Toto Series: Do you have a problem with it?

Toto Series - That's your problem

Toto Series - That's your problem Part II

This is a sequel to That’s Your Problem which can be accessed for free on our profile.

I was put up at the Continental. That was where the ceremony was to take place. Tim's friends from out of town were also going to be lodged there when they came in. His best man who had just returned from the UK was also lodged but I avoided him. Angela had asked me to tone down the Gothic.

"This is Nigeria abeg. I can't have my maid of honour looking like the man I'm saying I do to."

"Is that your fear? That you want to say I do to me instead?"

"But you are not my Man, na? With your chest that is competing with my own?."

"wanna touch?"

"Go away! I'm serious. Please try and be more ladylike. The wedding is attracting unnecessary attention and our families are being scrutinised like lab rats or Something. It's insane and I don't want to give these jobless bloggers lunch money. Abeg for my sake."

"sure. Anything for you."

And so I bought dresses, heels and wigs for my stay at the Continental. I attended family luncheons, followed her for fittings and cake tasting and all the unnecessary things intending couples piled on their to-do list before signing their life away. She'd asked and I was willing to play the part.

Tim's father was a shrewd businessman who made his fortune after the Nigerian Civil war. He had oil wells as well as shares in banks and other places only mentioned in whispers. Tim was raised to take over the empire. He was an honour student at Harvard before heading to the Robert Kennedy College in Zurich. He carried himself well. He was kind and decent, with impeccable fashion sense. He had introduced me to Kunle his best man who everybody agreed was the most eligible bachelor in Nigeria. I didn't like him nor did I pretend to. That didn't stop him from trying though. Poor guy.

Before the lockdown was announced, Tim came to the Continental. I'd finished a particularly rewarding massage session with the lady with the softest hands. After she "de knotted" my muscles, she was more than grateful for her outpouring. Nigerian women are always shocked at how much fluids I can draw from them. Change your boyfriends' dears. This particular one soaked Her massage bench through and through.

He said he dropped by on Angela's orders and asked if he could come in. I invited him up and replaced my robe for yoga pants and a matching tank top to come off as more girly. His aura was powerful. As soon as he stepped into the room, he filled it up. Not in an intrusive way, but still potent. He sat on the couch and handed me a gift box complete with a dusty blue bow.

"I hope it isn't another dress"

"Well... Angel says you can't have too many dresses, so... "

I shook my head while he smiled. It was indeed another dress and a long wig with deep full waves.

"She knows I'm not wearing this!"

The dress was too glittery, a sharp rose gold sequinned dress with straps at the back. the hair looked full and in Lagos heat? Hell no!

“She ordered me to order you to wear it"

"You can't be serious!"

Of course, he was. So like Angela to pull off a stunt like this. They were having one of those dinner meetings to discuss the guestlist for the ceremony. Angela came from a professional political family starting with her great grandmother who worked closely with Awolowo when he was Premier of the old western region. Her father was running for governor, and this alliance served both parents well.

These dinners were nothing but political meetings. After a few photographs and old reused jokes, the "men" excused themselves and entered into closed-door meetings that never ended. This was the third dinner to talk about the guest list.

"No offence, but I can't stand these dinners! The only good thing about them is the food and I can't even indulge because your fiancé keeps forcing me into these unholy contraptions she calls dresses!"

Just like his aura, his laughter filled the room drawing me in. I was laughing too.

"You are the first woman I know to call a dress an unholy contraption. Don't tell anybody, but I also hate these dinners. But I love Angela and I'd go through a thousand more as long as it makes her happy."

"You and me"

I said without thinking. He arched his eyebrow but I didn't fill up the growing silence. I didn't try to persuade him one way or the other. He could make of it what he wanted. The silence stretched on and with it an unspoken appreciation. The knowledge that we both loved the same woman and we were both willing to give up everything to please her.

"Thank you for doing this"

I smiled.

"The things we do for love" was all I could say. As I went into the room to change into my latest unholy contraption complete with matching heels, a clutch and a smile.

He offered his bent elbow and I held on as we made our way to his car. And just like that, the energy between us had shifted. In our love for Angela, we found a sort of kinship. At the end of the ride, he whispered into my ear and kissed my lips before dropping.

