The Wait – Chapter 1

“Do you, Ajoke Omolewa, take Enitan Boluwatife to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, to honour him, submit to him, keeping yourself solely unto him and forsaking all others as long as you both shall live? If so, answer “Yes, I do.” The registrar spoke with a smile on his face. He knew the answer to the question; he had never seen anyone who did not answer in the affirmative.

Ajoke opened her mouth to speak, but she was unable to form the words the minister, her family members and Enitan waited to hear. Her eyes were trained on the man who had just walked into the registry and sat quietly at the end of the hall. He had walked in unnoticed but Ajoke’s attention towards him was beginning to attract stares in his direction.

One by one, Ajoke’s family members comprising her father, her mother, her six elder brothers and her two teenage children looked back to find out what had caught her attention. Enitan, also confused at the sudden change in Ajoke’s mien, looked in the same direction. He could not recognize the stranger, and he wondered why the man’s presence had suddenly affected Ajoke. He turned to look at his bride and saw tears streaming down her made-up face. What on earth is going on?

Suddenly, there were quick movements in the hall. Ajoke’s aged father was struggling to get up, his face taut and his jaw set but Ajoke’s brothers were faster. Ajoke’s youngest brother touched the father’s shoulder and slid his right palm down his chest repeatedly. Their father took the cue and relaxed in his seat. His sons were capable of handling the situation. The six brothers stood up one by one and marched towards the end of the hall.

Ajoke, knowing what her brothers were capable of doing, left Enitan and the registrar at the podium and started running towards the end of the hall.

“Ajoke!!!” Enitan called as he watched her break into a run.

She stopped to look back at Enitan, tears streaming down her face and drawing black lines on her wet cheeks as a result of smeared mascara; her eyes pled for understanding but the plea only made Enitan more confused.

Enitan looked around for answers. Who was this guy whose sudden presence had stalled his wedding? He looked at Ajoke’s parents and searched their faces for something he could grasp. Ajoke’s mother slumped her shoulders as she watched an imaginary being in her open hands while her father’s neck was stretched to the back as he trained his attention on the on-goings down the hall.

Ajoke reached the end of the hall just as her eldest brother, Adisa held the stranger by his tie, rough handling him. The stranger coughed as Adisa held him by the neck. He refused to hold Adisa’s hand or try to stop Ajoke’s brother from strangling him.

“What are you doing here, you bastard?” Adisa asked, gritting his teeth to contain his anger.

The stranger only looked at Adisa without a word or plea. Ajoke’s brothers had gathered round, but no one stopped Adisa from his bid to strangle him. Ajoke pushed through the circle and knelt before her eldest brother.

“Bòdá mi, ë jò ó, ë má pa á.

“My brother, please don’t kill him.”

“Will you go back to the front and continue with your wedding?” Adisa said to Ajoke, his eyes blazing.

“I will, but please don’t kill him,” Ajoke said, her face now a total mess.

Adisa refused to let go of the stranger.

“Àdìsá, fi sílè.

“Adisa, leave him alone,” Their father said authoritatively. He had trudged down the hall after Ajoke had broken into a run. He reached the end of the hall panting and sweating in the air-conditioned room. His wife had not accompanied him as she now stood, talking to the registrar, the groom, his elder brother, his uncle and aunt. Her hands were clasped as she pleaded with them. They all looked at her through the confusion clearly written on their faces.

“Ehn, Bàámi kí lë sö?

“Daddy, what did you say?” Adisa asked, as he looked at his father with anger.

“Mo ní ko fi sílè. 

“I said you should leave him alone.”

Adisa squeezed the stranger’s neck once more with new strength making the man gasp before releasing him. The man coughed as he loosened his tie and rubbed his neck. His face was sober as he looked at Ajoke’s father. As the old man’s tired eyes met his, the stranger dropped his gaze and lay flat on the floor. Ajoke’s father sighed deeply and shook his head.

“Bàámi, ë jò ó, mo fé ba s’òrò”

“My father, please I want to talk to him,” Ajoke said to her father.

Ajoke’s father nodded to show affirmation and turned back.

“I would like to talk to him alone. Please,” she said when her brothers refused to leave.

“You better know what you are doing.” Adisa advised Ajoke. “And as for you,” he said pointing towards the stranger. “I will still deal with you.”

Ajoke watched her brothers as they all filed back to the front of the hall, leaving her and the stranger alone. Her brothers, however, kept their eyes on them as they monitored their discussion from afar. As she turned to look at him, he knelt before her and tried to hold her hand. “Don’t touch me, Adejoro,” she said.

“I know I have hurt you deeply, but please hear me out.”

“Hear you out? What could you possibly have to say? Hmm….Adejoro. What?”

“Ajoke please.”

