The Nation Newspaper

Tag: romance

  • ‘My cousin is married to a conman but who will tell her?’


    Ella is my cousin. We actually grew up together. You see, after her father’s death when she was just nine, she had come to live with us. Her mother could not cope raising the five children she had alone, so the family had decided that three of the children should be shared among the relatives of her father including my own father. That was how Ella came to live with us. She was about my age, just a few months older. Being the only girl in our family, Ella became like my sister. We did everything together and became really close.
    We only got separated when I started secondary school as I was in a boarding house. But we made up for it during the holidays when we spent most of our time and did errands together. Over the years, this love and closeness between us remained even as we grew up to become young ladies with big dreams of becoming successful in life. My desire was to read Law 
    like my elder brother Mike but I was unsuccessful in the JAMB examinations at my first attempt. That discouraged me and at my second attempt I chose another course and got admitted to my university of choice which made me very happy. 
    As for Ella, she was more interested in business and as she used to say, ‘make plenty of money’. She was concerned about her mother who had been battling some health issues and wanted to make enough money to be able to take care of her and some of her siblings who were not doing so well.
    After secondary school, my father, who was willing to train her further was disappointed when Ella declined, insisting she had other plans. Anyway, she later went into the business of buying and selling of women and children’s clothes and other products. That was the beginning for Ella. It was not easy for her as she struggled so much to establish her business in the competitive business terrain. But with hard work and focus, she scaled through and today, over ten years later, she can be considered a success in her chosen field. From the small business, she diversified into other areas including manufacturing with a small factory where she produces food packs and plastics.
    Among our age group, my cousin is the richest with a few landed properties and other investments to her name. One area, however that she has not been so lucky is her love life. Ella has always faced disappointments in men, beginning from her first relationship when she was in her mid- twenties. Unlike some of our mates and I who had begun dating much earlier, Ella was a late starter. She had been so focused on her business that she had given guys and relationships a wide berth. 
    That changed when she met Paddy. She fell madly in love with him and was ready to do anything for him. But Paddy did not feel the same way about her as later events proved. A year after they met, the guy left her, claiming his parents were against the relationship as they were from different tribes. He did not just leave her with a broken heart, he made away with a substantial amount of money my cousin had loaned him for a business he claimed he wanted to do. Till today, we have not seen the money nor the idiot.
    Meeting Jack
    Almost all the other relationships she had after that useless Paddy ended up the same way: a wounded heart and a reduced faith in the male gender. Infact, Ella had vowed never to have anything to do with any man for a long time, until she was ready to get married. However, on meeting Jack, her tune changed. Within a short time, she was head over heels in love and to the shock of nearly everyone in the family, was already planning to marry him! 
    Afterall all her past experiences, I found it difficult to believe that she would be so reckless as to get engaged to a man whom she had met just five months before. Seeing that she was about to make another costly mistake, I advised her to slow down on the relationship with her new love.
    “Ella, don’t you think you are moving too fast with this your new man? I think five months is too short to know someone fully,” I told her one day on a visit to her house. We were relaxing in her nicely furnished sitting room, watching a musical programme on the big screen TV.
    At my words, Ella simply smiled then stated:
    “What more is there to know, Emily? He loves me very much and that’s all that matters.”
    But I was not ready to give up. My instincts, from the few times I had interacted with him, were not good. There was just something about him that did not click. I could not place my finger on it but I just felt it.
    “Look, I’m not saying you should stop seeing him. Just take it easy a bit, a little slower so we know whether he is serious or not. Remember what happened with Paddy some years back,” I pointed out.
    “Please don’t remind me of that asshole! Thank God, my Jack is not like him. And if you are afraid he’s after my money, rest your mind. He has his own money which he even spends on me. Since we met, he has not asked me for a single dime. Besides, I’ve learnt my lesson and I can never spend my money on any man especially when we are not married. So, don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” she reassured me, smiling broadly.
    Seeing how determined and confident she was about the relationship, I decided to back off. Love or whatever it was, had blinded her to all sense of reasoning and there was nothing anyone could say to make her see reason. I however prayed things would work out well and not end up like her former affairs.
    Some months after our conversation, Ella and Jack got married in a lavish wedding ceremony. Sh looked so happy and radiant on her wedding day that I renewed my prayers for her, that her union with her husband would last and be filled with happiness. Everything seemed to go well and they both settled down to marital life. 
      A year later, Ella gave birth to a lovely baby girl whom they named Tyra. I was happy for her, that she had found happiness at last and that perhaps I was wrong about Jack afterall. He looked devoted to Ella and doted so much on their little girl. Based on that, my earlier view of her husband changed and I began to see him in a new light. 
    But as later events proved, it turned out my first instincts about Jack were right…

     

    For Archive, Visit Patience Saduwa

  • ‘My husband is rich, handsome and kind. But refuses to sleep with me!’ (2)

    After my boss had talked for a while about the terms of the proposed marriage between us, I remained silent, too stunned to say anything. 

     

    ‘What kind of bizarre proposal is this?’ I thought, watching him as he continued to eat and drink as if everything was normal.

    But what was normal about a man asking you to marry him yet with so many strange terms attached to it, in a so- called contract? Back in my hotel room later that night, my mind mulled over his words.

    “After our wedding, we’ll live together like a normal couple, except for one thing: there will be no intimacy between us. We can’t have sex. We will stay in separate bedrooms. Also, we can’t have children. We can always adopt if you care so much about having children, but we can’t have kids of our own.” 

     He paused for a while before continuing. “This arrangement will initially last for seven years. If at the end of that period, you choose to end the marriage, you will be paid a substantial amount of money that will set you up for life. If you choose to stay with me for life, then you will be my sole heir. You will inherit all my money, properties and other assets.” Then looking keenly at me, he added: “Another thing, though we can’t sleep together, that doesn’t mean you can keep lovers outside our marriage. If I find out you are having affairs, I will immediately terminate the contract, throw you out and you will be left with nothing.”

     

     My initial reaction was to say; “Hell, no! No way will I marry you on those terms!” But as if reading my mind, he quickly stated:

     “I won’t blame you if you run away now and never want to see me again. But, Amanda, think of the bright side of things. If you accept this proposal, you will benefit immensely. All my wealth and resources will be at your disposal. You will live a life of immense luxury beyond your dreams and never lack for anything. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry, holidays anywhere in the world, just name it. All these and more will be yours. I will also take very good care of your family and they will never lack for anything. Think about it…”

     

     So, that night, I sat for a long time thinking. In all my 28 years on earth, I had heard a lot of strange things but this must be the weirdest of all. What kind of union would that be if the couple involved can’t sleep together, have children and other things that come with marriage? Besides, what kind of man was my boss that he would make such a proposal? Was he in a cult or what? There were tales of some men who join cults or some secret societies who had to abstain from certain things. Was my boss involved in a cult? Was that the source of his wealth at such a relatively young age?