"Did you tell Tim we've fucked??"

"What? Well hello to you. I see you've hit the bar already?" Angela didn't look so chirpy this Evening. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail at the base of her neck. She was wearing a dusty pink sweetheart neckline gown with low box heeled sandals. She looked tired but like the soldier she is, she was keeping on. I didn't care.

“Answer my question. Did you... “

“... Is that why you dragged me here like this? And why would you think that?"

"Answer the fucking question dude, did you tell him we fucked?"

"Shhhh... Stop shouting, does it make sense for me to tell anybody?

"Think Angela, think. Maybe while he fucked your brains out, or maybe during a drunk episode. Did y'all compare notes? Was that what you did after ditching me in Melbourne ?"

I know I wasn't making any sense. I sounded mad even to my own ears but I couldn't help it. My chest was being squeezed by a blackened hand. Hard and unforgiving. She was the one who didn't want tongues wagging. She was the one who wanted me to play pretend so why would she tell anybody? much Less Tim?

She led me to her room to get away from the eyeballs we were beginning to attract.

"Edi, you need to calm down and stop shouting okay. This whole place is buzzing with journalists and everybody looking for a good story or something to use against my father and I can't have your loud mouth jeopardizing... Wait... Why do you even care if he knows or not?"

"FUCK you! Fuck you, Angela."

“Edi What is this about? Because I am sure as HELL know this isn't about what you're talking about. "

GODDAMMIT!

Why did I care truly? It wasn't that he knew. It was that he knew I was her lover and she STILL chose him over me. It was the way he casually delivered those words knowing their truth stung more than anything he could've thrown at me. He was the better man and no matter how hard I played pretend, I would never be good enough for her.

"It's about you sending me that text in May saying you couldn't do this anymore. No explanation, no room for me to understand why you'd up and leave. then tell me you hadn't been with another woman because what we shared was sacred. It’s about you lying in my bed soaked through by our lovemaking and you leaving the next day with a frigging note saying you couldn't do this anymore. It's about.... "

Her lips were dry and I could tell she had been biting on them. The wedding must bother her more than she let on. This was just like Angela. To kiss and fuck her way through me. She knew that I wouldn't be able to resist her. I couldn't all those years in Ekiti, I couldn't in Melbourne and now...

I bit her instead. She pulled away from me dazed! Good. I needed some distance between us. I needed to say what was on my mind and her pressing against me didn't give more room for thought.

"You fucking bit me???"

“ I know and I am sorry. Now listen...

"you fucking bit me, Edi!"

Then it registered. She wasn't angry, she was extra turned on. Before I could step back she was on me. Her hand holding my jaw while she crushed my lips with her bloodied lips. I tasted blood. Her blood and grapes and a tangy taste of dark ale. I felt the now-familiar current buzzing at the back of my head but I didn't move. I stood and let her.

She yanked at the straps of my dress until my breasts were hanging out. She was in a hurry, her hands grazed over my nipples down my dress meanwhile her other hand tried to keep my face firmly on hers while freeing her breasts. She was everywhere Trying to do too many things at once. she was making a mess. But I let her. I let her spread my legs which was surprising in the tight dress I'd squeezed myself into. She was back on my sore nipple from the chafing. I groaned which she took for a pleasure moan. her lips were on my neck, my face, leaving a wet trail.

Tim entered.

My heart swelled with pride at the sight of his utter shock. Well, Tim, who's got the girl now? Really? I looked at the frozen fear on Angela's face and felt like a pig. Looks like there is no winning Tim.

He walked out as quietly as he came.

Angela lunged at the door. Bare breasts and dishevelled hair. Running after him. What fuckery. I caught her before she was out of the room. She clawed and tried to squeeze through to get out.

"I'm finished"

"No, you're not. He knows better than to do anything crazy what with this place buzzing with paparazzi and his father's business associates."

How can you be so sure? Didn't you see the look on his face? My god! I'm finished! O my god.

And the way to "unfinish" yourself is to flash your boobs abi?

“What?”

"Weren't you the one giving me a lecture on not creating a scene 10 minutes ago? Running after your fiancé half-naked is normal behaviour here abi ? "

How. Can. You. Be. This. Callous? My fiancé just caught me with you and you are this calm?

