adeh39:
Mmmmn..... U've got a nice nd interesting story going on here...., following uuuuuuu. Keep it flowing.

Thanks for following, ma'am. Update comes soon.

Now..this is A̶̲̥̅ good story.



Fllg

CHAPTER THREE

Truly, grandma was very old before she passed on, but Beko Jackson would never wish her dead someday or any day. Like a needle showing ways to the thread, Mama had been the sailor directing her son's ship as far as he had known what it was to be a man. The bond that existed between this mother and her son was so strong that the only force that was powerful enough to cut short the bond was this angel that took away breath unaware. Death, it came like rapture, intruded, broke the bond, and took away mama's soul, but not the blemish her footprint had left on the sanctuary of her son's home. Her son's home was like a child. When a child is abused, the effect is eternal, unlike when the child is young, innocent, pure, filled with love and joy, and has no worries. His home had been abused. Grandma had truncated the joy Jolomi and her brother experienced in the earlier years and had broken their home that was initially a cocoon, a protective shed, a place of peace. If Jolomi had told anyone that there was fire on the surface of an ocean, she would have preferred them not to be skeptical about its credibility. She would just need to be asked to get them the ashes.

Home had become a dreadful place, home of terror, when grandma seemed not to fathom the camaraderie, the deep love and understanding between her son and his wife. Grandma had complained bitterly that Jolomi's mother had taken away her son's heart from her and soon she would find a solution to that. Grandma could not find a way to disrupt the marital bliss, but was able to perpetrate her brutal plans through her maid to whom she persuaded father to get married. She had advised her son how wicked women were. Women could kill their husbands to enjoy their wealth alone and to enjoy the children's cares when the time arose. Grandma was able to brainwash her son, flush away love and cares, and infuse the opposite. And now she was gone!

Jolomi began to put in places the torn mental picture of grandma, to remember what she looked like when she was alive, how she would lie to father how much Jolomi and her brother had been hurling insults on the new wife, and how her face would turn fiercer than a raging fire when she began with mother. It was exactly on Jolomi's fifteenth birthday, when grandma stormed home with her maid. Although the maid was not new to the family, in fact she was one of Jolomi's favourite, the least they expected this time when she came with grandma was pregnancy. Grandma's maid was pregnant and it was Jolomi's father who was responsible.

………………………………………………..
The joy of Jolomi's birthday celebration was not something that filled only her heart, her father, brother and mother were also basking in the euphoria. Not long after she woke up that morning, she quickly deep towel into soapy water, she bent down over the thick doubled ply wood table, scrubbing off the morsel that glued on it. She had invited her friends over. So she needed to make the room so clean and tidy. Even though they managed a room, that was not an excuse for shabbiness. She needed to keep the room so tidy that her friends that lived in flat would be envious of their "palace". She had scrubbed off the coated dust on the louvres that they could easily be good replacement for mirrors. The electronic sets only needed slight cleaning. They were new ones. Beko had thrown away the black and white television and the old stereo tape. Things had been better for him than it was in the past since he got a job with the Philanthropist. Her birthday would be special unlike the past soft drinks and biscuits' birthday.

Remi was at the backyard doing laundry, coming every little time to the kitchen to check the jollof rice on fire while Beko and Jamal went to cart the birthday's menus. Beko wanted to fulfill the promise he made to Jolomi that if she came first in class, her next birthday would be sumptuous, and Jolomi had made sure she relinquished all other inconsequential activities for reading, so she was always at the top of her class. Not only the birthday that motivated her, but the promise that she would continue her schooling abroad had been the great force behind her performance.

Flakkydagirl:
Now..this is A̶̲̥̅ good story.



Fllg

Thanks for reading, ma'am. I have updated.

ESIXLOVE:
following till witches begin use id cards

Esixlove, I have updated. Thanks for reading.

Bluestarry:
Nice stori cme update na

Bluestarry, Thanks.

adeh39:
Mmmmn..... U've got a nice nd interesting story going on here...., following uuuuuuu. Keep it flowing.

I'm glad to hear this. Thanks for reading. I have updated.

Aisha800:
Following

Thanks for following. New update beeps!

