ShortStory I You're mine

YOU ARE MINE

       She was obviously sociable and accommodating, though too sociable for his liking. He wasn’t discouraged by the flaw, opining that he could moderate it if they became friends. How he would address the outpouring idiosyncrasy wasn’t his headache at the moment, rather how to approach the damsel and disclose the nurtured interest – a gesture which was long overdue.

       The 35-year-old Tayo had been secretly admiring the young maiden since six weeks back he packed into the street. They both resided a few yards apart. Ever since he moved in, there was no evening – after his daily office work – he wouldn’t sit quietly and patiently at his flat balcony situated upstairs to watch her exchange views and pleasantries, as might be the case, with her neighbours and passersby respectively.

        Being an old and lively resident in the area, the lady in question who could best be described as pretty and jovial was very famous that no dweller could pass without recognizing her, so Tayo took advantage of the scenario regarding the ongoing unending moment of distant admiration. Funnily enough, he was yet to know her real name; he only heard people – friends and neighbours – call her all sorts of sobriquets in line with her visible beauty and level of sociability. Perhaps he was awaiting the right time, which was seemingly not forthcoming, to strike the deal.

       Days passed, Tayo was still waiting hopefully, although was yet to make even a slight move. The period of silence lingered unabated not until a close co-tenant of his came to share some intriguing views with him.

      “It seems you like that girl?” Kunle teased as he walked to him.

        The lady in focus was at the moment in her yard amid her fellow tenants and few relatives.

       “Which girl?” Tayo said while seated, shocked.

         Little did he know that someone had been keenly observing him all along.

       “Surprised?” Kunle whispered cheerily, sat in one of the plastic chairs cited within.

       “You haven’t answered my question.” quoth Tayo. “Which girl are you referring to?”

       “That omoge, of course.” He replied, stylishly pointing at the lady.

        Tayo sighed in false pretence. “Why do you think so?” he said.

       “Oh, you thought I have not been watching you?”

       “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He denied.

       “Common guy, open up.” The 37-year-old Kunle urged. “Who knows, I could be of help.” He thought aloud.

        Tayo was struck by the last clause. “Be of help?” he inquired. “How?”

        Kunle was an old resident and a married man too, so he had no reason to doubt him.

        “Of course.” Kunle clarified. “But only if you involve me.”

        “I just like that girl, I don’t know why.” He confessed hesitantly, quickly glanced at her afar.

        Kunle smiled. “Now you are talking.” He appreciated. “Nneka is a happening girl, so that wouldn’t be a problem at all.” He added.

       “Nneka?’ quoth the secret admirer. “Is that her name?”

       “Yes.”

       “She’s an Igbo girl?”

         Kunle nodded.

       “So, what did you mean by she’s a happening girl?”

       “She’s sociable, so you shouldn’t be thinking of how to commence the deal.”

       “But, how do I get her attention?”

       “That one na small thing.”

       “How do you mean?”

       “She’s close to my wife,” Kunle informed. “So, I would ask her to invite her home.”

        “Oh, that would be nice.’ Tayo concurred. “Thank you.”

        “Don’t thank me yet till the deal is done.”

        “But wait, are you sure she’s not dating any guy around here?”

        “She’s a very beautiful lady, so she might have a guy in her life.” Kunle asserted. “But that shouldn’t discourage you if you are really serious.”

       “You are right.”

       “Though, I have not seen her with any guy since I know her.” Kunle added, stood up.

       “Are you going out?”

       “Yes,” responded Kunle. “I want to see a friend along the street.” He notified, walked towards the staircase.

        The following two days, the proposed arrangement worked as planned, thus Tayo got hooked up with Nneka who happened to be in her late twenties. Barely three weeks on, they became best of friends that she could not spend a whole day without visiting him. Many who lived within were marveled the pace at which the intimacy metamorphosed. The most amazing part was that she had never accepted a friendship proposal from any man in the street until Tayo came into the picture; in other words, the dude thwarted her long-lived policy. This was the prime reason that kept people talking.

        However, as the affair proceeded, one thing kept bothering her; it was nothing but the ethnic divide involved. She knew her parents would never accept any marriage proposal from Tayo if he decided to settle down with her as her mother had already warned her to steer clear of the dude, but she (Nneka) had longed for such proposal. She lived with her parents, and none was happy with the relationship, unknowingly to the lover boy.

        In six months time, the anticipated moment came calling. Nneka wept bitterly as soon as the proposal was tendered by Tayo right in his living room.

       “Baby, why are you crying?” he inquired, thinking it was tears of joy. “I thought we have all longed for a moment like this?”

       “This will not work.” She hinted as she stood on the tiled floor.

       “What are you talking about?” he said, standing close to her. “What will not work?”

       “The marriage.” She informed unequivocally.

