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|Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 10:51pm On Jan 24, 2015|
She sat on the cab's rear seat playing idly with her strands of hair. These days the thought of her mother consumed her so much she daydreams about her; Life was a cup of tea, satisfactorily warm without sugar. Her father was the only immediate family she has; home consisted of father, and their help; without her mother's affection she felt tensed at times; often, like now as she made it back from her holiday.
Stepping out, the hot weather welcomed her; She breathes out briefly and brushed a hand through her long artificial hair. At this time, in mid-year, the sun usually come down early, smiling, but soon, at noon, it becomes aggressively hot. It came hard on houses, shop, kiosk directly under it, and they become blazing. It pierces human skin like tiny needle's sting. At such times, hawkers prefer their trays or wares on their head. Shop owners rely on electricity to quench the heat. When electrical power is off, those who have trees as shades rely on them.
The thought of a new woman crossed her mind; someone to share 'feminine' things with at home. It has been long someone sat her down and give her motherly advice at home. Where will she get if from? Her father always did his best, but to her, it's just like placing weight on one side; weight balance is not balanced this way.
She struggled her bag out of the cab and saw a boy watching keenly by the roadside.
What sort of parent allowed their child by a busy road?
The young boy stood nervously, waiting for the cars to stop completely before he could cross the road; the opportunity was far from happening. Her eyes met his and the wish to stretch a helping hand came over, but her bag. She considered her bag, it contains all her clothes she used on holiday. She promised herself not to carry such amount of clothing on a short holiday ever again.
Vehicles and pedestrians moved about like dust in harmattan, haphazard and unlike direction. He switched his gaze at her, with keen eyes ---- too dangerous to cross he must be considering as he looks on like a lost sheep in the desert.
'Auntie, I want to cross'
Help those you can, she contemplated, her mind on a battle of choice; should she leave her bag on the side and help? Those eyes were colour of milk, stained black at the centre; it touched her as he looks like a confused and frustrated refugee seeking asylum.
'Auntie, please help me to cross the road', he requested again. His voice was thin, meek, and soft and she felt her resistance wax melting.
The voice reminded her of Eji, their help --- soft and beautiful like an angel. Every morning, she would sing around the house as she cleans, cooks, or does some other chores; she has such a voice that could be thought to have come with the morning --- at noon it was gone; left with a tiny voice which was slightly different. Perhaps it was the morning or the spirit of worship.
'I can't help you, maybe you should call on someone else' She replied politely as possible she could hear herself ---- a hard work opposition to what she was feeling within.
She arranged her bag at her side and turned towards the road. Soon, she would get home and her father will be all welcoming, 'have you eaten? Ask Eji to prepare anything you want. Let's go out this weekend, you choose a place', she smiled as her father's voice rang in her thought. She turned back to the boy; he was still staring at her.
The boy looked at her face and her conscience tightened. Her chest throbbing from the slight increase in heart heat. Though it was a busy road where lots of people are going about their businesses, no one seemed to look at the little boy: a light complexion negroid dressed in a Real-Madrid jersey and shorts. He looks chubby and a spotless skin adorned him. He was going to cross the road while Vareena will take a cab at the side they stood presently. Vareena, who was contemplating before changed her mind completely because he still has his eyes on her.
Her heavy bags can wait on the side and she was sure going to help.
'bring your hand, let me help you' Vareena said and their mouth curved into smiles.The boy showed his milk set of teeth which had a canine missing at the upper jaw, his hand was soft, as soft as a piece of cotton wool dipped in water.
Blood, or perhaps current of shock rushed, hurried around her body at the connection of the two palms. She shook. Her nerves took in unreadable impulses to her brain, like a lover who shared a kiss with a partner. Her smile seized, she stood and watched in awe. She was poor in reading signs, and omens, and strange impulses. Nothing she could make of it. Then, there, after the touch, she felt a huge responsibility took over her like a caring mother hen to her chick --- to protect --- not to let any harm him.
Her consciousness returned soon after, when the boy gave another smile, she stopped staring at him like a mysterious science discovery and smiled too. His smile was cute. His dentition was perfect, she thought as they evaded vehicles to the other side. She looked back at intervals.
'Thank you, auntie, we shall meet again' the boy said when they reached the other side.
'Errm, maybe' she replied.