Remi called out to Jolomi, "Jolomi, add little curry to that jollof!" Remi's voice was audible enough to reach Jolomi. Jolomi opened the cover of the cast pot, the smell of boiled onion mixed with oil and pepper with magi was enough to savour. Chunks of boiled beef and dried chicken were smiling at her from every nook of the pot. The hot vapour fell on Jolomi, but the euphoria of her birthday did not even let her feel the burning heat, rather it warmed her. She smiled, life was bearable now, not like years back when she would wonder if really they were eating jollof rice, because it was obviously flavored with palm oil.

Then, it did not really matter to her if the rice was really jollof, after all it was red and had the taste of magi. It was the kind of the special foods they had on Sundays. Sunday was one of the days Jolomi and Jamal always longed for. It was the day Remi always prepared what they called special dish.

Remi Jackson was a tall kind of woman, agile and kind. Her children took exactly her colour, especially Jamal. She was the best thing that would ever happen to Beko and the family as a whole. She was understanding and caring, and Beko always made sure he returned her kind gestures. Dibu, Beko's friend, who they used to work together at the garage as transporters had attempted to lure him into fidelity, but he remained truthful and sincere to his wife. Remi Jackson was not the kind of woman that deserved to be cheated on. Remi sold cloth at the road side behind the garage with other sellers and buyers. Her market was not bulky, but when she sold the little she had, she would go to market again to get another. She was able to stand up against poverty and hunger. With Beko's income, they could afford the children's school fees. They wanted to give their kids the best of education. Remi, sometimes after selling one or two cloth, she would make sure she arrived early, to prepare the dinner before her husband's arrival. And Beko appreciated and loved that, with the fact that even if Beko did not leave any money for her, she would hustle her way to save the family from hunger. Something other women would lock up their husbands at the neck. Occasionally when fortune beckoned and Beko dropped enough money the following Sunday meant a special dish. Slice of breads, tea, fried eggs swimming inside oil. Before Jolomi ate the eggs many loaves were gone with oil, she enjoyed eating the egg alone after devouring the bread. She would fix her eyes on her food and was always shy to raise her head, to look at her father dipping breads soaked in hot watery tea into her mother's mouth. Remi also would do the same before they both hugged each other. The sloppy sound her mother's mouth made while she was eating always made her smile. Jolomi was always smiling and hoping to end up with a man like her father. Jamal would pitch himself and his food close to the black and white TV. Another Sunday, it might be the oil flavored jollof rice, the kind her friends called concoction. After the rice, they would sip a cup of yellow-red juice, whose flavour came, not from the ingredients, but from the way they shared, toasted, before they gulped down the juice. They smiled and threw banters as though they were all friends. After meal Jolomi would sweep the floor. The floor was not tiled or covered with anything, the floor had been cracking and when she swept, dust would be thrust out with shards of concretes.

Sometimes, Beko would come home with piles of bend down boutique cloths. Jolomi loved the pairs he always brought home. She loved the scent that radiated from them, it made her pray for her father and bless her mother. She felt unique and loved, she felt blessed with such a fantastic home. She would pile the cloths in her school bag, she was always proud to show her friends.

"See, my daddy bought it for me." She would also show them pictures they snapped. The fuss and scurries that came after showing them triggered her sensations. Let me see! let me see! Her friends would request. I wish my dad could be doing this. She made them feel jealous and envious of her family. The pictures always amazed them, different poses and outfits.

After Beko got a new job, snapping pictures became a norm. He would call a photographer to come and snap him and his family or they would go to a studio to snap pictures. The flashes of the camera across their faces were enough to rejoice. Jolomi blessed God for Beko's new job. Things were much better indeed. The journey to his new job was what should be called an unfortunate-fortunate incident.
……………………..
In the 1970s, Beko's father was a courier of money for an unknown looter, launderer, transporting bills of Nigerian currency abroad. Beko's father was so smart that before he transported bags full of stacks of pounds abroad, a colossus clandestine parcels had absconded into a furtive room in his house, which he barred all inhabitants from entering. The day his sharp axe became drab was when pounds was changed to naira. He was abroad then and he had no iota of the changes that occurred, that Nigerian currency could be changed at that time. By the time Jolomi's grandfather came back, the money was due for exchange. To whom could he complain? To whom could he tell the miseries that hit him like a juggernaut? Hearing the news that the currency had been changed, he was instantly struck by heart attack that miserably deteriorated to stroke and paralysis. Beko was so furious at his father's greed, callousness and stupidity. For twenty years or thereabout Beko was being troubled by a constant visit to the General Hospital, which in one of his visits, he met the influential philanthropist, Moshood Abiola, who had come to ensure every patient was being attended to. He paid large sum of money for the patients to be taken care of and he didn't stop there, he visited always to ensure proper medications were being proffered.

