Babalanlord Ep 0 - Ep10

BabalanLord 0

When I woke up drenched in droplets of my sweat, I wondered why God had not answered my prayers. It was a simple request: “Please, let them bring light so that I can iron my top for my interview tomorrow.” I began to think of all the bad things I could have done to warrant the ignored request and realised that perhaps the gods of the electricity people had heard me cursing them. So, they chose to avenge their people by blocking my prayer request.

“It shall not be well with you”, I had said, and countless times too.

I meant it, and I was not sorry. Uttering those words was the only way I can pass the burden of my suffering on to those people, who continue to withhold electricity from me. They are the reason I have lived in heat and darkness for two weeks straight. The little I make from selling cold drinks is at risk. No fridge to ice my drinks; the need to buy more ice has begun to eat into the small profits that I had been managing. With my ignored prayer request, I have the regrettable task of begging Babalanlord to turn on the generator for ten minutes so that I can iron as many of my interview clothes as possible.

The thing about Babalanlord, is that from the deepest pits of his being, the man is wicked. The worst part of it all, is that he is so oblivious of the damage he causes, heaving himself around like an oversized hippopotamus. Unfortunately, he fancies himself a peacock, so he walks with a puffed-out chest, bumping into this and that. I have often wondered whether his wife, Mama Fatimo, has ever told him that he actually looks like a fat duck. She probably has, even though the comment will risk a fight over her monthly allowance. Lord knows he has her purse strings tied and she cannot afford to miss a single payment. She saves each month in order to buy the aso ebi chosen by her fellow Wives of Landlords Association for each function they attend together. This happens every weekend, so every penny counts to her. Unfortunately for Mama Fatimo, Babalanlord is the stingiest of all the men in the Landlords Association. In fact, I will not be exaggerating if I said he is the stingiest man in the whole country. So, she is forever struggling to keep up with her fellow wives. She always asks herself, “what kind of destiny do I have ehn, that I will pick the stingiest man of all? How unfortunate.” Babalanlord on the other hand, prides himself on being a good husband because he believes he is prudent. So, the two of them are always fighting about money, creating the most interesting scenes. All the tenants are guaranteed some amusing entertainment at least once a week.

Last week, they were arguing because it was Iya Risi’s birthday and Mama Fatimo wanted to buy the Wives of Landlords Association aso ebi of the week, but Babalanlord refused to give her money, claiming that she still had a week to go before her monthly allowance was due. So, in her desperation, she had used the money he gave her to go to the market and stock up on food for the week. It was on a Friday night, all of us heard them screaming at each other in the middle of the compound,

“Shameless maaaaaaaan!” she had jeered “ a whole lanlord and you want your wife to be walking around like a common pauper. If you like, come and take the clothes off me now. Mschewwww” she hissed. “You won’t go and look at what your mates are doing around town. Shouting at me because of common N10,000“

Babalanlord is fuming at this point. And before we know it, he rushes forward to tackle her.

If Babalanlord is a hippopotamus, his wife is a great whale, for she is much bigger than her already massive husband. So, when he wobbles towards her and tackles her to the ground, they both begin rolling around like two fat balls, not really able to do any actual fighting as they are both struggling to catch their breaths. At this point, we are all outside in tears of laughter, with Nnamdi recording the show on his phone, promising to send it to the rest of us. We don’t bother placing bets on the winner; Mama Fatimo always wins. In spite of her bigger size, her heart seems to be in much better condition than her husband’s. So, she ends up sitting on him and squashing his belly until he promises to give her more money.

The worst person in all this, is Fatimo, their teenage daughter. We would all have sworn that she was adopted if not for her striking resemblance to her mother. She is a clear indication of what a slender Mama Fatimo may have looked like. Fatimo is laughing so hard she is holding her belly in tears. She is a mischievous young lady and often pranks her parents just to laugh at them. We would not be surprised if she somehow had instigated the fight in the first place. Despite her mischief, we all love Fatimo, perhaps because she enrages her father in ways we could never dream of. He is a ridiculous man and even she can sense it.

 Anyway, speaking of Babalanlord, that is how yesterday morning, even with knowing Iya Sade had recently lost her market stall to a fire, he decided to increase her rent.
“Iya Sade”, he had said, “You know the economy is suntin suntin”. (He literally said “suntin suntin”). “So … ehhhh, hmmmm,  I too have to do suntin suntin”, the words left his mouth, widening it into a big grin, so she was confused.
“Babalanlord, oro yin o ye mi. I don’t understand what you are saying. What is suntin suntin. I hope you are feeling alright?”
“Ahn ahn Iya Sade, you know what I am talking about, a ni the economy is now suntin suntin, so me too I have to do suntin suntin.

“Babalanlord, e jo, please, I am not ready for your stress this morning. As you can see, I am on my way to the market association meeting so I can see what I can do about my burnt wares.”

“Yes, yes, such an unfortunate calamity. Very Pathetic. Very Pitiable Very …”

“Thank you! E se Babalanlord, I am going now, some of us have real suntin suntin to do.”

“Ehen! Now you are getting me. The long and short of the matter is that your rent is due and I have decided, out of the goodness of my soul, that I will increase it by only N500. N500 pere!”

 “Babalanlord … ko ni da fun yin”

“Ehn?!”

“Beeni o, ko de ni da fun suntin suntin to pe yen.”

“Haaaaaaaa!” He put his hands on his head.

Before he could gather the rest of his thoughts, she stormed out of the gate and went off to her meeting.

Iya Sade is the only one that Babalanlord fears. We are not sure what hold she has on him, but whatever it is, her rent stayed the same. To be honest we were surprised he had even been able to ask her for more rent in the first place. We had all been paying N1000 more than she had for over a year, but none of us was bold enough to challenge Babalanlord like she was, so we silently paid our overpriced rent and kept it moving.

Babalanlord was as corrupt as he was wicked. So, each of us found our various ways of gaming his system. Nnamdi, the guy in the room and parlour next to me had two tenants of his own, for instance. Where they all slept, I do not know, but I know they paid him rent, right under Babalanlord’s nose. Nnamdi had somehow convinced them both that he was Babalanlord’s son. He told them that  Babalanlord didn’t directly deal with certain levels of tenants. He also said that he had cut them a deal, so they avoided Babalanlord, thinking he might charge them higher if they dealt directly with him. Babalanlord, on the other hand, thought these two tenants were Nnamdi’s younger brothers from the village. Nnamdi had lied to him that their parents couldn’t afford to keep them at home anymore and so had sent them to him to train in business. Given that Nnamdi is clearly the most enterprising of us all, it did not ring any alarm bells that his parents would have given to his care, two grown men. At least, it was convincing enough to fool Babalanlord. “Them go commot in two weeks. Two weeks pere” he had said with his igbo-yoruba accent. It has been a year and they are still living in his living room and paying him rent.

