ShortStory I Costly Blunder (II)

COSTLY BLUNDER (II)

       Funke who seemed not unlike soured yellow pap packed in an old dish, was speechless as she stood right before the dude, Kunle who just heard the unspeakable.

      “Did I hear you right?” Kunle inquired, still sitting in the three-in-one upholstery chair.

        Funke became mute as she stared unfriendly at him.

        Little did the television, which was being viewed by the lad, knew that it was now all alone; suffice it to assert that no one recognized its presence at the moment as it kept displaying the football match.

      “Funke,” he called calmly. “Did you just say you are pregnant for me?”

       “Of course nah.” she answered frankly, hastily folded her arms. “Didn’t you know when you did it?” she added in a jiffy, fixed her gaze on him.

       “Something I did just once..?”

       “Oh,” exclaimed Funke. “Just once?” she echoed.

       “Of course,” quoth Kunle, furiously stood up. “Wasn’t it once?”

       “I don’t care about how many times you did it.” she ranted. “All I know is that I am pregnant.” She supplemented, paused. “And the baby belongs to you.”

       “You are not serious.” he said. “Are you?”

       “Oh,” responded Funke. “You think I am joking?” she said, stood still. “Do I look like one who is cracking a joke?”

        The last clause came as a shocker, thus he became more bemused as he kept foreseeing the dire consequences having seemingly absorbed the reality. “Oh my God…!” he shouted, frantically resumed his seat.

        There was a brief silence.

       “So,” he broke the muteness. “What do we do now?” he uttered, looking up to her.

       “Now you have come back to your senses, right?” She rhetorically murmured.

        How on earth would she talk to him in that manner if not that he had already sold the unreserved respect she had for his person by allowing his libido to yearn for her seeming-succulent endowments? Notwithstanding, he had no other option than to ignore her rudeness.

       “You have not still answered my question.” He reminded her.

       “What kind of silly question is that?”

       “Silly question?”

       “Of course,” she said. “Doesn’t it sound silly?” she added, paused. “When you were doing it, did you ask how we were going to do it?”

       “You must abort that baby.” He pronounced with alacrity.

       “What..!” she roared. “Me, abortion?’ she uttered, placing her right hand on her chest.

       “That’s the only option.” He thought aloud.

       “I can see, you are joking.” quoth Funke. “How dare you suggest abortion for me?”

       “So, what’s your plan?”

       “I don’t know,” she replied, stood still. “But all I know is that I am not committing any abortion.”

       “So you want to keep the baby, right?’

       “I wouldn’t blame you.” she continued, ignoring the question. “Because you don’t have a baby yet, so you wouldn’t know what it means to kill one.” She said, faced the other side.

       “Funke…!” Kunle exclaimed at the top of his voice. “How dare you say such a thing?” he supplemented, stood up again.

       She was quiet, still standing.

      “Do you realize I am your sister’s husband…?”

      “Sister’s husband my foot.” She interrupted, hurriedly turned her back on him and walked away.

       “Funke, Funke!” he called as she walked out on him.

     * * * * *    

       “Your sister is pregnant.” Kunle notified Kemi, facing the ceiling as they lay in their matrimonial bed in the early hours of Saturday.

       This was coming after several failed persuasions targeted at making Funke terminate the baby she was carrying in her womb.

       Kemi who was equally facing the Polyvinyl Chloride (PVC) ceiling, hastily looked at Kunle on hearing the news that could best be described as a shocker. “What did you say?’ she verified hesitantly.

       “I said, your sister is pregnant.” He reiterated, still facing up.

       “Which of my sisters?” she enquired. “Bisi?” she supplemented, referring to her elder sister who got married recently, though marveled why her hubby should gather the news before her.

        “No,” he responded. “I mean, Funke.”

        “Funke what..?” she shouted, shocked, and slightly raised her head from the bed.

       “Yes.” he said, nodding. “She is pregnant.”

        Kemi couldn’t believe her ears. More confusedly, she could not fathom why her husband should be the one informing her on such development. “For who?” she managed to utter.

         He was silent.

        “I said,” quoth Kemi. “For who?”

        “I think I am responsible.” He eventually confessed, still lay in the bed.

        “You think you are what…? She roared, rose up.

        “I am sorry.” quoth Kunle. “I am really sorry.” he added, paused. “It was all devil’s handiwork.”