'I'm sure we will, bye'
'Bye Bye! She waved at him and turned back to cross, but the road was still busy, so she wanted to have a last look at her new found friend. Unnaturally too green carpet grasses and hedges; neatly trimmed at all edges, a tarred road, series of fenced houses, flowers across the fences' root, stared at her; but no boy. She blinked repeatedly, stared and listened to hear or see if any gate would creak of just been closed but none, except, of course, the sounds of cars behind.
How did he do it?
There was only a road which the boy followed. At the side of the road where buildings with long fences which wrapped various houses like a beautiful wrap, how he walked up the length of the fence still baffles her, if he actually did. She was not sure he did. For that few seconds that she had looked away, he couldn't have walked up to the edge of the fence where there was another road that links with the vertical one between the fence. That was the only point she was expecting him to be out of sight. Her head a pool of questions, and confusion matched her frown.
Her heart beat faster and the feeling returned; that of a hen who lost its chick.
Where did he go? she thought, dumbfounded.
A cab called on her and she was confused: she should search for the boy or go home. She waited and think. Deep down she believed he was safe. He was safe.
He should be safe; nothing has happened.
Vareena was a teenage girl of thirteen. light in the complexion of an African origin. Her height was checked at four feet and she knows she wouldn't stop at such height, not now as a teenager. She is still developing into a woman as evident in her appearance: breast, bum, height, hairs and hips. She envied her friends --- those who had breast that could match adults, they teased her about her sizes. But hers was enough though, enough for boys and some miserable adult; prompting them to ogle her. At the age of thirteen, she was growing fast and that made her father walked with a high shoulder.
Although she lost her mother at a tender age, her father sees she never lacks. She was four when her mother died, her father had said. She never asks further dir any time she raised the question her father look terrible like he saw a ghost; like replying her was the same with unclothing in a large public and eventually appearing in the international dailies. The lost of her mother always force tears out of her eyes too, like her father, who was strong in keeping his tears below the inside of his eyelid.
What was she even thinking of the roadside under the unfriendly sun rays?
'I hope nothing happens to him' she sighed and cross the road. She will reach her house in some minutes.
'Well, whatever way he goes. That is the least of her problem', She lied to herself the thought of the boy mattered --- those eyes, that nose, the smile ---- lord save him.
She wants to meet her father, some questions about her mother began an answer. She missed Eji's food, she had been eating grandma's all the holiday.
And the boy.... lord keep him. She sighed again and waited for another cab, she was taken two cabs to cut expenses.
Her journey had been stress-free; no delay at the motor park. Thanks to grandma who helped her pack her things a day before which made her preparation the next morning fast. Along the journey, till she arrived, the thought of her mother kept her busy. She resembled her: nose, height, skin colour and hair; her father testified to it. She had seen it in her pictures too; the one she had kept for herself. She wished she would be at home to welcome her.
She must have died a painful death. According to what she was told; she died with an eight-month-old pregnancy. She was even close to delivery. Unconsciously, tears ran down her cheeks. She missed her, though she was young when it happened and despite her father's bighearted care. She was lost in her thought as different cab pass her by.
'Son lo ni' a cab driver asked her from behind his wheel.
'yes. .yes I'm going' she entered the cab as the man's voice brought her back from her reverie.
'Ibo?' the man asked looking at her from the mirror. She directed and the man drove.
She would talk to her father about getting --- for him --- for herself ---- and the complete story of how the mother died.
'I don't want to create an enemy for my daughter', his father had said in defence of his self-imposed celibacy. This fact made her love him more; a father who denied himself for his daughter. She sighed again and made herself shifted uneasily in the rear seat.
Her mother's grave? where is it? At least she should place some flowers.
Her heart hardened; she would ask every bit of question.
She did not know the complete story of her mother's death will make her sick for days.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 11:03pm On Jan 24, 2015|
Nyc rite up
2 Likes 1 Share
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 11:38pm On Jan 24, 2015|
This is going to be a short story.
But God knows best sha, because it's not complete yet.
Any form of criticism is welcome.
The story is purely a work of fiction.
It's not late to drop your critic incase you are just reading.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 11:45pm On Jan 24, 2015|
I have not done this before. . . But I'm ready to learn.
I call on you all to drop your criticism subtly, thanks.
