EVA! EVALLY!! NICE UPDATE DEAR. THANKS SO MUCH.

WELDONE

Shalomdee:

(Where are all these emoticons sef), dearest queenitee

I don't know o. Jane my love, come and hug me, you would be fine. Shalomdee, you are the best dearie

Thanks alot

Hey followers, strike has been called off and exams are to start upper week, I am so sorry but it looks like I will be off for some time (not for the whole period though) so I can study but I promise to come back with more interesting updates. Here is a short update I was able to put together:

CHAPTER ELEVEN continued
Lancelot came home one evening from work; he was so drowsy that he fell asleep immediately his body landed on the couch. Jane had to help him remove his shoes and collect his briefcase from his hand. Rahila was not at home, she had left for her night duty. Jane took the items she had collected and went to the couple’s room. It was a room she rarely entered; she had only been there twice.

She scanned the room when she was inside, the cream tiles, cream curtains and cream wall made the room seem very spacious, like one of those never ending passages they showed in the Matrix. The bed sheet was coloured pink and it was the only colour in the room that gave it a feminine touch. She deposited the shoes near the wardrobe and the briefcase on the bed then turned quickly to go but something occurred to her that she could linger in the room longer, a bad idea she thought, but found it irresistible not to hang around the room and feel the ambiance of a couple’s matrimonial room. They will both disapprove of course but she would not be caught now.
You like your stay here don’t you? Her subconscious said to her. “Killjoy.” she said aloud and turned to go. Someday, she will have her own matrimonial bedroom and she would linger in it as much as she wanted.

When she entered the living room, she met with Lancelot face to face, he was awake now and was sitting upright trying to shake the sleep from him.

“Welcome Brother, you are up already. You need to sleep, you look very heavy.”

He shook his head, his black tie dangled as he did. He knew it was helpless, sooner or later he would still fall asleep but he thought about the paper work he had to do today, he needed to be awake.

“Prepare me some coffee please.” He said with a yawn.

“That is not a good idea Sir, you are on antidepressants and taking caffeine will not be good for your body system.”

He turned sideways and gave her a brief look; his eyes were lopsided as he did. “How do you know that?”

“I did some research on the type of drugs you are taking.”

“It is just for today, nothing will happen, please.” His eyes looked pleading.

Jane prepared him coffee and he drank gently. While he sat in his room doing the paperwork, he thought about himself, he had become so tranquil and meek, his work seemed now to move fairly well, there were no complaints any longer and he seemed stable. But he had lost passion, passion for his career and the enthusiasm he always had about his patients was gone. Today the little boy that had been cured of tuberculosis came back for check up and Lancelot was surprised he was not so concerned about the boy any longer, and yet he and the boy had been very fond of each other. He had lost his interest in the little children, only the monotonous drill of getting them cured was his concern. Was it because of the drugs? It had to be. What else could explain the lack of interest in his patient’s happiness? His relationship with Jane had improved though, he felt less possessive of her and the taunting thoughts and nightmarish experiences had dwindled, though they still came up once in a while. He missed the excitement of his old self and disliked his present apathetic nature.

“Don’t stop taking the drugs till I tell you to.” Doctor Tunde had warned sternly. Lancelot could still remember the glow in his eyes when he said it and the way his grey hair had seemed to stand upright. But he knew himself, there was no way he was going to continue taking the drugs for long. It made him think of himself like a junkie, an irredeemable one.

“Stopping the drugs abruptly could lead to a relapse, a relapse worse than the former.” Lancelot could still hear the psychologist’s warning. But how could he continue to carry on his life in this zombie state?

Gud Luck

nice

Poor Lancelot

Nice story.

All the best in your exam

How far? hope all is going on fine with you? waiting to hear from you soon and please mention dessydemmy o.

What an intriguing story. Shalomdee kudos to you jare.
Wish you success in your exams

Shalomdee:
Hey followers, strike has been called off and exams are to start upper week, I am so sorry but it looks like I will be off for some time (not for the whole period though) so I can study but I promise to come back with more interesting updates. Here is a short update I was able to put together:

CHAPTER ELEVEN continued
Lancelot came home one evening from work; he was so drowsy that he fell asleep immediately his body landed on the couch. Jane had to help him remove his shoes and collect his briefcase from his hand. Rahila was not at home, she had left for her night duty. Jane took the items she had collected and went to the couple’s room. It was a room she rarely entered; she had only been there twice.

She scanned the room when she was inside, the cream tiles, cream curtains and cream wall made the room seem very spacious, like one of those never ending passages they showed in the Matrix. The bed sheet was coloured pink and it was the only colour in the room that gave it a feminine touch. She deposited the shoes near the wardrobe and the briefcase on the bed then turned quickly to go but something occurred to her that she could linger in the room longer, a bad idea she thought, but found it irresistible not to hang around the room and feel the ambiance of a couple’s matrimonial room. They will both disapprove of course but she would not be caught now.
You like your stay here don’t you? Her subconscious said to her. “Killjoy.” she said aloud and turned to go. Someday, she will have her own matrimonial bedroom and she would linger in it as much as she wanted.

