The Nation Newspaper

Tag: extravagant

  • Clark: from extravagant somersault to extraordinary recantation

    Clark: from extravagant somersault to extraordinary recantation

    Nigeria’s depressing and often humiliating politics is occasionally enlivened by letter wars of an exceedingly high quality, if not in style, then at least in vitriol. The recent war between Edwin Clark, an octogenarian Ijaw leader and former Information minister, and Reuben Abati, ex-president Goodluck Konathan’s spokesman, is no exception. The letter wars are indulged in by a few select braves, men who are loth to let the enemy have the last word. Nigerians were used to ex-president Olusegun Obasanjo, the common denominator in many of these wars, squaring up with both Wole Soyinka, Nobel laureate, and Audu Ogbeh, former Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) chairman. Now the audience will have to accommodate Chief Clark and Dr Abati among the sanguinary host of wounding, open letters. Professor Soyinka is used to letter wars, and does not shirk lexical battles. So, too, are Chief Obasanjo and Chief Clark. Chief Ogbeh has proved himself a man with strong chin and firm knees. Did Dr Abati take counsel before plunging into this maelstrom?

    In early October, Chief Clark drew the first blood when he accused Dr Jonathan of lacking the political will to fight corruption. That weakness, he charged, allowed those around the former president to feather their nests and ultimately doom his presidency. Of all the things he had to say about the former president, none was as wounding as depicting Dr Jonathan as weak, a charge the public will remember the former president battled unsuccessfully throughout his presidency to dispel. At one time, he had exploded in frustration that the public was attempting to mould him into a Pharaoh or a Nebuchadnezzar. Dr Jonathan may, for tactical reasons, be reticent since he left office, he, however, does not lack defenders. One of them, Dr Abati, rose stoutly in the ex-president’s defence less than two weeks after Chief Clark released his toxic statement.

    Dr Abati virtually poured scorn on all that Chief Clark had to say, almost calling him a hypocrite, and wildly punning one of the Ijaw leader’s luxuriant, haunting statements, to wit, that when Dr Jonathan was president, he was Chief Clark’s son. Entitled ‘Clark the father; Jonathan the son,’ Dr Abati proceeded to take Chief Clark’s statement apart, piece by piece. Cut to the quick, and never one to let bad enough alone, Chief Clark issued a lengthy rebuttal of what he described as Dr Abati’s tendentious statements. The former spokesman, roared Chief Clark, was disloyal and incompetent, and was one of those who contributed to the former president’s defeat. Worse, said Chief Clark, Reuben Abati never really believed in Dr Jonathan, considering the vitriolic phrases he used as a columnist with the Guardian to denounce the former president.

    Hear Chief Clark in all his unpleasant directness: “Dr. Reuben Abati has risen to the defence of his last employer too late. He owes the former President apologies for his (Reuben Abati) failure to perform while in office. I should not be used as a scapegoat. I love Goodluck Jonathan and Goodluck Jonathan loves me… I do not recall any favourable remark made by Abati all those years when he was the chairman of the Editorial Board [of the Guardian] and syndicated columnist about the former president, His Excellency, Dr. Goodluck Ebele Jonathan and the First Lady Dame Patience Jonathan. If I recall correctly, they were always the butt of ridicule by Dr. Reuben Abati. In fact, he became so notorious and fearless a critic of former President Jonathan and his wife in the Guardian Newspaper that I had to draw the attention of my cousin the proprietor of the Guardian newspaper to his excesses. These vitriolic attacks on former President Jonathan and his wife only stopped when he was appointed the Special Adviser on Media and Publicity by the former president.”

    The innuendoes are unmistakable. Perhaps, Dr Abati will find it fitting to respond to the impugner. And just so that everyone will know how contemptuously journalists are regarded in Nigeria, Chief Clark threw in this hard bone for media professionals to chew. Said he gratuitously: “My advice that a publicity committee made up of eminent journalists be put in place in Aso Rock and that media proprietors and senior journalists should be invited to Aso Rock were jettisoned by Abati because of what I suppose is his covetousness, particularly when many journalists and media houses always complained to me that he was not carrying them along.” It may never be known who the offended journalists and media houses are. But far be it from this column to describe Chief Clark as a liar. Was it clear enough that the Ijaw leader was asking Dr Abati to enthrone a regime of financial inducement and settlement? But was it not also clear that many occupants of the office of the president’s spokesperson had complained bitterly of the insatiability of top journalists and media houses who view Aso Villa as a gravy train? Perhaps Dr Abati will also address this matter in his rejoinder. It would be a shame if Chief Clark should have the last word, especially in view of his damaging assertions and poetic inelegance.