“As opposed to what? What do you want me to do? Turn hysterical and jump out the window? Besides, he's known about us So dust yourself off and let's go and eat.”

“Isn't that just grand? Durst yourself off let's go and eat like it is that simple? Do you know the magnitude of what we have done? Of what I have done? How can I face him? What have I gotten myself into? Do you think he will call off the wedding?”

“O please! Don't be silly. Tim loves you too much to call off the wedding. Is he pissed? Maybe a little but Y'all would be fine.”

“What am I going to do? “

“You can stay here and lament while I go down for a drink and some of the food. O by the way, what explanation should I give for your absence?”

Watching her unravel so easily at the thought of losing Tim was pissing me off. Angela had been turned into an incoherent mess and I hated it. Nobody, not even me should have such power over her. Here I was, me, Edidiong consoling her and assuring her of the love of Tim. I pushed my selfish desires along with my growing dislike for him and tried to salvage the situation. I ordered her into the bathroom to take a shower and called Tim.

He sat across from me looking straight into my eyes. He was pissed too I could see. Good. Pissed is good. When he dropped me, he'd told me I'd not be a part of his wife's life post marriage a "Your thing, whatever it is, is done and I'd very much love to have my wife all to myself".

"What do you want?"

"What we both want. Angela happy."

"If you think..."

"I think you should listen to what I have to say. Look. It's like you said. My time with her is done. She wants to be with you not me."

"I know that."

"Good. So don't jeopardize your happiness because of that episode earlier...

"That episode was my fiancée dry humping another woman with all of our family and friends under the same roof a week to our wedding.

The guts on you to sit there with that smug face telling me not to jeopardize my happiness. I should have you arrested and jailed if for nothing else to see how long that smug look will last."

"I am not going to apologize so don't expect it. And we can spend the whole day accusing and threatening each other but that's not going to help our little situation now would it? See, I'm only here till the wedding and I'd be out of Y'all lives for good. However, you need to decide if you love her and want to continue with the wedding plans or you can go downstairs and call it off."

"How do I know you won't try to make a move on her? What assurance do I have that, that little episode as you called it is the last of it?"

"You don't. But I won't."

"Okay."

"Okay."

So we all went downstairs and had dinner and they finally decided on the guest list that was basically everybody. Kunle was by my side playing the victim of double patriarchal standards. I endured it with a smile and champagne. The food as usual was delicious and the conversation boisterous.

Angela sat beside Tim who held her hand under the table. She was still quite shaken about earlier. Even with fresh new clothes and make-up she still looked out of her wits. She wasn't giggling and only spoke when spoken to. After the guests had left, she drew me aside to thank me for saving her. Her big brown eyes were shiny with unshod tears. I watched her talk and all I could think of was her clumsiness earlier. I should've kissed her back. I should've gone with the flow. Guiding her frantic energy with calm expertise. Now it was too late. I had given my word and even though I hated Tim’s guts, I always kept my word.

“Madam! Did you zone out or something? I said what time should I come to pick you?”

"For what?"

"The final fitting is Wednesday. I'd pick you and we would head to Tim's house so we can all go together. So, what time? Know what, never mind. I'd come by 8am so that we can beat traffic.

“You can go without me. I'd rather spend my day allowing Monica to work on my tense muscles."

“Say what?”

“What?”

“You're here the whole of 3 seconds and you have a Monica?”

“And à host of others. Do you have a problem with that?”

“A host of... How could you do this to me?”

“How is this doing anything to you? I'd say this is the exact opposite of doing to you.”

“This is my wedding, you are my guest and you are in Nigeria. You know that's 14 years right?”

“second time Today I'm being threatened with arrest. First, it was your Tim and now you. What's this madness na? You are getting married and yet you're having a seizure a woman is going to be in my bed tonight. Wake up to the real world Angela. You can't eat your cake and have it.”

“Ladies... What cake are we talking about.”

Fruitcake. I answered. This was unbelievable. What exactly do women want? Angela is here throwing a fit at the thought of me with another woman yet she is the very same woman who almost ran through the house half-naked after Tim. Tim had come to "collect" his bride to be while Kunle was to drive me to the Continental.