        “Enough,” Kemi urged fiercely, gesticulating. “Enough of this.” She warned, paused.

         There was maximum silence.

        “So, after all I did for you,” she broke the muteness. “You had the gut to cheat on me?” she said, paused. “And among all people, you chose Funke?”

          “It’s not what you think.”

          “Spare me that, please..”

          After all the hullabaloos, Kemi asked for a divorce, which was eventually granted by a court, thereby leaving Kunle and her younger sister to continue from where exactly they stopped. Prior to their divorce, when the news of the abominable act got to her parents, they felt like strangulating the parties involved, particularly Funke; Kunle’s aged parents equally felt same.

         Months later, Kemi got married to another lad and she took in immediately after their wedding. Years on, the couple was blessed with children and was happily married.

       On their part, Kunle and Funke who were forced to marry each other never had it so good. Funke had stillbirth in the pregnancy that prompted her elder sister’s departure; and after that, she never took in again. Kunle lost his job with the telecom firm and thereafter couldn’t secure any other meaningful job; needless to assert that his financial status was drastically reduced to zero.

 

Fred Doc Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Clinic - Owerri
___________________________________
Twitter: @mediambassador            
http://facebook.com/TheMediaAmbassador

   

          

 

Opinion I Imolite, Where Is Your Voter's Card?

IMOLITE, WHERE IS YOUR VOTER’S CARD?

        

The last time I checked, the year being 2019 that is expected to usher in yet an interregnum in the Imo State’s Douglas House and the Nigeria’s Aso Rock, was arguably fast approaching on a speed light. Such candid observation needs to be noted by every patriot in the state.

      

Sure, Nigeria – Imo in particular – is currently practising democracy, which is reckoned to be ‘government of the people, by the people and for the people’. However, it’s noteworthy that election is peculiar to democracy. This assertion implies that any democratic society is characterized by elections and what have you. In fact, election begets democracy.

        

If the above analysis holds water, then it is not needful to reiterate the importance of voter’s card. Voter’s card, which is the only document that signifies one’s eligibility during elections, remains a tool that ought to be seen as inevitable by anyone who truly appreciates a democratic setting. This is so, because without a voter’s card, a so-called eligible elector is ostensibly useless at any polling unit while an election is being conducted.

        

It’s really disheartening and disgusting too, to acknowledge that the majority of electors in the contemporary Imo State are yet to regard voter’s card as the only instrument that guarantees one’s eligibility to partake in electioneering decision-making. Owing to this, this set of persons is often marred by apathy whenever voter’s card registration is ongoing, therefore would never bother to know when the registration begins as well as its deadline let alone heading for their respective polling booths to grab their copies.

        

This level of apathy or nonchalant attitude found amongst the electorate, particularly the young ones, has colossally endangered the success of various elections conducted thus far across the state and Nigeria at large. It is baffling to note that often times, most people only go to polling units to engage themselves in all sorts of gossips and frivolities rather than with the aim of casting their votes.

      

When confronted, some of them would proudly tell you that elections are of no use in any part of the country since at the end of the day, rigging would successfully mar the results. They say so, forgetting that rigging can never be possible if it is not aided by them. Of course, it’s not anymore news that election rigging is traceable to the uncalled and ridiculous acts graciously carried out by our able-bodied young ones. The unpatriotic politicians or aspirants would invariably hire these young people in order to snatch ballot boxes containing the ballot papers at various polling units, thereby succeed in rigging the affected election.

        

This, no doubt, signifies that election rigging is being aided by both the electorate and the electoral officials. Yes, the electoral umpire is usually a party to this aberration because in most quarters when reported that the ballot boxes were snatched by a group of thugs, the officials in-charge would still go ahead to declare the results of the election in question. It is saddening indeed to watch such unfortunate situation linger under our noses.

         

Acknowledging this ugly trend, there is a compelling need to aptly educate an average Imolite on the prime essence of possessing a voter’s card. He or she needs to be told, in a language he would comprehend, that it is only a voter’s card that empowers one to elect a candidate of his/her choice at the polls. They must be made to understand that if they failed to grab their voter’s card, there won’t be need to fix or conduct any election within their jurisdictions. They must equally be informed that a voter’s card is the constitutional right of everyone who has attains the age of eighteen (18).