     

     And why me? With all the ladies out there, many of whom threw themselves at him, why did he pick me? He couldn’t be in love with me as he said he did not believe in such things. And how did I feel about him? I liked my boss and if circumstances had been different, he was the kind of man I could love and cherish. But he did not want my love. All he needed was a wife in name only. It was as simple as that. Was I ready to commit myself to such a cold-blooded arrangement? How would I cope in a marriage without love and affection from my husband?

     Without intimacy?

     It took me all of two weeks to reach a decision. It was solely made by me as I did not confide in any one including my mother. I knew she would not approve of such a marriage despite all the perks that came with it.

     But watching her one evening at home as she struggled to get up from her bed, to use the bathroom, I knew I had to do something. The sickness had made my mother become lean and weak. The once vibrant woman who was so hardworking and full of life was gone. In its place was a weak, pitiable figure I could barely recognize. It was obvious she needed very good medical care which I could not provide with my wages alone. My beloved mother who had sacrificed so much for me and my younger brother was fading away before my eyes. I couldn’t just watch her die.

     

     “You’ve made the right decision, Amanda. You will not regret the step you have taken today,” my boss stated when I told him later that week I would marry him. 

     “I will take good care of you and ensure you lack nothing,” he assured me. It was closing time and most of the workers had left. We were alone in his office.

    “If you say so, sir,” I stated quietly.

    “Just call me Bennie. We will soon be husband and wife so don’t you think it sounds silly for you to be calling me, sir?” he said in a teasing tone.

     I smiled and called his name for the first time…

     

     Meeting Max

    After our wedding, Bennie kept to his promise about taking care of me. It was like he could not do enough for me. He showered me with all sorts of expensive gifts and ensured I lacked nothing. He also took care of my mother’s health. When the doctors he consulted advised she should be taken abroad for treatment, Bennie made all the arrangements and had her flown to a foreign hospital. My younger brother, Johnnie went with her so she could have a familiar face around her. 

     I had to resign from my job after we got married as my husband didn’t want me to continue working.

     

      “I don’t like the idea of my wife working in the same office with me,” he stated. 

     I needed something to do to keep busy as I hated staying idle. So I told him about having a boutique where I could sell top quality clothing items for women. He agreed and gave me the money to start off the project. Everything went well and in a few months, I was the proud owner of a classy boutique and store in a choice part of town. It quickly became popular among the chic, sophisticated ladies in town due to the kinds of goods I stocked. Money rolled in and I couldn’t be happier. 

     Though Bennie provided well for me and gave me lots of money even without my asking, I felt a certain satisfaction in having my own income.

     Life was good and at this stage, I had no regrets about marrying Bennie. Okay, there were certain things lacking in our marriage. There was no romance, passion or sex. But I convinced myself that there was more to life than all that. Afterall, I had gained so much from the union so if not having a love life was the sacrifice I had to make for all the material blessings that had come my way, then so be it. I bet you must be thinking at this stage that I was one cold-hearted woman. 

     

     Don’t get me wrong. As a young, healthy lady, I had normal desires and needs but I was also a pragmatist who liked to face the realities of life. Having struggled so much in life, it would have been stupid of me to give everything up for the sake of love and romance. At this stage, I had convinced myself I could live like a nun as long as my mother was well and alive and I had all the comfort I needed.

     

    That was what I told myself and things would have continued this way if fate had not intervened in the form of Max. He had come to the store one afternoon. Some of my shop assistants had gone out to eat as it was their break time. I was standing at the shoe section, taking stock of the items there when a voice spoke behind me.

    “Please, could you tell me the colour of shoe that will match this bag?” He held up a brown leather bag. It was an expensive designer one, the type I usually reserved for my well-heeled customers.

    I studied the bag for a minute then glanced at the stack of shoes on the racks.

    Picking up a high-heeled pair, I gave it to him.

    “I think this will go well with the bag,” I stated.

    He thanked me and left. After he had paid at the cashier, he came over to where I was arranging some clothes on a rack. He thanked me again for helping him make the right choice.

    “It’s a birthday give for my younger sister. And you women can be so fussy over the right colors that match and so on.”

    “I’m sure she will like the gift,” I stated, smiling at him.

    Then he asked:

    “Are you a sales girl here?”

    I looked at him coolly for a while before telling him I owned the place.

    “Is that so? You look rather young to have such a big, classy place like this. Your parents must be rich,” he noted. I laughed at that.

    “Actually, it’s my husband who is rich,” I told him.

    “Husband?” he stated, a look of disappointment in his eyes…

    For Archive, Visit Patience Saduwa

    [news_box style=”2″ display=”category” link_target=”_blank” category=”82112″ orderby=”random” count=”6″ show_more=”on” show_more_type=”link”]

  • ‘My husband is rich, handsome and kind. But refuses to sleep with me!’ (1)

    (This is the story of Amanda, a lady who marries for money, material things and possessions, only to realise later that money is not everything in life.)

    The first time I saw Max, he had come to do some shopping in my boutique. Back then, I never knew that that chance meeting would have such an effect on my life. With time, we would grow very close, something that should not have happened as I was a married woman and infidelity is something frowned upon by our highly conservative and judgmental society.

     Before you start casting stones at me for cheating on my husband, you need to hear my story first to understand the circumstances that made me stray outside my marriage.

     

     I got married to my husband, Bennie about three years ago. I still remember the ceremony which was held in our local church. It was a grand one, as my husband, who is very rich, spared no expense in ensuring that it was an event that would be the talk of the town for a long time. All my friends had been so envious of me back then.

     “Amanda, aren’t you lucky! I envy you o!” Dorothy, a good friend and one of my bridesmaids had said as I got ready on the morning of my wedding day.

     “Bennie’s such a great catch! I wish I could get someone like him!” said another. They all went on and on about Bennie’s good qualities and what a great husband he will be. 

     

     If only they knew. 

    For as I sat that morning staring at my reflection in the mirror while the make-up artist worked on my face, my mind was churning with different thoughts. Uppermost was the nagging thought, ‘Was I doing the right thing or was I making a big mistake that would haunt me later?’

     

     Even as I stood before the pastor at the altar and exchanged vows with Bennie, that thought kept popping up. But I pushed it aside and put on a brave face, smiling and trying to look like a typical happy and radiant bride on her big day.

     You might be wondering why I still went ahead to marry Bennie with all my misgivings. Well, there’s a plausible reason behind my decision. 

     

     You see, I met Bennie at a very low point in my life. It was at a time when nothing was working and it was as if the whole world was about to collapse on my shoulders. I had finished school but had been unable to get a job after several years of job-hunting. Worse still, my mother who had been my sole support after my father abandoned us years ago, had fallen ill with a sickness that defied solution. There was also a younger brother who was still in secondary school. They both looked up to me for support but how could I play my role in the family without a job?

     

     At that point, I was ready to do any job as long as it paid some money. So, when I heard a manufacturing company at the Isolo area of Lagos was looking for some factory workers, I went to apply. But to my shock, I was rejected for the job because of my qualification.

     “You have a university degree so you are overqualified for the job. It’s school certificate holders we are looking for,” the supervisor in charge of the recruitment told me brusquely. I pleaded with him, telling him I was ready to do the job even with my degree but he refused and ordered me to leave. 

     I was walking dejectedly towards the front gate of the company when someone called out to me.