When she entered the living room, she met with Lancelot face to face, he was awake now and was sitting upright trying to shake the sleep from him.

“Welcome Brother, you are up already. You need to sleep, you look very heavy.”

He shook his head, his black tie dangled as he did. He knew it was helpless, sooner or later he would still fall asleep but he thought about the paper work he had to do today, he needed to be awake.

“Prepare me some coffee please.” He said with a yawn.

“That is not a good idea Sir, you are on antidepressants and taking caffeine will not be good for your body system.”

He turned sideways and gave her a brief look; his eyes were lopsided as he did. “How do you know that?”

“I did some research on the type of drugs you are taking.”

“It is just for today, nothing will happen, please.” His eyes looked pleading.

Jane prepared him coffee and he drank gently. While he sat in his room doing the paperwork, he thought about himself, he had become so tranquil and meek, his work seemed now to move fairly well, there were no complaints any longer and he seemed stable. But he had lost passion, passion for his career and the enthusiasm he always had about his patients was gone. Today the little boy that had been cured of tuberculosis came back for check up and Lancelot was surprised he was not so concerned about the boy any longer, and yet he and the boy had been very fond of each other. He had lost his interest in the little children, only the monotonous drill of getting them cured was his concern. Was it because of the drugs? It had to be. What else could explain the lack of interest in his patient’s happiness? His relationship with Jane had improved though, he felt less possessive of her and the taunting thoughts and nightmarish experiences had dwindled, though they still came up once in a while. He missed the excitement of his old self and disliked his present apathetic nature.

“Don’t stop taking the drugs till I tell you to.” Doctor Tunde had warned sternly. Lancelot could still remember the glow in his eyes when he said it and the way his grey hair had seemed to stand upright. But he knew himself, there was no way he was going to continue taking the drugs for long. It made him think of himself like a junkie, an irredeemable one.

“Stopping the drugs abruptly could lead to a relapse, a relapse worse than the former.” Lancelot could still hear the psychologist’s warning. But how could he continue to carry on his life in this zombie state?

Are you through with us.. I'm still waiting for updates

U just run liv this interesting story just like that shalomdee

I Have been very busy but still following bumper to fender.

U Have Stop Dis Story abi

Shalomdee, I still have hope that you will finish this story

Shalomdee, hope all is well.


Anyway, strike don finish tey tey na. Session self go almost join. This story was sooooooooo interesting, you should do something about it, if possible.

How Shalomdee left this captivating piece uncompleted is beyond me

kingphilip:
How Shalomdee left this captivating piece uncompleted is beyond me

Me too

I'm so sorry friends for abandoning this story on Nairaland. I know you are all angry and to make amends I promise to complete it starting next week. The story has been completed and I will only need to post it here. Please forgive me, I am truly sorry. See you Monday.

Apologies accepted and to redeem yourself fulfill your promise of the complete update

Apologies accepted...not fully sha, till we get an update.

Shalomdee:
I'm so sorry friends for abandoning this story on Nairaland. I know you are all angry and to make amends I promise to complete it starting next week. The story has been completed and I will only need to post it here. Please forgive me, I am truly sorry. See you Monday.

Dear God!!! Welcome and yes please do complete this wonderful story

CHAPTER TWELVE
Jane had succeeded in getting a place in the university. After writing the Post-JAMB she had scored 80 over 100. Her name had come in the Merit list for admission. New school session started in the month of July and registration for the new students also commenced. Lancelot and Rahila were excited about Jane being enrolled into the University, they gave her all the help they could give; it gave them fulfilment to see a relative getting an admission as a result of their help, they shared in the joy of Jane’s dreams.

One Thursday, Lancelot was in the hospital with his psychologist Robert Bitrus who he preferred to now call Bob. Doctor Tunde had selected Bob on his behalf saying Bob was a kind and professional fellow. He was dark skinned, average sized and spoke with deliberate slowness. Lancelot noticed Bob had mastered the art of getting people to divulge their secrets; he had a way of getting you to feel what you were about to say was not really meant to be a secret. Lancelot cherished his confidence, some psychologists he had met were not really good at their job, but Bob was.

“Consider me first of all your friend because I really want to be your friend.” Bob had told him on the first day of their meeting emphasizing his nouns and looking into Lancelot’s eyes while they talked in the manner all psychologists did. Bob had then begun telling him about himself, his family and while he took on the job of a psychologist. At the end of their session it had seemed Lancelot was the one who knew more about Bob.