All rights reserved. No part of this write up from this thread may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means ---- electronic, mechanical, photocopy, or any other in printed reviews withouth the prior permission of the original writer.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 11:50pm On Jan 24, 2015|
Bt wit dix ur writ up..u stil mak it more impresive
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 11:55pm On Jan 24, 2015|
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 11:58pm On Jan 24, 2015|
Kusibe77:U wlcm boss
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 2:28am On Jan 25, 2015|
It was a hunting and tiring demand for father to tell daughter, mother died partly of his mistake. How would he say it? That he was stupid, intoxicated, or that he cheated, was a burden too difficult to unleash.
***NINE YEARS BACK***
Sitting on a couch, his hands lay on fresh feminine laps. It was his friend's birthday party and courtesy had him there, like every other guest, under the faint lit room. The bulb add a taste of blue to their vision. Alcohol, soup and smoke made the lounge eerie to him, others, most of them were indifferent. Staring round, his vision was blurry and he could hardly made out faces. Other attendant of the event where his promiscous friends and their 'side chicks'. Heaven knows he was different till this unfortunate night; his first unwilling try.
Bottles of drinks stood empty on his table, some uncorked and one was half empty in Lizia's hand. Gently and calculatively, the mystery in woman form placed the tip of alcohol bottle to his mouth and he foolishly continued to take the content. To Lizia it was a tactic: to make a man mad, first the gods make him deaf.
Lizia was a girl of many 'taste', especially the married 'taste' like Evan, a handsome businessman. She had tried all procedures in the rule book but he was as resolute as Jesus to her temptation. Now all things are working for her to her course, four bottles of Origin emptied and the fifth is already half empty.
One thing led to another and the ram followed the butcher to the toilet. She unlocked the door, and what she had thought to be an unreachable dream beckoned at her. In speed that beats that of light, his belt loosen, and the trouser dropped to his thigh. Hands got a mind of theirs, with little effort from Lizia, continously, they fist on something soft on Lizia's chest. Then the toilet's door busted open. At the door stood his heavily pregnant wife.
Devil son of Satan! How would he explain?
'Cheryl it's . . . '
Cheryl turned and walked away, one hand on her heavily pregnant stomach and the other on her back. He withdrew his hands hurriedly like they had caught fire. He forgot his legs were cuffed by his trouser. Trying to run, he landed flat, on his palm. His wife would play his head with hockey sticks till his brains blow out --- for this --- for this stupid act. It took him time to get up which makes the annoyed pregnant woman walked out of the building.
He placed a hand on his confused head, in a dilenma of where he should start, what he should say and not to say. He always say the truth especially to his only daughter the one he really cared for.
He trained her that truth matters always.
Mr Evan faced his daughter to answer her
'Nine years ago I had a quarrelled with your mother and she was upset' he began, his face hardened in a minute, he tactically evaded the cheating part to they had a 'quarell'. Even, to nartate the rest of the story was a bitter meat to chew or swallow.
'It did not happened at home so she came home and I followed her. I did not meet her at home. I called her times without count but she will not pick so I decided to call her with another sim card I had at home. She picked on the second ring. But once she recognised my voice she cuts the call.'
'did she come home?' vareena asked
curiously, her heart beat rising with every narrative.
'I was expecting her to come but she didn't. I continued to call her.But after some minutes her phone was switched off. I was scared and restless that night I couldn't sleep. I called her friends, her mother.She was the only child of a single mother. But they all replied negative. The next morning I reported the case to the police station. We searched and searched but all in vain' Mr Evan stood up from the couch and faced the window. Staring into the street, should subdue the pains. It was hard to narrate. His back turned to his daughter,trying to hide the tear that has pooled in his eyes.
The houses outside were adorned with lights. In his compound, on the ground, the gateman has went to sleep, only the busy insects were playing with bulb's illlumination and Gecko's ready to pounce.
'Dad!' came his daughter's voice. Vareena watched her father restlessly, she shifted uneasy on the couch. This man hurt a heavily pregnant woman before she died. She was angry at him. She had gave her everything but this piece of information hurt her too.
Mr Evan put one hand on the frame of the window,turned his face not his entire body backward to glance at his daughter.
'It was my fault vareena, I should not have went to the party. (I should not have let lizia made me drunk and give in)' his voice is now croaky, and the tear this time came down unhindered --- he couldn't stop the tear from falling on one side of his cheek.
'What happened next, how did she died? How?' vareena asked rather impatiently.