“She's staying the night.”

“She is?”

“I am?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with it?”

The question was to Tim. I'd never heard the steel in her voice before but it was there, unmistakably heavy. Her words hung in the air for a while. Tim looked at me, nodded and kissed her cheek goodbye. I stood awkwardly at the door while he walked past. head held high, ego bruised.

"What the hell is wrong with you Angela? You know I am the last person to tell you how to treat people but did you have to dismiss him like that?"

“We needed the time to talk”

"Whatever it was, girl that man is about to be your husband and you sending him off like he's the help?!."

"Edidiong stop trying to deflect okay. This isn't about Tim and me, this is about you always having random women in your bed."

"I don't see how that is a problem or any business of yours. Besides you didn't have a problem being a part of the random women in my bed as I recall."

Twack! Twack! Twack!

Un-fucking-believable.

This woman slapped me. I mean the slap itself didn't hurt as much as how I stood there. Not just once but three times. And it was even paced. Almost like she counted to three in-between and I stood there and took it all. Did Angela put anything in our drinks tonight that made us into her puppies or what? This was some bullshit and I was tired. I was tired of being in this dress, hair and shoes. I was tired of her family, judgy lot with their nose stuck in the air like disabled ostriches, I was tired!!!!

The buzzing undercurrent had grown to a ranging growl and that little episode earlier had let the beast loose but I knew we had to kill it before it consumed us and I ended in Kirikiri or worse.

"I'm out of here. Fuck you, Angela. Fuck you very much."

She was walking behind me while I hobbled through the dining room to the living room in those nasty heels id been standing in for the better part of the evening.

"I heard you that night. you thought I was asleep but I heard you."

I kept on walking. I didn't know what she was talking about but I didn't care. All I wanted was to be out of here before the waterworks started.

Fuck!

"In Melbourne, I heard you talking to Butch or whatever her name was."

One leg in front of the other, that's how you do it. Just keep walking. She is trying to bait you, don't fall for it. Dear Jesus don't let me start crying here, I'm almost at the door.

"That's fine. Walkout, run away as you have always done"

O hell no!

That's your forte dude. I never run from a fight.

“Isn't that what you are doing?”

“I am leaving before this place becomes a murder scene. I am leaving so whatever cooked up bullshit you have about the nastiness that is beneath that sunshine facade you put up is maintained.”

The doors were locked. Shit!

“If there is any nastiness in me, you put it there. My life was perfect before you came and ruined everything.”

"how about you open this door and watch me leave your life with all my nastiness. At least you won't have to continue pretending to be friends with poor folks."

We were both crying and screaming now and yet somehow nobody came running to witness our howling.

"O don't look shocked. Wasn't that what I was to you? That poor girl with the attitude problem you took upon your gracious self to elevate her status.

"That's not true. I loved you."

"You didn't love me. You loved how I fucked you alright. And as long as you got it, you were good."

"That's on you, not me. I tried to hang out with you but you wouldn't let me. In class, you acted like I didn't exist even when I sat beside you. I bought you stuff but you always rejected them or returned them."

“I wasn't a charity case.!”

"How was I to know my being rich offended you that much? Was my being rich also the reason why there were girls in your bed?"

“What?”

"Don't what me. I went to your room to drop off your birthday gifts since I knew how you'd react if I gave them to you and I found a girl half-naked in your bed. And she wasn't the first. That's why I left".

“Dude. I lived in a frigging hostel. I shared a room with close to 8 girls on a good day and you assumed some random girl in my bed was my girlfriend? Are you serious?”

"What was I to believe? You only came around to fuck and leave. Not to mention how you were always rubbing all the attention you were getting in my face. I loved you and wanted to be with you but always pushed me away."

“Is that why you sent me that nasty text and blocked me?”

"Well, you didn't seem bothered."

“And Melbourne?”

"I told you. I heard you talking to that girl. You thought I was asleep but I saw you kiss her too. I wasn't going to stick around for round two."

"Boirj was my girlfriend. We were together for 7 months before you showed up. I broke things off with her as soon as you moved in. She was upset and came over for closure. I know it doesn't make any difference but she kissed me. I swear to you I never cheated on you. Never!"