“Adejoro, what did I do to you to deserve this? What was my offence? Tell me.” She sobbed.

“Ajoke, it is not what you think?”

“I gave up everything and gave you my all. But you trampled it under your feet and threw it back in my face. Just look down the hall” – She said nodding towards the front. “Did your children come here? Did they acknowledge your presence?”

Adejoro looked towards the front pews and sighed. So those are my children? He placed his hands on his head and bowed his head in shame. His children did not recognize him. They did not know who their father was. Fifteen years was a long time for any man to abandon his family. He knew he had messed up, but he wanted to make it right if Ajoke could give him an opportunity to.

*****

As Ajoke looked at his bowed head, she remembered how she had fallen in love with Kokumo nineteen years ago. Both of them had attended the same secondary school in Ayobo, a village in the Alimosho local government area of Lagos state, Nigeria. The village which had now grown into a suburb had mostly low-income earners as residents. Ajoke’s parents had struggled to send her to school as they barely had enough to eat with seven children. Her mother had given birth to Adisa, two sets of twin boys and another boy before having her. Her father tapped palm-wine for a living while her mother processed garri. The little they made from the sales of palm wine and garri was used to feed the large family.

As much as her father valued education, he had told all his children that the best he could do was to educate them up to the secondary level. After that, he encouraged each one of them to go learn a trade. Her elder brothers had all learnt one trade or the other, but Ajoke being the last child and only girl, had been confined to helping her mother at her garri business so it could thrive.

*

Kokumo was an Abiku. His parents said he always died at birth and returned to torment his mother again, and again. To stop the scourge of death, the sixth child was marked before burying, a normal tradition among the Yoruba. Even though, Kokumo did not return with the mark (as it was believed would happen), he was still named Kokumo, – meaning will not die again. After his birth, his mother decided to give childbearing a wide berth. Kokumo’s father was a peasant farmer while his mother sold seasonal fruits which were planted and harvested by her husband.

Kokumo and Ajoke attended the same secondary school but only became acquainted with each other in their senior secondary class. They were both in the Arts class and did the same subjects, which drew them close together. Ajoke’s parents had been unable to afford to buy her textbooks, so Kokumo was always on hand to share or lend her his books. They became reading partners and within a short period of time, love found them.

Each day, they both trekked a great distance which took them about an hour to get home from school. Kokumo lived in Ikola, another village adjacent from Ayobo; the forked junction between their villages served as the end point before each faced the journey home alone.

*

Ajoke looked at the man before her, her husband of three years and father of her children. What a wasted life she had lived married to him? She and Kokumo had been denied of their young love and she had been married off to Adejoro because her father, mother and elder brother had said he was ‘man enough to take care of her’.

As the tears began to make their way down her cheeks again, her mind found its way back in time to when Kokumo meant the whole world to her.

——–
The story continues…..

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The Wait for The Wait is over!

*

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Olúbùkólá

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To Love and to Hold – Chapter 1

Fadeke cursed under her breath as the lift reached the fifth floor. It was 8.45pm on Friday, and she had not planned to leave her office late. Her boss had given her a task that had to be completed before she went home or which she had to be at work early on Saturday morning to finish. Fadeke didn’t work on Saturdays because of her daughter, Kike. Weekends were the only times she had to spend with her; so, she worked late to free her schedule and be with her child.

The lift doors opened, and there – waiting to get on, was a man Fadeke knew very well – a man she had not seen in a while, and whom she was not sure she wanted to see again. On sighting the man, Fadeke’s first reaction was surprise, then curiosity, then anger; in quick succession.

The man, clad in a cream-coloured shirt, leaf-green tie and a navy blue suit which he slung over his shoulder, had taken a step towards the lift when he saw Fadeke. He was taken aback and took a moment to master himself.

‘Fadeke!’ He said slowly. ‘My eyes do not deceive me. Wh- what are you doing here?’

Fadeke looked at the man – the expression on her face a mixture of surprise, anger and disgust – and did not speak.

As the lift began to close, the man said – almost desperately, ‘Hold it, please.’

In that moment, as the lift doors slid to a close, Fadeke knew she did not want to be anywhere alone with this man, particularly not in a lift. But she acted against her better judgement and pressed the button to open the lift doors. The man stepped in.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Fadeke, where have you been? I have been looking for you everywhere.’

Fadeke stayed silent; she searched her bag for her car keys.

The lift slid to the ground floor and the doors opened. Fadeke stepped out without a response and headed for her car, parked behind the building.

‘Fadeke. Answer me, please. Say something.’ The man half-ran, trying to keep up. As he fell in line with her, he touched her arm.

‘Don’t!’ She raised a warning finger. ‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ Her voice seemed to be struggling between a whisper and a scream. But it also had an icy quality to it, like the voice of someone who had the capacity for violence.

