tnx 4 d update!

safarigirl:
2016 arrived early

Yeah.. So happy about the early arrival. Thank you

safari gal, pls am tormented by this story...more updates pls....a very good job you are doing here keep it up.

More update please

On behalf of every followers of urs, safarigirl, pls, biko, wateva wev done to deserve dis punishment abeg, please forgive us! Wer on our knees o, biko until u forgive us b4 anyone of us will stand up!
U av to prove dis by giving us updates of dis tormenting yet interesting story!

*maam we are still very humble!*

Chapter Five

“So, I get to choose my birthday?” Ismail asked, his head tilted slightly as he regards both adults in front of him.

“Yes. Everyone should have a special day when we get to celebrate his or her birth and it’s about time you got yours.” Chuma replies him with a grin. Ever since our heart-to-heart, I’m proud to say I and Chuma have been getting along extremely well, anyone unaware of our relationship would think we’re just your normal, everyday couple with a little, Arabian kid.

We speak on a lot of things, he likes to call me before he goes to sleep and tell me how his day went…I would like to say I reciprocate the act, but I more often than not have nothing to tell him on my part. He never pushes me though, he accepts my usual answer to his questions about my day of “Fine” or “It was okay”, no questions asked. He continues to do these things that make it impossible to think bad of him.

Now, he has assumed the position of ‘Daddy’ to Ismail, he has the entire school convinced he’s Ismail’s father and I’ve given up with trying to correct them as to my surname, I just block out the title ‘Mrs. Ugwumba’ whenever it’s used to address me.

Ismail takes his time to consider our suggestion. This is partly for his benefit and partly for ours as well, we need to get him a birth certificate as soon as possible, the affidavit given to the school just won’t do, “Mum, do you remember the day you brought me home?” he asks.

I almost cringe at his use of words, it makes it sound like he’s a little pet I got from a pet store, but I ignore his innocent mistake and focus on his question, “Yes, I believe so. It was in July, 17th or so.” It’s almost hard to forget the day.

He grins at us, exposing an incomplete set of teeth, “That’s the day I want to be my birthday.” He replies.

Before I can respond or object to such a date, Chuma claps enthusiastically, “Well then, we have a date.”….not that I have a lot of issues with him by-passing me all the time….okay, maybe I do- but, isn’t it ideal that he at least ask my opinion on certain matters? I swear, even as we have become more accommodating towards each others short-comings….or at least I have become accommodating towards his, it’s hard to ignore his blatant disregard for my opinion and I do have one in this matter. A divergent one from what he or ismail may have in mind, but an opinion still.

That day is associated with a lot of dark, twisted things and even though his young mind can only link it up to his being freed from the greedy claws of the streets, mine leans more towards the darkness of that day. The blood, his tears, his fear. That’s all I remember that day for. I just don’t find it an ideal date.

I want so badly to say something, utter a word of disagreement, but that grin on Ismail’s face when Chuma lifts him in the air in their little ‘celebration dance’ stops me. I’ll have to sort this out with the adult amongst both males and most of all, assert my position in all of this.

***

I don’t get my chance to speak to Chuma alone until late in the night after Ismail has gone to sleep. That’s another thing they do that I don’t like. I’ve never been comfortable with being alone with any man past 6pm- unless my victims of course- but, Ismail and Chuma make it almost impossible to ensure that I feel comfortable, even in my own house. I get the feeling sometimes that Chuma is aware of this, so he stays out of my way most times when it’s evening and is at the door once Ismail is asleep. As much as I appreciate his uncommon thoughtfulness, sometimes, I wish he’d take it a notch higher and convince Ismail that he shouldn’t be in my house past 5pm

Tonight though, he changes his routine. Rather than just announce his exit like he usually does, he just calls out for me. I answer his call knowing I have something to say to him as well. He gives me a slight wave and a ‘hi’ as if we haven’t seen the whole day, but that’s just basic Chuma and his odd ways. I reply with a ‘hi’ as well.

He smiles at me and I can tell he’s thinking of something I might not like going by how uncomfortable he looks, so I just wait for him to say what he wants before I lay down all the things I don’t want him doing.

He scratches the nape of his neck and I find the action endearing, he looks so nervous I could almost laugh at him considering his size, “Listen, I was wondering….”

I raise a brow at him, waiting for what he has to say, for some reason, he finds it difficult to spill.