    Chief Clark did not end his furious and indignant reply until he had penned a panegyric on the man he first described in early October as weak. Said he of Dr Jonathan: “He tarred more roads than any of his predecessors; he turned agriculture to agro-business, a multibillion dollar business; he built the Almajiri schools in the Northern parts of this country. He established new federal universities across this nation; he allowed for free speech across this nation, and did not mind when he was criticised or, even, abused. People were not arbitrarily locked up in jail or prison, as he truly respected the rule of law… He brought transparency into the electoral process – when people could vote and the votes actually openly counted without violence. Today he stands as the first African president to concede an election to an opponent, even before the final counts,” and on and on, ad infinitum. It is not certain, however, that this fulsome, contrived and deliberate expiation atoned for the damaging description of early October. Chief Clark should have let bad enough alone.

     

  • My love of extravagant lifestyle and greed for money led my husband into crime (4)

    THAT foreign vacation was just the beginning. After our return from the trip which we all enjoyed despite the rain that fell a lot of the time and prevented us from exploring the city as much as we would have liked, I intensified my efforts in upgrading our lifestyle and status. Some months later, our house on the city outskirts was completed and my husband wanted us to move in immediately.

    “We don’t have to pay rent again; we are free from Lagos ‘landlord wahala’,” he said happily the day he broke the news of our impending relocation. There was nothing bad in moving to our own property. The problem was the location which was far from the city centre, in an undeveloped area with poor facilities. It did not just fit in with the kind of environment I wanted to live in – a posh place like that of Runo and my other friends.

    Hilary noticed my lack of enthusiasm for the new house.

    “What’s the matter, dear? You should be happy that we now have our own property,” he stated.

    I told him about my misgivings about the move, like lack of good roads in the area and decent schools for the children and other issues.

    “Besides it’s too far from town. How will I be seeing my friends when we will be living so far away,” I grumbled.

    “Don’t worry. With time, we will adjust and you can always come to town once in a while for visits,” he stated.

    Shortly after, we moved to the new house. God knows I tried to adjust to our new environment but it was just impossible. There was no electricity as the power company had not deemed it fit to erect poles and connect us. When the residents in the area tried to fix the poles and get a transformer through self-help effects, we learnt the utility company refused to give permit as they said it was illegal.

    The roads were more like village footpaths and were virtually impassable during the rains. In fact my husband had to park his car as it was always breaking down due to the bad roads. He had to resort to taking public transport to and from work. Worse, I could not get any good school around for the children to attend. I was not happy in the new place and at a point, I told my husband that I could not stay there anymore.

    “Our village is even better than here. I can’t stay here any more o! The suffering is just too much!” I complained late one evening on his return from work.

    “So, what do you want me to do? We just moved here! Endure, with time you will adjust to the situation. Afterall, others are coping here so why can’t you?” he countered.

    I was not ready to listen. I had had enough and I wanted out. I had even made up my mind to move back to the city on my own if he was not ready to do what I wanted. Runo had told me I could move to her house anytime I wanted, saying there was enough room for me and the kids if I could not cope with ‘that bush place’ as she called our new place.

    I kept on harassing my husband so much and even threatened to quit the marriage if he refused for us to relocate, that he finally acquiesced.

    I found a nice duplex in a very quiet, lovely estate in the city. The rent was on the high side and Hilary complained about how expensive the house was but I pointed out the advantages like proximity to his workplace, a good school for the children and other nice amenities. I was so happy the day we moved in.

    ‘At last, I’m living somewhere I can be proud to bring my friends to and not be ashamed,’ I thought happily.

    I bought new furniture and household appliances as we had left most of our old stuff in our personal house. It cost a lot of money but the effort was worth it.

    “Nice decor. You did a good job here,” Runo, who had very high tastes and standards, stated when she visited sometime later after we had settled down in our new home.

    “Thanks. It was’t easy convincing my husband to move here. You know how he is,” I said as I served her some chilled wine.