'Towards the evening a man called me with her number'
, he sniffed back tears. A man should be strong --- strong he has always been.
'I asked for your mother and how he get her phone. He said she was with her. I heard your mum's voice. They had hurt her and she was crying. They hurt a pregnant woman.
He was now facing his daughter. Both hands in his trouser's pocket.
'He told me a certain amount of money was to be paid to an account. He gave me the time to pay else I will have my child before his birth. I was happy she was alive atleast and money is just not the problem. Because we have searched alot, I was relieved, she was alive.
According to the man's words I should not involve the police or else my wife will pay with her life.'
Truly, I wanted to arrange the money that day, but banks have closed. The following morning I received the man's call again. He asked me if am prepared to pay which I replied in affirmative and that the police was not involved. "You are a good man", he was saying but couldn't finish when I heard a gun shot. It was followed by a loud cry of your mother. Then some hurried steps like someone rushing and then silence'
Mr Evan snifffed back tears and dab his face with his handkerchief. His eyeballs were redish. A tongue tasted bitterness, inside his stomach burned. He held the window pane tighter.
Vareena couldn't believe her ears. Her father's face and voice became a silent, distant voice of some sort. Her eyes became blurry, she blinked trying to regain her sight fully. The event really hurt him so much, and it's hurting her fresh. So much it hurt that he had not move on fully to get a new wife and now Vareena felt a pang of headache.
'he shot her. . . he shot your mother. . .
he never called me again'
What father and daugther failed to know is that Mrs. Evan is very much alive. Infact, she is living in the same town they are.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 8:18am On Jan 25, 2015|
"Cryin" wat an emotional story..bt i nid a drink 2 stop my thinkin..abeg whr z d waiter here
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 8:40pm On Jan 25, 2015|
Pls no vex they will soon attend to you.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 11:24pm On Jan 25, 2015|
The wide football field met her gaze. Her colleagues, short and tall ran after one another like squirels, boys have peeled off their uniform, now cladded in shorts and singlets kicking a ball. At some corner, girls clapped their hands with the other's palm. Beside the fence was roll of flowers and some trees.
The class was all to herself; empty chairs, bags, and tables sat. She had just finished reading a book, 'koku Baboni'. An Africa classic about twin children mortality.The book had taken lot of her leisure. Break will soon be over in some minutes.
Her thoughts drifted to the twins he had ever knew ---- they would have died for their ancestor stupidity, she mused.
Last week Thursday was the day she had heard all about her mother's death, it took her days to got back her appetite, every food tasted sour. She could only think of her for days. She became lean in days, a sick person was not worse off.
Her father had seeked divine touch; he consulted their pastor. The man arrived to their with his wife cladded a in suit to encouraged her.
The pastor's wife to her, seemed she ate more food than her husband, more fat on every part of her body: cheeks, arms, hands, stomach. She wore a hat which casted shadow over her face.
'my daughter, you see, there is nothing that happens that God does not know. Let us believe he allowed somethings to prevent the worst' He had said, the words worked wonders, gradually. She ate properly the next day, though the thought still slid in at intervals.
Just then Mike walked into the classroom. He must have noticed one head was missing among the heads outside. He came in to find the carrier of that head.
He saw her and smiled. Releived. She was getting back to herself.
'I brought news milady' He said calmly, bowed, micmicking what he has seen in movies.
She raised her head from the book which brought her eyes in an elevation to his. He will not seize to remind her he is there, around to make her smile. 'and what is the news?' she asked coyly, and smiled again.
'errrm....', he walked to her, collected the book like he wanted to admire the cover. 'the king wants to read this'
'what?!', her mouth widens.
'See you when I'm finished'
Off he went, running, and she followed, together like Tom and jerry on the school playground.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 9:08am On Jan 26, 2015|
Kusibe77:k i no vex bt i dae wait o
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 5:41pm On Jan 26, 2015|
After break was their Maathematics class.
She would swing into action. This love is getting her head wide, her emotions fueling her action. There is nothing to loose and a lot to give in. In history, more have achieved with subtle tactics than with words and nothing with inaction.
Miss joy had planned to swing into action. She liked the fact that she was enticed by man once married, if the stories she had heard were right. Though she had not read Greene's law of power, she will adopt a technique from it, redefine it: attack the sheep, the shepherd will come.