Anyway, the matter at hand, is the way I will convince Babalanlord to put on the generator so that I can iron my shirt. I had spotted Babalanlord puffing about outside after Iya Sade stormed out; it meant he was not in a good mood. I had to come up with a plan, and soon. This interview is my last chance out of many failed ones. It is for a role as a customer service agent with a telephone company. With the N50,000 I would be earning, I’d be able to move out of this dump within a year and get a better place. I’d also have a steady stream of customers for my soft drinks business and would save to rent some freezer space to store my drinks at the place down the road. I had it all worked out, and was even making more plans. My degree cannot be for nothing. I need this job and there is no way I can get it with a rumpled shirt. What to do, what to do, what to do?

As I am in my thoughts, I see Fatimo slip into Babajide’s room. Babajide is Iya Sade’s last born. Looking at the two teenagers sneak away together, I came up with an idea.

Babalanlord 1

I snuck after Babajide and Fatimo, walking quickly so I could catch them in the act. If I did, I could get Fatimo to convince her dad to put on their small generator. She was smart enough to come up with a reason, and it would be easier than thinking of an excuse for being alone in a room with Babajide, the son of the woman who had just publicly humiliated him. I didn’t want to do amebo, and stick my nose in their business, but desperate times. Just as I was about to peep at them through the window, I heard the unmistakable voice of Mama Fatimo calling my name. 

“Omotola!”

I froze, racking my brain to see if there was anything I had done in the last few days that would warrant her wahala. Babalanlord suffered under Mama Fatimo’s weight, I would barely survive her arm on my chest. I tried as much as possible not to cross her. It wasn’t so difficult really, she only got upset at people who disturbed her social calendar. 

“Yes ma. Ẹ kaarọ ma” greeting her good morning, with the brightest and most innocent smile I could muster. It turns out God had heard my prayers after all. 

"Ẹhen, kaarọ o jere. Baba Fatimo is putting on the small generator, I want Fatimo to iron my clothes for Iya Risi’s party. Have you seen her?”

What a mighty God I serve! I almost raised my hands in the air and shouted hallelujah!

“Rara o.  No ma, I haven’t seen her at all this morning. She may have even gone out. I can iron your clothes for you.” I said, mustering what I hoped looked like the generous reluctance of someone who had better things to do with her time. 

“Ose jare, I don’t know where she’s going this early morin.  Come to the house and collect it.”

Of course I ironed all my clothes first, and I tried to iron Mama Fatimo’s extra well. At least I planned to. I had only ironed the first arm of her buba, when I was interrupted by my realisation that the compound was heavily silent. I picked up the iron, felt it’s cooling face and wordlessly placed it next to the blouse. The generator had been off for a few minutes. I sat down on the wooden stool next to me, chin in hand and began to contemplate my life. If only I had ironed her blouse after my first outfit was ironed. Why did I act like electricity is free flowing and everlasting?

“OmoT, how far na ...” before he could complete the rest of his sentence, Nnamdi realised that something was up. 

“Wetin happen? You don get bele? See as you dey tink” trust him to come up with such a ridiculous answer to his own question. How could I be pregnant? I looked him up and down and hissed as I contemplated the last few hours I had to live in this place. Mama Fatimo will surely chase me out; she did not play with her aṣọ ẹbi.

“What’s the matter na, biko this your serious face is disturbing me”

I wordlessly pointed to Mama Fatimo’s half rumpled buba, to which he said nothing. 

“I suppose iron Mama Fatima blouse. I come iron my own clot first so tey Babalanlord come off gen. Wetin I go come tell am now.”

“Oh, mschewww. Me I tink say suntin serious don ṣẹlẹ wey you dey look like your papa don die”

“Abeg free that one”, I said irritably “you fit help me?” 

“Eh no problem na, but you go dash me one or two bottles of cold malt.”

Ever the entrepreneur, Nnamdi never missed an opportunity to trade. He owned, or was what you call, ‘I better pass my neighbour’, a term used to refer to people in shared compounds like mine, that had their own tiny generator, which could power a small room for a couple of hours at a time. I hadn’t seen Nnamdi for a couple of days so I didn’t think to ask him to turn on his own generator. I quickly ironed her outfit and delivered it to her, mildly surprised that she had not commented on how long it took me to return her clothes to her. It seemed she was more concerned about something else. 

“You don’t mean it!” She said on the phone, probably with one of her association ladies. “May God safe us in this country o”, she continued, as I tried not to laugh at her. “You mean her party had to end because the generator stopped working? Ehnnnn really pathetic. I must ensure such doesn’t happen when mine comes around. Maybe it’s time for Baba Fatimo to buy the big gen”

Trust Mama Fatimo to be referring to a short-lived party in the same way one would refer to a sudden death. I didn’t really care. I had my clothes ironed, Mama Fatimo hadn’t squashed me to death and I was ready for my interview the next day. Electricity company a.k.a enemies of progress, will never succeed. Bigs geh salary, here I come ! 

I went to bed that night, dreaming of all the things I would buy with that N50k. I was about to be stinking rich and nobody could stop me. 

Babalanlord 2

On interview day, I woke up before my plastic alarm clock at 4:30am. I grabbed my torch and the bucket of bath water I had fetched the night before. I had slept with it next to my bed, not wanting to risk it being stolen by anyone. People are so rude. They will bath with the water you struggled to fetch and not even have the decency to return the bucket. I had learnt my lesson a long time ago. Everything stays with me.

I showered very quickly; harmattan and a bucket of cold water will do that. It didn’t help that it was pitch black either- my small torch could only shine so much light. So, I had no incentive to stay in the outdoor shower stall longer than I had to. Luckily it was still early, so I didn’t need to wait in the cold for anyone to get out of the shower before I went in.

Getting dressed in the dark isn’t so bad once you get used to it. I lit some candles around my room, so the torch had some help. One has to be careful with candles in places like mine. Once one room catches on fire, it spreads pretty quickly. There’s nothing worse than a fire to those who already don’t have much to begin with. But I had been dressing by candlelight for as long as I can remember. Besides, I had no choice; I couldn’t exactly feel around for my clothes in pitch dark. By the time the sun rose I would be on my way to the interview, to ensure I beat the traffic leaving Lagos mainland. The journey ordinarily shouldn’t take more than half an hour, so I was somewhat fine, still, I took no chances. This is Lagos.

The interview was slated to start at 9am, but I had decided I would get there by 7:30. The last time I was on time for an interview, they told me I was too late. I had looked at the man and looked at my watch then looked at him again, almost as though to ask if he was crazy. He just shrugged and left me standing there by the gate. Ever since then I learnt- early is the only on time. There is no African timing for me when it comes to these interviews. Besides, I had nothing else to do. Better to wait there than wait in traffic and miss the only chance of securing a job I currently had.

I got there at 7am.

“Ina kwana”, I said to the security man, speaking the only Hausa I knew. To my relief he replied my greeting in pigeon. “Na company ABC associates be dis? I come for interview.”

“Eh but dem never come. Dem go soon come. Make you sit down”

“Okay, thank you.”