     “Excuse me, young lady,” the voice said. I turned round. It was a man in his thirties, I had never seen before.

    “Sorry to butt in this way but I heard you talking with the supervisor concerning a job back in the office. What exactly are you looking for?” he asked. I studied him for a moment. He was dressed in a dark suit and blue tie and he looked quite respectable like a top executive. 

     “And why do you want to know?” I countered, wondering if he was an official in the company.  

     “I can see you need a job badly. Maybe I can help you,” he stated. He brought out a complimentary card and gave it to me. 

     “I run my own company. There’s an opening there now. So, why don’t you come and see me and we can talk,” he stated.

     I gazed at him warily, not sure if he was serious or not, then looked at the card again.

     “Mr Bernard or whatever your name is. As you can see, I’m in no mood right now for silly games. So, if you will excuse me, I will be on my way,” and I turned and made for the gate once more.

     “What makes you think I’m not serious about this?” he said behind me.

     

    I turned round again.

     “Because I’m a total stranger to you and people don’t just offer jobs to strangers they don’t know. At least, not in this country,” I said.

     “We’ve been talking for some minutes now so you can’t say we are still strangers,” he noted, smiling a little. He had this sincere look in his eyes that made me relax a little.

     “Look, I understand why you are being wary. You can’t trust people these days. But try and come to my office and I will see what I can do for you,” he said.

     Based on that invitation, I went to his office the following week and he gave me a job right there. It was like a miracle. I was so happy, I felt as if I was walking on air as I went home that day to break the good news to my mother.

     

     I resumed work not long after and I couldn’t be happier. My boss, Mr Bernard was a hard-working man who drove his workers hard so they could achieve maximum results for the company. He also treated us well and was not mean to the staff.

     

    The proposal

     I noticed he travelled a lot, mostly business trips. On one of such visits to Abuja, he invited me to accompany him.

     “You will need to check the sales records at our office there. So, get ready,” he ordered.

     

    We were in the city for about a week and we worked most of the time. After that trip, we travelled together to some other cities and even outside the country. It was on our return from one of such trips to Nairobi, Kenya when the office gossips started to circulate the story about my affair with my boss. I laughed when I heard it as it was all lies. Though we had travelled to different places and stayed in the same hotels, he had never shown any romantic interest in me. He was friendly and treated me well but he always acted like a boss to a subordinate to me.

     

      I knew he was still single and I often wondered why a successful man like him, with money and such good looks was still unattached.

     Some time later, on another of our trips, I told him about the gossip in the office concerning us. It was evening and we were having dinner in the restaurant of the hotel.

     He laughed at my story.

      “People love to talk. So don’t let it bother you,” he stated.

     I smiled at him.

     “Of course it doesn’t bug me since I know it’s not true,” I rejoined. 

     He was silent for a while then he looked at me with a serious look on his face.

     “Perhaps we can make it real, give those gossips something to really talk about,” he stated.

     I looked at him warily.

     

      “What are you talking about?” I asked.

     Then reaching across the table, he took my hand and said:

     “Marry me, Amanda. Be my wife so I can take care of you.”

     His proposal was so unexpected that I sat for a while, just staring dazedly at him.

     “You’ve not been drinking sir, so you can’t be drunk…” I started to say when he interrupted me.

    “I know this must be a surprise to you. But I’ve thought about it and I believe it’s the sensible thing to do. I need a wife, you need a man to look after you. We both get what we want and it’s that not what matters?” he noted.

     When I pointed out to him that there was more to marriage than that, he said:

     “I see where you are going. All that Hollywood stuff like love, romance, desire, passion. I don’t believe in all that. Maybe because I’m a realist who doesn’t believe in fairytales…”

     As if his proposal was not strange enough, there was more to come. Something to do with a contract which stipulated clearly the terms of the ‘union’…

    For Archive, Visit Patience Saduwa

    [news_box style=”2″ display=”category” link_target=”_blank” category=”82112″ orderby=”popular” count=”6″ show_more=”on” show_more_type=”link”]

  • The Returnee (2)

    The Returnee (2)

  • The Returnee (1)

    The Returnee (1)

    I read Laura’s story which was featured in this column last week and I could not help but sympathise with her. I understand what she is going through because I’ve experienced the same thing- ‘a rejected stone becoming the head of the corner’ kind of situation. The only difference is that mine has to do with a child: a baby I had for a man who said he loved me but left me in the lurch when I needed him most. Only for him to reappear years later to sing a different tune.

    My name is Erica and this is my story.

    ***
    It was one of those days when the traffic was so heavy in the city of Lagos, it was more of a ‘stand still’ than a ‘go slow’ as it’s popularly called. I glanced at my wristwatch, noticing how late it was getting. I had just thirty minutes to get to my daughter, Tessy’s summer school at Ikeja to pick her up. She hated me coming late for her like had happened the previous week when I had arrived nearly an hour late. Most of the other kids were gone and she had stood by the school gate, craning her neck and waiting anxiously for me.

    I had promised not to be late in picking her again but it seemed I would not be able to fulfil that promise going by the traffic situation that afternoon. I saw a little opening at the next lane and I quickly maneuvered there, ignoring the angry look of the driver on the line. Gradually, the traffic began to inch forward and I relaxed a little. Luckily, I was about twenty minutes late and my daughter was still inside the building when I arrived.  “Mummy, you are late again o!” were the first words she accosted me with as soon as she saw me. I hugged her and patting her on the head stated:

    “Sorry, sweetheart, I was caught up in traffic. You know how bad the traffic is by this time of the day. Where’s your bag. Let’s go!”

    On the way home, we stopped by an eatery as Tessy wanted some ice cream. I sat sipping a soft drink and watched as she stuffed the ice cream in her mouth, at the same time, talking excitedly about her day at the summer school. “My Aunty said that next year, the school will be organising a trip to Disneyland in the U.S. Mummy, I’ll like to go too. Can I?” she asked.

    “Of course dear. Don’t worry, Mummy will work out something,” I assured her, taking a napkin to wipe her lips covered with ice cream. Money was a bit tight at the moment, what with the sluggish economy and clients who were owing me for work done. Despite that, I vowed silently to raise the money so she could go for the trip when the time comes. I loved my daughter so much and I was ready to make any sacrifice to ensure she was happy and comfortable.

    Since I had Tessy eight years ago, I’ve practically raised her by myself as a single mother. The man I had her for, Kolly has never set eyes on my daughter. He has never shown interest in her wellbeing, whether she was doing well or sick was none of his business. That was however, until three months ago when he suddenly resurfaced in our lives…

    Camp meeting I first met Kolly at a church programme- an annual event that usually draw millions of the faithful to the church’s expansive camp on the outskirts of the city each year. That year, I planned attending with my good friend Grace. But at the last minute, something came up and she could not make it so I had to attend alone. One afternoon, two days after I arrived at the camp, I went to one of the numerous eateries there for lunch before preparing for the evening programme. I was eating when a man came over to my table.

    “Mind if I join you?” he asked before sitting down. As we ate, he made small talk, stating that it was his first time at the programme. “I never knew it was this huge- I’ve never seen so many people in my life,” he said. 