The man was a gentle father of her student. His skin a shade of black, it complimented her light complexion and those beards, she dreamed of touching. His voice was like abrassive over silence when he speaks, she liked it that way. The height given to him was enough to mesnerize any girl, talk more of the calmness and maturity. She had watched him courteousy from a far, he carried himself around like a judge ready to listen before giving his verdict.
She was loosing it and ready to get him tactically.
She started her class like usual: she explained, illustrating each example with good diagram. Taking her time to teach, She looked back watching one of the student more frequently. She checked double-checked on her if she was concentrating.
And she was.
After some more explanation, she gave the class work to do. She walked round the class to check their performance. But one thing was unusual than it used to be; she was spending more time besides Vareena.
Vareena was a bit anxious to meet Mike.They have to inquire about Patrick Evan, a boy in jss 1 who was new in the schoo. She curious about his face. He was a Togolese and has a sparking resemblance with her father.
Somethings seemed amiss — a Togolese resembles her father.
And this Madam was making her divert her thought.
Some Mathematical question was delaying the break as if the time wasn't moving, as if the time was making the class longer.
Miss joy taught she was helping her but she(vareena) isn't sharing the same view. She want to think about that boy and talk to him. How is it possible? how was she going approach him? Mike will have a way, he always does.
A tap on her desk, 'is it difficult'.
'Ofcourse cann't wait, I want to get out from here', She wished she could say.
' It isn't, ma' she replied, with her nose and forehead.
She practiced the same question Miss Joy gave them at home yesterday. The woman was just wasting her time for what she had already understand. She could remember the answers to those questions.
She will be glad to hear the lunch bell.
Miss Joy noticed the frown etched on her face. She comes more closer to have a look.
'Did you have any difficulty'
'No ma' Vareena grumbled under her breath. She frowned her face the more.
Joy scrolled through her work with a finger.
'You are very correct'
'I Know' Vareena replied nonchalantly
'that's very good of you' Miss joy complimented. She should just get of it, Vareena cussed silently as she swayed her body past her desk.
This girl is sure going to make this a difficult task. She sighed and eventually Joy left her desk.
15 minutes later, Vareena and Mike are together in a corner of the playing ground. Mike had come up with a plan to get Pat's attention.
'He is coming' vareena notify her partner.
Mike began to walk perpendicular towards pat's direction. It was a well calculated movement, like a toy Car running into an obstacle, the two boys collide.
'Sorry boy I wasn't looking' Mike said quickly before he could say anything.Though it was intentional, Mike was doing a excellent work to paint it as an accident.
'am mike and you are'
'yes I know you, you are one of best footballer in the school team. I am Patrick' he smile
d. Vareena coughed behind them to announce her presence. Both boys turn to her direction.
' I am Vareena Evan' she tried to break into their conversation.
Who ask her to introduce herself? She went against the plan, he was suppose to introduce her himself.
' I am going to my class, I have a mathematics question to do' Pat said. He was already becoming inconvenient.
'We can help you with that, she is very good in Mathematics' Mike said. The two classmate winked at each other as they all walk to JSS 1 B.
'I am Patrick Evan, born to a togolese father and Nigerian woman. My father is a lecturer,my mum an hairdresser'
'who is your best friend' Mike asked
'is he in this school?'
'when did you come to Nigeria'
'well we have to go now, we shall meet tomorrow. We are friends now?' Mike said as he rise from his seat and vareena did the same. Things should flow slowly not to be rushed.
Pat nodded his head
'and you can come to my mummy's shop anytime you want to make your hair' he said referring to Vareena.
'where is it' she replied'
'Cheryl's saloon at Ajuni street'
'I will stop by'
vareena was not satisfied, she wants to inquire about his surname but she didn't attempt when Mike was eyeing her to take things slowly. Only if she had took the name of the saloon seriously, you would have asked more questions.
Tomorrow is going to be another day.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 6:12pm On Jan 26, 2015|
I dae gbadun u o..
Kusibe77:I dae gbadun u o..
