He lost his first wife.

After she had a skirmish with Malaria.

They were just newlyweds.

But the grinning fangs of death sank its venom into their union.

Such is life anyway; for life and death are one, just like the sea and river are one.

He moved on.

Though it was hard.

But he had to.

For he was still young and had no offspring to carry his name unto the next generation.

The second wife came in
.
Ifeoluwa was her name and she brought in joy and made him whole again.

His joy knew no bound when he heard his baby first cry at the hospital.

Hurriedly, he picked up his phone and called the woman who gave him life.

"Mammi, Iyawo mi ti bimo ooo! Ife has given birth to a bouncing baby boy" He roared over the phone.

Mama let out a scream of joy and prayers;

"Iyin ni fun yin Eleda aye. iwọ ti doju tì awọn ọta mi! Thank you Jesus! Dayo, don't worry, I'm coming to Lagos first thing tomorrow morning." She sounded triumphant.

But the bottle housing their elixir of joy was to be broken like the slender back of an old woman.

As Ife didn't make it home.

She gave up the ghost while giving the baby its first suckling.

She closed her eyes and they, the Doctor, nurses and her husband, all thought she was in some sort of meditation to relish on the joy of motherhood.

But that was her own willed way of departure from this earthly realm.

She faded.

Leaving an infant in this cruel world.

To grow up without the supreme love of a mother.

Dayo always knew the mystery behind his travails.

But he was sceptical at first.

Apparently, the reality is right in his face now.

Just like the Ifa Priest prophesied.

Marrying a third wife will definitely break the curse that made his world a theatre of condolences.

But she will die too.

To join his harem of dead wives.

But as he picked up his Son from the hospital, he made a vow never to marry a third.

Nobody is dying again!!!

Even if it means staying single forever.

Let the curse do its worse.
Let the heavens come down.
Let hell break loose.

"No woman deserves to die any longer for my Mother's mistake. No woman deserves to be the sacrificial lamb to atone for my own curse. Two are gone already. They will be no third! It is not their fault I fell from Maami's back as an infant. It is not their fault Maami ignored warnings to dance naked in the market square to avert the curse!"

He said to himself.

Amidst his own sobs.

His baby's shrill cry.

As the darkness expands like black angels wings, absorbing Father and newborn, as they walk into the world of uncertainties.
.
.
.
Bako Abdullahi �

Lagos, 2021.

Wow, great story!

Bigbako:
He lost his first wife.

After she had a skirmish with Malaria.

They were just newlyweds.

But the grinning fangs of death sank its venom into their union.

Such is life anyway; for life and death are one, just like the sea and river are one.

He moved on.

Though it was hard.

But he had to.

For he was still young and had no offspring to carry his name unto the next generation.

The second wife came in
.
Ifeoluwa was her name and she brought in joy and made him whole again.

His joy knew no bound when he heard his baby first cry at the hospital.

Hurriedly, he picked up his phone and called the woman who gave him life.

"Mammi, Iyawo mi ti bimo ooo! Ife has given birth to a bouncing baby boy" He roared over the phone.

Mama let out a scream of joy and prayers;

"Iyin ni fun yin Eleda aye. iwọ ti doju tì awọn ọta mi! Thank you Jesus! Dayo, don't worry, I'm coming to Lagos first thing tomorrow morning." She sounded triumphant.

But the bottle housing their elixir of joy was to be broken like the slender back of an old woman.

As Ife didn't make it home.

She gave up the ghost while giving the baby its first suckling.

She closed her eyes and they, the Doctor, nurses and her husband, all thought she was in some sort of meditation to relish on the joy of motherhood.

But that was her own willed way of departure from this earthly realm.

She faded.

Leaving an infant in this cruel world.

To grow up without the supreme love of a mother.

Dayo always knew the mystery behind his travails.

But he was sceptical at first.

Apparently, the reality is right in his face now.

Just like the Ifa Priest prophesied.

Marrying a third wife will definitely break the curse that made his world a theatre of condolences.

But she will die too.

To join his harem of dead wives.

But as he picked up his Son from the hospital, he made a vow never to marry a third.

Nobody is dying again!!!

Even if it means staying single forever.

Let the curse do its worse.
Let the heavens come down.
Let hell break loose.

"No woman deserves to die any longer for my Mother's mistake. No woman deserves to be the sacrificial lamb to atone for my own curse. Two are gone already. They will be no third! It is not their fault I fell from Maami's back as an infant. It is not their fault Maami ignored warnings to dance naked in the market square to avert the curse!"

He said to himself.

Amidst his own sobs.

His baby's shrill cry.

As the darkness expands like black angels wings, absorbing Father and newborn, as they walk into the world of uncertainties.
.
.
.
Bako Abdullahi �

Lagos, 2021.

Emmie224:
Wow, great story!

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