         

Hence, as the revalidation of voter’s card is presently taking place across the country, let’s endeavour to conscientize our wards to go to their respective Local Government Councils and obtain a copy of their voter’s card. The ongoing exercise is solely for those who were yet to attain 18 years of age as at the time the last voter’s card registration was conducted, or those who had attained 18 during the said period but couldn’t register, or those who have already obtained but theirs are damaged in any way. In other words, individuals who fall within the stipulated bracket are expected to as a matter of urgency be in possession of their voter’s card at the moment. It is their right, not a privilege.

         

So, at this juncture, I asked an Imolite and anyone resident in the state, who falls between the age of 18 and above, have you acquired your voter’s card? If yes, is it intact? If you are yet to grab yours, you still have a golden opportunity to do so. Stop supporting a certain political aspirant, jettisoning the fact that it is only voter’s card that can guarantee his or her victory at the polls come 2019. We must understand that possessing a voter’s card is more important than publicly tendering eulogies to any aspirant.

        

The various aspirants on their part must equally do the needful. As a matter of fact, they must acknowledge that they are one of the major stakeholders required to assist in sensitizing the electors, particularly their followers, on the unavoidable need to ensure that they boast of their voter’s card as they eagerly await the year in question. In view of this, the aspirants and the political parties in general ought to play their cards aptly so that at the end, only a successful and credible election would be recorded in the state.

        

The electoral umpire (INEC) must as well be very helpful as long as the said exercise lasts. There is need to decentralize the ongoing revalidation of voter’s card being held across the country. Instead of making it an exercise to be conducted only at the local government headquarters, the various political wards – polling units precisely – should be empowered to carry-out the assignment towards ensuring that no qualified elector is disfranchised, or deprived the chances of acquiring his/her voter’s card, in the process.

        

All in all, this piece is occasioned by the need to let us note that a voter’s card remains the most powerful decision-making tool in any electioneering era. Thus, go out there today and grab your copy before ‘had I known’ becomes your slogan. Think about it!

 

Comrade FDN Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Hub (DRH) - Owerri
________________________________

Twitter: @mediambassador
http://facebook.com/TheMediaAmbassador

   

 

ShortStory I Costly Blunder

COSTLY BLUNDER

        Funke majestically walked into the kitchen leaving her bluish mini-gown unzipped, thereby showcasing the clasp of her pink bra. The rare dress pattern was not unconnected with the fact that the atmosphere was beclouded with intense heat, thus her prime motive was to fully welcome the cool breeze that was supposed to filter in since there wasn’t electricity to power the fans.

         Besides, the maiden was all alone in the duplex, if not Musa – the gateman – who was no doubt invariably very mindful of his duty post; hence, she could express every kind of freedom to the letter. It was about 3:15pm, so her brother-in-law, Kunle was yet to return from office. And her beloved elder sister, Kemi who was happily married to the said dude, was still very busy in her supermarket – located about a few kilometers away from the house – where she traded on all sorts of cosmetics and provisions.

        The successful 35-year-old Kunle tied the connubial knot with Kemi – who was barely a few months younger – four years back but the blissful marriage was yet to be blessed with an offspring, although she had once experienced a stillbirth. Despite the provocations, the two parties had ab initio been living joyfully as an indivisible couple.

        It would interest you to note that the latter had already become successful in her trading venture prior to the ‘eternal’ union. In fact, she was actually the one who assisted the lad to secure a job in a multi-national telecom firm immediately after their marriage with the help of her contacts. Nonetheless, she had remained thoroughly submissive and loving ever since the odyssey kicked off about forty-eight months back. It appeared her love for the union superseded that of her hubby, though they both loved and cherished each other to the peak.

        Their togetherness was occasioned by one certain day when Kunle who was still a bachelor, walked into her supermarket to purchase some goods. On sighting the young man, she became so attracted to him unannounced. Thereof, she offered him her complimentary card and enjoined him to call her number later in the day. Consequently, they became friends; two months on, the friendship abruptly metamorphosed to an intimate date; eight months down the line, they were graciously joined together as a couple towards loving each other till death do them part as was rightly proclaimed by the Anglican priest who presided over the wedding ceremony.

         The 23-year-old Funke who was the last child of her parents, had come to visit the couple over her semester break. She was a third-year student of one of the universities situated in the city of Lagos where the couple equally resided, thus had upon request thought it wise to spend the three-week holiday with the lovely union. That fateful day being Friday when she had every needed freedom to express herself dress-wise was exactly the fifth day of her stay.