She uncrossed her hands and walked to me until our nose touched.

“Stop”

I didn't realize I was holding my breath. How did we go from yelling to me being this breathless.?

“Why?”

Because I won't let you go ever again. Because if we cross this line,na Kirikiri get us. Because I will die if you ever leave me again. I cant was all the lump in my throat would allow.

"You can't or you won't?"

My whole being wanted to but let's be honest you are the one that walked away from me; twice. You are the one that is about to get married. You are the one that should be stopping us.

I can't do this.

Do this?

She kissed me. Lightly, slowly as if waiting for me to bite her. Instead, I parted my lips and allowed her access. As long as it wasn't me who made the first move, I figured I technically didn't break my word. She stopped.

Do you want this? Because I do. I want to kiss you and touch you and allow you to make nasty heart thumbing mad love to me. But only if you want it to.

Well, I'd be damned.

Yes, I very much want to.

There was an awkward 30 seconds before our lips touched. She leaned into the kiss. Pressing her lips against mine. I swallowed. I shivered with excitement and fear. We were kissing in her house and she and Tim had unkindly reminded me that this is Nigeria and I could end up in jail. Just me the daughter of a nobody while they would sail into the Nigerian version of sunset. Her tongue sought entrance and I obliged. There was no hurry to her movement and I matched her energy. I was wet and a finger up her crotch showed it was mutual. How I wish the mamba was here. The mamba was my 9 inches thickly veined black dildo complete with a customised strap. O yes, it will serve me well at this moment. I would love to draw throaty moans from her, fucking her inside out until she lay spent then do it again. Angela was an embodiment of passion and she never hid her pleasure. I peeled off her clothes and she mirrored me. We stood naked hearts beating in unison. This was actually happening. All the fights, the angry outbursts, the tears were culminating in our lovemaking. I knelt before her kissing from her belly button to the patch of hair. She held up my head obviously self-conscious she had allowed that much hair growth. I kissed her gently on the base of her waist to reassure her. I didn't mind. If she grew it, I'd become a cavewoman it was that simple. I kissed her slow but deeply. Tasting of her woman moist and engorged. Her body responded to every flicker of my tongue every suckle, every nibble. She began to quake but I wasn't ready to allow her to find release just yet. I let her fall on me and I gently laid her to the carpet. I laid on top of her and looked into her eyes. The fire was back where it belonged. Then she giggled and looked away.

“Do tell me, are you shy?”

“Gerrout.”

Well, I'd be damned.

I kissed her neck, the base of her throat, the rise of her breasts, her nipples were already as hard as rocks when my lips found them. She moaned as I suckled on them. She rubbed on my clit and dug the fingers into my wet vagina. We were in no hurry. I sucked on her breasts and she drew hot liquid from my swollen clitoris. I positioned myself above her to ensure she got maximum pleasure and began to ride. She stopped me and ordered me to sit on the couch. I obliged and spread my thighs wide.

Whatever she was doing to my vagina I felt in my throat. Her tongue found all the nerve endings available and caressed them. While her tongue fucked my clitoris her fingers - index and middle fingers fucked my vagina. My orgasm hit quick and heavy. My body stretched out like I had been struck by a lightning bolt. My toes curled as my groan filled the room. She then climbed me and began to ride. I didn't know why but I began to cry. I buried my face in her neck and urged her on. Soon she had climaxed.

“What’s wrong”

“Fuck angela, what have we gotten ourselves into.”

“Are you regretting this?”

“Fuck no!”

"Good. Because I will just strangle you."

“Talking about death, where is everybody? I kept expecting your father or somebody to enter with a gun or a sword or something. All that noise and not a soul stirred?”

"This is my father's private section. It is soundproof. World war 3 can happen here and nobody will know." the way out is on the other side. I can't believe you still don't know your way around by now.

“Everything looks the same abeg.”

“stay.”

“I cant. You are getting married and my life is in Australia.”

"What if I don't get married would you stay?"

"And constantly look over my shoulder because of who I decide to love?"

"Then I will come with you."

“Dude.”

"I'm not losing you ever again. You either stay or I go with you."