“Someday I will get to meet with your Jane, with the way you talk about her, I’m feeling I’m the biggest loser for not knowing her. She must be a gem?” Bob would say on one of those days they met.

“You bet.” Lancelot would answer smiling before realizing he had disclosed something important yet again.

On this Thursday Bob made tea for the both of them and served them in little yellow ceramic cups, the size used in Chinese movies. “I want you to tell me a little about Salem, just a little though because I notice her name upsets you; I can understand, but I want to have a sort of picture about her in my mind. I know she would have been pretty, with eyes of doves, lips like mangoes and a smile that could tame a lion.” He said as he put a drop of honey into Lancelot’s tea and pushed it to him.

“Thank you.” Lancelot accepted it and let the ginger flavour in the tea envelope him. He took a pause and thought how best he would unveil the memories he had of Salem without disrupting his emotions.

He remembered the day he had come back from school to meet Uncle Uche, Aunt Eunice and Salem sitting in the living room with his parents. He had greeted them bowing and had gone into his room to change. He met his brother, Gerard, also putting on his trousers. His brother intimated him on why their cousin and her parents were in their house.

“They have come to ask Daddy and Mummy to help them in paying Salem’s school fees.” Gerard had told him wearing his fake smile which signalled he had more to tell.

“It’s a lie.” Lancelot had replied. “Uncle Uche cannot be asking Dad for help, he has money of his own to take care of his children.”

Uncle Uche was their father’s younger brother. He had six children of his own. He ran a shop where he sold textiles and tailoring materials while his wife Aunt Eunice sold provisions in her own shop. They had never had to ask their father for financial help, perhaps they had run into debt. Lancelot thought about this as he fiddled in his box for a nice T-shirt to wear to impress his cousin Salem.

It turned out to be just as Gerard said, Uncle Uche had run into serious debt and needed all the help his brother could give him with raising Salem. Mr Okoronkwo understood with his brother and accepted to help raise Salem and pay her school fees. Uncle Uche and his wife left the next day to go back to Imo leaving a shy and scared Salem with them. He tried to be friendly with her and put her at ease, he could not understand it but her presence made him very happy. It would have been because he lacked a sister, all his siblings were boys, he was tired of the fights he had with his brothers, and he needed a feminine companion at home.

His brother Gerard could not be bothered about feminine companionship, he was more concerned about taunting and teasing Salem, sometimes he would try to physically bully her, when Lancelot found out about this he lost his temper and beat his brother like he had never done before. It took the intervention of his mum to stop. After this he became Salem’s hero. Soon they referred to them as husband and wife.

“Where is Salem’s husband? I need him to come and fix this blocked sink.” His mother would say on one of those days.

It irritated him sometimes and he told them to stop the jesting but they would not; the title stuck, they got used to it.

“Go and call your wife to take this corn to the grinding engine across the street.” His mum would tell him and he would silently rise from the novel he was reading and go into Salem’s room with a deliberate slowness to protest this forced marriage to his cousin.

One day the name calling stopped. His father put an end to it. He had come home from a meeting one Saturday and sat down on the chair only to hear Gerard say to Salem:

“You think I am your husband, eh? Oya, vamoose before I injure you so that he will not be able to recognize you again.”

There was something in the way Gerard said it that revolted his father, it sort of brought him to see the immodesty in the joke. He asked Gerard to shut up immediately and gave him a dangerous look; the sort of look he gave to his boys before he pounced on them. “Call everybody to the sitting room; I want us to have an emergency meeting. Call everyone.” He shouted at Gerard who shrunk away fast like a dog who had been kicked in the stomach.

“My husband, you sent for us and we are all here.” Lancelot’s mother began when they were all gathered in the sitting room.

Mr Okoronkwo scanned the room silently. He started from his wife and ended with Obi, Nonso and Terry the three youngest boys who had been banned from sitting on the chairs in the sitting room because of their rough nature.

“I want to emphatically state today that I don’t want to ever hear anyone in this household calling Lancelot and Salem husband and wife again. It is devilish to even imagine or joke that two cousins will marry themselves. God forbid, that will not happen in my household.”

Everybody shifted uncomfortably in his or her seat. Mrs Okoronkwo defended them asking him if he did not joke or tease people sometimes. “This joke started because of the way Lancelot protects Salem, there is nothing more to it.”

“I want it to stop!” Mr Okoronkwo declared. “That is how you put ideas into innocent people’s head. Words have power, don’t you know that?” He addressed his wife. “You are saying it is nothing more than a joke, the devil may not see it that way and would take this joke and start using it against us in this house to bring something shameful to happen. It is not natural for cousins to get married, it is not part of our culture as Ibos or our religion as Christians. Don’t put crazy things into these innocent people’s heads, biko. I have spoken. If I hear anyone saying that trash in this house again, the person saying it will not go unpunished. This is the end of this family meeting.” He stood up and went to his room leaving everybody feeling awkward.