After Beko's father stopped responding to treatments and eventually gave up the ghost, Beko had become a frequent acquaintance of Abiola, then he was fortunate to be employed as a security officer. A position Beko didn't know what it meant. He neither worked nor laboured but his salary were being paid. It was far better than public bus driver. That was how fortune knocked his door and he solemnly opened. Life became bearable, and home was more interesting. That was how they stopped eating oil flavoured jollof rice and yards of carpet were used to shell the patched floor. New TV came in. Life was good, far back, far back before grandma intruded.

Nice update....still following.

Great job! Following till the end...

with these first updates, i will be glued till the end

Hmmm Getting more interesting!
Grandma has put asunder,in beko family.

More update plzzz.

*drags my throne to this thread and sits*
is it just me or what? Seems like i'm reading Adichie's piece. So captivating.


FOLLOWING.

ItsAaliyah:
I love this!


Keep updating frequently.

I'm updating now. Thanks for following....

adeh39:
Nice update....still following.

I'm updating now. Thanks for following......

LouisVanGaal:
Great job! Following till the end...

I'm updating now. Reading continues...

Jennimma:
*drags my throne to this thread and sits*
is it just me or what? Seems like i'm reading Adichie's piece. So captivating.


FOLLOWING.

Thank you, Jennimma. There are new updates. Welcome to the throne......

CHAPTER FOUR

The jollof rice was almost done, when Mama stormed in with her maid, Sidi. Jolomi was glad to have grandma at her birthday. At the instance her glimpse caught Sidi, she ran to cuddle her. Regardless of Sidi's village accent like pronouncing letter M as eemu and the horrible marks on her face, Jolomi found her interesting to be with. Whenever Jolomi and Jamal went to visit grandma on holidays, they always longed to meet Sidi. She told them mythical interesting tales, like the tales of hunters in the forest of demons. Jolomi hurried out to the backyard.

"Mummy! Mummy! grandma has come." Jolomi screamed before she ran back to grandma. She didn't quite understand at first, but it was becoming glaring little by little. Grandma's countenance was odd and that had made her focus on her. Her brown Kampala blouse was the one her mother had given her during her last visit. Her last visit had been a different one. Mama noticed the changes in her son's house. He had gotten a better job and things were changing, and his wife had been the only one enjoying them.

Remi rushed in, tightening the yellow-green wrapper loosely around her waist, her top-knot hairstyle was rough, she dressed them back as she walked in, kneeling down to greet grandma.

"Mama, is everything alright, ma?" Remi asked, bemused.

"Everything is alright! It's my son I have come to see." She paused, "I have also come to tell you that you can no longer becloud my son's eyes with your bosoms."

Remi couldn't comprehend this. It was like Mama was speaking in a forbidden language she must not listen to. She wanted to talk when Mama continue:

"Where have you kept my son? Jolomi! Where is your father?" She called Jolomi as though Jolomi had fainted. Jolomi stood, shocked and bewildered.

The curtain of the door swayed as Beko and Jamal drew in with crates of coke. They quickly dropped the crates and polythene bags of birthday menus.

"Good that you have come, my son." Grandma said as soon as she set her eyes on Beko. Mama's attitude was perplexing. Beko couldn't predict was she was up to and besides, why she had come with Sidi. His heart began to beat as though a pestle was pounded on it like a mortar.

"Good day, Mama." Beko greeted.

"Welcome, grandma." Jamal prostrated. Mama did not even look at him twice before she lurched on the couch.

"Come and sit down, my son. Congratulations! It has happened exactly the way we want." She thumped the sofa.

"Sidi, sit here." Beko and Sidi sat side by side closed to grandma.

Grandma's maid was short, anorexic, distorted face. Her oversized buba pronounced vividly the two wells below her neck that could reserve water to use for years and that made her outfit unwelcoming.