‘But Fadeke, what have I done? What happened? I have been looking for you these past six years.’

‘And you have found me.’ She said with venom in her voice.

On getting to her car she stopped, looked him full in the face for a brief moment; she got into her car and drove off.

Chinedu stood there, shocked.

***

‘My mummy has come,’ Kike said, jumping up and grabbing her teddy bear. She tapped her nanny, who was dozing. ‘Ma Win, Ma Win, my mummy has come.’

Ma Win opened her eyes and smiled at the adorable child. ‘Your mum is here? How do you know?’

Just then, Fadeke honked twice – one long piim, and a short one, almost a click. It was her way of announcing her return.

Mrs Winnie – everyone called her Ma Win – was Fadeke’s neighbour of five years. At 57, Ma Win was a widow whose husband had died of a cardiac arrest. She had five adult children who rarely visited because they lived abroad. Ma Win had declined all their offers to relocate her abroad. Though she wanted for nothing, and her children called her every day, she needed to do something to keep agile. So, she opted to care for Kike; she had been doing so for four years.

‘Mummy!’ Kike shouted as Fadeke opened the door; Kike ran into her waiting arms. The teddy bear was temporarily forgotten.

‘How are you, honey?’ Fadeke asked, swinging her daughter round.

‘I’m fine, Mummy. How are you?’

Fadeke raised an eyebrow. ‘What did you learn at school today?’

‘Mummy, you have not answered my question. I said, how are you?’

‘Welcome, Fadeke.’ Mrs. Winnie who had been watching the little drama between mother and daughter interrupted. ‘Kike, your mum needs to rest. She’s tired.’

‘Thank you, Ma Win.’ Fadeke said. ‘We’ll be going home now.’ Home was the flat next door. Only a small wall separated Fadeke and Ma Win’s flat

‘Well done, Fadeke.’ Ma Win patted Kike on the back. ‘Kike, let your mother rest.’

‘Yes, Ma Win,’ Kike said without letting go of Fadeke’s hand.

Fadeke was inwardly grateful to Ma Win. She was so grateful because for Kike, the answer to one question was the cue for another. If Fadeke had responded to her daughter’s question with a ‘fine, my sweetness,’ the next question would have been ‘Are you sure, Mummy?” to which Fadeke would have answered in the affirmative and Kike would have raised another question. Fadeke did not mind playing this game and nurturing her little angel’s mind, but not today. She was too tired.

‘Fadeke, will you have something to eat? It is late and you can’t start cooking now,’ Ma Win said.

‘No, thank you ma. I am not hungry.’

‘Are you sure? Kike and I cooked fried rice. Kike says you’ll like it very much.’

‘Yes, Mummy. We cooked green rice,’ Kike piped.

‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ Fadeke said to Kike and turned to Ma Win. ‘Thank you for the offer ma, but I’m really not hungry.’

‘Okay dear,’ Ma Win said. ‘I will pack it for you.’

‘Thank you. Ma, have you eaten this evening?’

‘Of course, you know I shouldn’t eat late at my age.’

‘I know, but I brought you some fruits. Kike let’s go and get fruits for Ma Win from the car.

‘Yes, Mummy.’ Kike ran out, holding her teddy by the ear.

‘You spoil me, you know.’

‘Do I have a choice? I am the only child you have here,’ Fadeke said, smiling.

‘Thanks, dear.’

That night, after Fadeke had put Kike to sleep and laid down to sleep herself, her mind riveted on her encounter with Chinedu. What was he doing in the building? It had been six years since they last saw each other: six years of pain and heartache; six years of hurt and abandonment. As her thoughts started to reach into the past, sleep took over her body.

***

Chinedu could not believe what happened. He could not remember, after Fadeke drove off, how he got to his car and drove home. Everything had happened as if in a dream – a dream from which he should not have woken up. What he wanted was for the dream to wind back to Fadeke standing in the lift. He wanted Fadeke to scream and fly into his arms in a passionate hug. He wanted to feel her warmth on his skin. He wanted to be reminded of her favourite Daisy fragrance by Marc Jacobs. He wanted to tease her like he used to and call her round cheeks puff-puff.

But what happened was not a dream. He had met Fadeke and she had ignored him. He had been looking for her for six years; she never once left his mind. Everywhere he turned, he saw her. At a point, he had thought he was going crazy. Now, after six years, he had found her, and she had ignored him. He still found it hard to believe that it wasn’t all a dream.

As he tossed and turned on his bed that night he thought, What did I do wrong, Fadeke? After tossing on the bed for close to two hours, he rose and went to his living room. Since he could not sleep, he decided to watch television. As he turned on the TV, his mind went back to his first meeting with Fadeke.

——–

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