In a den of thieves continued:

It was the same grim resignation with which she had faced the death of her father, and then her two eldest sons, and then her husband, all in rapid succession. It were as if death were an unwanted friend who barged in freely at will, and brought with it unprecedented disaster, and grief, and yet you are forced to accept this friend.  And so in the silence of her heart she had held many discussions with God, and with the spirit world, bargaining in futile hope of delaying the inevitable.  to make matters worse, it was not as if the causes of their deaths were some complicated cancer that could not be cured even in more privileged locales, or some long standing chronic malady; no, they had all died from simple treatable diseases, which if discovered in a timely fashion could have allowed it's victims a chance at a reasonable life expectancy.
  And so when the young men had knocked at her door in the middle of the night she had known what it meant even before they spoke, she had thought that surely the boy must have died like everyone else before him, that to have heard that the boy was still in this life, although in an injured state had been good news.  For this last boy she had begged God, to take her first before her last born son, as she could not, indeed would not imagine a world without him.  " If he dies," she had said, " Then I may as well be dead, as there will be no joy left for me in this world.  When I see his face, my life brightens, when I hear his voice, then I am consoled."
It seems as if providence had heard the prayers of the widow, for the boy had been spared from a bullet to the heart by an inch, and it certainly was not his own prayers that  had  purchased his escape from a wanton death.  But ,where the world all too often fails the poor man and the destitues, time and time again, God sends his mercy and His pity where he will, when he wills, and lightens the burden of the rejects of society.  And so, the widow, Mrs. Obiageli, sat in her nice starched ankara wrapper, with a neat white blouse and gingerly dabbed the sweaty fore head of her beloved son, the armed robber.  To the casual observer it would have been impossible to have ascertained  upon looking that this was a man who ran around at night with guns, as a aura of peace and tranquility surrounded the pair.  On his chest sat a small picture card of the sacred heart of Jesus, and by his side was a picture of the Blessed Virgin.  He opened his eyes and looked upon his mother, " mama I am sweating please wipe my forehead."
And she obediently continued with her motions.
In due course the constable from the police station arrived to investigate the gun shot victim and whether there was sufficient evidence to apprehend the man who presumably must have been involved in some  illegal affair. 
" No, officer," he answered mildly, as his strength was diminishing with the fever that was ravaging his body and he spoke in a barely audible whisper." No, it is not me, I was shot by robbers in Asata on my way home.'
" You were on your way home from where?" the constable queried him with his eye brows dancing in his fore head " You have just said you have no job, so if you have no job where do you go that you get shot, Eh?"
The boys mother shook her head but said nothing. Then after a pause, the boy responded, again with difficulty," Constable, I went to the market and stopped at a bar before I went to return home. And it was in the bar that I think the armed robbers saw me and followed me out.."
"If you have no job how come you are in the bar buying beer? E jo, you be thief, only thief wey get money to spend in bar."
The boy shuddered, but as he was too sick to argue his fate, and he had just been medicated with a pain killer, he fell into a deep sleep and the constable not seing himself able to make any more headway at the time, left to return to his other investigations.  It had appeared to him that the boy was a liar, but then no crimes had been reported the night the boy was shot and as such there was really nothing to charge him with.

A recipe for Nigerian stew.

This stew might come in handy for your weightloss diet. I find that the use of the fresh ingredients make this healthy   Please note that this stew recipe does not include meat or fish.  It is a base stew which can be prepared ahead of time, and as it contains no meat or fish it can hold in a refridgerator for two weeks, or in a freezer for four months.  If you want to have a meat or fish stew take out from the base and add to the meat or fish, however, once you add meat or fish to the stew it will only stay good for three days in refridgerator, frozen longer. At all times boil meat first on it's own and the remove it from the stock and then add to the stew.  the stock must be refridgerated so that all the fat will solidify, and then scrape off the fat  from the stock before you use it.  For chicken, make sure you remove all skin before cooking in the same way after making the chicken stock refridgerate and remove the solidified oils.

2 fresh Red bell peppers( sweet.)
1 or 2 orange habanero peppers
2 medium sized sweet yellow onions or 1 large.
10 Roma tomatoes.
1 can crushed tomatoes 16 oz-24 oz.
1 can hunts tomato paste.
Sea salt to taste.
Cayenne pepper dried to taste.
Freshly ground black pepper to taste.
2-4 table spoons of corn, groundnut, or mazola oil.

In a food processor adding as little water as possible blend all the fresh ingredients, then place in a large pot and begin cooking on medium heat, as soon as mixture starts boiling reduce the heat to low and add the canned tomatoes and tomatoe paste.  Continue to steam this stew for about 1 1/2 hours on low heat until all the liquid has evaporated.  then add 2 - 4 tablespoons of corn or mazola  oil, increase heat, and fry the stew for five to ten minutes stirring  all the while.

The 1-2-3- step weightloss program

Portion control:


From now on eat off a side plate, make sure the piece of protein is smaller than the size of your palm and the rest on your plate is vegetables.  This should be your dinner.