He laughs nervously, his actions perk my interest a little, “I know you may not like the sound of this, but…I was thinking if Ismail could come over to my place and spend next weekend with me”

I stare at him blankly, my profile fails to relay my emotions. I’m glad he’s smart enough to realize that I won’t like this, so, I wonder, why does he bring it up? Why ask a question he apparently knows the answer to? I’ve barely had Ismail for five months, I’m yet to even feel comfortable enough sending him to school everyday, even less to send him off to Chuma’s house without being able to see him for at least 48 hours. As much as I think of Chuma as a responsible man, I have noted certain lapses in judgment on his part with Ismail and remembering them now does not help his case.

“How do you mean?” I ask stonily.

He sighs, “I know you’re about to shoot me down, but just consider it for a second.”

“Why should i?” not that I’m considering his rather outrageous request.

“Think of all the benefits, it could afford you a lot of time, besides, Ismail loves the idea….”

“What?” I cut in. I can’t help but frown at his last words. Has he spoken to Ismail already? What is wrong with this man?

“I said Ismail loves the idea….”

“Why did you ask him?” I’m staring daggers at him and he has the effrontery to look taken aback by my question, like it shouldn’t even have come up. Once again, he goes about doing and saying things behind my back with no care whatsoever.

He stares at me for a few minutes, trying to gauge how serious I am by that question, and then he laughs. If anything, the sound of that boisterous laughter further pushes my buttons, where does he take these liberties from? Since when did he think it okay to skip any consultations with me before making decisions?

He seizes his laughter momentarily, “Isi, there’s no need to get all worked up….”

“When you go about filling my son’s head with ideas without consulting me first, I will get worked up Chuma”

I watch the humour drain from his face at my outburst, oh, so now he realizes I’m not pulling his legs?, “I wasn’t filling his head with ideas, I only suggested a weekend to him”

“You should have told me first”

“I told him we didn’t have a deal until we got your permission” he shot back at me. Gone was any trace of humour on his face, replaced with disbelief and something else….anger? I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of being faced with an angry Chuma. We shoot angry stares at each other for a while until he breaks the tense silence, “I would never undermine your authority where Ismail is concerned, you should know that” his voice is as gentle as possible in such a situation, but that hint of frustration is still evident.

I’m unsure whether to feel sorry for my accusations or still miffed by his perceived insubordination, I hate it when my thoughts are in a twist and prior to the entrance of Chuma into my life, I can proudly say I had never had such a dilemma, rather than dwell on such thoughts, I divert them by turning the blame back around “He won’t be staying the weekend with you and after you deliver that news, I’ll be the one to take all of the blame.”

“As you should” he replies. He’s frowning again, “What do I have to do to gain your trust Isi? I have done everything. EVERYTHING. I’ve been nothing, but caring and supportive of you and Ismail since I‘ve arrived here. I drop whatever it is I’m doing to help you out with him, I attend his PTA meetings, I went to enquire about a birth certificate for him, I’ve done everything and still, I’m treated like a common stranger”

“I suppose you want a medal for all your efforts” I reply snidely.

“I want some appreciation and maybe a modicum of trust if it wouldn’t kill you” he barks.

I glare at him, “Trust? You want trust? Is this your grand scheme? You want to warm your way through I and Ismail and gain my trust?” I ask, he gives me an expression I can only describe as ‘what the phuck’, but in that moment, all I can see in him is the same thing I see in all men- deceit, manipulation, selfishness. To think I almost fell for his act sickens me, he’s just like the rest of them, maybe wrapped in a flashier gift-wrap and cute ribbons, but the same still. Maybe all of this is just a big lie, even right to his story about his scar. Of course, he looked fairly normal, then he gets me to spill my guts out and comes up with his own elaborate story of heroism, isn’t that classic? And I swallowed it hook, line and mugu.

It all makes so much sense now.

“What happens after you’ve gained this trust? You sneak your way into my bed and have your way with me? Is that your grand plan Chuma? Is it?”

He smirks at me, but there is no cockiness or mirth in that smirk, it’s dark and foretelling and I find myself rattled by it, it almost strikes fear in me, “If I wanted to get into your bed, I wouldn’t have to go through all of this trouble. You’re not that hard to crack Isi” he replies.