One by one everyone left until Lancelot and Salem remained. They looked at each other and communicated using their secret eye language.

“Did you tell Daddy anything?” Lancelot asked with his eyes.
“Of course not.” Salem answered him.

Perhaps it was because Mr Okoronkwo was spiritual that was why he had been able to detect that something could go awry between both of them. It had all started innocently. Lancelot noticed Salem felt at loss in the household and needed somebody to make her feel better, he started getting her to talk when they were alone in the house. A friendship had formed between them; they wrote to each other in code languages when at school and when they walked back home together they communicated in their eye language no one else could understand. Salem felt happy; she told him often he was the reason she was able to bear the change of environment. Something about her made her endearing; the way she rolled her eyes when she was shy, the sound of her small voice that was never loud enough and the power it had to transport one to the moon and back when she sang, her laughter that was always reserved as if she had learnt the art of laughter in a special school. She was unique in a very good way and very soon Lancelot could not help but develop feelings for her, but he did not tell her, she was the one who discovered.

It was one of those days when they were alone in the house, Lancelot’s parents had gone to church and his younger siblings had gone to play a soccer game. They had been discussing about countries they would like to visit. Lancelot was interested in Europe and she was interested in Asia, particularly China and Japan where the teenagers there developed drones and computers, she wanted to raise her children there and when she said the word children she stared at him fixedly as if there was something in the word he had to know more about. He shrugged and said that would be nice. Then she reached out for his hand.

“How long are you going to keep your feelings for me secret, when do you plan to tell me what you feel?” She asked sinking her eyes into his in a way that made him feel off balance.

“What do you mean?” He averted her eyes.

“You like me a lot.”

“As a cousin. I take you for a sister.”

“No. You wish we could marry one day?”

“That’s absurd.” He was now offended, her knowing the truth was abominable even more that the idea itself.

He could not relate well with her for several days and those days he felt no other experience could be worse. In the end he wrote her a long encrypted message asking her to be his girlfriend and telling her he hoped they would get married when they were older. She replied with one sentence. Yes, but no sex. So their relationship started without the knowledge of his family and they limited themselves to just hugging. Everything seemed to be moving fine till his father called the meeting.

The next day under an orange tree they met and talked on how they needed to be careful so no other person would know. Lancelot was very worried though Salem reassured him nobody was going to find out. A thought came into his mind that he was going to lose her soon but he did not tell her this instead before they left back home he asked her if he could kiss her. She was shocked and said no initially. He pressed her. It will be just a kiss and nothing more. It was her turn to be afraid and he in turn assuring her. She gave in; it was so short and quick but both of them left feeling embarrassed as if more had happened.

The next afternoon after school there was another family meeting. There were in trouble this time. Someone had reported to his parents that they had been seen kissing under a tree. Did they admit to this or not? Lancelot spoke and said yes, they kissed, they loved each other and wanted to get married when they grew up. His family was shocked. Mr Okoronkwo immediately administered punishment. They were both beaten and warned not to desist the rubbish they started or else be disgraced. Mr Okoronkwo then called his son privately to tell him how he had disappointed them and how he must never allow such a thing repeat itself. It did not stop there; Lancelot’s mother was so upset with Salem that she stopped relating well with her and instead treated her with disdain. She called her bad names and warned her other sons to stop being friendly with her because she was a seductress who had come to lead them astray. Somehow, word also spread in school about their amorous relationship and the students whispered as they walked or giggled when they saw them. Salem’s friends stopped talking to her out rightly because they did not want to be influenced by her abominable opinion.

Lilyjoe567, queenitee, Akinwale14, mhizgap, hormobolanle, Chumzypinky, Ifecoded, talk2saintify, Kayzybaba, abefe99, WHOcarex, VETSURGEON123, royalty18, VEEGEECEE, smokeydrinky, Loboski, aprilwise, PrudySara, kingphilip, Cmyname, Didov1, Toyin223, FreshestManny, Kesterkendra, bishop88, Twinkl004, Dessydemmy, rchilee, Lildiamond, Hantonia, Pearl05, nathblessing, bossy512, Honeydawealth, crislyn, Akazeta, Chommiblaq, itsandi, Evajael, gracille, you people should forgive me and read the rest of the story, I promise to be consistent.

