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Love in naija episode 3

I was frantic; something in me had always known that there
was a cover-up somewhere. Just
then Daddy started walking
towards us and Aunty Amara
quickly gave me her card and
asked me to meet her the next day for us to talk. I collected the
card my heart beating rapidly. Well to cut a long story short,
Aunty Amara gave me every
information I needed to locate
my mother but refused to tell
me more, she asked me to go
find my mother and to hear the truth from her. I prodded and
pushed her to tell me more but
she was adamant. Without
actually calling my mother or
getting in touch with my mother,
though I got her number, I simply planned my trip. Maybe I was
afraid she will refuse to see me. I
was in fevered pitch, everything
was happening so fast. I checked the time on my wrist
watch; it was 12:00am. Enough of
mind wandering, I buried myself
under the bed covers and willed
myself to sleep. *****************************
******* By 9am, I was dressed in a black
jumpsuit, in a rented cab and on
my way to Utako to meet my
Mother. It was a 20 minutes
drive and in no time I was
standing in front of her office door in the duplex that served
as her home and Clinic. She still
had no knowledge that I was in
the country, my heart was
fluttering like the wings of an
injured bird. What if Daddy was right and my Mother was this
evil, heartless woman? I summed
up courage and knocked on the
door. “Come in, the door is open.” Her voice drifted to me, it was
like a long forgotten dream, an
overpowering nostalgic feeling
washed over me and I fought
the tears. I had to be strong; I
couldn’t afford to let her see me in tears. I pushed the door open and she
looked from behind her desk,
there was confusion on her face.
There was fear; there was panic
and then recognition. She was
like a more mature version of me, same oval face, and same
tiny waist and round hips. She
came from behind her desk and
walked towards me. “Mummy I then allowed the
tears to flow.” There was not going to be any
introduction, explanation. Blood
they say is thicker than water.
We rushed into each other’s
arms. “My baby” Her voice was painfully familiar as
she spoke reassuringly to me
and rubbed my back at the same
time. I felt like all the lost pieces
of my life finally were coming
together. She led me to one of the sofas in her office and we
sat down. She smiled amid her
own tears and said matter of
factly. “You are Cassandra.” “Yes, and you are Nse; my
mother.” She smiled again. “Yes I am your mother.When…
How did you find me?” Even as I answered her curious
questions, I felt like I was in an
alternate reality. Was I finally
with my birth mother? I felt like
no force on earth will ever keep
us apart again. We went upstairs to her living quarters, she
showed me around and then we
sat down a have brunch. My
mother was everything I
imagined her to be and more,
she was classy, beautiful and with a husky voice that
suggested poise and satin
sheets. We went back to the hotel to
move my luggage to my
mother’s house, she wouldn’t
hear of me staying at the hotel
for another minute. At the hotel
reception, a note was waiting for me from Muna and my
something stirred in my heart.
He simply stated that he was
checking up on me and attached
to the note was his business
card. Wow! We had forgotten to exchange contact information
the previous day due to the
much heightened sexual
chemistry that sizzled between
us. *****************************
************** The day had passed pleasantly
with me helping Mum in “sales’
behind the counter of her
‘Beauty Essence shop’, we
talked earlier in the day and
Mum told me that she had been deported from the US.I was dazed as she narrated
what happened, their student
Visas had expired. My father had
gone and secretly married
Amanda who he was having an
affair with and both of them had called the immigration on my
mother. My father had
heartlessly set my mother up to
be deported so that he could
marry his LovePeddler. No wonder I
had always felt like damaged goods, my father was evil. I
secretly vowed to disown him, he
was no longer my family; he was
lost to me forever. All I had now
was my mother. I finished with my manicure and
strolled into her room where she
was also dressing up; we were
going for the birthday party of
the wife of the Ghanaian
Ambassador. An hour later we were in the
glamorously furnished hall with
elegantly dressed men and
women smiling and posing on the
red carpet. My mother went off
to greet her numerous friends and I was left alone to wander
on my own. I took a flute of
Champagne that a smartly
dressed waiter carried on a tray
and passed around. Just then my eyes fell on Muna,
he was escorting a middle aged,
very beautiful, slim woman. The
way she hung on his arm was
past friendly, it was territorial.
