Chapter eleven
It is two weeks since Veronica left unceremoniously. Papa Adaobi saw the events that led to her departure as the last straw that broke the Camel’s back. In an anger-infested move, he walked up, with well-calculated steps like a cat, to someone and shook him roughly. The person groaned and mumbled to himself half asleep.
“Obinna!” He jerked fully awake at the sound of that familiar but unusual voice.
“Papa!” He replied in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” He roared in a strangled voice which made his wife come running out of her room. “Don’t start again this morning with my son” She warned.
“What is this good-for-nothing boy doing in my house? Didn’t I warn you never to set foot in here, since you allowed your wicked mother to drive away Veronica? Get out before I call the police!”
“It is too early in the morning for this, and he is your son. You cannot treat him like this. We cannot go on like this!” She warned.
“It’s you!” Papa Adaobi turned to her. “You spoiled that boy. He keeps bringing an over-abundance of shame and disgrace to the family and you still beg for him.”
“I will leave the house.” Obinna said, stretching on the bed. He looked round the room at the carelessly flung shirts, jeans and boxer shorts over the chair, to the poster of the Chelsea football team on the wall ; a typical guy’s room. Another worn-out poster of Tupac Shakur was on the opposite wall. Sighing, he plodded to the bathroom. He whistled as he took his shower, refusing to think about the morning’s surprise. The reason why was a long story; too long to think about on a brand new day.
As he ate his breakfast of moin-moin and brown pap, his father entered his room again yawning. He wore a loose caftan over his dry tummy.
“Obinna…What about Ada? I haven’t heard from her ever since she left…” He began and stopped and rubbed his eyes, and rubbed them again just to make sure.
Just then, the phone rang, Obinna stood up and reached for it, picked the call and collapsed onto a chair.
“Oh…Ada…good morning and how is life? Obinna grinned as his father watched him, instead of receiving a response to his greeting; he rather received an aggressive bashing.
“How could you be so wicked? You have the soul of the devil in you…You have never called since I was sent out of the house yet Veronica told me how you had been busy fooling around her. She told me everything. You should be ashamed of yourself. Why are you this wicked? Why...?” She gave up with tears and fell into a trance as a history in her memory played out again. It was a part of her which she had tried in vain to suppress because it hurt more than the stings of a thousand bees but the pictures were here again uninvited. She could see a wet, chilly day in Lagos. Dark cloud masses over the blue sky. Rain pouring fast and the sky pelting bodies with slicing strokes. Not too long after, the droning rain begins to utter silent whispers. Though the air is still, and sounds distinct, on the road vehicles crawl. Okunade lives in a two-bedroom flat at Agric-street Agege, Lagos. He is watching a movie while relaxing on a three seater couch. She knocks and enters the living room, with stress and confusion boldly written on her face.
“What is the problem, dear?” Okunade asked the completely distraught young lady.
“They have sent me packing from home….. They even threatened to kill me if I come back to the house. Okunade, I am in trouble…you know I am pregnant for you …”
“Good God, what kind of problem is this? Where do I go from here?” He said rhetorically. He switched off the television set and hugged her. Then in a flash he remembered what his own parents always said about the relationship, how they disapproved the whole thing. The words of his parents the previous day came to his memory.
“Okunade”, his Dad warned, “we don’t want you to marry that Igbo girl. This is our joint decision. We sent you to school, isn’t it? And we are your rightful biological parents, if we come to your house again and see this Igbo girl you call your fiancée you would better forget you have parents living. We will disown you as our child, no more, no less.”
Added to this, his mother cuts in, “we have a very responsible, well-mannered, pretty Yoruba girl from a reputable family we want you to marry. Her name is Adetoun, Toun, for short. We’ll bring her to your house this weekend, on Sunday. You can’t marry an Igbo girl…lai…lai, over our dead body!”
But mum, dad,” he protested, “you can’t marry a woman for me at this age…That’s impossible! I am an adult. I am in love with Adaobi and she is my heart desire. This Toun or whatever you call her name is a stranger to me I don’t know her from Adam. And sincerely mum, dad, you are trying to destroy a happy relationship. Adaobi is already pregnant for me and I am honestly in love with her.”
“Whether you like her or not, we shall see when we bring Toun to your house this coming Sunday. You pitiable son of the land that has suddenly forgotten his roots, you have to take back your thinking cap!” His mum concluded and they stormed out.