I thanked God for the nice maiguard and brought out my mental arithmetic book to practice in case they decided to give us one of those tests. I was really bad at mental maths, but after the fifth rejection, I had upped my game, taking the book with me wherever I went, so I could practice with all my spare time.

When 8am rolled by and no one had come, I started to wonder what kind of establishment it was; they arrived at the office so late. Except for being sleepy since the 4:30am wake up, I wasn’t complaining. It meant that when I start work there, I probably would not have to get to work early either. No one had come to unlock the doors. As I looked at my watch for what seemed like the fiftieth time, a matronly lady slowly approached, taking her time, as though she owned the place.

“Abu, ina kwana”

“Lafiya lau aunty. Stella no reach, so she never open door”

“I don’t know why oga no 'gree sack that girl. She’s always late.”

“Good morning ma” I said, at the first opening I got.

I hadn’t known when it would be appropriate to interject into their conversation; I just blurted out my greeting so that she won’t turn to me and say, “can’t you greet?” It was easier to interrupt with a greeting than try and explain that I hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Nigerian aunties are crazy. They really don’t consider all the facts. I did not want to make any bad first impressions on top simple ‘good morning’.

“Ehen good morning o. Can I help you?”

“Yes ma, please ma, I’m here for the interview ma.”

“Interview ke? Ah they didn’t tell me they were doing interview o. Anyway, come in, you can sit inside.”

We made our way inside, she unlocked the doors and put on all the lights. Then settled at her desk. I guessed she was the receptionist.

“You can wait here”, she said, ‘pointing to a row of seats by her desk.

“Thank you, ma,”. This woman was the nicest receptionist I had ever met in my job search thus far. Most of them are always frowning and rolling their eyes, as though somebody was coming to take their jobs. This woman was calm, maybe because she was elderly. Whatever the case, she provided me some comfort as I waited.

At 9:00, a skinny, tall man walks in. He was wearing a shiny black pinstripe suit that somehow managed to be too small for him. The hem of his trousers barely came to his ankles- I could see his white socks. They reminded me of the secondary school students I passed every morning on my street. He really should have won a prize for getting the jacket over his shirt. It was like an accidental 3/4 sleeved suit. He reminded me of that skinny guy from Papa Ajasco- I forget his name now – the one with the suspenders and small, round spectacles; for some reason, it appeared as though he was trying to do everything possible to emphasise his skeletal frame.

“Myyyyyyyy Aunty B!”, he greeted the receptionist, who was already busy with some files.

“Who’s your aunty? Is this the time you should be getting to work? Ehn ? Bayo?”, she said without looking up from the stack of papers in front of her. I could not detect whether it was a slight irritation or amusement I heard in her tone.

“Aunty Bola mi meeeehnnnnnn traffic yen baaaaaad gan.”

“A fi bad. You’ve forgotten that we live in the same area. How is it that I managed to get here before you? Anyway, that’s your business. Oga gave me these files for you yesterday. He said you know what to do with them.”

“Thanks aunty B mi.” He says, as he takes the files, mischievously blows her a kiss and turns in my direction, as if only just noticing me. “Oh la li la ! And who do have we here” he says, as he peers over his round Harry Potter - like glasses and whistles at me. It takes all my strength not to roll my eyes. This could be the man interviewing me. I didn’t want to take any chances. I needed the job.

“Good morning sir, my name is Omotola, I am here for the customer service interview.”

He looked confused for a second, as though I had spoken a different language.

“Oh! That! Ah that position has been filled now. Since last week. Didn’t you get notified?”

I held myself from replying “obviously not” and just smiled and shook my head.

“But I was told to come today at 9am for the final interview.”

“Ah sorry o. No more vacancies. Better luck next time!” He almost looked sorry, but I was sure it was for the wrong reasons.

“Oh that’s true!” Aunty Bola said, only just remembering, “that’s the new gentleman we just hired - Thompson. I didn’t even know that’s what you were here for. That silly girl Stella, I’m sure she didn’t bother phoning the other candidates.”

“Don’t mind the yeye geh aunty B mi. I will deal with her later!” He said with a mocking grin, “but Yes o, that’s him- Thompson. And the guy is good! Anyway, I’m sorry about that. As I said, better luck next time!” As if there was going to be a next time.

Perhaps it is that I looked as though I was about to cry, or scream, or both, because Bayo silently disappeared before I had gathered up the courage to protest. I could not stop myself; to my utmost horror, I did start to cry. The job had been my last hope. Where did I go wrong?

“Ah, Omotola, you cannot cry here o. If Oga comes now, he won’t like it” Aunty Bola said as she handed me some tissues from her desk. Even in the midst of my tears, I couldn’t get over how nice the lady was being.

“I’m sorry ma. It’s just that I have been applying for over a year now. No luck. Even after my master’s in computer science and applied mathematics, nobody thinks I’m worth hiring. I am just so ... so ... tired!”, I said, as I burst into fresh tears, unable to stop myself.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You will surely find your own job. Maybe just not here. Oya stop crying. Oga is on his way. Just put yourself together. I will see what I can do. You studied maths abi? It’s true I can even see you with your book. I might be able to help you. Now stop crying. And put yourself together.”

She reminded me in a way of the kind school nurse we had in secondary school, Sister Patience. So, I believed her. I blew my nose and she directed me to the toilet to try and make myself presentable. She might be able to help me. Perhaps, all hope was not lost after all.

Babalanlord 3

“So what experience do you have in teaching or tutoring?”

Although I expected this question, it still left me temporarily speechless. I’ve never been a teacher per se. Yes, there was my service year where I taught in a secondary school, but I had had no formal training and I felt as though I was making it up as I went along. The kids did well, but that’s not really a formal qualification... is it? I also help Babajide and Fatimo with their homework and exam prep sometimes - does that count? Against my propensity to play it safe, I decided in that instant that it did.

“Yes, Mr Jaiye sir. I have spent a year teaching and my students had the best results the school had ever seen. I also tutor SS2 students in my area in their maths and science classes. They are always the top of their class.” He didn’t have to know that I only helped two students, nor the kind of school I was teaching at for the year. I didn’t think he’d be too impressed with the calibre of schools I taught.

“I see”. The weariness with which he responded betrayed that he was tired, or maybe fed up is a better way to describe it. He looked a bit spent. I didn’t even know what I was getting myself into, but if there was any day I needed to blow my own trumpet, this was it. So, I thought I’d make the decision easier for him.

“Yes sir, I can teach Maths, Chemistry, Physics, Economics and English...”

“English?” He interrupted, disbelief clearly written on his face.” “That seems out of place”

“Yes well, I was a science student, but I begged the principal to let me take literature as well. It’s something I enjoyed and was naturally good at.”

“I see”

That his “I see” seemed to have an effect on me. I normally didn’t speak if it wasn’t to respond to a question.

“Yes so I can help prepare your daughter for her exams. I am confident she will do well under my tutelage.” I threw in the last word to convince him I had some form of an extended vocabulary.