    ***

    Most of our neighbours were wealthy people and this showed in their lifestyle especially the kind of cars they drove. No rickety or ‘tokunbo’ vehicles in sight but sleek, classy cars. I wanted to ‘fit it’ so I told my husband we needed to upgrade our cars to poshier models. To my surprise, he did not even argue about the cost. The following month he bought three brand new cars for the family, an SUV for me, a nice salon car for himself and another for taking the children to school.

    You might be wondering where all the money to fund this expensive lifestyle we were living was coming from for a worker with an average salary such as my husband. As the chief Accountant in the company, I knew he earned well and there were perks attached to his position as well. But I knew it was not just his earnings alone. Truth was that, I did not care as long as my husband did whatever I wanted. At a point I got bored of staying at home as the children were in school so I did not have much to do. To keep busy, I told my husband to open a business for me, at least a shop where I could sell ladies clothes, accessories and gift items.

    I found a space in a shopping mall not too far from our house. With the capital my husband gave me, I bought goods worth millions of naira to stock the store and the business took off. With time, I started travelling out of the country to buy goods for the shop with money Hilary gave me and some of the profit from the business.

    We were living really well, the kind of ‘hight class’ lifestyle I had always wanted and I was happy. It was not up to the standard of my very rich friends like Runo but at least we were getting there. With time, I hoped to be among the top class people, living really ‘big.’

    After that first vacation in London, we would spend subsequent holidays abroad in different countries including the U.S, South Africa and France. My husband never complained anymore about the cost; once I make a request, he would grant it unlike before when he would grumble about the money. You might think my husband is a weak man who can’t say ‘No’ to his wife. It was not that- something else was involved which I will explain later.

    Anyway, things continued to go well for us till about two years ago. One day, my husband came home and told me he needed some money for a project he was doing.

    “I need about a million naira. I will pay you back once the ‘project’ works out,” he assured me. I had some cash I wanted to use to order some goods but I felt that could wait.

    The following day, I gave him the money. Some days later, he asked me for another one million and I became suspicious.

    “Dear, what kind of project is this that you keep demanding for all this money from me? I can’t take more money from the business or it will affect it. As it is, it was the money I needed to restock that I gave you last week. I don’t have money left,” I told him. He looked downcast but he did not say anything.

    A few days later, he came back from work around noon which was unusually early. He said he was feeling unwell and had taken a few days sick leave from work.

    “Let’s go to the hospital if you are sick,” I stated. But he said it was not necessary, that he simply needed bed rest. I gave him some paracetamol and he went upstairs to bed.

    He had been at home for about three days when we got unexpected visitors early one morning. Three policemen came and picked up my husband on corruption and theft of funds charges.

    “Mr Hilary, you are under arrest for theft, fraud, conspiracy to defraud and other offences,” one of them said.

    I could not believe what was going on. My husband a thief? How come? Who did he steal from? Were some of the thoughts that were going through my mind as I watched the officers handcuff my husband.

    “Please, leave my husband alone! He is a good man, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” I shouted as they led him away. They ignored me, took my husband to a waiting vehicle and drove away.

    It was later the full story of my husband’s fraudulent acts came out. Some external auditors who came to check the company’s books where he worked discovered massive fraud in the account department, with my husband alone responsible for the disappearance of over 70 million naira!

    I nearly fainted when I heard the large sum he had stolen.

    “So, all the money we have been spending was company funds,” I said when I went to see him in the police cell where he had been detained.

    He shrugged and said:

    “Who caused it? You and your incessant demands and love of a flamboyant lifestyle pushed me to this. I had to meet up and where was I supposed to get the money from? The moon?” he said sarcastically.

    Due to the case, our properties were seized including our personal house, all the goods in my shop, cars and others. Even our accounts were frozen. My in-laws on hearing what happened to my husband and my role in it, came and took my children away, stating that I would infect them with my ‘bad character’ and ruin their lives with my greedy ways.

    Even my step daughter Estelle, now a big girl attending one of the universities in town, refused to have anything to do with me, calling me a ‘bad woman who ruined my father.’

    Later, the company took the case to court and my husband was given a ten year prison sentence.