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 6:18pm On Jan 26, 2015|
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 7:19pm On Jan 26, 2015|
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 10:29pm On Jan 26, 2015|
Cybershow:u always stop by. I am glad u enjoy it.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 11:04pm On Jan 26, 2015|
Kusibe77:Alrite i want u 2 visit my thread xo has 2 kw ma mistake..cux u b ma boss o
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Nobody: 12:40am On Jan 27, 2015|
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 12:47am On Jan 27, 2015|
IdyRaph:Stil waitin 4 an update kindly visit my thread tru d link at ma signature post Ma..wil b api if u du
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 7:39pm On Jan 27, 2015|
Meet Mrs. Evans
Cheryl Evan, the wife to Mr Kayout Evan sat in her shop. The four staff were busy with a female customer. She has to be here all the time when she could leave them to their work. She knows better how staffs acts when there is no eagle eye bteathing down on them.
It was noon and the wide was lit by faciful bulbs the type that excites young customer; babies. Talking about babies, there is a beaitiful girl that has been tormenting her dream. She didn't know who she is. But there is a connection, she believed. Over nine years of seeing the same girl in the realm, there must be a connection.
'Madam see how you fine like Okpeke' Emma one of the staff commented on a customer's finished hair style.
'Okpeke or Oreke?' the lady as bemused.
'your face Okpeke, your hair Oreke' he added jokinly.
Mrs. Evan and other staff smiled. Emma, the only female staff would always make her laugh.
There a lot of things she has forgotten about herself. The recurring dream would have been resolved if she do.
Nine years she suffered amnesia which till this day still exist, she was just going about her nornal life clueless about nine years of her existence.
She was kidnap from on her way home nine years ago after she had a misunderstanding with her husband. She was taken to a far away town. There it was silent of human actuvities, she was blinded with a cloth but she knew their location was far from human's. In the night, no cars moved, no sound of traders or sound of shops and workers. Only the chirping of crickets, crawling of gecko's and singing of birds pierced the silence and left her heart disturbed. Ocassionally, the movement of her abductors too impaired an already troubled heart.
The kidnappers asked her husband for ransom. Inside their den a little hut which was always dark due to poor light coming from a very small window. She had hoped the kidnappers will let her give birth at least if they will use her for ritual or anything. Little hope came when they did demand for ransome.
Five million was demanded.
The second day in their den her prayer was answered. Two other men came to the hut; they were hunters, holding local guns. They fired their gun into the air and her abductors flee. She was rescued. But the incident just at the shot of bullet shot out a lot of her memory.
Metal bed,White bed sheet,white dress, syringes where the things she saw when she woke up. A lady in white gown was writting on a pad.
That day, she saw Mr Kayout for the first time. A dark Togolese man, thin, has a flat chest, six feet tall. He look very tall like the vertical bars of football post. He looked like someone deprived of food but neat and well presentable. The black colour of his suit a match of his watch, the two, one cannot get from an cheap supermarket.
According to him, a pregnant woman was handed to him by the hunters in a village along the border of Nigeria and Benin republic.
'I am a generous man, when those men explain things to me plus the condition I met you. I was willing to help you' he had said his accent filled with Togolese's accents
'you are a in safe hands' he continued,' the doctor said you will deliver very soon, make yourself comfortable,I will make sure I meet the bills'
, that was his words. He is a teacher and lives in Benin.
The half conscious just stared on, confused. Hunters? Kidnap?
She was diagnosed with amnesia and the Samaritan was advised to make her happy. Mr.kayout took things seriously weird, he saw an opportunity to covet what is another man's.
Nine years later, she is now Mrs Kayout and married him unofficially, blessed him with two children; Adora(six), Ben(four).
Then, before she become his, she had thought it's best for her and her kid to allow him touch her. He had not make any move for more than a year. She took the action in her hands and make him do it. They have been living together since then.
Last month, her new husband and she moved back to Nigeria, most of the years past was spent in Togo.
Patrick Evan, the pregnancy of that year never knows his real father neither has he heard of this story. He did not know he has a sister. He believed Mr kayout was his father. He was even bearing Evan a name his original father and his foster grand father shared. Vareena, to him was just her senior.
The dream still hunt Mrs. Evan this morning before coming to shop: her young smiling girl to her in a mirage. She could not get to her neither could she share her smile. Her expression is always blank. She would wake up confused. Kayout has no answer either.
He knew what was right but he opted otherwise. A selfish decision that will soon be revealed by truth.
He was caring, though, treated innocent Patrick like his. Under his wealth of care lies the selfishness of health and responsibility that was hidden to only him.
'I have a past' Mrs.Evan had said. Kayout heart skipped, his precious and 'stolen' wife would soon be gone, he thought.
'yea, just calm down', he always pat her back.
