stay with me!” Nora cried as they wheeled her in.
“Out of the way, people.” A paramedic shouted.
Jerry paused in his track as he watched Toni being rushed in. “Toni?”
Nora cast a glance at him and then ran on with the paramedics.

Beautiful Stranger is written by @tomi_adesina; Author of Dear Future Husband available for Free on African Stories. Follow @tomi_adesina on twitter for more thrilling stories. Her new book “All Fun and Games” also available for FREE on African Stories

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All Fun and Games by Tomi Adesina
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Don’t Settle For Mediocrity


No one should settle for anything less than the best! A good read

Energize Your Thoughts

“If you’ll not settle for anything less than your best, you will be amazed at what you can accomplish in your lives.” ~Vince Lombardi

Have you been told that your goal is not reachable? Have you been told that your ideas are stupid? Have you been told that you have to have money to go places? Have you been told that there is no possible way you can be a success. Have been told that you are crazy? If you believe any of those or any other phrases like that you are settling for mediocrity. What I want to tell you today is that you don’t have to settle. Settling is a choice. It was Erma Bomberk who said “When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, “I used everything…

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Crush or Love? Episode X




Emeka Douglass

The shrieking door bell and buzzing phone in planned union told me Chi-Chi was not just at the door, she was fiery furious. Soon she came around my window and called out my name. I laid down waiting for her to go.
“Matthew, where is his?” she asked the young man at the gate, the annoyance registered in her clipped tone.
I never see am dis morning Ma” he replied, intimidated.
“Tell him to call me immediately he comes back” she said in absolute irritation. I knew the argument we were going to have; ‘why would you miss Mass and why in the world would you refuse to pick your wife’s call?’ I could hear her loud voice in my head already. Perhaps I was just overreacting because I had found Funke or I was just depressed, most probably because the wedding will make the tabloids and would be another milestone reached between both families. Cementing relationships!
She brought her car alive and drove out minutes later, after repeating herself to the young man at the gate. I called him after a while.
Yes Sir, Madam don go” he answered promptly as I asked him if Chi-Chi was gone from the window.
“She is not yet Madam” I corrected in obvious annoyance before I realized who I was talking too. It pissed me off when everyone called her my wife or madam when we had not been introduced! The effrontery!
“I am sorry sir” he apologized. I headed to the bathroom for a hot bath. Seeing Funke today was not an option. It was an absolute necessity. I had to get answers and I was going to get them.
Pulling a white T-Shirt over my head and dragging up a pair of jeans, I took a look in the mirror and admired my abs. Rolling up my sleeves and donning my shoes, I grabbed my car keys and headed to her house in high determined hopes and inexplicable excitement, one which I had not felt in a very long time.
Funke Dayo