 A per fect breakfast:
A bowl of oatmeal with small amount soy milk and splenda.

take note the oatmeal fibre produces insoluble fibre for the diet and this helps to lower blood cholesterol as well.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
Exercise recommendations of twenty minutes per day are a third less than recommended by the AMA. However, my own theory is that if people hear of this recommendation they are apt to give up before they start a diet and exercise program.  as such, I personally favour the chinese approach of " a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

Take five minutes a day, and tell yourself positive things, and imagine your new self.

next week I will give you some ideas for a detoxifying diet to jump start your weightloss, and for this you will need to have the ability to make fresh juices with a juicer.

The 1-2-3- step weight loss blog

I have come across a  weightloss blog that might be helpful for those of us who are in a constant battle of the bulge, and I will give you here a few excepts for you to think about:
First of all, there are no gimmicks involved in this weight loss program, there is no cost to you, and you do not have to pay money to discover how to decrease your belly fat, nor do you have to use your hard earned cash to buy expensive foods.  I think you will find the tips I give useful.

#1: Stop eating out and eat only food cooked at home by your family.
#2. Stop all consumption of refined flour(white) and sugar and high fructose corn syrup.  At the same time switch over to whole wheat flour and increase your fiber intake.
#3. Commit to a cardiovascular fitness program of twenty minutes per day with the goal of cross training: alternate bike riding, with walking, swimming, tennis, running, yoga. And two sessions of twenty minutes twice weekly of building upper body strength with weight lifting.


Supplements:
Calcium: 1 gm per day, cheapest source is in tums.
Vitamin D; 1,000 I.U. per day.
Psyllium fiber supplement: Metamucil: 1 tablespoon three times daily with 8 ozs water.
Niacin 500 mg one tablet three times daily
baby aspirin 81 mg/day.
Consume green tea as a beverage, crystal light.

In addition please note the following:

1. Portion control.
2. Avoid red meats as much as possible, substitute with skinless chicken breast and fish.
3.Avoid dairy products: In particular for people of west african descent there is a very high incidence of lactose intolerance.  Moreover, the consumption of dairy products in the vegetarians of India lowered the benefit or completely ameliorated the benefit of a meat less diet as these dairy products are high in saturated fats and cholesterol. If you must consume milk then use soy milk products. 
4. avoid alcohol consumption, or limit it's intake to 1 drink per day for a female and 2 drinks per day for a male.
5. aim for three to five servings of fruits/veggies per day.

over the next few posts I wil elaborate on sample diet menus that you prepare ahead of time.  I will also go over some of the very popular detoxifying diets.

I think the bottomline to successful weightloss is do not expect this to happen to overnight, and above all you must be optimistic and patient with yourself.  i also want to advise all the people who do not have a work out place, you can walk up and down in one place, or around a room or a compound; obviously that is very boring, but it will accomplish your goal, meet me next week.

Nigeria, a recipe for success amongst nations.

There is nothing about old age that is kind, or beautiful nor memorable and loveable.  The body can no longer match the virility of the spirit as it soars in dreams to the highest heavens. In the deep furrows of the fore head are etched the years of angst, and the once round and perky cheeks become deepened hollows and chiseled in appearance.  Nowhere in the world is the effects of this aging so apparent as in Nigeria, where the aging is accelerated by the general insecurity of every day life, and the continous anguish of absence of healthcare, absence of the basic amenities of life as water, and decent shelter and a reasonable expectation of a daily ration of food, in a once fairly prosperous society.  But nothing surpasses  the hopelessness etched into the brows of the ordinary man, who from experience knows that nothing can change, nor can improve for the every day man as long as the status quo is maintained.  If one talks of a physical slavery in the past, then surely it must be matched by the modern day  equivalent of an economic slavery which is held in place by the chains of an artifactual sovereignity upheld by brute physical force  practiced by a successive array of corrupt regimes.  In Nigeria, as in so many African countries, the people have been cheated by all: by the colonial masters who only sought to better their own countries economies with little or no regard for the indigenous people; but over and beyond that, was the worst betrayal of all, to be cheated by your own people, to have your patrimony stolen from you right under your own eyes.  In the same vein, the kidnappings in the nation rivals that during the hey day of slavery in the nineteenth century in West Africa.  This is the legacy of the civilian administrations, and all the preceding military dictators, who pillaged the public coffers like a private piggy bank and then turned around and asked the public" Why will you not dance with me?"
So the argument should be, if Nigeria is not a failed state, then pray where are it's successes?  If you are going to say a state is not a failure then it must have succeeded in something.
Is the success the fact that we have a presidential jet that toils all around the world a ? cost when our citizens cannot have access to clean water.
Is the success the fact that there are more and more areas of the country where you cannot even be guaranteed the freedom to walk on the street in broad daylight without the threat of abduction or being bombed?
Or does the definition of success mean, that the 5% of society who have cornered the entire GDP of the country to themselves have fastened their grip on the Nigerian economy to ensure no one else can gain access?  The list goes on and on, no, I am convinced, this is not the recipe for success, but rather one for a disaster.