    He has been in prison for about a year now. Our lives have been turned upside down by my husband’s actions which nearly everyone is blaming me for. I know I wanted to live ‘big’ but I never told him to go and steal.

    After a while, I had to move out of the duplex we lived in to a room apartment in another part of town as we could no longer afford the rent on the property. My business is gone, husband in prison and my children taken away. To worsen matters, I have been struck by a strange ailment which I have found out is spiritual. You see, a friend had taken me to see a native doctor sometime ago who gave me a charm that would make my husband love me more and do my bidding all the time.

    The downside was that I must not stop using it on my husband or there would be a problem. It turned out the strange sickness is the problem.

    Now, I live in constant pain and misery, all alone now, no money, family or friends. Runo and the other rich friends of mine all abandoned me as soon they heard about our troubles.

    So was it all worth it? We lived big and enjoyed life, living beyond our means on stolen money, but now we are paying the price. A very high price at that! Where do I go from here?

    Concluded

    What do you advice Annette to do about her situation? Readers reactions are welcome!

    Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator and other individuals in the story.

    Send comments/suggestions to 08023201831(sms only), psaduwa@yahoo.com or psaduwa007@gmail.com

  • My love of an extravagant lifestyle and greed for money led my husband into crime (3)

    ABOUT a week later, I brought up the matter of the trip abroad to my husband again but he made it abundantly clear that there was no money to embark on it at that time. He said we could wait till a few years time when his two younger brothers that he was sponsoring at the university graduated and the financial burden on him was reduced.

    “Just be patient, dear. We will travel at the appropriate time. God’s time is the best,” he said reassuringly.

    But I was not ready to listen to his sermon about being patient. I so much wanted to travel; and I felt it was his responsibility as my husband to do things to make me happy so what was all this talk about being patient?

    ‘Afterall, my name is not Patience,’ I thought to myself one day as I was mulling over the matter. ‘My mates are out there having fun and he says I should be patient! Till when?’

    So, one Saturday evening, on his return from an engagement, I drew his attention to a company’s website on the computer that organised trips to different locations in the world with a nice discount for family bookings.

    “Honey, it will be less expensive if we book online. Maybe we should try them,” I said, looking at the screen.

    “Annette, what’s the matter with you? I’ve told you before that we can’t afford this vacation right now. I just don’t have the money for it,” said Hilary.

    “That’s what you say all the time- you never have money for anything to do with me. But if it’s your relatives, money will miraculously appear from nowhere!”

    That did not go well with my husband and he made that clear.

    “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded angrily. “Are you saying I don’t take enough care of you? Or the children? Are you now saying I’m a bad husband just because I refused to sponsor your frivolous holiday abroad?” he queried.

    “Call it whatever you like. All my friends are going off to exotic places this period while am stuck here in Nigeria. Why should I be different? Do they have two heads?” I countered.

    “Can you just hear yourself? So, you want to be like your friends now, abi? Has it entered that mind of yours that our situation, money wise is different? In case you have forgotten, let me remind you that I’m just an ordinary employee where I work and not the owner of the business. We are not multi-millionaires like your friends,” he stated firmly.

    “That’s your problem. All I know is that I’m travelling this year whether you like it or not,” I told him.

    “This your new found attitude of wanting to live beyond your means, live a flamboyant lifestyle like your friends will get you nowhere. You have to learn to cut your coat according to your size. Stop imitating what others are doing. You should be satisfied with what God has blessed us with,” he maintained.

    I did not answer him but simply left the room and went to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

    If my husband thought that I had given up, he was in for a surprise. I kept on nagging him about the issue for days. When he still did not budge, I began denying him sex and any intimacy. I moved to the children’s room and refused to return to our bedroom despite his pleadings. Not just that, I started going out more frequently and returned home late. We had a house maid who did most of the housework and also took care of the children so I had a lot of time on my hands.

    The fight

    One evening, I returned home very late at about 10 pm to meet my husband standing in front of our apartment, his hands folded on his chest. He looked really angry, like he was ready to pounce on me any minute.

    “And where are you coming from at this time of the night?” he demanded, glancing at his watch.

    “I went to see a friend and…” I began to say but he cut me off.

    “You went to see a friend? You left the children at home with the maid since morning and you are just returning now. Have you forgotten you are a housewife, Annette. You are not a career woman so you have no excuse for staying out late like those women who work,” he noted.