FUCK!

Isn't it funny that no matter what you are going through life is happening? Like you can be in the deepest of shits and someone is pissing the champagne they got drunk on celebrating all over you. Life is always happening.

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Featured Stories


Simi.

by SoniaDash, published 2 years, 8 months ago

Simi.

Disclaimer

All characters portrayed here are a work of fiction and bear no resemblance to any person living or dead. Any coincidences are just that. Regretful coincidences.

Certain times are described as pivotal moments to one knowing who they are or their purpose in life. Some say they knew they would be preachers because they got a summons from God, others to be doctors because they killed little animals growing up. For Simi, it had nothing to do with any of that.

Simi was raised to be seen and not heard, to follow the rules with her head to the ground lest her eyes meet that of a man. She was born to follow the rules. And the rules said she learnt to cook clean and cater for the household. The rules said she got an education, enough to increase her brideprice but not too much so that she became a burden to her family, and that is exactly what she did.

Simi was an enigma. She was meek but full of courage, beautiful and regal yet humble and straightforward. She was fiercely intelligent yet pride was far from her heart. After she graduated from standard six her parents decided she was ripe for marriage. She was 15.

In her time it was quite normal to be shipped off to a man trice her age. It was an honour to get suitors to flock a Dara's compound once his daughters crossed the age of 10.

And so the process began for her journey to her second home.

A woman has only two homes. Her father's compound, her husband's compound and if she was a dutiful daughter, wife and mother, she earned a resting place with her ancestors.

That was the way it was.

Out of the many suitors that came for her hand, her parents chose Badung. Badung was the first and only son of the 5th wife of the newly crowned Da Manjei of Vwai. His mother, a beautiful fair woman, a thank you the Da Manjei had brought back as a child after the great Vandebong war from the neighbouring Afizere stronghold.  

He was a man to be feared the Da Manjei. He was large and black with arms the sizes of large Quanpaan yams complete with spiky hair. Before he became Da Manjei, he was called Chwei! The man whose roar was frightening and whose bite was deadly. Badung grew up under his tutelage and soon enough began making a name for himself. He wasn't as large or as frightening as his father, but he was nonetheless formidable.

He was a farmer only because of peace. Some say he had more thirst for blood than any other warrior his age, even more than his father but his kind won wars and that was alright.

That was the way it was.

At 33 he was a force to reckon with.  

For Simi, she had come to terms with her lot. Nobody asked her of her desires, and she never mentioned them.

That was the way it was.

She was to be married off to Badung even though the innocent stirrings of love had been awakened by Izam the 17-year-old from Jwahr, the neighbouring Afizere stronghold. He was a gentle spoken boy who wanted to become a painter but since that was unheard of he was becoming a doctor. That was the way it was. See, back then, you were what your parents decided. It was non-negotiable. If they said you become a doctor, a farmer or a palm-wine tapper, you became a doctor, a farmer and a palm-wine tapper.

That was the way it was.

Izam who was in standard seven had written the yearly scholarship examination and was going to London at the end of harvest.  When he heard the news, he cornered her at the marketplace and poured out his heart to her. He begged and cajoled and promised and yet nothing. She stood unmoved to his pleas. She was going to marry Badung and that was it.

Simi had accepted her lot and so would he, or so she thought. But that was not his fate and he knew it. He knew he couldn't live without her. His nights were plagued with her smile, the heat emanating from her skin whenever they walked together. His waking moments were filled with charting their lives together.

He was going to become a doctor by day and a painter by night while she was going to become a teacher and a mother to his children. He knew nothing else.

It happened so fast. She had lifted the earthen pot filled with water on her head and was headed home when she heard footsteps. Before she turned to search the owner of the feet, she was floating. A hand clamped hard over her mouth preventing her from screaming, and even the pot somehow didn't smash. One moment she was there, and just like in ghost stories, she disappeared.

At dinner time,  her mother had gone beyond fretful. Simi was nowhere to be found. She had watched the road leading to the stream as if by sheer will she could conjure her daughter. Knowing she couldn't keep it away from her husband any longer, she placed one foot now replaced with concrete in front of the other.