A robbers den, the protegees of Father Michael

 In a dark room in Asata, a young man laid on a small six spring bed and beside him sat his friend who tended to him, as the man was injured. Then the young man on the bed turned towards his friend,“I went to a place, and I was surrounded completely by darkness, and I fell to the ground; and I must have lost consciousness.  Because when I woke up, I woke up in this bright place, the brightest place I have ever been.  I think I must have gone to the gates of heaven and have been sent back, because I remember thinking to myself, Oh! This place is so beautiful and so peaceful, I would not mind staying here forever.  Then the next thing I remember, I woke up in the bush by the Asata stream, and I knew I had returned to this life when my nostrils were filled with the smell of rotting garbage and human excreta.  And I tried to move my left arm and I had a sharp pain in my shoulder.  The bullet missed my heart by a few inches! Ah, the life of violence takes it’s tolls: He who lives by the sword shall die by it!  If not, for my mother’s rosaries and daily prayers, I too would have succumbed to the fire power.”

“ Brother, you are so hypocritical, you call on God to advance you in a life of a strife?  You ask for your mother’s prayers whilst you are rampaging through town firing gun shots?”

“And if I did not ask for my mother’s prayers, then tell me whose prayers would I have asked for?  She has little else to do than to spend all her widowed days in the church praying for mercy, for me and then for herself.  Yes, it is a paradox; but then what is not?  This whole country is little more than a paradox or a joke if you will, of the gods abandoned by our ancestors, in the long run it will amount to little more than a foot note in our history, just as colonialism already is. Are you trying to say that God does not listen to the prayers of sinners? If he does not hear the prayers of sinners, then who will be saved?  Maybe now my mother has obtained the answer to her prayers, and I will be finally converted and abandon a way of crime....  I stop for as long as the money lasts, and I swear to give up this life, but then the same thing happens over again, no money, no jobs, and I go back to the streets to make a living.”

“I am telling you, I am converted now, I saw the great light, I am telling you, I was at heavens door, and I was sent back, and this is my last chance to abandon this life of evil.”

He then laid his head back on the dirty pillow which was stained by blood that had oozed past the rag that was placed on his shoulder to keep the bleeding in check. His brow was covered in sweat, and his body shivered despite the heat, and then suddenly he regained his strength and sat bolt upright in his bed and grabbed the collar of the man who sat beside him and with urgency declared, “I may be many things, Oke, I am a thief, a swindler, a liar. and will not hesitate to make money any way I can by fraud or cheating. but one thing I never did, and I drew a line, I never committed an act of murder; I drew a line, and I said I am not a murderer, just a thief, and to that God is my witness.” Then he fell back on his pillow as if the exertion had required super human strength and he continued, “ Oke, put my rosary around my neck, and take me now to the hospital because this wound is worse than yesterday, and when you have left me at the hospital find mama and tell her where I am.” Without saying anything,

Oke dutifully picked up a white plastic rosary that sat on the table beside his friend and he carefully guided it over his friend’s head trying to jar him as little as possible.  Then he went out into the room adjacent where two members of the gang were sleeping on the floor.  He nudged them awake, and said “brother is getting worse, we will take him to UNTH and after he has been admitted before the police can come and interrogate us we must leave immediately.”

The two who slept on the floor got up and did not seem to think the request unusual.

Not long after, under the cover of darkness, a body wrapped in a wrapper was carefully placed in the back seat of the car, and was transported to the emergency entrance of the hospital.  He had hardly been placed on a gurney in the outside corridor awaiting the arrival of a doctor, when the friends hurriedly drove away.

By the first morning light the widow Mrs. Obiageli was already seated by her son’s side, and she was wiping his brow with a damp white handkerchief.  From his left hand emerged an intravenous infusion being used as a vehicle to administer antibiotics to combat the infection which was ravishing his body through the shoulder. Wound.  For the most part he slept, but when he awoke he would regard the vision of his mother with unparalleled tenderness, as if she were part of his vision of heaven.  Her face betrayed no anger, but instead she sat with an aura of resignation at fate.

The story of Mr. Tokunbo Ajayi continued

A good owambe party requires a decent band, a vivacious crowd, and large quantities of food and drink, all in an effort to declare ‘surplus’ for all. The Adetayo compound in Bodija estates of Ibadan had all this, and more.  The older guests were restrained, yet their age proved no barrier to the afforded enjoyment.

        It was a clear night, and in the sky above the full moon lit up the night skies and shone down enveloping the compound in a surreal shimmer.  In the center clearing the dancing was in full swing, and the crowd obediently gyrated rhythmically to the beatings of the drum, and just as a waves rising to their peaks and then crashing to the shore in bubbling surf, the dancers would rise and alternately bow down towards the ground in a graceful sweeping motion.  The dance floor was full, but not to the point of being a crush.  For some reason one could not help but feel that some of the dancers were present for that express purpose, and for the ‘spraying’ of naira bills on their foreheads that this opportuned.

For the most part, Jide and his small entourage of friends kept to a table by themselves.  Mr. Tokunbo Ajayi sat silent in no mood to dance.  He was content to continue in the role of an observer, except this time  at closer quarters. As he watched the younger dancers with interest, he noted the beauty of the fairer sex and was affected by their charms.  However, he could not escape the thought that beside the beautiful Bola no one there could hold up a candle to her beauty, not even his lover Yetunde.