         She had as usual entered the kitchen to make dinner for the family prior to the couple’s arrival. She left the sister’s shop a few minutes ago for the assignment. And she was to prepare coconut rice as was instructed by Kemi. She diligently went for all the stuffs needed to get the proposed dish done, lit up the gas-cooker and began to parboil the raw rice. She walked back to the sink and started making other preparations.

         In the process, Kunle stepped into the house, precisely the sitting room which was about three metres apart from the kitchen; the entrance to the lounge wasn’t locked, so he needn’t any assistance towards finding his way. Funke never heard any noise as he entered, neither did she hear the sound of his car when he drove into the house’s premises the moment the gates were let open by Musa; this implied that she never saw a bit of him coming.

         On perceiving a sweet aroma as soon as he stepped in, he needn’t be told that someone was busy in the kitchen preparing some delicacies. And, it must be Funke since there was no how his Kemi could be home at that time of the day; it was almost 4:00pm but Kemi usually returned at least at five O’clock on a daily basis.

         He quickly dropped his white briefcase coupled with the black suit jacket which was hung on his arm, on one of the upholstery chairs in the lounge and walked towards the kitchen to see things for himself. Till this point, Funke was yet to realize that the human population in the house had outrightly increased to two, thus she remained undistracted in her duties as she faced the sink squarely.

         The moment he graced the kitchen’s entrance, rather than being further enticed by the titillating scent emanating from her fries, he was trapped by her seeming romantic posture. The pink bra that was kept uncovered from behind as well as her well packaged bum-bum was obviously a sight to behold, even by the blind. He ostensibly had all the time in the world to sheepishly, and perhaps foolishly admire what he was seeing, thus he stood aloof at the door unnoticed as she focused on the cookery.

         He had never for once lust over her but being human, what was being showcased at the time was apparently irresistible. Even the ‘pope’ could even fall victim.

         “Eh-eh-eh!” Kunle cleared his throat to eventually disclose his presence as he stood at the door.

          Funke was startled by the sudden noise as she turned like one who just woke from an untold nightmare. “Oh sir,” she managed to utter. “You are back?”

           The moment she faced him, he was further carried away by what she possessed on her chest as he stared in silent awe; the dress was partly displaying her moderately big boobs, thereby arousing his appetite. “Yes dear.” he hesitantly responded. “Did I frighten you?”

          “Yes nah.”

          “Oh, I am sorry.”

          “It’s alright.” she said, holding the kitchen spoon in her right hand. “How long have you been standing there?” she added.

           “Not quite long.” quoth Kunle. “I was really admiring you.”

           “You mean my cooking style?” She verified albeit ignorantly.

           “Not really.”

           “So..?”

           “I mean,” he uttered. “Your endowments.”

           “My endowments..?” she said, confused.

           “Funke,” he called. “You are indeed a very pretty girl.”

           “Sure?” she innocently replied.

           “Yea.” He cleared the air, walked closer to her. “You are more than beautiful.” He supplemented as he stood right before her.

         “Thank you, sir.” She managed to appreciate, quickly dropped the spoon in the sink and attempted to walk away having understood where he was headed.

         As she tried to locate her way, he tenderly drew her back, quietly took his hands behind her, unclasped the bra, and therein she couldn’t resist his lustful actions. He began to kiss her and she reciprocated as if she had longed for it. Within a twinkle of an eye, they proceeded to another level right there in the kitchen. Without much preliminary measures, they commenced the real game having chosen to employ standing-order. She moaned and groaned as his cock was wholly in her. In merely four minutes time, every player had climaxed, hence the game leader pulled off.

         Therein, Kunle was engulfed by guilt as Funke began to shed seeming crocodile tears having realized the gravity of her actions. She had unarguably betrayed her blood sister who was equally her benefactor, whilst the former had indeed taken what he could not chew.

         Four weeks after, Funke walked up to Kunle while he was seated alone in the parlour watching television and informed him that she was a-month pregnant for him.

         “Pregnant..?” he exclaimed at the top of his voice as he sat roughly in the upholstery seat.

         To be continued, please!

 

FDN Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Hub - Owerri

___________________________________

Twitter: @mediambassador            
http://facebook.com/TheMediaAmbassador