    It was my second year at the camp and I can still remember my shock at the number of people who had trooped into the camp for the annual event, drawn from all over the country and beyond.

    “You’ve not seen anything yet. More people are still coming. Wait till Friday when some will come for the weekend programme, then you will see real crowd,” I assured him. I remained at the camp for another three days, leaving on Saturday morning to attend a neighbour’s wedding. Kolly and I saw regularly for that period and before leaving, we exchanged contacts. He seemed a nice person so when he called about a week later and asked to meet up, I agreed. He shared an apartment with a friend of his named Sam. When I arrived at his place, his flatmate was out and he was alone in the house. Kolly could cook well and he had prepared a delicious meal of jollof rice and chicken for my visit. We were eating when his friend Sam arrived home and Kolly did the introductions.

    “Nice meeting you. He has been talking about you, saying you made his stay at the camp less stressful,” Sam stated as he shook my hand. I had a nice time at his place that day. We saw regularly after that initial visit. Kolly told me from the beginning that he did not have a girlfriend much less a fiancé. I believed he was speaking the truth as I had not seen any lady in the house since I started visiting. Soon, a relationship ensued and we became a couple. 
    Thinking I was dealing with a sincere person, I relaxed and threw myself into the love affair…

    Join us for the rest of Erica’s story next Saturday

    Names have been changed to protect Erica’s identity and other individuals in the story.

    For Archive, Visit Patience Saduwa

  • ‘I caught my husband in bed with his mistress’ (2)

    Follow @Escapades007

    • Now my home is in disarray!

    That weekend, Kel took me to a fun spot on Victoria Island. It was an open air restaurant in a secluded area by the lagoon front, popular for its spicy, barbecued chicken and other delicacies. After placing our order, we sat taking in the cool breeze from the lagoon and admiring the view.

    “Nice place,” I said as I watched some speed boats racing on the choppy waters of the lagoon.
    “Yes. My friends and I hang out here once in a while. Since you like it, we will be coming here more often,” Kel stated.

    Soon, the food arrived and we concentrated on eating and chatting. 
    “The chicken is so delicious! Soft and succulent too,” I enthused as I bit into a chicken wing.
    “I was told its a secret recipe only known to the owner of this place,” disclosed Kel.

    “He had better guard it well or he will lose a lot of business if someone else gets to know the recipe,” I remarked.
    Just then an acquaintance of Kel came over to say hello. Soon after he left, we finished the meal and were preparing to leave when a lady came over with a small gift bag. She handed it to me stating:
    “Someone said I should give this to you.”
    I looked at her and the parcel.
    “What is it? Who gave it to you?” I queried. I did not know anyone there and wondered who could be sending gifts to me.
    “Why don’t you open it and let’s see what’s inside,” Kel said encouragingly.
     Inside the bag was a small wrapped gift which I brought out and opened. A diamond- encrusted sparkling ring nestled inside the small jewel case; besides it was a small note with the words: ‘Baby, will you marry me?”
    I looked up quickly at Kel who was smiling broadly at me.
    “Kel!” I said excitedly, jumping up. He rose, took my hand and repeated the words in the note.
    I nodded my head, saying: “Yes, darling! I’ll marry you!” he hugged and kissed me briefly then, unmindful of the other customers around who were looking at us in an amused manner…

    ***
    “Wow, lovely ring! Jessy, you are so lucky. Congrats o!” said Trina as she admired the ring on my return home that night.
    “Thanks, my sister. I just can’t believe I’m engaged to be married. Kel really surprised me,” I said happily.
    “It’s not a surprise to me. That man really loves you. As I said, you are a lucky lady. I wish I could get someone like Kel,” stated Trina. She had been engaged about a year before but things had not worked out between her and her fiancé.
    “Don’t worry; God will bring your man, specially made for you,” I reassured her.
    “Amen o! Better guy o! Not all these ‘chop and clean mouth’ types that are all over the place now who are just looking for who to use and dump!” she said.
    As I gazed at the ring in admiration, I knew Trina was right: I was lucky to have a man like Kel who cared about me and cherished me so much.
    “I love you, Jessica. I promise to always be there for you, to be your shield and to protect you. As long as we are together, I will make sure you never lack. I’ll take care of you and love you forever,” Kel had stated earlier that evening after his surprising proposal.
    I believed and trusted him and gave all my heart and soul to him. But who can tell what lurks deep in a man’s mind? Or fathom what he will be like tomorrow? Only time can unravel that mystery and time did just that to me.

      ***
    Our engagement was a short one. Within five months of Kel’s proposal, we got married in a very classy ceremony at my family church. My father had remarried three years before; though my step mum and I did not get along that well, she stood in and played the role of my late mother during the marriage proceedings.
    It was a very happy period for Kel and I. In the early days of our marriage, he lived up to his promises and was very caring and loving. About six months after the wedding, I found out I was pregnant. Kel was over the moon when I broke the news to him.
    “So, I’m going to be a father again,” he said with a wide grin when he arrived home from work that evening.
    “Yes, dear. I got the result of the test this afternoon at the hospital. I have an appointment with the doctor next week,” I told him.
    “Ok. I will go with you. You know I will do anything for you, dear,” he said hugging me tightly.
      I nodded, at that instant feeling very happy and contented. My joy however was not to last. The pregnancy was about five months old when I woke up one morning in a pool of blood. Kel, who left home very early for work, had already gone out and I was alone in the house. With the assistance of a neighbour, I was able to get to the hospital where I was admitted.
    I felt terrible losing my baby. I had so looked forward to the birth and becoming a mother. I wept bitterly, wondering why such a thing could happen to me. I had been attending antenatal classes regularly and there had been no sign of a problem. So, why this, I wondered. Or was it something I had done?
    “These things happen. Anything can go wrong with a pregnancy even with the best care,” the doctor had stated when he came to check up on me.
    To be fair to him, Kel, my husband was very supportive at this trying time. He was at the hospital regularly throughout the period of my admission and even when I had returned home. I took some time off from work to recuperate and Trina often came to spend time with me.
    “You look so pale. Are you eating well at all?” she asked one day when she had come visiting.
    “You better talk to her. I’ve been telling her to eat all day but she says she doesn’t have any appetite,” said Kel.
    “You need to eat to recover. What has happened can’t be undone. Life has to go on. You are still young and will have more babies in the future,” Trina stated. She then went to the kitchen and prepared some noodles for me which she forced me to eat.
    With their care and support, I was able to recover and was back at work a few weeks later. My husband and I put the incident behind us and got on with our lives. Then, five months later, I got pregnant again. Though, I was happy at the good news, it also marked a turning point in our lives that brought unexpected occurrences I never envisaged…

    The End.

    For Archive, Please Visit Patience Saduwa

    [news_box style=”2″ display=”category” link_target=”_blank” category=”82112″ show_more=”on”]

  • ‘I’m a high class prostitute, but my parents think I work in a bank!’

    Follow @Escapades007

    (This series is about a young lady named Vanessa who lives a double life in the big city- by day, she passes for a respectable, professional lady while at night, she turns into a high class hooker who works the streets for money). Enjoy!