Nobody cared to ask why they did it, nobody wanted to know their side of the story. They were all labelled as evil doers. Salem sank into her shell; day by day her world became darker, she lost her smile, her laughter and her song. Lancelot saw her drifting but could not reach out to her since their family watched them closely. One morning Salem woke up and refused to go to school; she refused to tell her aunt and uncle the reason she would not go, she just stared at them blankly as if they were statues as they questioned. They left her and went to work, Lancelot felt something would go wrong but could not stay behind. He left for school and wondered what she was up to. At 12p.m when the bell rang for short break, he hurried back to the house to check on her and also talk to tell her things will be alright. He opened the door to her room after he had knocked and the sight he saw shocked him, it was the sight that will continue to haunt him in his dreams- she lay with her eyes wide opened facing the ceiling, her hands holding a black thread that she had used to strangle herself.

He had another relapse after that; it was too much for him to bear. This time he blamed his parents for her death and became violent occasionally. It took him a while before he got over it and come out of that relapse. But he still felt the pain of losing her and many times her name brought back dark memories of shame, disgrace, fear and death. His family were told to erase her name from their discussions and give him time to fully heal, but he never fully healed.

Dr Bob sighed when Lancelot was done with his narration. He rubbed his hands together for some time before speaking.

“I see. I see the reason for your pain and hurt. You have not been able to forgive yourself because you feel ashamed for loving your cousin against society’s standard and also not being able to protect her from the consequences of your actions... you cannot heal except you forgive yourself. It was not your fault, you were a boy and your feelings were normal...”

“My feelings brought her to her untimely death”

“No, she caused her death. I’m sorry, you think you are being fair by blaming yourself, but believe me when I say you are not responsible for her death. You were both young and unguided, each person felt the pain of the shame and each person responded differently.”

“You know what also upsets me? The fact that I had to lose two ladies that meant the world to me, it made me feel like I was the one who brought bad luck to them.”

“Bad things happen all the time, they just experienced one of the bad things that happen to people over the world, you were not responsible.”

Seeing the message had still not sunk, Dr Bob took a pen and wrote on a paper and gave it to him.

“Read that and let it sink.”

“I am not responsible for Salem or Amaka’s death. I was only a witness. I am not to blame.” Lancelot read. “Come on Bob, reading this makes me feel irresponsible.”

“It’s okay to be irresponsible at times, you need to know you are free, for a long time you have been believing you are in a cage bound by love and duty, there is no cage. Read it some more times aloud and I will allow you take it home and read it to yourself every time. Don’t underestimate the power of words, they are powerful I tell you. They have the power to heal and make sick, what has been haunting you are as a result of the bad words you have been feeding yourself that torment you as negative thoughts. Your fears are not real and you can prove that to yourself by what I call Word Therapy. I am going to write some words on some pieces of paper and give you and your assignment will be to read it to yourself out loud every day at work or home for a few minutes. Each is important, do this and we will keep track of your feelings whenever you come for your sessions.” He began to write quickly with his pen.

I'll finish the story this week, tomorrow I will drop another continuation, thanks for reading.

Thanks for the update

Shalomdee:
I'll finish the story this week, tomorrow I will drop another continuation, thanks for reading.

thanks so much.

CHAPTER TWELVE continued
Pamshak got off from the commercial taxi that stopped at Gada Biu. He paid his fare and picked up his bag from the booth. He took in a deep breath and exhaled feeling glad to be back to Jos, the land of his birth, after the long time he had spent in Lafia. He gazed at all the new landmarks and buildings and felt proud of the developments. His mind then went back to the purpose of his coming; he smiled and congratulated himself in advance knowing he would not stop until he had gotten his task achieved. He walked to a confectionary and drinks shop and asked for a coke and doughnut to ease away his hunger. Minutes later he arrived at his father’s house. His mother was looking very old and sick but she welcomed him heartily and got up to prepare him some gote; he ate and slept off. When he woke up she had gone to the neighbouring house and could be heard conversing there. Pamshak took a long look at the house, the zinc that roofed the house had caved in and parts of the ceiling had also fallen away. The walls of the house were dirty and had lost its paint. He thought sadly how he had abandoned his mother to suffer.

He was her only son, her two elder daughters had absconded away to live with their poor lovers after their father’s death and could not contribute anything reasonable to their mother. He had wanted to go far from home believing he would be more successful there but even then things were still the same. He now thought of what he would need to do for their old house with the little resources he had managed to gather and bring back with him. He had to repair the house and also buy some medicine and food for his mother if only to compensate her being neglected for so long and prove he was not entirely useless as people said he was.

He sat and waited patiently for his mother to come back from the neighbouring house and intimate him on some news. He did not have to wait for long; she came back minutes later bearing some cocoyams in a tray which she intended to cook for dinner. Pamshak assisted her cooking while she talked to him about what had been happening to his sisters and cousins while he was away. After their dinner, he told her of his plans to renovate the house; she smiled and told him it was much needed. Then he asked her if she knew anything about Jane and his son. She took a deep sigh and began telling him how she had heard that Jane came back with his son years ago but could not set eyes on her because Jane avoided their house and she also was ashamed to go near her. She occasionally saw Jane’s mother but could say nothing to her and she did not know where Jane or his son were now. Pamshak thought for a while. He would go to Jane’s mother’s house within the week and find out about the whereabouts of Jane and his son.