As she approached where he was resting under the Dinya tree, she heard the voice of Badung. Her heart did a triple somersault.  Surely she couldn't tell her husband that their daughter was missing in front of her betrothed. His fiery anger was not one to trifle with. Moreover, she told herself Simi could at this very moment be finding her way back armed with a logical explanation for her whereabouts.

But what if something had indeed befallen her daughter? Her mind poked at her. Wouldn't she want Badung to lead the search for her? But instead, she approached them and inquired if they were ready to be served. It would be well by sunrise she mused. Everything has a way of setting aright by morning.  

When he woke covered in sweat from a dream he had no recollection of, he knew the sunrise had come pregnant. He quickly prepared himself and went to his farms to check what was amiss. There was nothing out of place, nothing wrong at his new structures or even at his barn that was easy prey to rodents and the village's riff-raff. The nagging feeling of impending doom had persisted into late morning. Even as he sat to enjoy the food presented to him, he couldn't stop his mind from wondering. As he devoured the tuwo'n dawa and miya'n gyeda his wife set before him, his visitors arrived.

It was not uncommon in Berom land for lovers to run away when faced with adversity. It was also not uncommon for a young man to plan together with his friends to *steal* his beloved and place her under arrest. Once the sun rose to meet a young maiden under the roof of a man, she was considered defiled. It was a common practice people got accustomed to and is still practised today. So much so that it was jokingly referred to as jut tele literally translated to steal her.  That was the way it was.

So as Dara Simi worked up an apatite with each mouthful he swallowed, in walked Izam in the company of his father, two elder brothers and best friend. They had come to inform their new in-law that their daughter was safe and that they were ready and willing to proceed with the customary rights to make Simi an official wife.

He went to Badung's place after he dismissed them as quickly as his legs could carry him. Badung was uncharacteristically calm as Dara Simi recounted the events of the day. His jaw was clenched as he listened intently to the events that transpired. When Dara Simi finished his tale, Badung called on Ladi his slave to bring palm wine for his father-in-law. When the wine was brought and libation observed he excused himself and went to the inner chamber.

Simi woke to a shrill voice and as the mist from her induced sleep ebbed, she recognized the voice as hers. Strange, it seemed the scream she had been denied had finally found a way out. Even though she was still heavily sedated she struggled to find a way out of her captivity.

Her mind even though too weak from the poison in her body, the urge to survive propelled her forward. She found an opening through the darkness and in one desperate last move busted into brightness.

The bright sun perched in the middle of the sky, the noise of children playing, goats bleating, metals scraping, all sounded 20 decimals louder than usual., Humanity assaulted her. She pressed on her ears, hoping to block out the torture as her voice, shrill and ragged joined the cacophony.

Izam, his father Atsi, two elder brothers and best friend arrived to find a growing crowd in their compound. Navigating through the maze of sweaty, chattering onlookers and feverish talkers, they saw Simi sprawled on the ground like a discarded rag doll, with her hands clasped to her ears as if to shut the world out. Atsi, a renowned medicine man dispersed the crowd and ordered his sons to bring her to his chamber. Izam's best friend Azi was sent off to the forest to gather much-needed herbs. The potion used during the jut tele was so strong that it had drained the strength from her small frame. The battle for her life was now in the hands of the gods.

Izam could feel his father's anger towards him even as he worked to bring Simi back from the clutch of death. His father was a man of few words and today his words were fewer still. He had never seen his father this apprehensive or angry before.

Even in the face of what would normally send a man to the deepest trenches of madness, his father passed over with little irritation. today was different. As they sat silent under the night in the courtyard, his heart began to grow cold. He should have known better than to steal from his father but fear is as potent a drug as love.

He was afraid his father would advise him against his plan to steal Simi using the medicine. He was scared his father upon hearing she belonged to another would order his steps in a different direction. And so he snuck into his father's inner chamber and stole a sleeping potion.

Administered properly, it was used to calm a being troubled by dark spirits so his father could perform the necessary exorcism. For if the person was to be awake when it happened, the chances of survival become minimal. What he didn't know was administered on a person who wasn't troubled by dark spirits, was an open invitation for possession. And so, in his quest to steal a love he felt had been wrongly taken from him, he had handed her over to spirits yet unnamed, yet unknown.