    ***

    “Vanny baby! You are looking sweet! Where are you off to so early in the morning?” Sasha, my friend and flatmate inquired. She had just come in from an appointment with a ‘client’ and looked tired, like someone that had not had a sound sleep for days. Considering the person she had gone to meet, I was not surprised.

    “Babe, as you see me so, na Abuja I dey face so o!” I replied in pidgin English, fastening the clasp on my small, portable travelling bag. 

    “Abuja? Ha! Wetin dey? Babe, yarn me na!” she cajoled. She flopped on the sofa, kicked off her shoes and stretched out comfortably.

     “No time for that now. I have a 9 o’clock flight to catch and I’m running late. I’ll call you once I get to Abuja.” 

     Picking up my bag, I headed for the door. Sasha came out to see me off as I entered the cab I had chartered.

     “Call me when you arrive o!” Sasha said through the cab window. I waved and we set off for the airport.

     I glanced at the gold watch on my wrist that had been a gift from one of my clients. It was past seven. I had enough time to catch my flight. My phone rang then and I searched inside my handbag for it.

     It was Bibi, my very close friend, professional colleague and confidant.

     “Vanessa, where are you?” were her first words to me. That was vintage Bibi, no time for preambles.

     “Haba, Bibi! Your Mama no teach you how to greet your elders for morning?” I said teasingly. Though Bibi and I were born the same year, I was some months older than her and I never let her forget it.

     “Elders ko, greetings ni!” she rejoined. She told me the time for the ‘job’ that was taking me to the capital city had been rescheduled.

     “Moneybags just called to say he won’t be able to see us till late today. Something to do with an important meeting tonight,” she said. 

     I was to head to the hotel she was lodging as soon as I arrived the city, she stated, adding that Sheila was with her. 

     Sheila was the other girl in our small group with a mandate to succeed by what ‘nature had blessed us with’, in other words, our looks. More of the group later…

        Easy money

      The journey to Abuja was smooth. It was raining when we touched down and I took a cab to meet Bibi and Sheila who were already comfortably settled in their rooms in the posh hotel ‘Moneybags’ had booked us into.

     Before I tell you what went down with ‘Moneybags’ that night, let me give a brief intro into my life and those of my girlfriends.

     My name as you have already deduced is Vanessa and I’m a young lady in my 20s. I’m a graduate with a good degree from one of the Universities in the country. Bibi and I were school mates; we met in our second year and became friends. It was Bibi who introduced me into this ‘business’. Before I started moving with her, I was a typical young, innocent girl, who did not know much about life and whose dream was to be a broadcaster when I graduated. 

     But Bibi put all those ideas out of my head.

     “Look at you. You are young, pretty with the whole world before you. Why waste all that, and give yourself so much stress working for peanuts after leaving school when you can make more money through ‘hustling’. Besides, there are no jobs these days. So many graduates are out there searching endlessly for non-existent jobs. My dear, there are better ways of making it in this country. Stay with me and I will teach you the ropes!” she had said.

     Maybe it was curiosity or just youthful exuberance for I started hanging out with Bibi and her group. I noticed one thing immediately about them- they always had money and were never broke unlike so many other students in school who operated a 0-1-0 eating formular just to survive.

     I found out the secret some time later when I became part of the group. Bibi and her friends dated only men who were very rich, mostly millionaires and the powerful men around. They did not have time for any one without money and steered clear of their fellow male students as if they had an infectious disease.

     “Who has time for those losers,” Bibi would say with a hiss whenever a male student expressed interest in her.

      With time, I joined their group and began making money. My lifestyle changed and so many other things as well. My parents who were normal, hardworking people never suspected what I was doing at school. My father worked as a top executive in a company for many years before he retired some years ago. He provided well for the family, paid my school fees and those of my other siblings on time and was generally a good father.

     Coming from such a middle-class background, why would I be doing ‘runs’ and hustling on campus, you might wonder. Greed, insatiable desire for the good things of life, peer pressure, love of fun? Any of those things could have been responsible for what I became.

     Anyway, after graduating, we took our game to a much higher level. With the help of Madam Clara, a woman who is into arranging young girls for top politicians, businessmen and the like in town, we began to move in really top circles. While our mates were going around searching for jobs, Bibi, the other girls and I were living the good life. I made so much money in such a short time that I was able to build my first house within two years after leaving school which I rent out. I have a fleet of exotic cars and wear only designer clothes and accessories.

     I kept the house a secret from my parents and other family members. I knew my parents would have heart attacks if they ever guessed the kind of ‘work’ I was doing. So, I have been very careful in hiding things from them. I’m almost completing my second building and that too is a secret. 

     I live a double life. By day I’m this angelic looking, respectable lady and by night I hustle for a living.

     I’m alone in the city as my parents have relocated to our home town. I’ve told them I’m working in the Nigerian branch of a multinational, financial institution and I’m well paid. As for the well furnished duplex in a classy part of town where I live, I tell them it’s my official accommodation which comes with the job.

     The real ‘job’ which I’m doing though is completely different from the fake one my family believe occupies my time.

     It’s the job that has brought me to Abuja, the Federal Capital Territory on this rainy day to meet with a man we have nicknamed ‘Moneybags’ because of his stupendous wealth. The job, which was organised by Bibi is worth a couple of millions. Not bad for a few hours work!

     We get paid handsomely and also get a chance to make some top connections. What’s not to like?

    Names have been changed to protect Vanessa’s identity and other individuals in the story.

    For Archive, Visit Patience Saduwa

    [news_box style=”2″ display=”category” link_target=”_blank” orderby=”random” count=”8″ show_more=”on” show_more_type=”link”]

  • Flora Forever (2)

    [dropcap style=”circle” color=”#dd3333″ bgcolor=”#efefef” font=”times”]B[/dropcap]y this time, the rain had reduced to a slight drizzle and it was nearly sunset. We couldn’t sit in the car all day talking so I started the engine and drove to an eatery not too far away from my home at Ikeja. I ordered for a drink while Flora, who said she was hungry asked for some food. 

    “You are sure your head is ok? You are not feeling any pain?” I enquired glancing at her head which was covered in a headscarf.

    “I’m fine. Stop worrying,” she said looking up at the waiter who had brought the food.

    I watched her closely as she ate. She looked up then, saw me looking at her and smiled.

    “Want some?” she asked, offering me a piece of chicken. 

    I shook my head.

    “I’m ok. I ate at my friend’s place,” I told her. 

    “Is she a girlfriend? she enquired. “I see you are not married,” she added, glancing at my left hand.

    “You are right. I’m still single. But she’s just a friend,” I stated. That was not the whole truth but more about that later…

    “Anyway,” I began. “We are not here to talk about my love life. You were supposed to tell me about your husband,” I pointed out.

    The animated look on her face disappeared then and she sat, staring gloomily into her plate.

    Seeing the sad look on her face and fearing she might start crying again, I said softly:

    “It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it. I’ll understand.”

    “No. I’m fine,” she stated, looking calmly at me.