When those words filter into my ears, I see red. Before I can stop myself, I march over to him and smack him so hard on his cheek, my palm feels the burn. How dare he say that to my face?, “I would rather die than let you touch me.” I spit out, the adrenaline coursing through my veins leaves no room for any other senses to function, I want to hurt him. I want to hurt him as much as his words have hurt me, but that slap is all I have, I would pummel him, but even a blind man knows that would be a futile attempt, he’s much bigger than me and probably won’t feel the kind of pain I want him to underneath all of that muscle.

He stares at me hard and in the darkest voice I’ve heard him use, says, “You’re already dead Isidore, it just hasn’t occurred to you yet”

*shivers*

safarigirl:

He stares at me hard and in the darkest voice I’ve heard him use, says, “You’re already dead Isidore, it just hasn’t occurred to you yet”

Wow wow wow. Am Speechless

wow, thanks safarigirl

Yes, already dead.
So much guts to slap a man.


Isi should just take things easy.

This story needs steady updating to keep up d interest to read it. Thanks for d update but more

I must say you are good. I like the way you write. You inspire me a whole lot... Kudos to you ma.

U are a SUPER BABE. Pls keep it coming.

Wahala don wear cover shoe! Isi needs to forget her past and move on... We can't judge other people based on bad experience we 've heard with some in the past!
Thanks for the update Safarigirl! Keep it coming...Still following u..

Sgirl Chai, dem no dey stop tori for that kind place nauuu.
Wonderful storyline. Thanks for sharing with us.
Abeg kotinu.

WOW!!!!! wat a story

Now thats wot am talking abt! Safarigirl, dah was awesome! I love isi's attitude! I bet she wud be hard to break!

Thanks a bunch maam!

More than any other thing he’s said the entire night, this particular comment hits me hard where it hurts the most, so much I stumble backward at the impact. I open my mouth to ask for an explanation, but I can’t seem to find any words to say to him. I can’t say which hurts most; the words, the way he said them, or the truth in those words. Is there any point denying the fact? Perhaps it’s something I’ve been trying to stop my thoughts from straying to, but whenever I killed a man, when I would stab them repeatedly and watch their blood spurt and bubble until they were drained, when I would relish in the sheer agony in their eyes and reminisce on their pleas for mercy with a sense of accomplishment. In those moments, I feel myself slipping deeper into the abyss only worthy of the dead- the evil dead.

The darkness that has enveloped my life so much so that every man I meet is clothed with a veil of evil. I don’t see a person, I see a demon. Even when there is a hint of goodness, I continually demonize the male race….where is the humanity in that? Are my lack of human emotions not similar only to one who isn’t living? When I can only feel anger and distrust, what else is left of my living form?

“You’ve allowed your hate seep so deeply, you can’t even see good when it’s staring you in the face. Talk to me Isidore, what makes you a living human being? You feel no remorse, sympathy eludes you and even when you need to express it, you can’t even love. Rather than get back at those who ruined you, you’ve ruined yourself even further. Have you thought of what your life would be like ten years from now? When that little boy becomes a man, has it occurred to you that your view of him will change and you’ll look at him the way you look at me and every other man? It won’t even matter to you that he’s been through hell, when he tells you of the girl he likes, when he compliments a woman, all you’ll see in Ismail is just another predator!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” I speak through clenched teeth. I’m not even confident enough to say it out loud, I’m not confident enough to say that I will never look at Ismail as a predator. I can’t say that because even I know that on some nights, when he lays his head on my lap in his sleep, while I run my hand through his hair, I dread the days to come ,the days when Ismail is a young, impressionable teenager. I dread the days when his voice is the baritone of Chuma’s, when his skinny arms are bigger, I dread the days I’ll have to look up to meet his gaze, the coming days when he won’t be so shy around girls and will come to me asking about them. I dread those days because I do not know how I’ll react to him, what I’ll say or who I’ll ask. I dread them because I dread they would mean the end of Ismail’s presence in my life

“Don’t I? You don’t even have the main ingredient needed to care for a child. You can’t love.”

“I love that boy….”