My heart did a back flip. What? Was he married? To an older
woman? Muna had not seemed
to me like a guy who would
marry old money. Just then my
Mother took my elbow and
guided me towards the couple. “Cassandra come and meet my
most cherished client.” As we moved towards them,
Muna turned and our eyes
locked. He looked about to jump
out of his skin. He quickly let go
of the woman’s hand and
frowned in confusion as we came to stand in front of them. Mum
hugged and pecked the dainty
woman. “Hello Mirabel, long time no see,
meet my daughter Cassandra!
Long story I assure you.
Cassandra meet my friend
Mirabel.” “Hi Nse. Really? This beauty, is
your daughter?” I forced myself to look and act
normal even as my heart seemed
about to explode with 50 shades
of emotions. 50 shades of emotions that filled
me with rage and more. ‘Son of
a bitch’ had taken me for a
ride. I mumbled a half hearted
reply and moved away as my
Mum engaged in a lengthy discussion with Mirabel. I walked
to the balcony and leaned over
the rail to catch my breath. “Cassandra.” His syrupy voice washed over me
like rain and he came to stand
very close behind me. My voice
was bitter and cold. “So you are a gigolo?” He replied breathlessly. “What?” I swung around and faced him. “You heard me right, that
woman is old enough to be your
mother.” He shook his head and avoided
my eyes. “Don’t judge me, that woman is
my friend. In my line of work I
need connection; it’s not always
easy for us guys out here in this
country. Cassandra there are no
jobs, open your pretty brown eyes and look around. Iam not
hurting anyone and you don’t
know what we go through in this
country. You cannot just waltz in
here from USA where the
homeless have at least the benefit of food stamps and
homeless shelters to look down
your nose on us here in Nigeria.
Our leaders don’t play fair here,
this system is not working. I
grew up on these streets, by my wits and my charm. I put myself
through college and started
caring for my parents before I
turned 24 years. This is our
story. If I have to smile at a kind
older lady to get the Hilux van I need for my company, I will very
well damn do it. I ain’t sitting
around to pray for manna from
heaven.” By now he was furious and I
suspected underneath it all was
an underlying pain. Pain that
reflected in his eyes. But I was in shock, I was
outraged. He had no excuse to
Bleep an older woman for money,
he was a male escort, how dare
he be so strong, intelligent, my
dream Man, brilliant and yet have feet of clay? How dare he
disillusion me? Why was he so
confident even at this point? My
anger fueled my acidic tongue. “You disgust me Muna, don’t
ever come close to me.” “Too late, I know Nse and her
friends. I know where you live,
you are mine.” “You mean you service my
mother’s friends? Tell me!! Do
they pass you around? I saw anger flash in his eyes, his
muscles bucked and his fist
clenched. He lifted me from the
rail where I was leaning, and
pressed me to the wall, frost
punctuating his every word. “You shouldn’t have said that
Cassandra.” With brutality his mouth crushed
mine and his palms travelled
mercilessly down my soft hips. I
pushed him away with all my
strength, at the same time
fighting the sweet clench in my abdomen. This Naija guy was fire,
he was searing me; burning me
up. How could I want him with
every fiber of my being when I
knew all that about him? I was
lost. I kissed him back with all my pent up desire. I could feel his
smile but I didn’t care. We kissed
like starved animals, and I heard
his muffled voice from cloud 9................