He went to Mrs Dung’s house on a Saturday. The weather was cloudy and the air was wet with the morning dew. He met her outside the house washing clothes and rinsing them as quickly as possible so the rain would not fall before she finished. She had not changed much; she had only put on a few pounds.

“Good morning Ma.” He greeted and put on his bold air to show he was not afraid of any negative reaction from her.

She turned and when she saw him, she was shocked for some seconds and remained silent thinking of the best way to react. Memories of the trauma and shame he made her undergo came flashing her mind and for a little while she felt numb.

“What do you want?” She asked breathing fast and looking at him with angry eyes. Her eyes had suddenly turned red.

“I’m sorry to disturb you Ma, but I am here to ask of my wife and son.”

Mrs Dung was enraged. How could he? So he had the effrontery to call Jane his wife after he had shamefully led her to leave her home and mistreated her?

“You are a buffoon!” Mrs Dung shouted. She had previously been having a headache but anger had fuelled her with a strange energy to tear Pamshak apart. “Ingrate!” She continued shouting. “Nincompoop! Which wife? Na wa ne ka bia a ken ta? (How much did you pay for her?) Banzan yaro! (Stupid boy!) Allah zai sine ka. (God will curse you)”

Her shouting alerted the presence of her neighbours. One of them called Ali, a father of three but a famous tout in the area, sensing Pamshak was the one who had absconded with Jane and wanting to display his anger went up to Mrs Dung.

“Ya isa, Madam na ce ya isa. (It is enough, Madam I said it is enough.) Wai ne wanan? (Who is this?) He said with his muscles flexing and ready to pounce on the trouble maker who had dared to invade their peace.

“I’m Jane’s husband and I am here to see her and my son.” Pamshak responded thinking the men gathered will intervene on his behalf and side with him.

“My friend you are an idiot!” Ali barked. “You are a big idiot. Which wife did you marry here?” He turned to the other men gathered. “Kama shi mu dadaka shi!” (Get hold of him so we can deal with him)

The men got hold of him and began to beat him up. He shouted and pleaded but they did not spare him. Mrs Dung hung in a corner praising their efforts and giving Pamshak all sorts of warnings. “You will tell us where the marriage took place, how many people attended, who joined both of you and how many goats you bought. If you dare come to this house again, you will meet a worse treatment. Better go and find the wife you are seeking elsewhere, I did not give my daughter to you in marriage. Foolish boy.”

They beat him and threw him yards away from the compound warning him strictly not to come back. Passersby looked at him, shook their heads and went their way. None of them came to help him or ask him what had happened. Most of them were aware of who he was and they had heard how he had treated Jane after she had eloped with him, they had no pity for him, they instead carried the tale of his disgraceful beating to their sons and daughters to warn them not to misbehave. He managed to walk back home and his mother helped him wash his wounds and apply home remedy to them.

For weeks he stayed at home upset at the treatment he had gotten from Jane’s mother and her neighbours. But he was not dissuaded from finding Jane and his son. He was not one who easily gave up on his goals. He thought about other ways he could find them. He knew obviously they were not in Mrs Dung’s house. One day a friend of his at school who had been a junior came to visit him. They got talking and the friend mentioned that he had seen Jane and her son in town some years back. Pamshak was happy to have a clue and took down the address of the house from his friend.

When he had finished renovating his family house and the memory of his shameful beating had faded, he traced the address his friend had given him and located the house. He waited a whole day trying to get a glimpse of Jane or the boy but did not see any of them. He came back the next day and decided to ask the girl selling household items in front of the gate.

“Please does a lady known as Jane live in this compound?”

“Who are you to her?” Esther asked looking him up and down.

“I’m her classmate. My name is Emmanuel.” He lied using one of their classmate’s name, the boy used to have a crush on Jane while they were still in school.

“She does not stay here anymore. She has gone to Abuja.”

“Wow, Abuja, wow. That’s nice. Where in Abuja particularly?”

“Don’t you have her number? Call her and ask her because I don’t know” Esther also lied because she did not want to give out too much information.

Mafeng and Isaac entered the shop just then having closed from school. They greeted Esther and entered the compound. Pamshak stood stunned. He knew it was his son who just entered but for fear of being suspected he said nothing more, thanked Esther and left the shop with a new plan.