    “Look, Hilary, I’m tired and need to rest. So, stop with all these questions,” I said and pushing him aside, went into the house.

    He followed me inside the house. The children were already asleep and the maid was with them.

    “I hope they ate before sleeping,” I asked her.

    “Yes, Madam. I gave them dodo and beans as you instructed,” she replied.

    I went to the kitchen to find something to eat as I was hungry. I was warming some rice in the microwave when my husband entered the kitchen.

    “Your movements these days is becoming suspicious. You go out all the time and return late. Tell me, are you having an affair or what, Annette?” he asked.

    I ignored him and continued with what I was doing.

    He came to where I stood and grabbing my hand, said:

    “I’m talking to you, woman! Answer me! Are you cheating on me?”

    “And what if I am! Afterall, I’m still young and attractive even after two kids and men chase me all the time. So, if my husband can’t give me what I want, maybe somebody else outside will,” I said with a sneer.

    “You dare open your mouth and tell me this bullshit? How dare you!” he said angrily, followed by two resounding slaps on my face. I screamed and covered my face and head with my hands in protection as he repeatedly hit me. He was about hitting me again but was stopped by the maid who had run into the kitchen on hearing my screams.

    “You better watch yourself, woman if you want us to continue living together in this house. I won’t tolerate my wife gallivanting all over the place, prostituting herself. You hear me?” he threw at me as the maid led me out of the kitchen.

    The following day, I went to see my friend, Runo. She was shocked when she saw the bruises on me from the beating my husband gave me.

    “You mean he did this to you just because you want a vacation abroad? How much will it cost him? He must be a stingy man!” she said.

    She brought out her first aid kit and applied some medication on the cuts on my face and arm.

    That day, I did not return home but spent the night at Runo’s place. My husband kept calling to know my whereabouts but I refused to pick his calls. He also sent text messages, apologizing for what he did, promising that he would never lay a finger on me again as long as he lived.

    By the third day, I wanted to go home as I was missing my children whom the maid said had been asking for me.

    But Runo did not want me to return yet, stating that Hilary needed to be taught a lesson.

    “You need to be firm. Stand your ground and don’t give in too easily or he will continue to take you for granted and be treating you like a punching bag,” she explained.

    I had been in Runo’s house for about a week when my husband showed up on her doorstep one evening. He had never been there before so I wondered how he was able to locate the place.

     

    He was full of apologies.

    “Please, honey forgive me! It will never happen again, I promise. I miss you so much. The children too miss you. Please come home!” he pleaded over and over.

    Seeing how remorseful he looked, I finally gave in and agreed to return but on one condition.

    “Anything you want, just name it. I will do anything for you. I just want you back!” he stated.

    “Alright. All I want is that vacation, that’s all,” I said.

    To my surprise, he readily agreed to my demand.

    “I told you he will agree to your demands in the end. You just have to know how to manipulate men to get what you want from them,” Runo stated later as I went to the guest room to pick my bag and the few belongings I had come with.

    I don’t know how my husband raised the money but a few weeks later, he had made all the necessary arrangements for our trip to the U.K. We planned to stay with his cousin Johnny who had been living there for over ten years and was a British citizen.

    I was so happy when the day of our journey finally arrived and we flew out of the country…

    To be continued

    Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator and other individuals in the story.

    Send comments/suggestions to 08023201831(sms only), psaduwa@yahoo.com or psaduwa007@gmail.com

    Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator and other individuals in the story.

    Send comments/suggestions to 08023201831(sms only), psaduwa@yahoo.com or psaduwa007@gmai.com

  • My love of an extravagant lifestyle and greed for money led my husband into crime (2)

    THOUGH my husband’s point about the new house he was building on the outskirts of the city was valid, I still pressed on.

    I pointed out that the house might take another year or even two to be completed and what will we be doing till then? Continue to live where we were with all the noise around? I said.

    “Well, there’s nothing I can do about this matter now. Instead of going to rent another house somewhere you prefer, is it not better I invest the money in our own home that I’m building?” he stated.

    The argument went on for a while but my husband was not ready to budge from his stand. So I left things hanging for the meantime, to be renewed another day.