Aunty Bola had told me that her oga had a sixteen-year-old who was in SS3, her final year of secondary school, and needed tutoring for final her exams. ‘Lesson teacher’ is not what I had in mind for a job title when I had left my house that morning, but it is far better than ‘Fanta and Coke Seller’.

“She’s a very lovely girl. Such a shame ...” Aunty Bola had said, while telling me of the opportunity.

“Shame ma?”

“You don’t worry about that for now. Can you teach? Oga loves his daughter. So of course, he wants the best for her.”

“Ummm” Best ke, I had thought to myself. I don’t know about that one o.

“Of course, ma, I can do it!” The way I said it, one would think I had just received a ten-year teaching service award. But it didn’t matter. A job is a job is a job. At least this involves helping someone. So, it couldn’t be that bad. My internal conflict was an interesting mix between wanting to have a prestigious job and not knowing if I was even qualified for the one being offered to me.

“Okay well, I’ve had a look at your transcripts and letters of recommendation. Your grades are quite impressive. It’s a wonder you’ve stayed unemployed so long. Anyway, I’ll have to call your references too... if those are in order, I’ll need you to start as soon as possible”. In the absence of the ability to speak, I nodded, as Mr Jaiye interrupted the playback of my conversation with Aunty Bola. In that moment I was so grateful for the company that had once turned me away because I had not brought along a folder with proof of my academic history. I had thought, thanks to Nnamdi’s several attempts to leave the country, that those were only necessary for interviews at the American Embassy, but here I was almost getting a job offer because of this folder full of paper. Was he really about to offer me a job? It didn’t make sense. I was hardly the best. I wasn’t even a professional teacher!

It didn’t seem to matter to my brain; excitement mixed with panic swelled in my chest. I didn’t know if I was qualified to be a lesson teacher to a rich kid, but I also didn’t know if I could survive another month selling soft drinks. What if it turns out I am a terrible teacher? Whatever it is will be better than being homeless. I’ll take Babalanlord over the streets any day. I went on debating with myself until I heard Mr Jaiye’s voice.

“Yes so, Ms Fadahunsi will let you know about coming to the house to start the job.”

“Okay sir, thank you sir. I’ll be expecting her call sir.” I guessed Ms Fadahunsi was the person I knew as Aunty Bola. Thank God he didn’t say Stella, I’d never met the lady but it was clear I couldn’t trust her. She seemed bad at passing on important information.

“Sir, please sir, what about the salary sir?” I was shy about asking but also certain that he could not possibly have been expecting me to do the job for free.

“Oh yes! Sorry I forgot. We can start with N75,000 a month, and revisit after your performance review”

I must have been staring at him with my mouth open because he continued.

“I mean, we can negotiate when her mid-term results come in.”

Negotiate? Me?

My look of confusion seemed to have an effect on him

“And I can throw in some transportation allowance, it looks like you are coming from very far and I want no excuses.”

I really need to learn how to do this face for Babalanlord when he’s trying to raise the rent, maybe in his case it will work in the opposite way and the figure will keep going down. I continued to stare at him in disbelief until I realised, from the look of horror on his face, that I was crying.

“I think I am being more than fair”, he said. “You can’t have been expecting all that.”

He was right, I wasn’t, even the N50k I had dreamt of was only a dream. The salary for the role hadn’t been posted.

“Yes sir, thank you sir. I can start right away please” If he had told me to start rolling on the floor, I would have done so. “God bless you sir. Thank you sir...” I could see I was starting to make him feel uncomfortable so I said my last round of thank yous and God bless yous then I got up to leave his office.

In my gratitude I had forgotten to be afraid. On the long journey back home, I battled with my uncertainty and tried to contain my excitement. “You can do this Omotola. Yes you can.” I muttered the affirmations repeatedly to myself until I noticed the other passengers on the bus shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

“Mummy! Aunty yẹn ti ya were o!” I laughed silently to myself as the toddler’s embarrassed mother hurriedly covered his mouth with her hands. The kid was right, I was mad, I didn’t know a thing about teaching a rich kid whose teachers had probably studied abroad.

Why in the world had I accepted this job? I hadn’t seen a physics textbook in at least four years. Tola you can do it. What if the type of maths they learn is different? It doesn’t matter, you can do it. In between affirmations, I asked myself these questions, wondering if I should turn back and apologise for wasting his time. I was really anxious about it, but when I got home that afternoon, my anxiety left and was replaced with panic. Waiting for me by my room door, was Folake, my friend. She looked like she had been in a fist fight and lost, badly. Her face was bleeding and her eyes were swollen shut.

“Omo T”, she tried smiling, but it just looked like a bloody grimace. “E be like say I don wound o.”

Babalanlord 4

“Folake! What happened?! Who did this to you?! We need to go to a hospital now!”

I said this with the confidence I did not have. I had no clue where to go.

“Nnamdi! Nnamdi!”

“Wetin 'appen oooo, you dis geh?” He said, as he rushed over after hearing my screams, but he stopped immediately he saw Folake. “Jeeeezoozzz Christ! Ha! What happened?! They beat you?”

“I don’t know Nnamdi, but we need to go to a hospital now.” Ignoring his ridiculous need to state the obvious, I reminded him that he was wasting time.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming. One minute... Oya, Let’s go.” It didn’t even occur to me to wonder what Nnamdi was doing at home in the middle of the afternoon. I was just grateful he was there. He owned a keke as one of his many ventures, so he could take us to the nearest hospital.

Hospital is too generous a term for the building we eventually found. The walls were unpainted, inside and out, and even though it was daylight, it looked very dark inside. How would the doctors examine the patients? We didn’t have a choice, and we probably couldn’t have afforded anything better anyway.

“Please, my friend, she’s hurt. Please come and help us.” The nurse at the desk followed me out to meet Nnamdi, who was already carefully bringing Folake out of the keke. “I don’t know what happened to her. I came home and met her like this.”

The nurse calmly motioned us inside, and to my absolute disbelief, she made us sit and wait on a wooden bench along the wall.

“Fill this form, then you will have to pay the registration fee.” In my state of panic, I didn’t understand what she was saying really. Luckily, I’d never had to go to a hospital. Depending on my symptoms I generally self-medicate with Procold, Panadol, or some form of a herbal drink I buy from the old lady down the road. I never realised how much I had taken my really good health and general lack of any serious calamities for granted.

“Okay, I will fill the form, but can someone attend to her in the meantime? She’s in a lot of pain.” The nurse looked at me and continued what she was doing at her desk.

“Excuse me! Is it not you I am talking to?” I was getting very angry with the lady, how could she call herself a nurse? Nnamdi stepped in before I lost my temper. “Sister, sorry, don’t worry. We will fill the form and pay, please can she go in to see the Doctor?”

“No. The doctor went out for lunch. He will be back soon.”

“You have only one doctor!” I looked around incredulously at the waiting room full of patients. “How can you have only one doctor?!”