The next day he was back very early in the morning and waited till the children came out to go to school. He followed them as they trekked at a reasonable distance until they got to their school. He watched them as they entered and turned back to go his way. He would come back at a later time to abduct Isaac, he was not in a hurry.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lancelot felt better. He was grateful that he had gone to seek medical help. He was also grateful he had met Bob. Every day he read aloud the words that Bob had written down for him and it seemed to flush down all the anger, pain and weird feelings he had been harbouring since time past. His favourite written piece was the serenity prayer. It went like this:

Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference, living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; accepting hardship as a pathway to peace; taking as Jesus did this sinful world, as it is not as I would have it; trusting that you will make all things right if I surrender to your will so that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with you in the next. Amen.

He would feel inner peace after reading it and be able to go about his day happily. He continued taking the drugs and wandered if he would need to do so for the rest of his life. One day Rahila asked him why he was taking them to his amazement, considering the fact that he took the drugs away from where it could be noticed and hid them in a secured place.

“They are to aid me sleep as I am finding difficulty sleeping on my own.” He said praying the half truth will be sufficient for her.

“You know those things can be addictive, please don’t take them for long.” She replied, covered the blanket on her body and went to sleep.

Lancelot was disappointed. Although he was relieved he did not have to explain further, he felt she was too detached from him and to careless to bother why he had to resort to drugs to sleep. Another lady would have been aware of when the sleeplessness had started, when he had started taking the drugs and would have wanted to know how long he had to take them. Jane would have shown more concern if she were his wife because even though she was not married to him she seemed to take more notice of his feelings and attitudes. For the first time since he was married, he wished he was married to Jane.

Another thing that started bothering Lancelot was the fact that Rahila had not taken in since their wedding three years ago. He had not wanted to worry over it before now, explaining to himself that maybe Rahila’s biological time to conceive was not yet due. But he began to ponder on the possibilities of them remaining childless; perhaps there was something wrong with either of them and they did not know. If he continued to assume pregnancy will come in its own time they may never get a child.

“We are going for a test at my hospital tomorrow”, he announced to her when they got up from bed one morning.

She looked up from the bed sheet she was folding and stared at him for a long time before asking, “What tests?”

“Tests to find out if there is anything stopping us from having a baby.”

“Of course there is nothing.” She gulped noisily.

“It’s been three years Rahila.”

“I know, but I know there is nothing wrong.”

“I pray so.” He said and hugged her.

The next day they met with the female gynaecologist that was on duty that day. She asked them a few questions and ran tests on them; Lancelot had to give some drops of his sperm as well. She told them the tests results will be out the next day. They prayed earnestly that nothing wrong will be found. Lancelot was the one who came to pick up the results, the lab scientists handed them over to him and looked at his face to see his reaction. Lancelot, after looking at it for many seconds, felt dazed and walked dizzily to the gynaecologist’s office.

“You mean she really had an abortion, my wife had an abortion?” Lancelot asked not really expecting a reply. “Yet she told me she had only met with a man once and did not have sex again until she married me”

“Even that once was enough to get her pregnant. You should ask her. The abortion did some damage to her uterus; it was not carried out professionally. And since it has been quite a while the damage is now irreversible. It will take a miracle for her to conceive.”

The last part of that statement shattered Lancelot psychologically. For the whole day he could not attend to any patient. He met the management of the hospital and asked for leave. They were surprised since he never took his leave except Decembers. When they asked him what the issue was he shook his head and his eyes turned misty so they did not interrogate him further.

At home he blew up. It was the first time Rahila or Jane had ever seen him upset or angry. He shouted at Rahila and called her a liar, deceiver and murderer. She had murdered her own child, he said, and now wanted to make him childless for the rest of his life.

“How could you?” He almost said it in tears. “How could you abort and not tell me what you had done before we got married? Who was it for? Answer me goddamnit!”

Rahila cried all through like a baby without comfort. She tried explaining in tears. She had had a one night stand with Pam after they went out on a date. She had taken in after that and feared Pam’s parents and hers will arrange for a quick marriage for them and she did not want to marry Pam because she feared he was into a rituals and cultism and wanted nothing to do with him; she also feared becoming a single mother and bringing shame on her family, abortion seemed the only solution, so she bought some drugs, took them and lay indoors for a week till the baby was flushed out. She never told anybody for fear of criticism, not even her mother knew what she did.

“You have finished me!” Lancelot shouted. “After all I have suffered in this life, now I must be childless too, what kind of life is this? God, I’m out of here.” He finally announced and as if he was in frenzy started packing up quickly into a small suitcase.

Jane could hear everything from the living room and shuddered when she realized Lancelot was trying to leave the house. She heard her cousin crying and begging, swearing she had no idea it had damaged her womb, assuring him that there was a way out, that she was sorry and meant it. Few minutes later the door to their room opened and Lancelot came out dragging his suitcase tightly while Rahila clutched to it from behind still crying.

“Where are you going Dear? Please I need you now, don’t do this. We can get through this together.”

“Damn you! Damn everything!”