As a matter of course, all good times must come to an end, and so must the bad times and mediocre ones.  In spite of Tokunbo's attempts to the contrary, the weekend had continued under the dark cloud of loss occasioned by the absence of Bola.  By the time Yetunde had been safely returned to her campus, it had become obvious that her lover had undergone a change of heart.  Of course, he was in no hurry to announce his disillusionment to her; such words, that can occasion much pain, and cannot easily be retracted- so foolish he was not.  And, as such, he said nothing to his lover either way.  On the one hand, he made no further efforts to encourage her in love and in all its associated banalities, and allusions, to their ‘future life together’; on the other hand, he was careful to not discourage her love, for fear that he might lose a love so pure and so hard gained.  On their return to Ife he had dismissed her with a peremptory kiss on her cheek, and  he had declined to escort her upstairs to her room, on the grounds of being in a hurry to make it to Lagos before dark.  Her eyes had eagerly searched his looking for an explanation but all she had met was a blank face, as clean as an unused slate, not betraying even a hint of the emotions that raged in his soul.

Finally, alone, and at peace, he took stock of his situation in the relative tranquility of his car.  By the time he pulled into the backyard of his flat in Ikeja he had made a decision, and this was the only honorable thing he could do: he would continue with his suit to Yetunde, fully aware of the increasing desire he nursed in his soul, as an unquenchable thirst, for the beautiful Bola.  

Mrs Toyin Ajayi senior satisfies her curiosity:

Later on in the week on the Tuesday following the return from Ife Mr. Tokunbo Ajayi presented himself at his mother’s house in his customary manner.

The place for him was set, and his mother had cooked a vegetable soup which was served with garri.  They were seated opposite each other on the dining table; and when the son was not paying attention the mother would  lovingly look over at her son.  The more she looked, she was convinced that she could see the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes, and she sensed a heightened degree of nervousness in him.

“Ah, you came from Ife just now, give me news about the beautiful Yetunde.”

He did not answer directly, then after a pause, he said, “Why mother, she does well, we were in Ibadan over the weekend for Chief Adetayo’s birthday, it was a nice weekend.”

“Yes, Chief Adetayo, as flamboyant as ever, I am quite sure.  Now, Jide I have not seen in a long time.”

“Jide does well, mother.  Now you ask me about Yetunde, and to tell you the truth I think I do not deserve her..”

His mother looked up from her glass of water, and knew this was the source of the trouble.

“Nonsense, of all the excuses I ever heard for why a relationship is passé, the excuse of she is too good for me seems to be the most lame.”

“Mother, I assure you, I most certainly do not deserve her, this girl is young and inexperienced.  I think I would do better with someone with some maturity and experience.”

“I think I quite do not follow you, I would have thought that you would be extolling her virtue of innocence, instead I find you holding it against her as some form of vice or shortcoming.  How strange the world is be- coming, I cannot pretend to follow your train of thought.”

He shrugged his shoulders and decided that his mother would not understand, indeed could not understand, and that she never would.

“Never mind mother, it is a passing thought; we are still together, a happily assembled unit all thanks to you and auntie.  Of course we are happy, but with time, the intensity of the emotion must fade slightly, I think that is the natural course of events.  No longer do I imagine her to be perfect, nor does she imagine me, having seen to bear my short temper this weekend.”

“You have had your first quarrel?”

“Hardly a quarrel, more a misunderstanding. It was that I had invited her and her room mate to Ibadan for the party, only to find out when I had arrived that the room mate had gone to London for the weekend, and I felt quite illused as she had promised to accompany us to Ibadan.” He continued, “And of course, I was quite upset, and she saw that I am quite inflexible, but in a good way.”

His mother smiled as she could imagine her son’s reaction to the affront, “Yes, I can see you reacting to that.”

From his mothers house he drove to visit Mr. Olumide, his older friend, and after they had settled down to a glass of cognac, and whilst puffing on a Cuban cigar he decided to come down upon the subject which was the real reason for his visit.

“I have a friend who is in trouble and I wanted to ask you your opinion.  Now you see this friend of mine was introduced to a very nice and young lady earlier in the year, and from what I saw he fell deeply in love with the girl and asked for her hand in marriage; not from her parents, mind you, this was a secret engagement.  In any case, as time goes by he meets a friend of the girl, and to his utter dismay he finds that not only is she more beautiful than the first, but she is also more charming, and he finds himself thinking of the new girl all the time, yet he never tells his fiancée about it.  Now the question I pose to you is what should I tell my friend to do?”

Mr. Olumide thought hard and long, and then he answered, “I would think your friend quite a cad of a man, surely he must have more imagination than to be falling in love with his fiancées best friend?”

“Is that not an oversimplification? Is it possible to love two women equally at the same time?”

“What a question you pose to me! Love two women at the same time? Can a man be slave of two masters?  Either he will love the one more or the other.  Yet in our culture, theoretically speaking a man loves all his wives equally; whereas we all know that in fact he does not, he will always prefer the one over the other, because her personality agrees with him, or one is more beautiful etc.  So the answer I will give to you is no, a man can not love two women equally any more than he can be a slave of God and mammon.”

“ It is so interesting that you say that, for that is exactly what I told him myself, however, he said that that still did not help him to decide and he insists that he is in love with both.”

.

An Owhambe party in Ibadan continued, the story of Toks Ajayi.