       “Why?” Kunle screamed. “I thought we loved each other?”

       “It’s not about us.”

       “About who then?”

       “My parents…” she disclosed, sobbed profusely.

        At this point, Tayo became aware of the scenario. “I see..” he murmured, nodding. “I want you to know that you are mine, and nobody can take you away from me.” He said, passionately looking into her eyes.  

        Afterwards, Tayo shared the overwhelming experience with his parents who were resident in the same city but in a different locality. Having been convinced that they were truly in love after Nneka’s series of visits to the parents, the couple conscientized them to pray over it, letting them realize that there was nothing God could not do. They both heeded the advice, thus embarked on rigorous fasting and prayer with the assistance of their spiritual director.

        Amid the fast, Nneka’s father sent for Tayo. The dude’s residence was a stone’s throw from hers, so responding to the invitation didn’t take long. That was the first time he would be in her place since they started dating.

        “You said you love my daughter?” he asked as they were all seated in the parlour.

        “Yes sir.” Tayo replied, shivered.

        “Me and my wife here,” he said, tapping his wife who sat closely to him. “Have agreed to accept your proposal, wholeheartedly.” He landed hesitantly.

        “Oh, daddy..!” Nneka exclaimed joyfully, hurriedly walked to the parents and hugged them.

         She was actually taken by surprise. They never disclose the purpose of the meeting to her.

         Tayo on his part was so astonished and overwhelmed. Therein, he knelt down and appreciated the would-be in-laws, stood up and went to his fiancée and hugged her affectionately. “I told you, you are mine.” He reminded elatedly.

         The reminder gushed out tears of joy from her eyes as she held him tightly right before her parents.

         The following two weeks, they tied the long awaited knot traditionally. Travelling from Lagos to Abia State where she hailed from was indeed a long journey; it suffices to say that the trip lasted for days.

   
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ShortStory I Rare Metamorphosis (II)

RARE METAMORPHOSIS (II)

       When they got to their destination at that ungodly hour, everywhere was tranquil until the caged Rottweiler chose to welcome its boss with a tenderly bark. Stanley, a well-to-do bachelor, lived alone in a separate well fenced three-bedroom bungalow.

        Initially, Rita was abruptly gripped by fear, but later summoned courage since it wasn’t the first time she would be with a stranger in such secluded apartment. “You live alone here?” she tendered the moment they stepped out of the newly painted Mazda 929.

       “Yes,” quoth Stanley. “Any problem?’

       “No.” she said, shaking her roundish head that bore gorgeously retouched hairs.

        The output of the supplied power was apparently up to 220Volt, thus the overall premises were awash with luminous fluorescence, thereby making the arena seemed a bit lively and accommodating. The duo majestically walked towards the lodge’s entrance; the host slightly led the walk. In a few seconds interval, they got to the door, which was made with an impeccable metal material, and within a twinkle of an eye it was let open with one of the keys in his hand. Wow, the interior - precisely the lounge room - was magnificently but decently decorated. As the guest stepped into it, she felt at home and couldn’t stop wondering what the dude did for a living. Therein, she presumably foresaw a hot mutual tango in his supposed sexy bed, although yet to catch the sight of the point in question.

        “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He requested, sat on one of the settees.

        “What are we doing here?” she queried still standing. “Let’s go to your room naow..”

        Apparently, she couldn’t wait to unfold all the styles she was good in. It had occurred to her that a second delay might lead to unforeseen crisis.

       “Relaxed,” Stanley urged. “Won’t you freshen up?” he asserted, paused. “Besides, have you eaten?”

        She was struck by his words. He sounded so caring and lovely; hence, she calmly sat adjacent to him, consequently dropped her bogus handbag right beside the chair. “Seriously, I am hungry.” She confessed, stylishly looking away.

        He smiled. Few seconds on, he stood up and took a walk toward his cookery, never minded he was yet to undress his cute blue caftan.

       “So, he cooks too?” she thought, filled with amazement.

        Some minutes later, he returned with a plate of stewed white rice, and served her. “You were supposed to shower before the meal.” He asserted. “But, I noticed you are very hungry.”   

        She had been yawning all through since they entered the house, so an exegesis was needless. But the fascinating aspect of the scenario was that she was still eager to unleash her romantic prowess amidst the ravaging hunger.

        “Thanks for the meal,” she appreciated. “But, I don’t think the shower would be necessary.”

       “Why..?”

       “I took my bath before I left home this night.”

       “Home...?” he subconsciously said.

         To him, Rita was nothing but a harlot who wasn’t an affiliate of any home. He was of the view that she resided in the brothel where he picked her.

        “Ya, my lodge.” She responded notwithstanding the suddenness of the inquiry.

        “Well, never mind.” He pleaded. “I was carried away.” He added, resumed his seat.