    To compensate, I collected a large sum of money from him to renew my wardrobe and those of the children. I spent most of the cash on myself as I needed to buy some new designer clothes and accessories so as to meet up with my new found friends. Runo and her friends had so much money, they did not think twice about spending half a million naira on just one pair of designer shoes and bag. I was not up to their level yet but I was working towards that.

    I saw Runo regularly and her friends as well whom I had become close to. About once a month, these ladies would all meet up either in Runo’s house or the home of another person in the group. I was always invited to all the get-togethers which involved lots of eating, drinking, some dancing and chatting or ‘gossiping’ as my husband would say.

    On a certain month, when it was Runo’s turn to play host, I got ready and drove to her house in the Lekki area of the city.

    Due to the traffic on the way, I was late and the others were already there when I arrived. There were five of them including Runo. They were discussing their plans for the summer break and the only lady married with kids amongst them Marie, spoke about the new place she was planning to explore that year.

    “I’m thinking of taking the kids to Barbados. I heard its lovely this time of the year; want to try something new. We were in Dubai last year. We stayed a month and the kids loved it so much, they didn’t want to come back. But of course, I had to return to keep an eye on that ‘big flirt’ and ‘skirt chaser’ that calls himself my husband!” Marie said with a smirk. The others laughed though I did not know what was funny about a lady calling her husband names before her friends.

    “You girls are finding it funny. It’s no joke o! Do you know that when the kids and I were in the States two years ago for the summer, my husband practically camped a girl in my home for weeks in my absence. It was one of the maids that spilled the beans when I called the house one day and a strange lady answered the phone. Trust me. I was on the next available flight to Nigeria!” This elicited more laughter from them all.

    Looking at these ladies, I was struck by one thing- their relaxed attitude towards life. Because of their wealth and status, they hardly worried about money; how to spend it was their main concern. Their lives revolved around their designer clothes and accessories, expensive beauty regimen, the best holiday destinations for their endless vacations, getting good domestic staff to keep their luxurious homes running smoothly so they don’t have to lift a finger in doing house work, the best spots to hang out in town, the best diets to keep the ‘fat at bay’ and stay slim and so on…

    “So, tell us Annette, where are you taking your kids to for the holidays?” asked Patra, another lady in the group, turning to me. Patra was the only daughter of a former Minister, politician and businessman, who was on the board of so many top companies in the country, even the old man had lost count of the number. Suffice to say, Patra was born not just with a golden spoon but a dozen. She was rich beyond belief. Each time I saw her, she was always driving a new, exotic-looking car that looked as if it had just been delivered by the manufacturers. “Patra gets bored easily so she changes her cars like normal people change their underwear,” Runo had told me once when we had been talking about her.

    “Em, I’m not too sure but my husband is thinking of taking us to London this year,” I stated a bit hesitantly.

    “London? That boring old place? Why not somewhere more interesting and exciting?” stated

    “Yes, it will be boring to you as you were born and grew up there,” pointed out Runo, handing a fresh drink to her.

    “Thanks, darling. But I got out the first chance I got. After I left secondary school, I gave my dad two options: either the U.S or Nigeria for my higher education or I won’t go to the University. It took him less than five seconds to decide!” Lola noted with a chuckle.

    “He should have allowed you to attend a Uni in Nigeria so you can see the other side of life,” put in Mira, another lady in the group who had been silent all along.

    “What? And spend 7 or 8 years doing a four year course with all the incessant strikes by the teachers? No, thank you!” she stated.

    I sat, sipping my drink and listened as she and two of the other ladies who had schooled abroad, reminisced about their school days in foreign lands, their exploits and the fun they had had.

    ‘You girls don’t know how lucky you are for having rich parents who could send you to some of the best schools in the world,’ I thought, feeling a little bit envious of them.

     

    ***

    Back home later that day, I wondered why I had lied about my holiday plans. Thing is, I had no plans at all and never had. My family had never been on a foreign vacation. The furthest we had gone was to Hilary’s village in the East two years before for the Christmas and New Year festivities. I had never travelled out of the country, though I had always wanted to. But the funds had never been available for such a trip.

    I felt this would be a good opportunity to realize my ambition of travelling out as well as ‘catching up with Runo and her group’ who were widely travelled and very cosmopolitan intheir outlook. I so much wanted to belong, to become a ‘high class’ lady like them that I was ready to do anything to achieve my aim.