“Only for now, what will happen when he’s a man? Will you still love him Isi?” he asks. I stare at him, unable to reply, unable to deny the truth. I should hate this man, hate him for breaking down all of my barriers, for seeing my flaws and shortcomings and having the gall to continually expose them all and throw it in my face, but all I feel is a sense of defeat. I can’t even hate him and it pisses me off more than any other admission I’ve ever made to myself. For some crazy, unfounded reason, I can’t seem to hate Chuma. I feel the tears rushing into my eyes, but before I can stop them, they unleash themselves upon my entire being. i do my best to wipe them off, but like stubborn torrents, they overwhelm my efforts.

I turn away from him- away from the cause of my tears, “Get out” I say coldly, the firmness of my voice surprises me, but it pleases me as well.

I wait for the sound of the door to open and close which would signify Chuma’s exit, but even I know that some things are not so easy and the sound doesn’t come, “Is that how you run away from the truth?” he asks. I tire of listening to him, I just want to be alone, but he won’t even grant me that respite.

I ignore his question, maybe he’ll eventually get the point and go away, maybe he’ll leave me to my sorrows, my darkness, my death.

“Look at me Isi.” He says as he grabs me by the arm and turns me around to face him. There is no force in his action, neither do I feel a sting at his hold. It amazes me that someone so big can exercise such gentleness even when in a sour mood and to the one who put him in that mood. He’s an enigma.

“You cannot heal yourself if you refuse to admit that you need to be healed. You will never find peace from outside, you can only find that peace from within. Only you can give yourself that peace and causing others pain…that’s just a temporary relief, it’s a lot like a drug addiction, it gets you high and gives you an euphoric feeling at the initial stage, but later, when that feeling is gone, all you feel is an emptiness.” He places his other hand gently on my other arm and stares straight into my eyes. It feels like he can see into my soul, like he can read my pain. I want to turn away from him, hide my grief, my insecurities, my…emptiness, but as if in a trance, I keep my gaze on him, “Let me help you Isi, let me help you heal.” He whispers.

I close my eyes and allow the tears to fall as his words wash over me. Heal. I need to heal. I need a healer. I feel his hands wipe my tears and flashbacks of my childhood come to me. The good memories, memories of his mother holding me and wiping my tears when the terrors of the night and the monsters from my past wouldn’t let me sleep, her beautiful voice singing me to sleep while she rocked me like I was a little baby even when I was a teenager. Gladys had always wanted me to find peace. Her only wish for me was that I would find a sanctuary in the midst of all of the turmoil within me and achieve the tranquility I was robbed of. Even as crazy as the thought sounds to me, as her son promises me all that she had wished that I have, I’m willing in this moment, to find some peace. I need it for me, I need it for Ismail.

I open my eyes with a sigh and he’s still watching me. He has a hopeful expression, but I see the anxiety beneath that, the fear that I may reject his offer, the fear that I may reject my only real chance of ever finding that peace that has eluded me for most of my life. I want to kill that anxiety, I want to…..Trust. Him.

“Help me” I whisper.

Yes oh ...

U just dazzled me with an update. THANKS. Keep it coming babe and u will be a girl after my heart.

such a beautiful update....keep 'em comin

Gifted hands and mind

Safarigirl is on fire.
Well done

Ghost reader...turned visible...safari,all ur works that have read are so wonderful..more wisdom from God to you...keep it up...

*****
“Do you have everything with you?” I ask. I’m probably beginning to sound like a broken record at this point, but that’s just my way of trying to assure myself that I’m doing the right thing and Ismail is going to be safe, I mean, it’s only three days, right?

“Yes, I do and I’ll tell Chuma if I forget something.” Ismail replies me, cheekily reminding me of my other instruction.

I push his hair back as I force my tears to go back. In the five months since I’ve had Ismail, he hasn’t been out of my sight longer than necessary and the thought of having this house to myself once again is almost too much to bear. Five months ago, I was fine living alone and in all honesty, would’ve shot down any suggestions concerning another occupant in this house, but today, it’s like I need to have another occupant here to maintain some level of sanity. Ismail’s presence has done a lot to quell my recurring nightmares and staying alone even if for a few nights, will just bring them back

“Good boy. Don’t give Chuma any trouble, alright?”

He shakes his head no, “Never, I’m a good boy.”

He gives me a big smile and I try my best to return it, but all I’m able to return is a grimace.

It’s been a whole week since I and Chuma came to an agreement and I will admit, things have been getting slightly better for me. His form of therapy is rather strange, but effective. He told me he was going to take me through three steps, but he only mentioned the first one. Prayer…..only, since I and God haven’t really been on good terms, he decided to help me ‘renew’ my faith.