        She dished out a dazzling smile as she recalled his antics thus far, and then began to devour the food which was accompanied with a glass of chilled water.

       “Please excuse me,” he said, stood up. “I need to freshen up.”

       “Alright.” She concurred.

       “Don’t forget, you still need to take a bath.” He reminded as he walked away.

        She smiled, kept taking care of the good-looking meal.

        About twenty minutes on, approximately at 12:04 midnight, both parties were done with the preliminaries, hence, were already in the bed which she couldn’t wait to embrace.

       “My money.” Rita requested, opening her left palm towards him as they separately sat on the bed.

       She was obviously abiding by the rules of the trade which didn’t tolerate payment in arrears. She was ostensibly ready to offer him the best of her wares only if he stuck to the rules.

       “Which money?” he verified albeit ignorantly.

       “Payment before service.” She informed, still kept her palm widely open.

        To her, that wasn’t an information, rather, a reminder. Of course, if the dude had been in the game, he needed not be told the general principle guiding every ‘professional’ whore.

        Stanley smiled, went to his bed drawer, brought out fifteen thousand naira (#15,000) and handed it over to her.

        “Deal!” she exclaimed, dipped the cash into her handbag that was kept beside the bed. “Now, I am all yours.” She announced cheerfully.

        They both went to bed. It was a family-sized bed, so there was enormous space for the awaited tango. Ironically, till 4:00am, Stanley was still stagnant, never cared to have his own share of the deal.

        “Why are you not moved?” Rita observed. “For your information, I am leaving by five.” She said, paused. “I can’t stay here till daybreak.”

        “Honestly, I am not in the mood.” He notified as he lay on his back.

         She hastily looked at his shorts, which he was only putting on; his cucumber appeared so docile. “How do you mean?” she said, surprised.

        “You see,” quoth Stanley. “From the moment I met you at that chalet, I understood you are different.”

         She was shocked. “How?” she managed to utter.

        “Yes, everything about you is different.” Stanley rode on. “You don’t talk like a prostitute.” He observed, took a breath. “I don’t think this is where you belong.”

         She was attentive, filled with goose bumps.

        “Please tell me,” he said. “Who are you?”

          She involuntarily began to weep.

         “You are crying?” he said, deeply confused. “Why are you crying?”

        “I am a final year student of Adape State University.” she informed amid the sobs as she equally lay on her back. “I am studying Public Administration.” She added in a jiffy.

        “Wha…t?” Stanley screamed, raised his head from the bed and looked fiercely into her eyes. “So, what led you into this?” he inquired curiously.

       “My friend, Kate.” She revealed hesitantly.

        The one I saw with you yester-night?”

        She nodded, still gasping for air.

       “Why?” he said. “I mean, how?” He added, gesticulating.

         Kate who was her schoolmate lured her into the trade few months back. Ordinarily, Rita had no reason to flirt let alone emerging as an institutional harlot, because, financially she was lacking nothing as a student and she hailed from a very decent home. Right in the bedroom, she renounced the profession in respect of Stanley’s importunate request.

         The 38-year-old bachelor had been rummaging for a marriageable lady, and therein, intriguingly, it occurred to him that he had found one. It would interest you to note that the previous day was actually the first time he would patronize a brothel; he was never addicted to such lifestyle.

         Afterwards, they started dating. Eleven weeks on, they got married. Prior to the wedding, Stanley never disclosed to anyone, not even his parents, how he met Rita. They kept the secret to themselves.  
Fascinatingly, Kate was the chief bridesmaid of the epochal occasion; she had as well repented. The happy marriage was thereafter blessed with children.

         If you were in Stanley’s shoes, would you have taken Rita to the altar? Think about it!

** The End **      

               

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Opinion I Okorocha, Obiano, and Their Fans

OKOROCHA, OBIANO, AND THEIR FANS

        

The last time I checked, the governors from Imo and Anambra states in the persons of Chief Rochas Okorocha and Chief Willie Obiano respectively, were observing what could best be described as ‘political cocktail’. A cocktail may be an alcoholic drink containing several recipes such as a Champagne cocktail, or something which is made by combining a number of different things such as a Shrimp cocktail.

         

The said cocktail was occasioned by a political talk made by Governor Okorocha during the get-together organized by the leadership of the South-East All Progressives Congress (APC) which took place in Owerri, the Imo State Capital – precisely at the Imo International Convention Centre (IICC) – few weeks ago. In that event, Gov. Okorocha categorically claimed or foresaw that three governors from the said zone would soon decamp to the ruling APC.

         

The governor went further to state that the APC’s leadership was going to use the forthcoming Anambra election to show that APC has arrived South-East. In an abrupt reaction to the claim, the Anambra governor, Chief Obiano having let out various tantrums concluded that Gov. Okorocha was ‘what a leader should not be’.