The trip to Ibadan was uneventful enough.  Tokunbo found himself concentrating on the road, and as the sun was setting in the west he found himself driving directly into the sunlight and being blinded.  Externally he appeared to be fully recovered from the disappointment, and he exerted himself to the utmost to act cheerful in the presence of his fiancee.  But in his heart he nursed a gnawing sense of sadness which he could no longer deny to himself was due to the absence of Bola.
They arrived early at Jide's home, and after exchanging the usual greetings with his mother and the main celebrant Chief Yemi Adetayo, they settled into the upstairs parlor to await the arrival of the guests.  Outside in the compound of the house located in the exclusive Bodija estates, the band was preparing the stage and their instruments, and the caterers were setting up a variety of tables under large canopies.  the tables could be seen filling up with large varieties of food, enough to please any and all, there was a soup of Egusi soup on one table, and across from it there was a table set up with rice, and stew, and fried meats.  Little trays filled with meat pies and sausage rolls, were arranged, with a large cake iced in white and Blue with the number fifty written upon it.  In the center of the compound there was a large tent which had seats and tables arranged, and in the center there was left a clearing for dancing.  The bar seemed to have an endless supply of drinks, with crates and crates of beer, and wine and stout, stacked beind the bar ready for the party.
In the parlour there was Jide sitting still in his western dress, and he looked tired from running errands all day.  Beside him sat a pretty young girl who appeared to be his girlfriend.  Another young man by the name of Dapo sat alone on a chair and seemed to have started the party early as he had a bottle of cold beer standing on the small table beside his chair. 
Tokunbo was restless, and he alternately paced the room, and then looked out at the party unfolding before his eyes, as more and more guests filled up the tent, and the band started to sing.  It seemed as if no one in the parlour was in  a hurry to join the events outside, but were content to watch it unfold from their position of advantage.  Then, Tokunbo who had been irritated the whole evening could no longer hold his disillusionment with life in any longer, and walked up to the window and looked out and said,
"Yes, look down upon the life of the Nigerian elite, and tell me if you do not think anything odd about it. Here we have ladies weighed down by their weight in gold around their necks, and do not forget the laces from where, china? or is it India?  Look at the line up of luxury vehicles, that have transported these lucky souls here. And a stones throw from here, look outside the city gates of  this man made heaven, into a veritable hell, with the starving masses clamoring for entrance.  Hoping to function as dogs at the masters' table to rescue a few crumbs. You know, if I have said it once, I will say it again, the french nobility, and Marie Antoinnette, were doing the same in France, before the french revolution; they had their outrageous parties whilst the masses of Paris were starving, and what was it that Marie Antoinette said when told of the hungry masses who could not find bread to eat, " then let them eat cake...". " " That is how I feel right now looking down upon this, yes, a disconnect, a total disconnect of the 5% who enjoy the countries wealth with reckless abandon, from the struggling masses. What will be the outcome?  I wonder will the day come when we will become the enemy of our own people, and when every man who drives a car, or who has a house will be fair game for the teeming masses? There is some inequity in this society that I cannot quite put my finger on, for there can be no other explanation for how such wide disparities can exist in the same society let alone be tolerated.  But I am not an economist, and I dont pretend to be one, but the last thing in the world that a starving man wants is another lecture on the economical potential of the black african giant."
The man Dapo, could not agree more.
" Yes, we are a veritable success of a nation, where 33 million of our citizens must relieve themselves in the bush! I find this annoying, because basic sanitation does not necessitate running water per sei. What ever happened to a pit latrine?"
The others laughed.
"No, I am serious about it."
" I think the problems are more fundamental, lack of accountability in our leaders, and rampant corruption, and an economy which is nonsustainable."
Before the conversation could delve any deeper the steward came in and announced that Jide was requested to come down immediately by his mother.

A trip to Ibadan for an Owambe party

It was in this innocuous manner that Mr. Tokunbo Ajayi found his soul infested with an uncontrollable desire to understand the mysterious and beautiful room mate of his lover.  Although he was wont to admit this unhealthy passion to himself, nor to anyone else for that matter, his curiosity remained as a snake hidden in the grass of the lawn of his heart at mid day.  At best a nuisance to all, and at worst a potent lethal force which could decimate an erstwhile happy being and bring it to a sudden premature demise.  And as most people, he had no difficulty in excusing his weakness in a variety of ways; it was never that he pursued the friendship of Bola for his own selfish intentions, no, it was in the interest of his relationship with Yetunde that he ‘ felt a need to be friendly with the room mate’.  Furthermore, when he invited the girl out to follow the couple in a very unwholesome threesome, it was because it would be rude to ‘ invite Yetunde and not the room mate Bola’.   As such, the three could often be seen going out to eat on weekends together. The young girl Yetunde, in her inexperience did not notice any difference in her lover, nor did she notice that her room mate was more available than usual on the weekends when Tokunbo came from Lagos.  One thing had surprised her, and that was on the one occasion when Bola knew that Tokunbo was spending the weekend in Kaduna, a fact which Yetunde had not elicited until after the fact.   Mr. Tokunbo Ajayi continued relentlessly in this course,seemingly totally oblivious to the fact that the most beautiful girl on campus had a considerable entourage of her own suitors, of whom Bayo was only one of many.  In a strange sequence of events the situation finally came to a head.  As customary, Mr. Tokunbo Ajayi had arrived in Ife on a Friday afternoon, and had promised to take Yetunde and Bola for the weekend to Ibadan, where the girls would share a room and he had arranged to stay with a friend of his as his friends father was having a fiftieth birthday.  There was going to be a large owambe party, with a live band, and it promised to be a nice weekend.  He had also booked a day at the golf club and hoped that they could swim in the hotel pool.  On arriving in Ife he had discovered that Bola had gone to London for the weekend with Bayo.