    Then after taking a sip of water, she began to speak. And this was her story:

    She was in her second year at the university when her father died. Her mother had passed away some years earlier during childbirth. The baby, Patricia had lived and the bereaved family had tried to raise the little motherless child as best it could. “My dad really tried. He refused to remarry though there were opportunities for him to do so. He said he didn’t want another woman to come and spoil the love and unity in the family. You see, we were a very close-knit family, my siblings- four of us- and our dad. I have an older brother Michael who lives abroad, though we don’t know if he’s still alive as we’ve not heard from him for some years now.”

    She said after her dad died, things became tough for the family. “Michael and I were at Uni then,” she explained. “Though my elder sister, Janet had left school, she had not started working as she was planning to go for her Masters degree. With our dad’s death, everything was affected- our education, lifestyle and other things. My dad worked as a senior manager in a big manufacturing company and though we were not swimming in money, we were at least comfortable.

    We had inherited some money from him but that ran out in no time. When things became really tough, we had to seek help from relatives. None was willing to help except for an aunt, one of my mother’s sisters. She had a successful business and was doing quite well. 

    “She agreed to pay my school fees and that of Michael who was by then in his third year. She kept to her promise and helped with our education. Among her various businesses was a restaurant. During the holidays, due to my aunty’s promptings, I began helping out there. If I had known, I should have stayed away from that place because of what happened later.”

     At this point, she stopped speaking and took a drink of water.

    “Do you want anything else? Let me order for some soft drinks…” I stated but she shook her head.

    “I’m ok,” she said and began to speak once more.

    The restaurant, she stated was a fairly large one and quite popular. “It was always filled with customers, especially male ones who often came in expensive-looking cars which they parked across the road in an undeveloped plot of land. Initially, I thought they came just for the food which was quite good. It was later I discovered it was for something else as well. A lot of girls worked at the place and most times, some just hung around doing nothing. They would be in one of the rooms in the building, chatting, fixing their make-up or doing their hair. Whenever I told my aunty how they were lazing around doing nothing, she would tell me to ignore them and face my duties.

    “I helped with the accounts as my aunt said I was good with figures. Then one night, I had to help out serving the customers as we were short of waitresses. That opened my eyes to the other aspect of the business. After their meals, some of the male customers would leave with a girl or even two and they would not return. I observed this most nights and I began to have my suspicions which were confirmed by one of the girls who worked in the kitchen. “They take the girls out to sleep with them after paying Madam. It has been going on for years,” she whispered to me.

    In other words, my aunt was running a prostitution ring, using the restaurant as a front! I was shocked because I had always seen her as a decent person who would never be involved in something so shoddy. But you could never tell with people. Later, she tried to involve me in her evil deeds. After serving them, some of the customers would ask for me, saying: “Where is that fine girl? Call her for me!”

    “They made all kinds of offers- lots of money, trips abroad, any car of my choice. But I wasn’t interested and I made it clear to them. When it came to my aunty’s notice that I was rejecting her customers, she was not happy. She accused me of being stubborn and trying to ruin her business. 

    “Mind you, its from this business that I pay your school fees and that of your siblings. So, you better cooperate or you will have to look for another sponsor,” she threatened. I still refused the men’s advances. But something happened one day to change all that. There was this man who was really persistent. Larry was his name and he was a regular customer who came nearly everyday. The more he pestered me, the more I turned him down. Then one day, I heard he gave a very large sum of money to my aunt so he could have me. 

    My aunt told me I either complied or she would no longer have anything to do with our education. I was more concerned about my brother who was already in his final year then. What if he was forced to drop out of school due to lack of sponsorship at that stage in his education? It would be my fault. I could never forgive myself for that. So, because of my aunty’s threats and maybe my age then- I was just 18- I succumbed. I began to date Larry and to be fair to him, he treated me well at the beginning. 

     He was a rich businessman and was unmarried. Larry became responsible for my education and upkeep. The only condition was that I was not to date any other person as long as we were together as he loved me too much to share me with any other man. 

     About six months later, I found out I was pregnant and when I told Larry, he said we should get married. I was against it as I was still in school and I felt my education would be disrupted if I had a baby. But he assured me that I could always return to school after the baby was born. My aunt and even my sister Janet said the same thing. “School will always be there but good men like Larry are hard to find,” they told me. I took their advice and married Larry. I had my daughter Ivy soon after that. And before I could think of returning to school, I was pregnant again with my second child. 

    I had to put my education on hold so I could take care of my children. Besides, by this time, I was having problems in my marriage. Larry, to my shock changed from the loving, caring man I dated. He began to drink heavily, often came home late and would beat me without provocation. I tried to reason with him but it was no use. There was a night he beat me so hard, I became unconscious and it was the neighbours who had to take me to the hospital.  

     When I recovered and returned home, I found another woman in the house. Larry threw me out, stating he had married someone else who would give him sons as I had only female children in my womb! I had to move in with my sister with my children. He took everything away including the car he bought for me, though we had been together for eight years.

     That was six months ago. He doesn’t even care about the children’s welfare or their education. That morning of the accident, I had gone to see him at home concerning Ivy’s school fees as she attends an expensive private school. He chased me out, saying he didn’t have money to train ‘those brats’ as he called his own kids. I was really upset. I just walked along the road not really seeing where I was going, thinking about my life and how badly things had turned out for me when you hit me.”

    She stopped speaking then and just sat staring glumly down at the table. I felt really sorry for her after listening to her tale. ‘What kind of man would do this to a beautiful lady like this, his own wife?’ I thought as I gazed at her.

    “It’s really sad that such things happened to you at such a young age,” I told her softly, reaching across the table to take her hand in mine.

     She looked up then and shrugged.

    “That’s life. Full of ups and downs,” she noted. “My main concern now are my children. I’ve been looking for a job so I can earn some money to take care of them. But it’s been tough as they always ask for qualifications and I didn’t finish school.”

     I thought about what she said.

      “If it’s a job you want, I have something in mind. Can you…?

    For Archive, Visit Patience Saduwa

    [news_list display=”category” category=”82112″ orderby=”random” count=”8″ show_more=”on” show_more_type=”link”]

  • Touch of fate (3)

    Follow @Escapades007

    “Are you ok? You look sick!” Don said, going to sit besides her on the couch. But she moved as far away from him as possible, looking at him as one would gaze at something that was particularly repulsive.

    “Baby, what’s the matter? Did something happen while I was away?” he asked, getting up to stand in front of her.

    But she rebuffed him and shouted:

    “Don’t come near me. Stay away from me!”

     Then seeing the confused look in his eyes, she said:

    “Why Don? How could you be so mean, so wicked?”

    “What are you talking about?” he asked in a perplexed tone.

    She did not answer but simply pointed at the computer screen. When he saw what was there, he slumped on a chair, his head buried in his hands.

    There was silence for a while then she began to speak.

    “You knew I was the accident victim all this while after I had told you the story of what happened to my leg. Yet you kept quiet. Why didn’t you say something? Why?” 

    “I’m truly sorry, Helen. I know now that I should have spoken up but I was afraid,” he said.

    “Of what?” she queried.