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Love in naija episode 2

Desire and confusion flashed in
his eyes and I knew that he
wasn’t intentionally taking
advantage of me. Even at that,
he withdrew his hand only
reluctantly, apologized bashfully. “Cassandra I’m really sorry for
that.” He didn’t seem so sorry
because his eyes still lingered on
my smooth thighs as my short
skirt rode way up and clung to
my hips. The look in his eyes was
carnal and lustful and surprisingly this caused my heart
to start hammering again. What
in Pete’s name was wrong with
me? Maybe it was because I had
not had sex for so long but this
sexy stranger looked ravishing. I crossed my legs and leaned back
in the seat, silently exhaling
through my mouth. His eyes
followed my every move as he
mercilessly heightened the sexual
tension with his soulful eyes that were shamelessly taking off my
skimpy skirt stitch by stitch. I
swear I’m not the overtly sexed
female, infact I haven’t had
some for ages. It’s not for a
lack of a partner that I haven’t been with a man though. I’ve
just been so engrossed in my
quest of gathering information
about my mother that every
other thing simply took a back
seat. I had been celibate for almost a year. I moved uneasily on the seat
trying to stop the twitching I
felt deep in my belly. His husky
voice was subdued as he said. “We had better start going,
it’s almost 8pm” I nodded helplessly not trusting
myself to say a word. How could
this guy affect me this way? He
had an animal magnetism I
haven’t felt before. What my
friend Haley told me back in Washington when I had just
started working came to my
mind. “Cassie, be careful. These
Naija guys are so smooth, suave
and sharp, else in no time they
will have you eating outta their palms. Many of them do that just
to get US citizenship.” Now I could feel the smoothness
from him first hand. I shook my
head lightly to clear my head,
dude oozed sensuality. He drove
in silence, nodding to an Eminem
song drifting through the speakers. I broke the tense
silence between us in the car. “So Muna tell me about
yourself?” He flashed his Morris Chestnut
smile again and said “I’m your typical street kid,
I’m a movie maker. I cover
mostly music videos and
advertisements for public
relations companies.” I liked him already so I prodded
for more. “So you are this influential music
movie maker in the city?” He laughed sexily. Okay by now I
had come to realize that he
wasn’t intentionally being
seductive, his voice was just
sexy. He said “I don’t know if I can be called
influential, I’m what you will call
a hustler. I do have my circle of
influence though; it’s not
beneath me to cover birthdays,
weddings or events. Whatever gives me cheese.” I was impressed. “But you know back in the US, if
you say you are a hustler? You
probably sell meth or crack
around or on the street.” “I know, down here in Naija
hustling means surviving. You
see, I left home even before my
bachelor’s degree so you can
call me a self made man.” I lowered the volume of the car
stereo, our gist was getting
really interesting. “Self made man? I like that.” He gave my arm a friendly pat. “Cassandra can you speak
pidgin” I blushed, the way he called my
name made it feel so special and
mysterious. In US, my friend’s
called me Cassie or Cass. I only
knew few words in pidgin but I
didn’t want to seem ignorant. “Hey of course, I’m Nigerian you
know.” “Great because na pidgin me
and you go dey yarn ooh. Do you
need to pick anything from the
mall? We are already in Garki
Central area.” I laughed heartily. “No I’m good, just wanna go hit
the showers. It has been so
much fun riding with you, thank
you so much Muna.” He patted my hand again. “You are welcome, you made my
evening.” He drove into Chelsea Hotel and
helped me move into my room.
He took charge and made sure
that the facilities were all
working. I looked at him
suspiciously as I sank down on the sofa in the room; I blushed
again and kicked off my shoes.
He glanced at me. “Babe what is it? Are you
okay?” I tried to hide my apprehension. “Nothing, just that you are
being too nice to me” He looked at me as if I was from
Mars. “This is Nigeria; here we take
care of our women. What I’m
doing is what any man worth his
onions here will do for any
woman he likes. I know over
there, ladies split bills with guys when they go on a date and are
fiercely independent. Here our
women let us take care of them,
Naija love is different from any
other. If I’m going to take you
out 100 times, I will cover the bills a hundred times and it’s
natural for us.” I was blown away, this was
different and old fashioned but
already I was beginning to feel
my feminine side peek out from
behind the curtains. This guy
made me feel like a woman, pampered and able to exhale. “There must be a catch
somewhere” “No catch, don’t get me wrong.