"Bring me the stool in the kitchen." Remi slowly uttered, trying to conceal her fears.
Jolomi sat on the edge of the table. She watched as grandma raised her eye-brows to talk; her dark, fissured eyes deepened. Her sparse grey hair lay in wispy ringlets against her scalp. Her arms were frail, but her tongue was thunderous. Words were shooting out of her mouth and strikingly piercing into Remi's heart.

Mama began, "See, this is your new wife. Your husband has gone to market and has brought home a beautiful maiden."

Jolomi wondered what kind of market it was where they sold wives to men. She shifted on the wooden table. Her thighs were closed together with her right palm rested on her black skirt. She was struggling with rage. It was like grandma was dipping her fingers into her mother's eyes. She stole a glance at mother to see her countenance, and to see what it felt like. Jolomi's mother sank into a stupefied and drab moment. The news sharpened the ugly expression that peered out behind her beautiful face. Creases were forming on her forehead, as she squinted squarely into her husband's eyes. She wondered if their eyes would ever speak the same language again. Beko rested his head on his folded arms, facing down as though he was remorseful.

Grandma shot another bullet, "You will begin to live together as one," Grandma called out as if they were far away and she warned sternly, "Jolomi! Jamal! She must not report any of you to me, or else…." She slammed the table and it shook, it shook Jolomi. The ground also seemed to wobble beneath her feet. Slowly, shadow cast across her face, her eyes were shocked as though they were begging grandma to keep shut, but grandma would not.

Jolomi and her brother kept mute as if all were happening while in a trance. This time mother was jolted back to reality. It was real! Tears welled up in her eyes, like the heavy water hung onto the cloud, threatening to rain. Then the rain fell when Grandma shot her deadliest arrow.

"Mama Jolomi, your wife is pregnant." The old woman said spitefully.

Jolomi's mother sat stock still. Silence smothered the room as though Grandma's bullet had murdered the words in her belly. The silence was so thick until Grandma sliced it, "Nothing must happen to her and her unborn child." She said with juxtaposition between threats and advice.

Mama dragged her maid, the new pregnant wife, to kneel before Remi. It all came hitting her unaware like a spray of bullets. Remi felt a stab of betrayal. Her countenance seeming to be carved out of rock as Mama's words hovered over her like a savage bird of prey. Grief darkened her eyes. She grieved no one, but her heart. The silence had lengthened and the ceiling fan that was spinning around seemed to have joined her mourn her heart as power outage slowly stopped the fan. Remi shuddered and tried to speak, but the words vanished somewhere within her lungs. Jolomi quavered without trying to speak, perhaps she wanted to call back Jamal, who hissed and walked out of the house.

She cleared her throat, and tried again, "Be...Beko Jackson, tell me it's not true." Her words came in a low rasping voice. Remi passionately called her husband's name. Beko had the world-weary look as though he was coaxed into it. He said something with a nasal voice as if he had spoken with his nose.

"Get up and beg your wife." Grandma yelled, feigning concern." Promise her you will take care of her."

Father stood tall, "Sorry," He said as though sorry could give back life to the murdered heart and if sorry could be a resort for crime, court would have no jobs.

Father begged and Grandma did the same, as if it had all been a coincidence. Like a caged dog that was about to be used for sacrifice by his decade owner, mother felt betrayed. She wept bitterly. More than a decade. Her face was acrimonious. Jolomi looked around the single room. This one room of love would soon be divided. She went over to the shelf and tuned off the Panasonic TV. She drifted towards the only window. The heat was burning her skin. She packed the curtain and shook it in one corner of the window bars. Beside it was a calendar hung onto a screwed nail. She blinked at the date on the calendar. August twelve nineteen ninety-one. It would be marked in her mind forever. She sat back on the wooden four-legged table, folded her arms and miserably beheld the wall clock as it ticked farther and farther into the future.

Mama glided her maid's Ghana-must-go bag under the bed. Four pipes supported the bed with a spring on it which accommodated the mattress. It had occurred to Jolomi that the love would be divided, but she had not anticipated the future of the matrimonial bed.