This time, she eyed me before responding. “If you don’t go and have your seat madam, you won’t even see any doctor.” Before I could respond to her, Nnamdi pulled me aside and hissed in my ear. “We need her help. Abeg go and sit down and cool your blood. Let me handle this. Madam don’t mind her please, no vex. Na her sister wey enter accident. No vex. Please.”

“Is that why she is talking to me anyhow ? Mschewwwww. She will see the doctor her sister will see today.”

“Habaaaa, madam biko na. Don’t do like that. Sorry no vex. Okay where is the form. Let us fill it. How much is the registration? and where can I go and pay?“.

She directed him to another dark looking room, and he went to pay.

I sat next to Folake. I didn’t know how to make her more comfortable on the hard bench. So I just held her hands.

“I told him I was pregnant.” She said, as she started crying. “I told him I was pregnant and he asked me who gave me permission to fall pregnant. I thought he was joking at first. So, I brushed it off and asked him what we were going to do, especially since he had lost his job. He said I didn’t answer his question. He said he hadn’t given me permission to fall pregnant so there is no way the baby could be his. He asked why I was constantly trying to bring inconvenience into his life. And I, angry at this point, I told him that he was the greatest inconvenience I had ever come across in my entire existence. I told him that. I said I regret the day I met him. That’s when he started. He told me he will give me a real reason to regret ever having met him. I tried running, but in a flat, where is there to run? He pulled me by my braids and dragged me on the floor. And he just kept going. I couldn’t even scream for help. I thought my head was going to burst open from the pain. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him so soon after he lost his latest contract. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him at all. But I didn’t think he would react like that. Not when ... not when I was carrying his child. There was no one around in his compound. It seems everyone had disappeared conveniently. He just left me there. I could have been dead, but he left. I just managed to make my way to you. People didn’t want to carry me. I guess they thought they’d get in trouble if I died on their hands. I don’t blame them. I thought I was going to die. I think if I hadn’t gotten to your place when I did, I would have collapsed.”

I didn’t really know what to say because there were too many things to say. I was too full of anger to speak, so I just comforted her as she continued to cry. I began to wonder if I could ask Nnamdi and his two tenants to pay the piece of filth a visit- they looked big and scary enough, but the doctor arrived in the middle of my vengeful plans, and it seemed I was the only one that had noticed. I walked up to him while I still had the chance to grab his attention first.

“Good afternoon doctor. I hope your lunch was good.” I said quietly, trying to be extra polite without letting the panic leave my voice or any of the other patients notice who had walked in. “My friend here was very badly beaten. Please can you attend to her. I think her situation is critical” I added, for extra urgency.

He was a young doctor, couldn’t have been more than a couple of years older than I was, if that. He towered over me and looked down at my desperate face, almost amused. “I haven’t had lunch today, thank you for asking. I will see to your friend.” I looked back at the nurse, unsure. “It’s okay, I’ll take care of her”. He winked at me, or maybe I imagined it, and then somehow the highly irritated nurse was leading us to his office.

“Nurse Nneka, please can you ask John to put on the generator. I’ll need some light to examine my patient. You can bring the rechargeable lantern in the meantime. And where is Dr Ibrahim? He is still not back from lunch? I told him to wait for me. I had an urgent house call. Please call him and tell him to come back immediately. We have all these patients waiting. Okay Madam,” he said turning to me, “can you tell me what happened?”

I had ignored the protests of the other patients who had been waiting - none of them was bleeding badly. I felt bad, but I was sure they could wait. I explained to him what I knew, and he nodded solemnly as he began to examine Folake. The well-spoken doctor didn’t really match the poorly lit, almost dilapidated hospital, if we can even call it that. For a few minutes, I forgot my worry about Folake and became intrigued at the misplaced doctor that was treating her. He asked her some questions, continued to examine her, then asked another nurse to clean and bandage her wounds. Then they asked me to wait outside so they could examine her further. I could hardly see the point. The so-called ward was the size of a small living room, with a single old, but clean sheet, acting as a wall between the two beds in the room. But I left anyway, not wanting to incur anymore of Nurse Nneka’s wrath.

I found Nnamdi waiting in the reception area.

“Nnamdi. Thank you so much, God bless you.”

“Don’t mention OmoT, although now it’s like you owe me two bottles o.”

“Yes o. Soon my small shop will finish on top all these favours I keep asking you for. Thank you. God bless you.

“No wahala. You’re even lucky you met me at home. That Babalanlord, such a trouble maker. He wanted to tell me that I can’t use my gen anymore. Can you just imagine that. I don’t even know what is wrong with that old Baba. It’s like Mama Fatimo needs another party, so she can sit on that his big head. Mschewww, useless man.”

“Don’t mind him o. I don’t even know what is wrong with the man sef. As if he is the only landlord in the whole of this country. Mechewwww. Useless man.”

We continued abusing Babalanlord, repeating the same insults and amusing ourselves by trying to guess when next we’ll get to watch a fight between him and his wife.

In all the commotion, I had forgotten about the new job I was hoping for. I had forgotten about whether I knew enough physics or chemistry to teach. I was just tired and occupied with how I was going to help my friend. I didn’t notice that my phone had died or that the only decent shirt I had was covered in blood.

Babalanlord 5

I used the last of the money I had on me to buy Folake’s pain killers and dressings for her wounds. The doctor was kind enough to treat her free of charge. He said something about paying it forward, but at that point I was just so relieved, I was not paying attention to anything else he said. We exchanged numbers so that I could call him if Folake had any issues. He wasn’t always at the ‘hospital’, and I was pretty sure Nurse Nneka would chase me out with a broom if I returned and tried to speak with her. I didn’t know anything about dressing wounds, but he had patiently showed me how. Hopefully my small practice would suffice.

By the time we got home, we were emotionally spent from the day. There was no light, not that we expected there to be anyway. It did not matter, we were all just tired. While Folake slept on my bed, I decided to go for a stroll. I somehow had enough strength to walk about aimlessly for about an hour, so lost in thought that it took me a while to notice the mixture of concerned and awkward stares directed at me. It was only at that point I realised, in the flurry of the day’s activities and my subsequent exhaustion, I had forgotten to change out of my blood-stained clothes. I didn’t really care, I was just tired at that point, and wanted to find a place to empty my mind. I was afraid. What if her killer-boyfriend turned up? I was running out of money and although the job did seem certain, I was not sure when aunty Bola would call me.

At the thought of the impending call, I put my head in my hands. My phone was dead. I had tried to use it as little as possible to preserve the battery, but it was an old phone and the battery depleted at an exponential rate. I’m sure it got worse each day with the erratic power stealing electricity from it at different points while plugged into the charger. I didn’t even have any money to go and charge it at the kiosk down our road. So, I just prayed that whenever aunty Bola, Ms Fadahunsi, decides to call me, it would be after my phone was charged, or at least after I had sold the last of my soft drinks and made enough cash to charge it. I already owed Nnamdi some money for splitting the medical payments with me, I didn’t want to ask him for anymore.