Okunade reflected on the words of his parents for a moment, shook his head sorrowfully and was lost for words. He wondered if he should tell her the pressure he was getting from his own parents, too. He knew this would break her heart, because she had no other place and he had already put her in the family way. She was two months pregnant at the time. They were both between the devil and deep blue sea. He made up his mind to say what had transpired between him and his parents the previous day so that she wouldn’t be shocked when she sees his parents come in with a lady the following day. Okunade sat her down and explained in details how his parents were opposed to their relationship. Adaobi broke down in tears and cried when she realized the dilemma and confusion that had become her lot.
“Your parents will make trouble with me when they see me here tomorrow.” She said between sobs. “What will I do? What is our next line of action? I love you, Okunade. I don’t want to lose you…you are my love…you are all I have now…”
“I love you too, Adaobi…I can’t deny loving you…” He replied. “You give me so much joy”, he continued, “With you by my side I can face the world…Only the deep can call to the deep. The feelings I have for you are sweeter than honey and nobody can take me away from you…please, just be patient with me while I think…I know this evil wind won’t take us along in its gale”.
That very Saturday, Okunade’s Parents, along with Toun, contacted a powerful juju man who gave them a love potion and assured them confidently that if Okunade sets his eyes on Toun he would definitely fall in love with her and hate Adaobi instantly.
It was Sunday, the D-day. Okunade and Adaobi were having their breakfast when Okunade’s parents, Mr and Mrs Olulana, knocked and entered. They were accompanied by Toun, the young lady they wanted their son to marry. Okunade was the first to greet them followed by Adaobi.
“Good morning Ma, good morning Sir,” Adaobi greeted Okunade’s parents and curtsied gently, but they didn’t answer or acknowledge their greetings.
“Let me get you a glass of water.” She gestured. “No, thank you,” Okunade’s mother replied sharply. “And, for your information, we are here to see our child, not you. You can go to hell!” Okunade’s father retorted. Adaobi could sense trouble instantly.
“Take it easy, Mum, Dad, please just take it easy with her…” Okunade begged.
“Okunade, take a good look at me very carefully,” his mum said, adjusting herself smartly, “This young lady accompanying us is your wife-to-be. Toun get up. Let him see you properly.” The lady stood up.
Surprisingly, when Okunade’s eyes met that of Toun, he felt the enchanting power of the love potion all over him
“What have you got to say?” His mother asked.
“Er…er… nothing Mum… But…” Okunade stuttered in his new confusion. The love charm had taken control of his entire being and mental faculties.
“Toun, take good care of our son” Okunade’s mother pleaded. “We will soon do a traditional wedding in a matter of weeks to formalise the relationship.”
“Oh, thank you Ma, thank you Sir,” Toun said delightedly while all this drama unfolded. Adaobi had gone inside the bedroom in tears. Without much ado, Okunade’s parents bade them farewell and left. Toun was a typical Lagos lady, short and rotund with a sallow and totally burnt color depicting someone who had bleached her skin too much in the past. She was carrying a big bag containing her personal effects and clothes.
“Where do I put this bag?” she asked the confused and befuddled Okunade,” follow me to the bedroom,” he replied, apparently under her magical spell. When Okunade entered his bedroom and saw Adaobi sitting all alone and weeping his countenance changed
“What are you still doing here, Adaobi?” he asked. “I thought you had left my flat, I don’t want to see you here anymore! Is that understood?” He threatened.
“Okay…but please Okunade, let me sleep in the sitting room…Please…I beg in the name of God…” She spoke in tears. That was it. That afternoon Adaobi slept in the living room. Toun came to her and spoke very insulting and provocative jokes at her. The poor pretty girl would cry and cry. She was very confused. That evening, Toun called Okunade and told him point-blank that he should send her away from the house. That day was the most disheartening and terrible day for Adaobi. It was the month of June and the weather was very chilly and cold.
It was raining heavily that evening when Okunade, who was still under the powerful juju and charm imposed on him by Toun, with the connivance of his parents, started assaulting Adaobi.
“Please…stop it! Stop beating me! Please…please…for the sake of the love I shared with you…please…” She cried as he beat the daylight out of her and dragged her out into the rain, throwing her bag at her. Toun was happy and satisfied as she watched the gory drama. Drenched with the rain waters and in tears, the pregnant young girl left for the house of her old friend Ifeoma who lives in Ajegula, on the outskirts of Lagos. Ifeoma married and with two kids allowed Adaobi to squat with the family in the children’s room with the consent of her husband-Mr. Peter.