    So, one day, after my husband returned from work, looking worn out and stressed, I said:

    “Honey, you are working too hard these days. You need to take it easy o!”

    “I know my darling. But what can a man do? I have to work hard to provide well for you and our children,” he said as he undressed and prepared to take a bath.

    “But that should not be at the expense of your health. I don’t want anything to happen to you o!” I stated, hugging him tight.

    Later, as we lay in bed, I brought up the issue again, stating that it was time he took a break from work ‘so we could go on a vacation’ as a family.

    “We could even go abroad, say to London. What do you think, dear?” I asked, sitting up.

    “Sounds good. But that will cost a lot of money for five of us, with tickets, visa costs, accommodation and other expenses,” he replied.

    “But we could stay with your cousin, Johnny. You said he lives alone in a big house,” I argued, not ready to be dissuaded from my dream of travelling abroad.

    “I know. But you know these ‘abroad’ people. They are not as accommodating as our people here, maybe because of the many bills they pay. Anyway, I really need to sleep now as I have a busy day at work tomorrow; the auditors are coming, you know. We will talk about this some other time. Goodnight, dear,” he said, planting a kiss on my lips before turning away. Within minutes, he was asleep, snoring softly.

    I stayed awake, scheming and planning on ways of making my husband agree to sponsor at least the children and I for the trip. This time, I was not ready to listen to excuses.

    To be continued

  • My love of an extravagant lifestyle and greed for money led my husband into crime (1)

    YES. Everything the title of my story says is true about me and more. Infact, if I say all the things I did just to live the good life, my story will not end before Christmas.

    I now know what I did was wrong and I’ve made so many mistakes in life which I’m paying for right now. My husband is no more with me as he is paying for the crimes he committed and my two children have been taken away. As if that is not bad enough, I’ve been struck by a strange ailment that has defied all cure. My life is a big mess right now and I have no one to blame but myself. And all for what? Just to be on the same level or even higher than my wealthy friends? Was it all worth it?

    ***

    My tale began when I met Hilary, my husband of ten years. It was at the company where he worked then. I had gone there for a job interview and Hilary was one of those on the panel conducting the oral part of the interview.

    Later, as I was leaving the company, the receptionist told me her ‘Oga’ wanted to see me. It was Hilary, who turned out to be the Chief Accountant in the company.

    When I went up to see him in his office, he congratulated me on my performance, saying that he had been impressed by my response to the tough questions I was asked. That day, he raised my hopes by stating I could be among the lucky ones picked for the few vacant positions the company wanted to fill.

    Based on that, I looked forward to getting good tidings of a job offer soon. So, you could imagine my shock some weeks later when the names of successful candidates came out and my name was not on it. It was when I contacted Hilary that he told me what had happened.

    He said my name which was originally on the list had been substituted at the last minute by another candidate who was the relative of one of the directors of the company.

    “Honestly, I tried my best to ensure you got the job but the ‘powers that be’ had their way. But don’t worry, Annette. I’m sure something good will come along soon. So, take heart,” he said. Though disappointed, I felt touched at his concern for me. This was a man I did not know showing so much interest in my wellbeing, and in a society where many people have grown selfish and wicked and only cared about themselves and personal interests.

    Anyway, after that initial encounter, Hilary and I became friends. Back then, he was close to forty, divorced from his first wife whom he said abandoned her matrimonial home when things were rough for him at a point in his life. He had a daughter, Estelle, who was already in junior secondary school when we met. One day, he invited me to his house where I met Estelle who was on holidays from the boarding school she attended then. At 12, she was tall for her age and looked quite mature.

    “She’s growing fast. She needs a mother around at this time to guide her,” I told Hilary as I left his house that day.

    “I know. But getting a woman who would take on that responsibility isn’t easy,” he stated.

    “Just keep praying. God will answer you one of these days,” I opined.

    Not long after that, Hilary informed me that God had answered his prayers and that he had found the woman after his heart.

    I remember it was a weekend and I was at home, taking a break from job hunting when Hilary called me to break the news to me.

    “I want to introduce you to her so you can assess her for me as a fellow woman,” he said. Later that evening, I went to Hilary’s house to meet his prospective wife. On getting there, he was alone in the house. Estelle and the maid had gone to the market to do some shopping, he said as he saw me looking around the living-room.