The scene I had just witnessed played again in my head as I drove home in high speed. I needed a cold soak and music to calm my jagged nerves. The duo obviously had issues and while it was sad that U.D and I might be over even before we started, I gave myself “brain” as Bisi will always say, wondering briefly how she was doing.
I drove in just in time to see Emeka come out of his car, my breath catching in my throat. I caught on my brakes and made to reverse out but the old gate man had rolled the large metal gate closed. I stilled and took deep breaths to steady my mixed emotions. It felt good to see him, determined to bury the hatchet but it felt absolutely painful to see the man who ………, he interrupted my private thoughts.
“Hello” he said, as a stranger would. I was on guard. The problem with having nice but nosy neighbor was having to keep your shit in your pant! I had to not let them witness this shit that was about hitting the roof.
I came down with contained anger and an unexplained feeling akin to fear. I was afraid to forgive him. I strengthened my resolve. There was no lost love here. It was over, I reassured myself.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. Displaying no emotion, I stared at him in the face. Dressing in white T-Shirts and pair of Jeans, I admired his lean strong abs but kept my eyes on his. He was all I ever wanted and was shocked to find out that I still wanted him. I swallowed painfully at the realization that I had unconsciously dated and had intimate one-nightstands with men that were built like him; but none ever gave me the satisfaction I thoroughly sought for. I grew hot in the face.
“I came to see you” he said, settling his eyes on mine. I fought to stay angry.
“I told you to leave me alone. There is nothing to talk about” I said stubbornly, going to key my door. Why on earth did U.D make that announcement? I’d have been at the Odiete’s!
“We have a lot to talk about” he insisted in his usual calm voice. I opened the door and without invitation, he followed, closing the door after him. I swallowed. I was alone with him. The thought was disturbing.
“We don’t…..” I tried to blow hot air, turning to run into him.
“I was foolish. I was selfish. I panicked but I am truly sorry. For leaving you, for leaving us” he said taking my hand and holding it delicately. I brushed him off and made to go to my room. He grabbed my upper arm.
“You had your say and you are right never to forgive me but I need to apologize” and with that, almost in a flash, he was on his knees, his head resting on my hands. I felt myself go weak and the pain shattering like fine china into a million pieces. I stilled my eyes, resisting the dam that was threatening to burst.
“Don’t, don’t, please don’t….” And I sniffed back the tears that had flooded my throat. Standing up, he gently pulled me into his strong arms, the very same I longed for. His sweet male scent filled my nose, his strong chest so comforting. I knew I belonged here. The old memories surfaced and I pulled myself from his arms with all the strength I could mutter..
“Please you need to leave now” I said, braving a look at him, willing him to leave and never come back but at the same time, willing him to pull me back into his arms and never let me go again. I saw his jaws twitched and in a split second I knew which of my thoughts had permeated.
“I can’t” he said roughly before hauling into his arms, a second hesitation before covering my lips with his. The memory of our first kiss bursting from the dam I had stored it for 10 years and I cried into his mouth as he deepened the kiss. My heart pulsating, his beating so fast. I broke free.
“I am getting married in August. I can’t do this. Stay away” I said, without thinking I picked my car keys that had fallen to the floor and literally ran out of the house. I had sworn never to forgive him but I couldn’t stay mad any longer. Whether right or wrong, well-thought out or not, I was taking up U.D on his offer.
He followed in pursuit as I drove out in a hurry, I saw him enter his car and reverse out of the compound as I raced back to U.D to accept his proposal.
Bassey Odiete
Funke stood rooted to the spot, her eyes so wide and mouth ajar, she stared down at me as I threw the syringe with the half empty content few steps away from where I lay on U.D’s stiff body. I sprang up, sweating, momentarily confused.
“You killed him” she said, just above a whisper.
“I didn’t. I swear. He came at me and we started struggling” I said afraid yet calm.
“He is dead! You killed him” she said, her eye watering, voice reaching the ceiling. Immediately, a thought formed and I eyed the white hand towel that smelt like it was soaked with halothane on the floor. She ran to the body and knelt beside him, shaking him.
“U.D, U.D!! Please! Please wake up. I will marry you” she was crying now and shaking him vigorously.
“Funke, I didn’t. He came at me” I said, using my leg to drag the cloth before picking it up. I advanced slowly. She shook him some more, pulling out her phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked suspiciously eyeing her.
“I am calling an ambulance” she shouted fumbling for her phone. In quick succession, I grabbed her and pressed the cloth firmly against her nose. I felt her tense and she struggled, fighting with all her might. She begged with her eyes as they closed against their ability to stay open. I picked up the syringe, took deep breaths to calm my nerves right before pushing the remaining content of the syringe into her neck too. I waited; trudging the length of my room and cursing them both. U.D wanted me dead and Funke was a witness. She was going to be spill and I had to keep her quiet.
With two bodies, I had to form another plan. Carrying U.D to his room, I stripped him and lay him in bed. I was sweating, heart beating so fast, I cursed him yet again.
“You wanted to kill me over a woman!” I muttered under my breath times without number as I set up his room for the plan I had. Scattering his room, I looked around just one more time before going to the second phase of my plan.
Carrying Funke’s body, I stripped her naked and lay her strategically on him. Cleaning my fingerprints from the injection, I placed it in hers and looked at them one last time before I went to change my shirt and call Idris from the gate. I needed an alibi and he was going to be one.
“Idris! Idris!! Call the hospital. Get the Ambulance” I called loudly in obvious distress.
“Sir” he answered, running in his usual fashion, punching his phone and following me on my heels.
Almost in a run, he called the stationed ambulance driver at the gatehouse to get the car around and bring in the stretcher. He was going to need another I thought as I jumped the stairs and flung the double leaf door leading to U.D’s wing of the house. He followed suit. Opening the main entrance to U.D’s sitting area, I stepped aside to let him in.
“Subahanallah!!!” he exclaimed, taking another look before looking at me with eyes filled with questions I was never going to answer.
“I thought I heard noise about some thirty minutes ago but didn’t take it as anything, coming over to get his car keys for a drive, I knocked and when he didn’t answer after a couple of minutes, I came in to see them like this” I calmly informed and at the same time looking disturbed.
“Sir, are they alive?” he asked, looking at the duo with great concern.
“I have no idea. Where is Joshua!!!??” I shouted.
“Yes Sir” it was Joshua and the old lady Nurse. They both exclaimed as they saw the naked bodies. The Nurse rushed to cover their nakedness and Joshua made to get another stretcher. Idris was on the phone, asking that the family doctor be in the hospital, an emergency he continued. My heart pounded and I poured out in sweat regretting the bickering and the game of who the ladies loved! All our lives, we had competed for attention and now, it was the reason I had killed him.
“She is Alive. She is breathing” the Nurse shouted, almost in an uproar and cutting into my thoughts. She signaled me to help her carry the already dressed body. I stood momentarily confused. She had stopped breathing! How possible was it that she was now breathing? I asked myself, panicking.
“Help me carry her” she shouted as Joshua and Idris arrived with another stretcher. I watched as they hurdled the bodies on the stretchers and wheeled them out. What was to become of me now?
Was she is going to tell the world I killed my brother? It was going to be my word against hers. I had an alibi, she had none. Or did I?
I gave an evil grin as another thought formed.
“I am coming to the hospital. Idris inform father of what has happened” I said jumping into my car.
I had to make sure she doesn’t wake up. There was no way I was going to allow her to spill.
It was the only way

Till next week! Will he succeed? Is U.D really dead? Drop your comments and share!

Have a great weekend!