    “I was afraid I would lose you. At that time, I had begun to develop feelings for you and my thinking was that, if you knew the truth, you would not want to see me anymore. And I couldn’t bear that to happen,” he explained.

     “That has always been your problem. You only think of yourself! What about me? Do you have any idea of what I went through? If it were not for the two students who found me by the roadside after you had knocked me down and run away, and who took me to the clinic, maybe I would be dead by now. Your wicked and cowardly act almost cost me my life and all you can say is sorry! Look at my leg. I walk with a limp today because of you!” she stated angrily.

     “Please Helen, forgive me and my friends. We were very young then and you know young people do all kinds of stupid and crazy things,” he pleaded.

     Then continuing, he added:

     “That incident has haunted me for years. Initially I thought the person I knocked down was dead. But the following day, when there was no news of the death of a student, staff or someone else by accident on campus, I felt relieved. Shortly after, we left school for the last time and we all dispersed to various places. I never knew in my wildest dream that you were the one. So, you can imagine my shock when I found out. I decided not to get involved with you as my conscience kept bugging me. But I couldn’t stay away from you. Please, honey, forgive me. Don’t let this come between us now at this critical stage in our relationship. Please,” he begged, going to her and taking her hand in his. But she flung his hand away and jumping up from the chair stated:

     “It’s too late now. The thought of marrying someone like you, who could do what you did to me, makes me sick. This wedding is off. Don’t bother calling me or looking for me to beg me to change my mind because I won’t. Loser!” 

    And picking up her handbag, she marched out of the house closely followed by Don who kept pleading with her.

    “Please, Helen! Don’t go! Let’s talk this over. We can sort it out. You know I love you! My life will be empty without you…”

    A mother’s counsel

    “Look my daughter, I know what he did was wrong. Even your father and I were shocked when you told us he was the one that hit you all those years ago back in school. But the young man has said he is sorry. That it was a mistake he regrets till today. Since he has apologized and seems repentant, why don’t you forgive him and continue with your wedding plans?” said Helen’s mother about a week later. They were in the living room of their home having a mother-daughter chat.

    “Mama! Is that all you can think about now- the wedding?” Helen said.

    “Yes o, my child. Your marriage is important to me. I want you to settle down and start giving me grandchildren. So, you have to forgive him and continue with your plans,” she insisted.

    “That can’t happen now. It’s over between us,” Helen maintained.

    “Why are you so stubborn and hard-hearted? I didn’t bring you up like this! Even the Bible says we should forgive those who have trespassed against us. So, put the past behind you and move on with your life,” she stated.

    Helen shook her head.

    “I can’t Mama. What he did is too terrible for me to forgive. Or forget,” she insisted.

    “So, are you going to just throw away such a beautiful relationship because of your unforgiving spirit? Think carefully, my daughter and don’t do something you will regret for the rest of your days. I know how much you love the young man. Just look at you. You are a mess. Since your break-up, you’ve not been eating or sleeping well, either. You have stopped going to the office, claiming you are sick. My child, pull yourself together and use your head. Let go of your anger so you an embrace the future,” she advised.

    Back in her room that night, Helen lay on her bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Her mother’s words kept ringing in her ears- ‘He says he’s sorry. Forgive and take him back. He’s your one true love. Don’t let him slip away because of your stubborn heart!’

     “But what he did was too bad. How could I forgive him so easily? Let him feel some of the pain I felt when he nearly killed me all those years ago. Idiot!” she said to herself, her heart hardening against him once more. 

    The following day, when Don came to the house as he had been doing since the split, she refused to see him as usual or pick his calls.

    “Why don’t you at least see him, hear what he has to say?” her mother pleaded with her. Helen had gone to her room and had refused to come out as soon as she heard Don had arrived.

    “Tell him to go away. I don’t have anything to do with him anymore,” she stated. 

    “You tell him yourself. Stubborn child!” her mother said angrily as she stormed out of the room.

    A short while later, Linda, her younger sister came into the room quietly.

    She sat staring warily at her big sister for a while then said:

    “Sister, you can tell me to go to hell and mind my business. But I’ve to speak my mind. Have you not punished Brother Don enough? You need to see him. He looks so sad, so lost. I feel so sorry for him.”

    “Why is everyone taking his side. What about me?” she asked angrily.

    “Forgiving him is for your own sake too. By punishing him like this, you are also hurting yourself. I see how much pain you are going through and it breaks my heart,” Linda said. To her surprise and shock, Helen broke down and began to cry. Great, wracking sobs shook her body and she wept bitter tears of anguish and regret.

    Linda held her close and comforted her as best she could…

    Two days later, Helen returned to work. She tried to put on a bright face but everyone noticed she was not her usual cheerful self. During their lunch break, Tina cornered her and began to bombard her with questions.

    “Is it true that you and Don have broken up? What happened?” 

    “Who told you? Busybody,” Helen stated teasingly.

    “But is it true?” she persisted.

    Helen sighed before saying:

    “Yes. We’ve split. The wedding has been cancelled.”

    “Ah! It’s a pity. You two were so much in love. That guy loves you so much. He had eyes for nobody else but you,” she said.

    Then she added excitedly:

    “Now that you two have broken up and he’s now free, that means I can have him for myself. Waoh! I can’t wait to see him again!”

     “Hey, hey! Hold it there. See who?” Helen asked frowning a little.

    “Don, of course. He’s free so he can date someone else now, abi,” she said.

    “Date who? Don’t you dare! If I see you near him, I will kill you!” Helen stated vehemently.

    “Ha! Na which kin thing be this?” she stated in pidgin English. “You say you no longer want him, yet when I show interest in him, you get mad. You better make up your mind about what you want before it’s too late. You don’t appreciate what you have. That guy is one in a million. You better go and sort out whatever issues you have with him before I or some other girl snatch him from you for good. Yeye (silly) girl. So confused, she doesn’t value what she has. Besides, what am I supposed to do with the bridesmaid’s dress that has already been made?” she queried, before leaving the table.

     Helen smirked at her, making faces at her retreating back.

     

       * * * * 

    One week later, on a Saturday evening, Don stood at the small balcony at the back of his flat, which overlooked the backyard. There was a small guava tree that was just starting to bear fruit, a couple of banana, plantain, pawpaw trees and other plants. But he did not notice the luxuriantly growing vegetation. He stared far away into the horizon, his thoughts deep, gloomy. His dark mood was in sharp contrast to the radiant scene high above him where the slowly setting sun was painting the sky in vibrant shades of red, pink and orange. 

    Uppermost in his mind, was the thought that he had lost Helen for good. Thinking about it was driving him crazy and he felt so helpless as if there was nothing he could do to salvage the situation. He couldn’t even see her or talk to her as she had kept avoiding him. With his shoulders slumped as if in defeat, he kept staring moodily ahead, at nothing in particular.

    Then a voice that he had been longing to hear for days intruded into his gloomy thoughts.

    “Our wedding is just a few weeks away and instead of distributing the wedding IVs, you are standing here, wasting time, just staring into space. Or don’t you want guests on our big day?”