This year, she had breathed fire, she belongs to Nigeria, unless they move here the relationship will be over. Kayout had no choice: obedience or lost.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 8:16pm On Jan 27, 2015|
Oh..a emotional story...bt crayl suppose 2 b patient and nt 2 hav married anoda 1...bt Kusibe77 whr z d waiter..avnt e prepare wat i want..i dn dae vex o cux u don mak me starve 4 here o
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 10:59pm On Jan 27, 2015|
Cybershow:oh waiter,why don't u ...
U r fired!
Hands him a bottle of chillvita himself. Please no vex
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 3:32am On Jan 28, 2015|
Kusibe77:No wahala..i dn cul down nw
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 6:03am On Jan 29, 2015|
Cybershow:people ain't commenting what they think.
Did you notice anything odd in the story?
It will help me improve.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by ACHIEVABABE: 7:25am On Jan 29, 2015|
Following,hop am nt late sha.am i welcum?
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Cybershow(m): 9:33am On Jan 29, 2015|
Kusibe77:No..u dd d ritin in a ryt way..my comment z dat kip it up
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 10:47am On Jan 29, 2015|
ACHIEVABABE:ushers her a VIP seat. U r welcom ma'am
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by stuff46(m): 2:25pm On Jan 29, 2015|
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 7:21pm On Jan 29, 2015|
I hope there will be an easy solution.
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 11:37am On Jan 31, 2015|
|Re: Nine Years Ago. . . by Kusibe77(m): 11:40am On Jan 31, 2015|
Remember to point out my mistakes. Criticise, advise,like with that I will be able to improve.
---- 3 ------- continue.
S.S.S 1 B was noisy that early morning. They turned the class into a mess of what it should be. In groups, topics that caught their fancy were discussed.
Today was remarkably day for freedom, of speech. Miss Joy their class teacher had went out. The feared ill tempered principal has gone out too. This, they saw as oppurtunity to express themselves; tell your classmate what transpired at home yersterday; the movie you have watched; the joke you just heard; the love letter you just received.
Vareena Evan sat on a desk with group of friends arguing She argued about dresses, and beauty, celebrities and style, kim k to Nadia Buari.
The principal had informed them this morning that their Economics' teacher
will be not available. That, they saw as oppurtunity to argue about celebrity and sport.
Nadia Buhari was her favourite celebrity and she will say many points to support her.
Vacated seats were seen in the big classroom.
'Messi can dribble, boy yen crazy gan'
some boys group discussed.
Unexpectedly, the principal walked in. The sole of his shoe announced his arrival with each step he took on the tiled floor, behind him was the petite Miss Joy.
The student scampered in a mad race to return to their seats; they ran like big water molecules under the eye of a telescope. They knew him well; he is a man of few words more actions. To correct a students laziness, make him do more work. Advising and counselling are a waste of his time. If a student fall under his trap, that day is as good as a bad day.
He is lanky man of more height than flesh, his head was always oiled and shone like glass, his barber for the years as always see that there is deserted. Or perhaps, it was deserted naturally. 'for a million stupid student, God created me', he goes about saying.
Vareena also tried to rush but her day of reckoning was that minute.
She got her leg deflected by Bukoye who deliberately placed his leg on
her path. She fell flat like lizard which stood on four limbs.
Miss joy was the first t react --- to helped her to her feet. 'lets go,so you can have first aid, you have bruised your leg?' she said checking her left knee and helping her to her feet.
The two walked out of the class. Vareena support herself by extending
her left arm across Miss joy's shoulder,Miss joy's right hand was on her waist.
This, to her is an oppurtunity to break the fence, to water the ground she would walk. She wanted a connection, friendship, that way she would get to 'him'.
'Bukoye go and fetch 10 buckets of water and wet the school field' the principal ordered. Bukoye became shell-shocked, his mouth went wide, speechless.
Damn it, he saw him.
'did you know what you did?'
'I . . . I. . .I fell her' bukoye stuttered.
'Now get lost and make the field wet' he barked pointing towards the door. 'If it dries before I am done here, you will start all over again'
his voice was fierce which makes the class kept decorum.
Bukoye walked out his eyes admiring his toe.
'And to all of you, you will remain standing till am through with this
lesson' he said referring to the class.
He turned and walked to the already cleaned board and wrote 'sex education'
SS1 B was in a pin drop silence, least he changes his mind.
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