Jane knelt down in front of him as he neared the door. “Please Brother, please don’t leave. Forgive her, this situation can be resolved.”

“How? How on earth can it be resolved? It will take only a miracle for her to conceive.”

“Miracles do happen Sir.”

“Yes, but only when there is transparency and truth!” he yelled at her as if she was to blame and bolted out of the door with such fastness that surprised them.

They kept running after him to plead and possibly take away the suitcase from him but he was too quick, he manoeuvred them, opened the gate and drove away in his car.

For days Lancelot’s number remained unreachable. There was no trace of him. Rahila tried getting in touch with his friends and colleagues but none of them knew his whereabouts. She went to the Pastor of the church they attended and narrated to him everything that happened which resulted to his leaving the house. The Pastor was thoughtful and encouraging. He did not blame Rahila for not disclosing it to Lancelot before the marriage though he said that may have saved her ahead of time. He told her that it was just a storm that will soon go away; storms were normal in every marriage, every married couple faced their own unique storm, marriage was not all rosy and pleasant from beginning to end, but there was hope that it will come around. She only had to be resolved not to give up her marriage and use wisdom to approach matters, Lancelot was going to come back, he said and prayed with her.

Rahila stayed miserable at home. She too had to take an emergency leave from work. When Jane went for lectures, she wept at home and blamed herself for not telling him the truth initially. He could have understood with her then since he truly loved her and they could have discovered the problem early and possibly the cure for the problem. If only she had told someone at least, someone who could have advised her and guided her on what to do. But she had acted in fear and kept it all a secret.

Jane tried comforting her when she was back from lectures. It yielded little result. Rahila was too filled with sorrow. Jane did not know who to blame and who to side with. She tried putting herself in Rahila’s shoes, it was fear mixed with arrogance and deep feeling of shame that had made her do what she did. And Lancelot? Was it okay to just get up and leave? He too had an ugly past; he too had a secret he was presently keeping away from Rahila. He was not altogether insulated from error. It was painful knowing one could not sire a child because of his spouse’s mistake, but everyone had done something wrong before that resulted to problems, he needed to understand that. She resolved within herself to try and reach him. He could be in deep danger himself, considering the fact that he was prone to depression and was on anti-depressants. She feared he may think of ending his life or doing something reckless. She thought carefully on how to reach him.

Rahila had gone out to the park alone saying she wanted to clear her head. Jane thought it was better for her. She had been indoors for weeks now crying to herself and soliloquising. Jane also saw it as an advantage to rummage the room and get some clue as to how to find Lancelot. In their room now she searched Lancelot’s documents carefully but nothing seemed to click to her. She was putting them back together again when one of his complimentary cards fell down, she carried it, shrugged and wanted to put it back but drew it again to her face, his email address rang a bell in her head, and she nodded and put back everything else where she had carried them.

In her room she sent him an email and prayed silently that he would receive it and respond to it; it read:

Hello Cousin-in-law, it is with high anticipation that I write to you this e-mail. All your numbers are not reachable and none of your friends or family members has agreed to seeing or hearing from you. Your wife and I are all worried; she cries everyday and refuses comfort from any other person. She blames herself seriously for what happened and wishes she could turn back the hands of time and undo the wrong she did, but that is impossible. It is impossible to ever undo our wrongs; I know that because I am a victim of my mistake as well. I have spent the last five years of my life wondering if there is a technology somewhere whether in this world or another world that can possibly take me back to my teen years where I misplaced my priorities and took a bad turn. I see the scar of my mistake and the memory of my foolery comes haunting me and I wish I had a pill that I could take to clear away the memory of how I let myself be led astray. It is a waste of thought, at least now I am beginning to see that.

We have all gone astray at some points in our lives. We all have done some things that we wish we had never done ourselves; that is life. And I think God allows us to make our own mistakes so that when another person also makes his own, a part of us will understand with him and not castigate and mitigate him. Take me for example; I don’t see myself as better off than the other lady who committed abortion, or the other guy who got into drugs to escape from troubles. We need to understand and empathize with people when we discover they have fallen. Sometimes it is hard to do so especially when what they did affects us directly or indirectly; but we need to try. We are all striving to be better but none of us has reached there yet.

Please forgive Rahila and come back home. Together you would find a solution to the problem that was befallen your marriage. She greatly loves you and misses you. I miss you too and worry about you considering the fact that I know you could relapse into depression. Remember too that Rahila is not aware that you have a mental condition. Please reply.

Love,
Jane Dung.

It was the third week of his departure and still they had heard nothing about his whereabouts. Jane came home from school one day and decided to read her mails, and then she saw his email, short and crisp:

Hello My Girl, I have read your email and have thought closely on what you said. I have forgiven Rahila. I will be back tomorrow.

Thanks for the update.