“Hello, darling,” he had greeted Yetunde with a kiss on her cheek, and he cursorily surveyed the room, “ are you and Bola ready for our great weekend in Ibadan?”

Yetunde smiled, “I am ready, but Bola has traveled with Bayo to London for the weekend.”

“To London for the weekend? Who on earth can afford to go to London for a weekend? You keep talking about this boyfriend Bayo, but we never see him, and every time I have suggested that we all go out together there is an excuse for why he cannot make it.”

Then he continued with anger, and he slapped his hand against her desk, “This is exactly the kind of behavior that I hate; she promised to attend the party with us and I was going to introduce her to my friends. Why could she not just have refused the invitation?”  Then he was told that the invitation to London had come suddenly the night before, and this only served to deepen his suspicions even more.

“No one can afford to buy an airline ticket the day before the flight! Not unless such a person has a lot of money.  Who is this Bayo anyway? What is his last name?” “ “ What does he do?” And Yetunde, who had only met the man twice before, and knew none of the answers. And then she spilled the beans, the man was married, at least that was what she thought, and he her understanding was that he was one of the richest men in Lagos.

And Tokunbo mentioned all the popular names, one by one, and for all Yetunde could guess she did not think the name belonged to him.

“How can she have a man coming over here and none of you know his last name? For all you know the name Bayo may not even be his name at all, he could be operating under an alias.”

The young Yetunde who was by now nearly in tears, said nothing.

“Now tell me where in Lagos does he live?”

“I don’t know,”

“Have they never invited you to follow them out?  I find that hard to believe..”

“Actually I was invited once to follow them to a party in Ikeja, and ever since then I have refused their invitations. However, I am certain that the party in Ikeja was at his friends house, and of that I am certain because I saw the pictures of the husband and wife on the wall and the man was not Bayo.”

“Where was the wife of the host? don’t tell me that she was there because I will not believe it, this is beginning to sound like a sugar daddy party whilst the wife is out of town.”

“I came to the same conclusion myself, as there were many old men there and none of them with their wives, and all the girls were at least twenty years younger than all the men.”

“I cant believe that you Yetunde, of all people would attend such a party.”

“I can hardly be blamed as I was told that this was just a regular birthday party and to be held in Lagos.  It was after that that I suspected that Bayo was married, although he never said so to me nor did Bola ever say it either.”

By this time Mr. Tokunbo Ajayi found himself more flustered and piqued  than he cared to admit.  With a lost and disappointed look on his face he sat himself down on the chair by the desk of Bola, and unable to hide his emotions from his fiancée he said, “ Never mind, please forgive me for that outburst.  You are now seeing a side of me you never knew existed, I make plans, and I am rigid in their execution. I find what she has done to be dishonest, to say yes to an invitation and then to cancel at the last minute after receiving a ‘better’ invitation. That is something I could never do, nor do I tolerate such behavior in my friends.”

Yetunde who was surprised at the outburst had now recovered her composure, and she was wearing a white lace wrapper up and down  which was covered in small silver studs forming a picture of a small flower at regular intervals.  On her head she wore a sky blue head-tie, and she carried a cloth over her shoulder which matched the head-tie and was a blue lace. She stood before the mirror on her wall and applied the last touches to her make up, some bronzer for her cheeks,and a deep burgundy red for her lips.  With that accomplished she slipped her feet into a pretty blue satin slipper which matched the head-tie and scarf.  The transformation of the young girl into a woman of the world on her way to a owambe party was complete.

Fully aware of her charming transformation she sauntered up to her lover and placed her hand on his cheek, “Come now, Toks don’t tell me you will sulk the whole evening for Bola tonight.  I am nearly jealous of her, but I know you invite her out of kindness.  Believe me, Bola has no shortage of invitations…you have not met Alex yet.”

He seemed to not be interested in pursuing the matter any further, and he stood up and picked up her overnight bag and her small suitcase, and stood at the door to wait for her.

“You look beautiful tonight…” and he gave her a kiss which lingered on her cheek for a moment, “ Come to think of it, I have never seen you in iro and buba. Ah my fine wife..”

“I picked this lace to match your white agbada that you wore at your moms luncheon, nothing quite like doing a ‘his and hers’ with matching outfits to give your friends some excitement.”

Even he could not fail to see the humor that lurked behind the words.  He laughed, because today was supposed to be a big day where he unofficially introduced his ‘fiancée to be’ to his friends at the owambe party.  The introductions of Bola was supposed to have been a side track but for a moment had seemed as if it were to have been the primary event of the evening.