I didn’t realise how much time had passed, because by the time I had gotten home, it was already dark. I tried to move as quietly as possible through the maze of rooms in our compound, so as not to draw any attention to my arrival, but as I was walking, I hit the stack of metal plates Fatimo had probably neglected to take back inside after she’d washed them. I felt my heart leap and prayed that no one would notice it.

“Tani yẹn!" Babalanlord’s unmistakeable voice showed my prayers went unanswered.

"Emi ni"

"Emi ni", he said, mimicking my unhelpful response, “tani ‘wo?”

"Ọmọtọla sah" I responded, quickly identifying myself to him before he came to attack me. I honestly would not have been surprised if he owned a weapon. His illusions of grandeur made him do the craziest things.

“Ọmọtọla kẹ? Why are you coming back by this time? Is this the time for a decent young lady to be coming back home? Anyway, you are kuku not even decent. I don’t know which decent woman will stay by herself. No husband. No children. No broda. No fada. No anytin! Anyway, let me not complain too much. It is from your galavanting that I am sure you pay the rent. You are just lucky I am a kindhearted man. How many persons will rent to a single lady like you - no any man to come and guarantee that you have permission and backing to stay here. God help you the day you miss your rent by even a single second, you won’t know when you find your things outside.”

I used the cover of darkness to roll my eyes as he started his usual tirade. I was not married. I had no children. I lived alone as a single woman. So, I was somehow indecent, but not so indecent that he rejected my money. Unfortunately, he was right. I was lucky to have found the place. Most people don’t quite like renting to single ladies. Apparently, it offends their sensibilities. Babalanlord’s greed exceeded his sense of morality- or whatever it is those people pretend to be caring about. But he never let me forget that he collected my rent grudgingly.

I did not have the strength to bear the burden of Babalanlord’s guilt that night. It had been a long day. So, I tried to apologise and feel my way towards my room while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Sorry sah”

“Sorry for yourself. If I start locking the door, you people will call me wicked. Yet you refuse to act like decent human beings. Anyway, it’s like I saw that someone else was in your room. Who is that? You know I don’t condone extra tenants”

“Yes sah, my friend Folake, she had an accident so she has to stay here for a few days while she gets better. She’s not staying for long.”

“Accident kẹ ? Anyway, when she was prancing about on the road in the middle of the night why wouldn’t she get accident?”

It was so like Babalanlord to jump to the most unfavourable conclusions. That is why I hadn’t said she had been beaten. He would have asked what she stole to get beaten or something stupid like that. I didn’t even have a response to his veiled accusations. So I continued walking.

“Anyway, I kuku know your type. It’s like you want to turn my decent compound into a brothel. I will not allow it.”

“Babalanlord please. There’s no brothel here. My friend is sick. I’m just taking care of her.”

“Sick kọ sick ni. I hope you haven’t brought AIDS patient here o.”

“No no no no no” I said as many no’s as possible to deny his stupid claims as well as a refusal to believe the man was being serious. This was not a man I could educate, even if I was not exhausted. So I had to figure out a way to flatter him and release myself from the situation.

“It’s not that kind of illness she has. Anyway, she said she came here because she knows I have a strong landlord that will be able to protect her.“

“Eh! She said that ?” he said, forgetting his prior objections, attempting to push his chest out. “Why didn’t you say that one since? They know me well on this street o. Nobody can ever dare try and come here. Emi. They can’t even try it.”

I was both amazed at and grateful for Babalanlord’s vanity and stupidity. I used this as my opportunity to exit the conversation.

“Thank you sah. Ẹ ṣe sah. Please let me go and give her her medicine.”

“Yes o. Take care of her very well. In fact I shall stop by to see her.“

There’s no way Babalanlord could fit into my apartment but I said nothing and quickly went to my place. I found Folake still asleep. Scared to disturb her, I made myself comfortable on the single couch, and slept before I even knew I was falling asleep.

Tomorrow is another day, a new chance, a fresh start. I kept telling myself that as my mind raced across my different worries.

A few hours later I was woken by a light. It wasn’t the sun. It was the bulb that let us know when the electricity was back on. Although disoriented, I managed to find my charger and plug my phone. When it finally came on, I saw that I had five messages. Four of them were from the stupid glo trying to get me to buy some ringtone or bonus plan or the other - with which money?- and the last was from the office, telling me they had tried to reach me and asking me to call back. I was excited, but it was 3am; I couldn’t do much. So, I went to check on Folake, who somehow was up.

“You’re awake? Pele. How do you feel?”

“I’m okay. It’s like a terrible headache and some body pain, but I will be okay.”

She looked so sad. I didn’t know what to say “Do you feel bad about losing the baby?”

She shook her head and looked at me “Is that bad? I feel relief more than anything, but there is a part of me that is sad. I don’t know how to explain it. I think I thought the baby would make things better. Stupid, I know. But I thought it was something that could strengthen our bond. But now I just feel silly. And selfish. It’s not that I planned to get pregnant, but I was going to let another innocent person have to deal with that monster of a man. Maybe it’s a sign for me to leave him.”

I thought carefully before I responded. Because I really was about to say “before nko ?” But I’d grown up seeing women around me lose friends because those friends became too critical of their partners, even when those partners hurt them in many ways. I knew Folake wasn’t unreasonable, but I also knew that the deception that comes with the semblance of love was a powerful charm. So, I tried not to say anything that would make her feel bad or defensive. “I am here for you. You can stay here as long as you want. And I will force Nnamdi and his tenants to provide the muscle if we happen to need it. I doubt he will even be able to venture to this area, probably too rough for him. Don’t feel bad about the baby. I think it’s normal to get to a point where you will do anything to save a relationship. We all can only hope. I support you. I have never liked him, but that aside, he’s a danger to you. You deserve to be with someone that allows you peace and freedom.”

“I know. I just feel like such a failure and a wimp. And I’m pained at what I let myself go through. He’s done some nasty things to me Tola. I just thought I had to grin and bear it. That’s what I see other women do all the time. So, I didn’t feel like I had a right to complain.”

“Trust me. I understand, when I was younger, I overheard a family meeting. It was about my dad’s younger sister. I can’t quite remember what her husband did, but they all told her that if her marriage failed, then she failed. My mother tried to protest, but because she was ‘just’ a ‘wife’, they accused her of trying to be a homewrecker and told her to face her own family. Later, when she caught me eavesdropping, she sat me down to tell me to ignore all those things they had said. She said I must not let anybody treat me badly because of my fear of what people might say. Then she made me listen to the whole of Ebenezer Obey’s song - you know the one about the man and the donkey? Yes, she made me listen to it to show me that there’s no pleasing anyone - I have to do things for myself.

“You’re lucky you had a mother like that. Mine just scares me into thinking I won’t be able to fend for myself.”

“But you have a job! You’re doing okay! In fact, you are even doing better than me. Remember we both were afraid you wouldn’t even graduate hahahaha.”