Thankfully, he said nothing about attending church, but there was a lot of bible-reading involved. He made sure I kept to it. Every night, before I go to sleep, he calls me. I honestly can’t say how he’s managed to get the timing so effectively, but he does. Basically, he reads the bible to me and then explains the passages the same way one would break down the bible for a child.

He only reads those that teach of strength in the face of challenges, man’s short-comings and God’s forgiveness and then when he’s through, he asks me to say a prayer. The first night he tried it, I told him point blank that I didn’t know how to pray and he only replied that praying was similar to making a wish or asking a favour. I’m far from being a prayer warrior, but I’m getting the hang of it.

I like that he doesn’t mention our nightly conversations anytime we do meet. We’re cordial to each other, he’s his usual jovial self around Ismail and is very supportive of me. I still have my reservations and sometimes I have to stop myself from getting carried away with him, but I think I’m beginning to let my guard down around him and so far, he hasn’t given me a reason to pull it back up.

Then again, we’re just one week into this arrangement, much too early to make conclusions, but so far, so good.

“Are you guys ready?” Chuma asks breaking our little mother and son connection.

“Yes!” Ismail shouts gleefully, and just like that, he races away from me and towards Chuma, it’s easy to see he’s been looking forward to this the entire week and I don’t know if I should be wary of his exaggerated excitement. Chuma has told me it will be nothing more than just the two of them going out and playing video games, but Ismail’s excitement is rather suspicious

Without being told, Ismail is out the door and jumping into Chuma’s 2014 Jeep Wrangler, I cock my head to the side thoughtfully, “Are you sure it’s just video games and a visit to the amusement park?” I ask.

Chuma smiles, “Yes, I promise I’m not going to take your son to a bar or a brothel”

“He’s just so….”

“Isi” he interjects politely, “It will only be a weekend of harmless fun, there’s no need to over analyse it. And like I promised, I will keep you up to date on our activities.”

I chew on my bottom lip thoughtfully and then let out a sigh, where is the sense in having cold feet when I’ve already given my consent? Besides, I think I trust Chuma enough to make sure Ismail doesn’t get into anything harmful, who better to leave him with than an officer of the law, “Take care of him.”

He pumps his chest out and places his hand against the left side of his chest, “I give you my word.”

I suppose that will have to do.

He approaches me and settles my gaze on his face, “Thank you again, for trusting me with Ismail. I won’t disappoint you.”

I nod my head, I placed my trust in him a week ago and that goes the whole mile for me, it’s not just a partial thing. I do hope Chuma doesn’t disappoint me, because he’s my last hope as far as trusting men go.

He pulls me into a warm hug that catches me off guard. I’m unsure how to feel about it, but he doesn’t let me go until I slowly wrap my hands around him. I think this is how brothers hug their sisters, not that I’ve ever had one of those, but when I see others do it, this is the feeling I think it elicits. He smells really good and I find myself inhaling the heady scent of his cologne as I bask in the warmth of his hug.

I close my eyes to enjoy this uncommon feeling, only to be jerked back to reality by his voice in my ear, “You won’t be alone for long.”

What does he mean by that?

He lets go of me and creates a distance between us, “Don’t miss me too much, okay?”

I want to smile, but unlike my trust, it’s going to be harder to get that.

“We have to work on that smile soon, you’re too pretty to keep frowning.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and then lets go, “Have fun” he says just before he leaves. Moments later, I hear the sound of his car stating and then driving off as Ismail squeals in excitement. I can’t help but feel like I’m being played by one or both of them…..and why would Chuma tell me to have fun? Whoever heard of having fun when you’re home alone

Bless u Safarigirl...Thanks for your commitment. Expecting more..

Thanks Safarigirl for sharing.
Now those two guys are up to something.

Whatsapp are they up to? thanks ma'am

Wwwwhhhhhhaaaaaaaaatttttttttttt Another update?
Haaaaaaaaahhhhhhh. Wow!!!!!!! Thanks lovely.
KEEP THIS UP and let this story generate the crazy traffic it deserves. I m proud of u.

Breathless!!!

Wow,dis is so captivating & very lovely. God bless u ma keep d updates coming

My interest is captured! Nice story. Well done safarigirl.