I would love to do all sorts of
indecent things to you and make
you moan to no end but lady it
will be at your time and no
pressure, so relax.” He chuckled at the look on my
face. His mention of having me
moan endlessly had hit me by
surprise. Again I felt the twitch
and pull in my belly. I gulped. “So you like me?” “What do you think?” “I can’t really think now Muna, I
just want to tumble into bed. I
stood up on tiptoe to give him a
goodbye hug and he caught me
in his arms like a starved man. I looked up into his eyes, and
again that look was there. Fierce
desire and confusion, I felt a full
blown hard on press on my belly
and tried to push away from his
embrace but he shook his head, his eyes drawing me in. His voice
was like an aphrodisiac. “Cassandra, I’m really sorry
that I’m this attracted to you.
The last thing I want to do is
frighten you away or hurt your
feelings, but this Oga down here
no dey hear word, it has a mind of its own.” I was furiously aroused; his
muscled chest pressed down on
my heaving boobs. I searched his
face for any hint of an ulterior
motive and saw nothing,
probably like me he was a victim of our hot emotional and sexual
connection. I wanted desperately
for him to kiss me, to devour my
lips but he hesitated and started
pulling away. OMG! Nah!! There won’t be any
play of honor mister! Quickly I
pulled his mouth down on mine; I
saw the shock in his eyes. He
was probably okay being in
charge and playing by his own rules. As I kissed him, I could feel
his control slipping away. He groaned deeply and held me
by the back of my head and
took charge, backing me against
the wall he kissed me until my
eyes crossed. Then just as
suddenly he broke the kiss and moved away inhaling deeply in
frustration. It took seconds for
me to find my bearings. What did
he do that for? He said “I’m sorry Cassandra, I… I
should have more control.” I was suddenly very weak and
flopped on the bed; he came
over and kissed me on my
forehead. I pulled his mouth down
to mine and kissed him again
passionately. He held me gently by the neck and devoured my
mouth hungrily and then he
whispered. “Sweet dreams dear.” “You too” I whispered back. He retrieved
his car keys from the sofa and
left. I could hear his footsteps
down the stair and shivered
from cold and desire. I couldn’t
believe how eventful my whole day had been. Here I was in
Nigeria at last and couldn’t wait
to meet my mother the next
day. At first my friends in the US
thought I had lost my mind,
coming to look for my mother after all these years. Both my parents had gone to
the United States in 1980; they
both schooled in New York, my
Mum dropped out to have me
and according to my Dad took
off before my 8 birthday. Her name was a taboo in the house
and Daddy’s wife, Amanda “my
evil step mother” a real estate
white bitch from Cleveland
claimed the mention of my Mum
traumatized her. Well I never really belonged
there anyway; it was just
recently that I learnt to be
proud of my luscious hips.
Amanda made me feel inadequate
and fat throughout my teenage years in high school and college,
but now I’m my own person and
comfortable in her own skin. Plus
I am ready to meet my mother
and find things out for myself.
When I first told Daddy about my plans to come to Nigeria, I swear
he had a psychotic breakdown.
He ranted and swore darkly. But all that was water under
the bridge, my mind was made
up. Here I am on the 22 of July 2013 standing on Nigerian soil. I
have done my research and I
have my mother’s address, she
stays in Utako in Abuja and is a
sort of skin care doctor with her
own beauty products. All my mother’s pictures had
disappeared from our house a
long time ago and Daddy refused
to talk about her, but luck
smiled on me when I ran into
Aunty Amara, one of our few old friends from back in the day at
a child dedication ceremony of
another Nigerian family friend. I
cornered her with the intention
of gleaning every little piece of
information I could from her. “Hi Aunty Amara, how have you
been? At times like this, I can’t
help wishing that my Mother did
not abandon me here to run to
Nigeria.” “Cassie you have never talked
about your Mother before, what
is going on?” “I miss her, or who she was, I
miss a mother in my life.” “What of Amanda?” “The witch?” We both convulsed in laughter, it
was a private joke. Amanda’s
face is long and horse-like and
we called her ‘the witch’.
Aunty Amara became serious, “What if Nse never abandoned
you? What if she was the
victim?” My heart skipped a bit. “Aunty what the hell are you
talking about?”




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