       

Reyka, by unknown

A lush green of evanescent firs lace the landscape of seasoned auburn.
Despite their weariness and frailty the journey was commenced upon.
In prayer,a drowning flame in seas of wax the duo reaches it's zenith.
The travails of the past welling up, swelling to a bursting point.
The first toll-gates surmounted, calm was called upon,
to ensnare the bitter memories of long gone.
Silence and the reverberating echoes of such,
dotted in clamorous vibrattoes of love lost and gained, joy and pain.
No redemption to be had as they'd lost and must from love refrain
as they stubbornly embark on the journey to appraise the second toll,
and be appraised by the gate keeper,hope dwindles as a newborn
before term gasping for life within it's isolated world
of glass,plastic and cords, chords struck yet unheard.
Love reaches a crescendo sans our duo and loneliness head is reared.

Ijeoma and Chioke part 3

On the following night he came in late again, and she came dutifully to sit beside him at the table as he ate.
" How was work today? ", she asked feigning interest.
" You know Ijeoma, amazingly enough, it is going well.  The roads are so bad here that the tires wear so quickly.  So while the whole country is tightening their belt, we will loosen ours." he said finally managing to smile.  "However, my love," he continued mischeviously,"if one were trying to judge our success by the quantity of meat  you serve at table one would be hard pressed to not believe that we are near destitute."
At this she could not help but lsugh herself.  For all the meat he wanted at table he was not ready to raise the housekeeping allowance by a single kobo.  So the pieces of meat remained as tiny fragments floating in the soup.  On Sundays they would kill a whole chicken.
It was as if the conversations they were capable of had become superficial and impersonal.  No longer did they even attempt to probe into the unchartered seas of feelings and emotions.  They had long since given up on sailing such dangerous seas.  The question of who had stopped sailing first was a matter of conjecture.  She felt that he did not care to hear about her " oyinbo" feelings, as he called them.  For his own part, he felt that at this point in their marriage any discussion of feelings would be perceived as weakness, and there is nothing more dreaded in Igbo land than a man who is weak.
So, it was not so much that he did not love his wife of fourteen years, as it was that he did not know how to show the emotion.  In his own mind, the fact that he stayed on in his marital home was in and of itself proof of his love.  Surely the only reason he stayed on was for love; for physical atttraction between the two of them had long since been replaced by a stolid but undeniable complacenecy.  It was not that he suppressed these physical feelings, but rather he had conveniently found other outlets for his passion, and they were many.
In Miranda's company it was as if Chioke sparked to life.  For as long as she could please him physically their relationship was emotionally healthy and fulfilling.  She was barely twenty years old and his personal secretary.  The daily temptation of her lithe limbs and slim waist at the office had roused in him a desire that had to be fulfilled.  In this way, it was hard for him to say if he was in lust or in love.   For the line between lust and love is at best a blurry one.  Youth was not her only advantage over Ijeoma.  Her spirit also had this joyful joie de vivre which the much older Chioke found irresistible.  She would squeal with delight at the chinese restaurant in New Haven.  The time they had spent in London together had been an experience rivalling his honey moon.  There had been Champagne bubbles all the way there, and Ah! What passion.  He still had dreams of their Harrods shopping trip and visit to Buckingham Palace, and Madame Tussauds.
After their return to Nigeria it seemed to them that this shared experience had brought them even closer.  She had acquired a considerable wardrobe of silks, and skirts and blouses.  In addition, she now affected, to the best of her ability,an english/american accent.  This had partly been picked up from the trip, and the rest she had fabricated from the american movies she had seen at the cinema.  While he was in her company, he saw himself again as the Chioke of his youth albeit with a now watered down conscience which allowed him to freely indulge in fornication. All these passions which had been so carefully guarded in his youth were now given free reign in his middle aged body.  At times he felt bothered in his conscience but as time passed these feelings of unease became rarer until they desisted completely.
Ijeoma and Chioke had not shared a bedroom since Nkechi was conceived, a good 7 years ago.  This drastic measure had been deemed necessary by both of them in order to prevent them from having any more children.  But the reason of financial necessity limiting their ability to provide for more children had long since changed.  However,even with the reversal of their fortunes it seemed that the tides had changed.  In this callous way he never asked of his wife if she desired him, and he, with his passions well satisfied elsewhere felt no need to desire her.

Ijeoma and Chioke part two.