    “But where’s the lady you said you want to marry?” I asked, puzzled.

    “She’s right here, in front of me,” he stated, drawing close to me.

    “But…” I began to say, then it dawned on me. I was the one he wanted to marry!

    “Yes. Annette. You are the one I want, as my wife and Estelle’s mother,” he said. Then he went down on one knee and brought out a case from his pocket.

    Inside was a beautiful engagement ring.

    To be honest, I did not see the proposal coming. All along, I had just regarded Hilary as an older friend and even ‘brother’ who was always kind and generous to me. Yet, here he was, wanting to marry me. That day, I did not outrightly accept Hilary’s proposal but simply told him  to give me time to think about it.

    It took me a week to decide whether to marry him or not. The truth was that I was not in love with him, I simply liked him as a person, not as a lover. But he assured me, the love he felt for me should be enough for both of us and that I would grow to love him later. So, based on that and encouragement from my parents who saw Hilary as a mature, responsible man, I accepted him.

    ***

    Hilary and I settled down to married life after our wedding. In less than three years, I had two babies, a boy and a girl. My husband was so happy at the births of the children whom he said made the family complete. As for Estelle, she was so excited at having younger siblings to dote on and spoil.

    Everything was going well until a few years after our marriage when I met up with Runo, an old school mate and one of my best friends in school. We had not seen each other for a long time after we left school. It was at a meeting of our Old Girls association that I reconnected with her and other old mates of mine.

    I was impressed when I saw her. She had become what we call ‘a big girl’. She had a fleet of posh cars and lived in a big apartment in one of the most exclusive estates in the city where mostly wealthy foreign workers lived. She told me she used to work in an oil company but resigned a few years before to start her own business.

    “I now do supplies, contracts and other businesses with the government and some blue chip companies,” she informed me when I visited her at home one Saturday. I marveled at the beauty and classy look of her home, wondering how she was able to achieve so much at her age.

    “Seriously, Runo, I envy you o! This place is like a mini palace,” I stated.

    She laughed and offered me a drink from her well-stocked bar.

    As I returned home that day, I kept thinking about what I had seen in Runo’s house. Though my husband and I were not doing badly and lived quite well and comfortably, compared to Runo’s lifestyle, we were like paupers. I did not even have a car of my own yet Runo had over five state-of- the art cars! Not just that, the rent she paid in her apartment in a month which she told me was in dollars, was enough to build a nice house in the suburbs.

    Looking back now, I think it was from that day that my desire to live the high life like Runo began. I felt that if Runo, who was not even as brilliant as I was back in our school days, could have all those good things and live so well, why not I?

    That day, I told my husband that I needed a car as I was tired of walking everywhere or occasionally taking cabs whenever I went out. Fortunately, he said he had had it in mind to get me one so he did not mind. The car he bought for me, a used or Tokunbo model, was not bad, thought could not be compared to one of Runo’s classy models.

    With time, I met some of Runo’s close circle of friends and they soon became my friends too. Most of them were single, high flying ladies with so much money to burn, I wondered if they had direct assess to the vaults of the Central Bank.

    One day, one of them named Lola who got married not long before we met, invited us to the new home she and her husband had just moved into in the G.R.A. It was a very beautiful place with its own swimming pool, gym, a tennis court and other facilities. As I gazed around in admiration, I wondered what it was like to live in such a house and in such a beautiful and serene environment. I compared it to our three bedroom apartment in the area of the city where we lived and the difference was clear.

    I wanted a house like that too, not minding the fact that my husband’s income could barely pay the rent for a BQ in that expensive location.

    So, a short while later, I drew my husband’s attention to the fact that our neighbourhood was becoming too noisy and we needed to relocate to a more quiet place.

    “Honey, my friend Lola and her husband just moved to the GRA last week. I think it’s time we upgraded to a posh environment as this neighbourhood is getting too noisy and crowded,” I said.

    “You are right, my Sweet. But those areas are expensive. You know we can’t afford it for now. Besides, you know about my building project near Mowe. We will leave here once it’s completed,” he replied.

    To be continued

    Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator and other individuals in the story.

    Send comments/suggestions to 08023201831(sms only), psaduwa@yahoo.com or psaduwa007@gmail.com