“Abi o. Even after that miracle and the second miracle of getting a job, it’s not enough. Apparently, I need a man to take care of me. Honestly, I don’t know what feels worse. This head-splitting migraine, wounds and bruises or the fact that I am so sure my mother will tell me to go back and beg him. I’m just so tired. “

I fumed at the thought of having to go and beg someone who had turned my friend into a boxing bag, but I kept my cool. “Don’t worry. We don’t need to worry about that for now. Let’s try and go to bed. Let me find your tablets so you can sleep.”

Once Folake had fallen asleep, I was left with my thoughts. For the second time that day, I was grateful. I didn’t have money or a rich boyfriend, but at least I had a mother who had taught me how to be free.

Babalanlord 6

I don’t understand why my father insisted on getting me a lesson teacher. I have pretty much taught myself all I know, well, with the support of Prof Google. My teachers ended up relying on me to help them answer questions from other students while they got on with other work or slept or gossiped. He could have saved his money, or better still, given it to me, since I am going to end up teaching myself anyway. I let myself have the least bit of hope that perhaps he would have hired someone who was at least a bit competent, but when I saw the person he had selected, I couldn’t help but laugh. I tried to pretend is was a cough, but she wasn’t convinced. Oh well... What a joke. “This is going to be fun…” I thought to myself.

“Good afternoon, my name is Omotola Johnson. I am here to see Mr … “, she said, as she stood, unsure of herself, at the front door I had just opened.

“He’s not at home, but I guess you...”, I said, as I slowly looked at her from head to toe, “... are supposed to be my new lesson teacher. You may come in, might as well get this over with.”

I was not sure what vibe I was going for, but I had done my best imitation of some sort of British accent. Like I was in a public school or something. I decided that I was going to have fun and take up a new accent every day, or perhaps every sentence. Didn’t matter. It’d sha be fun. It wasn’t my fault that my father insisted on wasting his money.

I led her into the room I had commandeered for my studies. My father amused himself by putting in a white board and projector. It was highly unnecessary since it was just me, but the man has always been a bit of an overdoer.

“I’ll be taking my lessons here. I understand you are to be teaching me sciences, math and english. I do not know that I will be requiring much of your teaching, seeing as I finished the syllabus months ago, but we don’t have to tell my father that. It seems as though he wants this bit of illusion of control, and I have decided to give him that - more for my sanity than anything. You can stay here and do whatever you want while I work on past questions. When the time is up you may leave, and if my father happens to drop by, which is highly unlikely, we can pretend at this teacher-student relationship for which he is paying you. Hmmmm, what else ...? Oh yes! As you can see, I am pregnant, so you can stop pretending that you didn’t notice my protruding belly. It will make it less awkward for you. Given my small frame, I am pretty sure you guessed it is not just fat. You don’t need to worry about that. Just continue to keep yourself busy. If you can manage that, I am sure we will have no problems with this and once I take my exams, you will be free to go. If any of this is disagreeable to you, feel free to leave. I won’t mind passing along the message to my father that you realised you were highly unsuitable and under qualified for the job.”

I smiled as I said all this, leaving her no room to interrupt me. She did look shocked at the casual mention of my pregnancy, but somehow, she didn’t look judgemental. In fact, she almost looked sympathetic, and perhaps slightly irritated. I was even more irritated. I wanted to be left alone to deal with my own self and my own life. It was bad enough that I had slipped up and become one of those people parents warn their children about - the ones who get pregnant and have to drop out of school.

I decided not to go into a bout of mental self-loathing in front of the lady. There was no point thinking about what I couldn’t change. My priority is to sit these exams and get into university so that I can have this baby and get on with my life. It was already bad that I was bringing another person into this miserable world, I might as well get an education so that it won’t be so bad for said person.

“Uhmmmmm ... okay? ... I’m not sure what to say to that, but if that’s what you want... Fine. I’ll be here anyway because I need this job. It doesn’t matter that you are clearly a difficult person. That one no concern me. Na to collect my money and go. If you like waste your dad’s money. That’s your own business. Maybe because you have a father to be worried about you, that is why you have the space to be so self -centred. Again, that is your business. Seeing as you’re a big girl and you clearly know what you want, I will stay out of your way. This is perfect for me because I can spend the time working on my business plan. So, thank you for freeing up my time. I’ll take my leave now. You can tell your dad I’m ready to start tomorrow - if that’s okay with you. Good bye.”

She didn’t even give me time to respond to her before she turned to the door and walked out. She went the wrong way and had the grace to look embarrassed as she came back for help with getting out. I thought my act would scare her away, but she had just made me feel foolish.

I hadn’t asked for her! I didn’t want anyone around me! I just wanted to be left alone to deal with my own life myself!

“Molade, food is ready.” Aunty Esther called, as she walked into the room, clearly on a mission to stuff me to stupor.

“I’m not hungry. Thank you.”

“Your food is on the table. Better go and eat it before it gets cold. It’s not only you that you need to think of now. If you don’t eat, I will tell oga when he comes back.”

She knew I hated my dad prodding. She knew I hated anyone asking me what’s wrong. It is such a stupid question. I’m 16 and pregnant! That’s what’s wrong. I had made a stupid mistake and ruined my whole life! That’s what’s wrong! I don’t know why people continued to ask me the stupid question as though it isn’t bloody obvious. I had failed. I had broken my father’s heart and I had become a disgrace to my mother’s memory.

“Okay, I’m coming”, I said, as I quickly used style to brush a tear that had escaped my hard exterior and was rolling down my cheek.

“Better. I made your favourite. Iyan. O ya let’s go.”

I saw her pretend she hadn’t seen my tears. “Thank you aunty Esther.” Perhaps, I didn’t really want to be left alone after all.

As if on cue, I got a text:

How are you? Thinking about you. Please let me come visit, just once. I am worried about you.

I ignored it. The fewer people I had in my drama, the better.

“Thank you aunty Esther, this egusi smells so good.”

“I thought you were not hungry?” she said, as she eyed me half-seriously

“I am not o. It’s baby. Baby is hungry.”

Babalanlord 7

“What are you doing here?!”

“Well … if the mountain won’t come …”

“This is not funny Dayo, you cannot be here. Obviously, I cannot be seen in the company of boys in this state, outside the gate of my father’s house!”

“Nawa o. Molly Molz. Since when you cared what people say you can and cannot do?”

I don’t, but my dad does, and I have disappointed him enough. So please can you just leave before you get me into trouble.”

“Molade, you don’t pick up the phone when I call. You don’t reply any of my messages. And I doubt you leave this house much. I can’t believe my older sister knows more about your life than I do! I had little choice. Don’t worry I paid the gateman, he won’t say anything.”

"Yes, but aunty Esther will. What do you want anyway?”

“Never! Aunty Esther is my guy. Besides, I know she is not at home. I saw her on her way out. She said I should tell you to stop starving yourself. Why have you been starving?! Are you trying to kill our baby?!”

“Dayo, this is not your baby. Stop being silly. What do you want?"