    Don turned round slowly, not speaking, just taking in the lovely sight before him, a look of surprise, joy and relief on his face.

    Then he said:

    “Helen!” and quickly walked towards her.

    She spread her arms wide.

    “Welcome home, baby,” he stated softly as he held her in a tight embrace. Just then, the sun dipped behind the horizon and disappeared. The old day was gone. And a new dawn would soon begin…

    The End

    Epilogue:

     Well, all is well that ends well. Helen and Don’s story had a happy ending after all despite all the odds against their relationship. But not everyone is happy with the ending. A colleague who saw the story before publication was quite pissed with Helen, stating she was stupid to have forgiven Don. “What if she had died that night of the accident, would she be talking about forgiveness now?” she said angrily.

     So, what do you think? Was Helen right in forgiving Don? Or should she have stuck with her earlier stance of never having anything more to do with Don? We would like readers views on this.

    For Archive, Visit Patience Saduwa

    [news_box style=”2″ display=”category” link_target=”_blank” category=”82112″ orderby=”random” count=”6″ show_more=”on” show_more_type=”link”]

  • Flora Forever (1)

     

    • A chance meeting through an accident early one morning in a street in Lagos would have a profound effect on Bari, the narrator of this story and the accident victim, Flora…

    It was about seven in the morning and I was on my way to work. I was running quite late so I was in a bit of a hurry. Maybe that was the reason I did not see the lone figure, a woman that suddenly dashed across the road right in front of my car. I applied the breaks as fast as possible to avoid hitting her. But it was too late. I heard a crunching sound and a cry of pain and I quickly parked and ran out of the car. Seeing the blood from a gash on her head, I initially thought she was dead. Then I heard her moan and she opened her eyes.
    “Are you alright?” I asked worriedly, my hand on the uninjured side of her head.
    She gazed at me without speaking, moaned again then closed her eyes. I was already late for work but I could not leave her lying there by the roadside. Besides, a few passersby had gathered and were asking questions. With their help, I placed her in the back seat of my car and drove to my family hospital. 
    She was admitted and I stayed for a while to ensure she would be ok. I later left for work after instructing one of the nurses I knew to call me if they needed anything.
    On my way from work that night, I stopped by the hospital. I was glad to see that she was awake, sitting up and taking some drugs. Standing by the bedside was a nurse as well as another woman I had not seen before.
    “How are you feeling now?” I asked her after the nurse had told her I was the one who had brought her to the hospital.
    Before she could answer, the other woman said angrily:
    “So you are the idiot that almost killed my sister this morning! Why can’t you these drivers look where you are going?”
    “Take it easy, sister. It’s not like that. It was actually my fault,” the lady I hit, stated. Then turning to me, she added:
    “Please, don’t take any notice of her. She can be temperamental at times…”
    “And what’s that supposed to mean?” demanded the sister.
    I spoke up then.
    “Madam, I’m sorry for what happened. It was an accident and not intentional.”
    That seemed to calm her down a bit.
    Later, I introduced myself to her sister and spoke for sometime with her.
     “I’m Flora,” she said, extending her hand for a handshake. I studied her for a while. The injury on her head had been bandaged and it didn’t look as if she was injured on any other part of her body. I felt relieved at that as I had feared that she could have broken a leg or other body part. 
    “I’m glad to see you sitting up and looking alright,” I said. 
    She smiled a little then laid back on the bed.
    Before leaving, I spoke to the nurse briefly about Flora’s condition along the corridor outside her room.
     “The doctor said the injury was not deep so she will be fine. But she has to remain in the hospital for a couple of days as we need to do an x-ray to ensure there are no internal injuries,” 
    she explained.
    It was three days later she eventually left the hospital. I felt responsible for what happened so  since it was a weekend and I did not go to the office, I took her home. She lived with her elder sister, Aunty Janet the one I met at the hospital. 
    In the house were two young girls and an older girl who looked a lot like Flora.
     I initially thought the children were her elder sister’s kids.
    But when we entered the house, they ran to her shouting ‘Mummy’ and embraced her.
    I looked at her in surprise. To me, she looked too young to be a mother, much less, a mother of two. I didn’t even know she was married as I had not seen any man with her at the hospital.
    “Mummy, where have you been? Did you buy anything for me?” the younger girl who looked about four stated.
    Flora smiled and patting them fondly, turned to me.
    “This is Uncle Bari. Say hello to him.”
    “Welcome Uncle,” they both chorused looking up curiously at me.
    I smiled at them then sat down on a chair.
    Aunty Janet and the older girl who was Flora’s younger sister, Patricia had gone to where I presumed was the kitchen as I could hear the noise of pots being opened and closed.
    “Thanks for bringing me home. You didn’t even have to. I could have found my way home easily,” she said, sitting on a chair to my right.
    “It was nothing. As I said, I feel responsible. What if something worse had happened? We won’t be sitting here chatting like this,” I noted.
    She nodded then said:
    “You are right. Maybe, it’s not time for me to go yet.”
    The elder sister brought some drinks later and Flora and I sat drinking for a while and chatting.
    I was curious about her and there were some questions I wanted to ask her. But I didn’t, as I felt it would be rude of me to be prying in her private affairs.
    I left a short while later, turning down her offer of staying for dinner with them.
     “There’s somewhere I have to be in the next 30 minutes,” I explained as she saw me to my car.
    As I drove off, I could see her from my side mirror, standing by the gate of the building and waving.
    I did not see Flora again for a while. I was busy with work and other things that took up my attention. But I called occasionally to check on her health and she always told me she was fine.
    It was about three weeks later, on a rainy evening when I ran into her again. I was returning home from a visit to a friend when I saw her standing at a bus top, taking shelter from the pouring rain. 
    I wound down the window on the passenger’s side and called to her.
     Seeing me, she ran towards the car and got in.
    “Where are you going?” I queried after we exchanged greetings.
    She stated she had gone to the market and was returning home.
     “The rain started without warning and I didn’t bring an umbrella from home,” she said.
     I enquired after the children. Then, turning to her, stated:
    “And your husband? I’m yet to meet him. Did he travel or something?” I asked.
    She remained silent and simply stared straight ahead through the windscreen.
     Then, to my shock, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks and onto the blue top she had on.
    “Is there anything the matter? Did I say something to upset you?” I asked in a concerned tone.
    She sniffed and shook her head.
    I opened the glove compartment and bringing out a hankie, gave it to her.
    She took it silently then broke down and began sobbing.
    I looked for a space close to a busy bus top and parked. 
     I sat, silent and waited for the weeping to subside.
    It was a full ten minutes later before she was able to get control of herself. 
     She wiped her face with the hankie and said:
    “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” she stated.
     “It’s ok,” I assured her. “If you are having any problem, you can talk to me. As a friend. I’ll be happy to help in any way,” I added, turning to take her hand in mine.
    She sighed then stated:
    “Thanks for the offer. But there’s nothing you can do. You see, it’s my husband or rather my estranged husband as we are separated…”

    For Archive, visit Patience Saduwa

    [news_box style=”2″ display=”category” link_target=”_blank” category=”82112″ count=”6″ show_more=”on” show_more_type=”link”]