Papa Edward:
Uneducated as he was, Papa Edward,was not only fiercely brilliant but also one of those men who could truly be described as self made.  At the age of thirteen he had left his home town of Awka, and had proceeded to Onitsha,with barely ten shillings in his pocket.   He had stayed with his cousin Alphonsus in a shed near the market.  They had toiled night and day,initially as truck pushers.  And eventually they had opened up thier own stall, selling tires for bicylcles, and later for cars.  To cut a long story short, now Papa Edawrd was the sole proprietor of Diamond Tires Inc, and hwas one of the sole distributors of tires to Uwani and Awkunanaw.  All the finesse he lacked in manners, he made up for with a heart of gold.   He was one of those truly naiive human beings who has never given up on the human condition; one of those rare people who one could not help but like him if one knew him.
  To the civil servants of Enugu, he may have been an embarrassment; but when back home in Awka, let the truth be told, there was no door that was not open to him.  Infact, his house rivalled the palace of the chief, and there was no function to which Edward, or rather Obi Okeke( as he was known basck home) was not invited to.  He belonged to Ndi Ozo.  He gracefully wore his red hat with feather on top, and waved his fan as they proceeded to satte functions.  All along beside him, there was Mama EWlisabeth, dressed in her off brown George wrapper embroidered with red and gold threads, with a matching purple head tie, and her gold slippers from India, covered with sequins and beads.   Mama Elisabeth was no fool either.  She had attended teacher training college in those old days, when many young ladies never learnt to read or write.  She had also been a beauty in her day.  She was, with the long lithe limbs that igbo men seem to prefer.  Her skin was fair, and her skin tone was even.  even at the end of middle age it was obvious that here was a lady who had commanded attention in her own day.
Beyond a question of a doubt, Mama Elisabeth had married beneath herself, in the sense that she was far better educated than her husband.  However, for someone whose sole motivation had been to marry the man with the fattest purse, she had done quite well.  She knew quite well, that the weaknesses of rich men are far better tolerated than the shortcomings of poor men.  True, Chief Obi Okeke spoke halting english;but when he was at home in the village speaking his native tongue of Igbo, he could weave the most elaborate of tales using all the requisite proverbs which to them signified a " cultured" man, well versed in the world.  No longer did he appear small in her eyes, but rather as a giant of literature, receiving the Nobel prize in Oslo, or as Mark Antony at his peech to the senate after the death of Ceasar.On those times, her chest puffed up with pride, and the sweat poured down her forehead in the sweltering heat.  The sweat turned to rivers running down the mountains of brownpowder on her cheeks.  She would then bring out her chinese fan, and fan herself with extreme vigor, as if by this action she could keep the pride from swelling any further in her chest.  Later on as the inevitable crowds pressed close to her husband to greet him, she walked with her head held up high.  They would then take the place of honour beside the other chiefs under the main canopy at the functions, prior to vanishing in a swirl of red dust as the traditional dancers made their way through the village square.  all pausing in front of the chief's booth to display their talents.  This was ofetn awarded with a hand ful of Naira notes pasted on the fore headws of the dancers as their feet twirled in the red sand to the beat of the drum.

Oke was calling his mother. " Mama, mama , Papa  n'akpo gi.", he was calling his mother to come in from the courtyard where she was sitting peacefully and enjoying the cool evening air.
She got up hastily , and instinctively straightened out her plain wrapper of ankara cloth, not having realised that her husband was home. " Let's go in and greet him", she answered as she put her arms around her teen age son's shoulder and they went in arm and arm together through the narrow hallway to the dining room.  There Chioke sat alone at the head of the table with his dinner already served though untouched.  He looked up to observe them enter the room together, and although his face seemed to be in displeasure he did not say anything to that effect, instead he smiled at his wife of fourteen years.  She spoke first, " Ndewo" she greeted him as she sat down on his left side at the table.
"Nno,o" she continued.
At this point he could hide his displeasure no longer, " Obero Nno ke fi cho?" he answered some what belligerently.  "Why must I send for you when I come back in the night?  I thought that a wife should be eager to meet her husband when he returns home?"
 To this she said nothing although in her thoughts she wondered why she should rush to see the face of a man who rarely, if ever any longer, gave her any pleasure.  Instead she said, " I was in the back Chioke, I did not hear you get in."
" Well," he said," Sit down and talk to me while I eat." At this point he nodded to Oke, as if requesting that he leave him alone with his wife, and Oke left without a word.  Once he was out of hearing shot he continued in his irritable tone, " Bye the way, I have told you many times that you are tryiny to teach this boy how to be a woman.  Why are you coming in here with him arm in arm? I've told you before, women hold hands, and men hold hands, but not a man and a woman" "Even if that boy is my son?" she asked.
"Ijeoma, Okechukwu is a man now and not a boy, and I want him to be a real man, but you seem to think that by pouring all this lavish affection on him and giving in to all his desires that this will be for his good."
" Chioke, I see nothing wrong with showing affection to my children>"
" All this tuff you learnt in school, dont forget where you came from".
It was the same argument night after night.  There was always something wrong and Ijeoma was beginning to question everything herself.  Even if there was nothing gone amiss, somehow Chioke would turn the tables on her, and create a wrong that must be righted.  He was far too harsh on his oldest son Oke, who was more like his mother than his father.  There was nothing aggressive about the boy at all; he was a shy soul, who rarely said much unless spoken to.  THis was in contradistinction to Chioke who was a mans man and an enemies enemy.  Whenever in the fathers presence, he would quiver, and the more he quivered, the more his father shouted at him  The meetings were inevitably a disaster.  The one fantasy that Oke had was that one day he would please his father although the possibility seemed even more remote by the day.  He was not the only one fantasising about pleasing Chioke.  It seemed as if the entire household was geared towards this one unaccomplishable feat of making the master of the house happy.  For Sunday the cook, it meant long hours in the kitchen trying to cook a variety of stews and soups, which always had to be ready when Oga came in.  Indeed, he could not be dismissed until Oga had come home and had eaten.  There were many evenings where he would not get off until after 11 pm, and then he would have to return at the crack of dawn.  For Nnamdi the steward, it meant spotless white shirts, and starched agbadas, all laid out ready to be worn in the morning.  The children lived in dread should their school grades go down but the greater part they were tacitly ignored by Chioke, except of course, Oke, the first born, who was generally singled out for the harshest treatment of all.