It was closing hour. Jide sat glued to his seat while his colleagues went their way, each eager to get home
and be refreshed. But for him, there was no home. No rest. The house promised
nothing but misery, questions and more ammunition to the raging battle in his
heart.
His head in his hands,
his mind travelled to the day he had arrived in the city of Lagos; full of
expectations and hope. He had finally secured a job after months of seeking
employment as a graduate. The remuneration was not so fantastic, but it was a
promising start. His uncle whose family resided in Ibadan, but worked in Lagos, had offered him accommodation: an
important factor when relocating to a metropolitan city with peculiarities like
Lagos. He was ‘good to go’ Sir!
Work was exciting, and
he soon adjusted to the fast-paced style in Lagos, joining fellow hustlers on
the roads as early as 4:30 am, getting home exhausted, after surviving the bite
of traffic, late into the night. So the routine went for almost a month before
the tide turned.
It was
like any other day, Jide had got home hungry and exhausted after
a long day at work, noting Uncle Dele had arrived since his car was parked in
its usual spot. He entered the apartment, dropping his bag on the chair as he went
straight to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. He gulped it down greedily
as he strolled to the room he shared with his uncle, where Jide assumed he must
be, probably sleeping after a long day. He opened the door and froze for a
moment before his reflexes kicked in to save the day. He stepped back and closed
the door. His heart was thumping fast in shock and disgust at what his innocent
eyes just beheld. Surely he must be dreaming
because he sure knew he wasn’t drunk. Jide
had been raised with strict Christian beliefs, and till date had never engaged
in the any of the vices many of his peers
had.
He sank into the lone,
old, wobbly sofa in the small, mosquito-infested parlour. His brain took in the
sex-scene he just bumped into. The female partner was definitely not his
uncle’s wife. They had hardly registered his brief intrusion, as engrossed as
they were in the act. Was this a one-time thing or had it been going on behind
his back? Thoughts of food vanished from his mind, as he waited for the love-birds
to emerge from the room; they seemed to be in no hurry. Jide woke up with a
start, his neck smarting from the impact with which his hand had by reflex
landed on a mosquito. It was a quarter to midnight. Surely, they could not have
stepped out without him knowing. He opened the room door an inch, and saw both
lovers entangled together, fast asleep. He was tempted to slam the door and he
only barely restrained himself. If uncle Dele had no shame, then this was no
sudden one-night stand.
The following days
proved him right, as one lady after the other came to spend the night. It was
as though his uncle was compensating himself for the fasting period he had
suffered to make Jide welcome. His uncle made no pretence of it, nor was he
apologetic about his behaviour. Jide suffered mosquito bites until he could
bear it no more and decided to make his presence felt one night. He thought his
uncle would take the hint and stop having the girls sleep over. So that night,
when the screams of fantasy had abated in the room, he went inside and laid on
the plum, plush rug, determined to fight for his right. The air-conditioned
atmosphere was a relief from the hot, mosquito-battlefield in the parlour.
All was unnaturally
still; he pretended to be asleep, while no sound came from the bed. His uncle
was definitely not expecting this move. After few minutes of pretending, he
heard whispers and before he knew it, they were at it again, the girl begging
his uncle to go gently. He almost died of embarrassment. That was the last time
he tried it. Back to the rickety sofa and the combat zone it was.
Tears fell down his eyes,
and he swiftly wiped them off, to avoid questions from his colleagues. Tony and
Pete, his close pals at work stopped by his desk; they sometimes went home
together. Both exchanged a knowing look at his fallen countenance. “Come on,
let’s go, you don’t intend to sleep here overnight do you?” They encouraged him
as they all left. As Pete drove, Tony asked, “what do you intend to do, tell
your parents, inform his wife? I’m not sure you should keep this to yourself,
so you don’t get implicated if this becomes a mess”
“His parents maybe, but
his wife, I don’t think so, yam pepper scatter scatter be that o” Pete replied.
Jide sighed. His
uncle’s beautiful wife was so kind and hospitable, very generous to boot. He
enjoyed going to visit them, especially because of his little cousins who were
so smart and cute. The delicious meals prepared by Aunty Tife were additional
bait. He felt like he was betraying her by remaining silent. How could he ever
look her in the eyes and pretend like he knew nothing? Yet, he doubted telling
her would solve the problem. There was a particular light-complexioned lady who
had become a regular in the house. She was always cooking and even served him
food kneeling down in the respectful Yoruba fashion typical of ladies who were
seeking approval with their intended husband’s family. He felt more and more
like an accomplice!
He listened as Pete and
Tony argued back and forth the pros and cons of either remaining silent or not.
What was he to do?
To be continued….
Ololade Okedare: She has a degree in Physiotherapy from Obafemi Awolowo University and is a writer (screen and prose) by profession. She is passionate about women empowerment, family institution, child rights and social justice. She is deep rooted in her Christian faith and has a platform where she mentors young women. She is an alumnus of Orange Academy and currently running her post-graduate programme in media and journalism at the Pan African University. She is married to her beloved Fiyinfolu.
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