        

Thereafter, the Imo governor, in response to his counterpart’s reaction, challenged him through his Chief Press Secretary Sam Onwuemedo to publish his achievements in Anambra State while he (Okorocha) publishes his, so that, they would draw a holistic comparison right before the public. According to Gov. Okorocha, Chief Obiano had not actualized anything since he assumed duty as the governor of his state, thus did not deserve to call him names let alone ‘what a leader should not be’. He further disclosed that Chief Obiano could not withstand him when it calls for leadership prowess or accomplishments.

         

The pandemonium did not stop there. The Anambra governor continued, without much ado, from where his counterpart applied the brake. These altercations have undoubtedly generated a lot of ripples cum counter-reactions within the socio-political shores of the concerned zone (South-East) and beyond. Owing to this level of bitterness, many have paused to reason if these two governors were really in charge of sister states. One may wonder if there were personal grievances they had been nurturing prior to the emergence of the ongoing bickering.

        

It’s noteworthy that the misunderstanding, political though, had brought deep division among their respective fans. Their fans now walk round the streets cum major roads constituting social nuisance all in the name of protecting the interest of their role models. This set of fans and well-wishers had ceased to maintain decorum in their day-to-day exchange of bitterness in the public domain. Most of them, in most cases, resort to engaging in physical combat each time they presume that oral disagreement is not enough.

        

It’s pertinent to acknowledge that this critique is informed by the need to brief the ‘warring’ governors, and of course their various fans, on what they need to know as well as what is expected of them at such a time like this. Those of you whom have been following my writing style would strongly attest to the obvious fact that I don’t tender an analysis to eulogize anyone; rather, to appraise facts. In other words, I don’t write to please anybody or to satisfy his/her urge, but to speak the truth. I’ve attracted countless enemies as a result of such style of writing; on the contrary, I’ve equally gotten good and reliable friends and fans in view of that. Whatever the case might be, the point remains that I can never be deterred because I was called into this profession by the supremacy. Hence, my paramount interest is that of whom that sent me.

        

I want to begin by saying that Gov. Obiano made an overstatement. He was completely wrong by telling the general public that his counterpart was not what a leader ought to be. The statement or forecast released by Gov. Okorocha didn’t in any way call for such manner of outburst. The response wasn’t just childish but irrational. There were several other suitable ways he would have responded to the claim. After all, in politics, politicians are bound to employ sound tactics towards luring those in the opposition to their party. A politician who fails to properly market or advertise his/her goods is deeply in trouble. Read my lips.

        

Moreover, Gov. Okorocha didn’t mention the name of any particular governor in the speech. To this end, one may wonder why Gov. Obiano decided to take it personal whilst his counterparts from the other affected states – including Enugu, Abia and Ebonyi – chose to ignore the speech. Rather than reacting directly to the subject matter, Chief Obiano thought it wise to attack the personality of the speaker. That was indeed a discredit to his person.

         

However, I would have appreciated Gov. Okorocha if silence was used to reply his counterpart. I didn’t expect him to respond to such attack, which was conspicuously inconsequential. Every rational being noted the Chief Obiano’s attack as uncalled for and illogical, thus Gov. Okorocha would have considered ignoring it. In most cases, silence remains the apt and best way to address an issue, especially a very sensitive one of this kind. Sometimes, the way we react to an attack contributes in ridiculing our personality. The truth is, not every question deserves an answer, and so does an attack. Some questions, likewise attacks, are rhetorical.  

        

Even if it is not just a verbal attack but an assault, we ought to endeavour to know when to be silent and when to utter a word, since it is widely accepted that ‘two wrongs do not make a right’. As much as I appreciate Gov. Okorocha for his political uniqueness, I as well want to inform him that I was not pleased by the manner in which he handled the matter. It’s even mind-boggling when realized that the leaders in question are from neighbouring states.

         

Now, they are not the only ones involved in the lingering melodrama, but their teeming fans. My candid pity goes to those fans, because they do not comprehend the rudiments of politics; because they are yet to realize that in politics, people have to disagree to agree; because they don’t know that the two warring persons are not enemies but two staunch politicians who intended to attract the public towards their personalities; because they are not aware that the two leaders would soon reconcile in a dramatic – and perhaps interesting – way, thereby making them (the fans) seem not unlike mere morons.

         

Politics is a very funny, intriguing, but confusing profession that those who are into it are required to be very creative and inspiring toward ensuring that they remain relevant in the game. Against this backdrop, they are invariably ready to create any form of scene just to ensure that they are not found in a state of oblivion. Hence, it’s so pathetic that the onlookers or admires to this game and its players aren’t aware of the intrigue that accompanies it.

        

How can you be drinking Panadol for someone else’s headache? Stay away from their misunderstandings, for they know how to disagree as well as how and when to settle. Think about it!

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