…………………………………………………………
The day that followed was like dust had just settled on the battlefield, but the night that followed had resurrected the dust. It was time for bed and the bell of asunder began to ring. Remi would never allow the new wife to share her matrimonial bed with her. She sprung vehemently into dispute, and all Mama's effort to cow her into submission were availed. Beko Jackson transformed into a different man that night. His fickleness was like the sunny weather that suddenly rained. A rain of merciless blows battered Jolomi's mother. At first, Jolomi watched her mother in a valiant posture that said beat me, you would see, but she felt her anguish when Beko pushed her to the hard floor. Then, he pulled out his leather belt, Jolomi shivered as he held the curvy tip of the belt and decided to flog her mother with the steel on the other head. Jamal stood closely to the window, staring at his father's ferocious actions. His heart bled as his father beat the hell out of his helpless mother and ultimately threw her out of the house. Remi clung to her children. In the dead of the night, they trolled down to Baba John's house. Week went after week before Jolomi's father came for them and took them back home. An epiphany painted itself before Jolomi’s very eyes, she saw a sharp edge of knife piercing the love at home, truncating the peace, and murdering what was a home. It was really a home!

Beko caught the sight of the blemished scars on his wife's body. He felt her pains, but not her broken spirit and confidence; not her lost prestige, neither the burning wound on her heart inflicted by the man she loved when he scolded and abused her, and beat her almost to stupor. Beko was no longer a father!

Back home, Jolomi gazed into her mother's eyes, she imagined how she would feel whenever she recalled one of their lovey-dovey days she was always happy to narrate. Those days when Beko would whistle at her mother's window to call her out and tell her how much he missed and cared about her. In the time past Remi had once told her how lovable and caring her father was. The one Jolomi vividly recalled was her narration about Beko when darkness crept into her life. It was Beko Jackson, who became her Jesus, the light of her world.

Hours after Remi gave birth to Jamal, her first kid, no one could really say what went wrong, even Remi herself did not know where she was or what was happening to her. She was frantic and speaking incoherently, giving wrong answers to questions. She strained her blouse vigourously till it got torn. Her hair was frayed and scattered. The doctor told Beko that she had gone mad. He was not deterred and stood firmly by her till she came back to her normal sense. The second time it happened was when she gave birth to Jolomi. It had been noted that whenever Remi gave birth, her deranged mental would take a root somewhere in her brain. She couldn't expose herself to more humiliation, she stopped after given birth to the two children, she believed there was no third child aside male and female. She had both and she was contented.

The night they returned home Remi slept at one corner of the bed, father in the middle and the new wife on the other side. Jolomi and her brother dragged the table to one side and slept on the mat. That night, and many nights after, mother had succumbed to fate, and endurance to bear the loud moaning and screaming of the new wife, as though she was being given pepper to eat and caramel to savour at the same time whenever father was making love to her. Nauseating, disgusting, and a scandalous act!

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Read, comment, criticise, pls.

in lil wanye's voice* No love lost No love found
the family peace must be restored.

Can't beko bear with tha situation since itz always temporal. God, tha poor woman don chop beatinq. And layinq on thesame bed with andr woman doinq tha thnq with my husband, imposible. The marriage don end.

You don feed us here well. Thankz and god bless

OMA4U.

Just read chapter One. Good one.

In the opening sentence, I think the word 'sometimes' isn't necessary. Might be wrong though.

Matter don tie wrapper! ...Sincerely speaking Polygamy has NEVER been mutual between both husband and wife...only the husbands then see it as normal and the wives endure the emotional blackmail and humiliation! ...love the way the story is evolving ..

Beko no dey shame,making love with your mgbeke new wife,in presence of your kids and first wife.
Mama jolomi pray harder,sidi don jazz ur once loving husband.

guy i'm following. Nice prose you've got in here. Keep it up.

Mere looking and glancing through i can vouch that you have conjured up a nice piece here.

OMA4U fire on but i will be back to scrutinize it soon

Nice1bro.Keep it up.

Stuff46, kingphemy, LouisVanGaal, Bunsky, Esixlove, marioking, Vikkyk10, you guys can vote me on this link. Another update will be coming on Monday. I only want to take my time to write the next update very well.

www.nairaland.com/1804027/free-n5000-writer-here-every/31#1804027.1015

When voting starts, please endeavor to vote for me.

Thank and God bless you.