In the night, the sound of drumming filled Vwai! The horns followed shortly and the night was awake.

War had come!

Atsi had seen the beckoning of war. For Bubrukah the eye; had warned him of impending doom but because he was still clouded by grief, didn't sense the whole picture. His vision had never been what it used to be since the death of his wife 5 years ago. But when Izam told him on the morning of Simi's capture what he had done, he grew anxious. The people of Vwai and Jwahr had brokered a peace deal after years and years of intense turmoil. The deal signed a long time ago however had deteriorated over the years. Border disputes were commonplace now and even though they shared many similarities there was also a deep enmity buried just underneath the surface.

Atsi had quickly rushed to the house of Dara Simi to perform the rites as expected to prevent an escalation of events but discovered a new dimension to the tale, one his son had forgotten to mention. Badung. He knew Chwei's lust for bloodshed first hand during the great Vendabong war. He also knew he had had his eyes on Jwahr for a long time but because of the peace accord, was held in check.

Now his son had provided the best opportunity for invasion. He set foot with his sons and Azi in tow for the Da Manjai's house, hoping that age and domestication would make him more approachable to reason. He was wrong. Very very wrong. Even his sister's cries, who merely a child was given as a thank you after the Vendabong war fell on deaf ears.

Back in Jwahr, he went straight to the Agwom with the news. To prevent the coming doom he had been warned about,  Simi had to be returned untouched by the Agwom himself to the Da Manjei. He pleaded with the Agwom to send emissaries to Vwai immediately with the news of her coming, together with a King's apology. However,  even before the emissaries set foot, that night, a neighbouring settlement was burnt down. No survivors.

Young love is bold yet impatient, adventurous yet unwise. Young love has led many a man to his doom, but most often though, it has led many a man to his purpose. Young love needs guidance to grow, to escape the many loopholes that have bedevilled it.

And so the drums of war were struck in the middle of the night. Young men and boys alike quickly said their goodbyes to their wives and mothers. The old and grey rounded up the children and marched to the ancestral cave of covering. The warriors came to Atsi for fortification and to each, he gave a mark in accordance to his spirit, all the warriors including his three sons.

Simi saw the arrow aglow and black as it coursed through the night and found its resting place, deep in Azi's heart. She heard the dying wail of Arum, the first son of Atsi. She searched through the scene of the massacre but couldn't find Izam. He wasn't standing on the field of battle. Her body began to tremble with foam forming in her mouth. Then she saw him. Frail and afraid beneath the heel of Badung, the man she was to call husband.

She screamed and ran as quickly as her two legs could carry her but she knew she would never reach him in time. She could not save the one who had stirred up feelings in her tender heart. Her body began to convulse and Atsi knew the time of possession was inevitable. During a battle, too many evil spirits run amok. And so he stood at ready, sword in hand, divine words heavy on his tongue. For if she became possessed, he would have no choice but to kill her.  

Certain times are described as pivotal moments to one knowing who they are or what their purpose in life is but for Simi, duty, love and war brought her to her purpose. She died that night, a thousand deaths she had and each one, a warrior faced death with calm. Nobody knows her because only the dying truly sees her, but she is there. To those who know her, she is known as She traverses the worlds of the living and the dead with a single purpose as true as her name. Love. So with love, she follows an aged mother home, with love she renews and replenishes the land. And with love, she brought a people who for long even though one, had sought to exploit their differences instead of celebrating them. Nothing indeed is greater than love.


WHILE I WAIT.

by Joy Okwori, published 2 years, 11 months ago

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I was once imprisoned by words whose aura is darkness. I was held down in this prison by unfriendly forces, so I sat on a stool of uncertainty as I held the moon.

I crawled through the night with gritted teeth, like one with no hope. And I couldn't dance because shackles held my feet.

Yesterday was once, today doesn't make it twice. I breakout, I don't belong to prison; the Judge said so. I smelt like rotten tomatoes, frail from tireless torture.

The Judge beckoned with open arms, and I ran with the speed of light. My accusers didn't know what crime to nail me with. The Judge knew what currency to bail me with; the blood.

Broad smiles.

Heartfelt laughter.

I dance.

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