"Yo I have been struggling with further maths bruh, I need your help. I thought it would be a fun joke to take the class while you were there to do my homework for me … little did I know you had other plans ...” he looked up with mock thoughtfulness. “Besides there is no one to make laugh. The classes have been so dead since you left. At least Mr Ojo still provides some comic relief: ‘ good morin class, today we will be talking about the fouuuuuuur stomachssss … of …. a … cow!’”

“Rumen, reticulum, omasum, abomasum” I sang before I could stop myself. We’d learnt it since JSS2 or 3 and for some reason the song had stayed in my head. Typical of Dayo to think it was new material, four years later.

“Nawa o, see me here feeling fresh that I knew something you didn’t. Let me just keep shut. You are missed sha … haha stop trying not to blush.”

“I am not blushing. No one misses me. You have to leave. NOW!”

“Okay okay sheesh. I will leave, but not until you promise to stop ignoring me. Also, that’s so mean, I miss you! Since when did I become no one? Nawa o.”

“Yes, yes whatever.”

“Promise!”

“Ugh, yes promise, whatever …"

“Okay ciao my loveeerrrrrrr. Ooops! I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud. Your neighbours will be certain that I’m the baby daddy.”

“You are so stupid.” I said, even as I tried not to laugh "Bye! Go now!”

“Yea yea yea I’m going. Will text you.”

Before he went out of sight, I heard my phone beep.

"TEXTING YOU”

I rolled my eyes.

“HEY, YOU PROMISED NO IGNORING! AS YOU CAN SEE I HAVEN’T GONE FAR, I CAN TURN RIGHT BACK. ”,

I gave in.

“Stop texting me in caps. Ok. I have replied. Happy?”

“YES. LOVE YOU!!!!! Oh sorry ... ”

I went back inside the house, walked back to my ‘lesson room’ to continue the problems I had been practising.

I’d had a crush on Dayo since the first day of secondary school, one that I had refused to tell him about. We had become friends and I guess I was scared of ruining it, so I left things as they were - two best buddies from JSS1, so inseparable that everyone asked why we insisted on lying about our relationship status. While I was top of the class, he was consistently bottom three, but he was as intelligent as I was. He just could not be bothered and found it more amusing to play pranks on the teachers. He always got in trouble, and I would always beg the teachers for leniency on his behalf. They called us Kehinde and Taiwo. We were that close. He almost always copied my homework, and he was always there for me. So naturally, when everyone found out that I had fallen pregnant, they thought it was his … only that isn’t the case. Even so, he was the first person I told.

“ Huh?! You’re joking right? Fam, it is December not April o, you are about 3 months too early.” He had said when I told him.

“4 months, and I am not lying. I took the test five times. All my pocket money is finished. I spent it all buying those stupid test kit things.”

“O MY GOD! YOU ARE NOT JOKING? ! Also, it’s crazy that you had the time to correct my counting”

“Whatever. No. I am not joking.”

“Who? What? How?”

“I don’t want to talk about it… what am I going to do?”

“I don’t know. What are you going to do? Have you told your dad?”

“No. I can’t. How will I tell him?”

“Mmmmm so what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“But how did this happen? You never told me … like … “

“I don’t want to talk about that part Dayo, I just need to figure out how to move forward.”

“Wow. I thought we were going to wait till we got married. Me, you … the beach ...”

“Dayo, this is not the time for jokes.”

“Okay, I am sorry. Should I ask my sister? Remember when she got pregnant for Kike there was all this drama? In the end it was fine. My father threatened to kill her, but today you would think Kike is the only one that exists in that house. He doesn’t eat if he hasn’t seen her. First words out of his mouth when he gets home “Ehen, k'ule, Kike nko?” … Maybe she might be able to help.”

“Yea … I guess I will speak to her. Can you give me her number?”

“Yea sure, I will. Don’t worry. We’ll be okay”

“... I hope so ...” I noticed that he had said “we”, though I didn’t show it, it made me feel better that I was not going to go through this alone.

I spoke to Dayo’s sister, Seyi. In those initial moments, she became my own big sister. She listened to me, didn’t prod when I didn’t want to answer further, but she told me about her experience and helped me see it wasn’t the end of the world - even though it felt like it. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was the end of the world as I knew it. The result of a single event has resulted in a turning point in my life that I could never have foreseen for myself.

It never even occurred to me to try and get rid of this baby. I don’t know why. Maybe because I had been the one to sit with my aunty for nights on end when I woke up to her weeping for her lost babies. My father’s younger sister had been married for ten years, and had lost just as many babies in that time period. She was like a mother to me, and even when she left us to get married, she made sure to see me at least once a week. She slept over whenever uncle was away. It was her, my aunty Ajoke, that eventually helped me tell my father what had happened.

He was speechless. He just stared at the both of us and instead of the screams I had prepared myself for, he was silent. He had tears in his eyes. It broke me. And I started crying too.

“Daddy, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

He made no sound.

“Daddy, please. I am sorry.”

Still nothing.

“Daddy …”

“I failed your mother.” That’s what he said as he stood up to leave us staring at his defeated figure walking to his room.

I stared at aunty Ajoke, not knowing what to do or say. She shook her head, and motioned for me to come to her. I cried the whole night, and for many days after. Those words my father had spoken, as I saw him shed tears for the first time in my life, were enough to make me wonder if there was a point carrying on with my life. I was supposed to be my father’s joy, his golden child, but I caused him heartbreak. I didn’t think I could bear to live with it.

I continued to go to school. Hoping that no one would notice. I managed this for a while and made sure to eat as much as possible when I was around people, so they would think I was just getting fatter. Dayo was the only one who knew. But after a while, despite my small size, it became impossible to hide and the principal called me into her room.

“Molade, please sit down.”

I hoped she wouldn’t take long. My bladder had become so weak, and I really needed to pee.

“It has come to my attention that … hmm … it has come to my attention that you are pregnant.”

I stared at her, and then back down at my hands, not really knowing how to respond. My father hadn’t spoken to me much, so I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to my schooling. I knew they wouldn’t let me continue. I just hoped I’d be able to finish the term and take the exams on my own. Our principle was a kind woman, very strict, but fair. Still, I did not know what to expect. Getting pregnant is not the same thing as skipping physics to finish studying for a maths test.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“You are one of our top pupils, actually, you are the best student this school has seen in my twenty years here. Your teachers have nothing but great things to say about you, and you have consistently performed well in both internal and external examinations. I know how much you help your classmates, and your participation in different clubs and sports. So, it is regretful that this has happened. I have spoken to your father, and we have found some sort of arrangement, given your previous academic performance and exemplary behaviour.”

I continued to look down at my hands. Perhaps she sensed that I could not speak, because she just carried on.

“So you can finish the term, we don’t have too long left anyway, and take your exams. But you will be suspended, and only allowed to come in to take your exams, in a separate room. That is the best we can do to ensure you at least graduate and have a record of finishing secondary school. Given the circumstances, none of this should even be up for discussion, but as I said, you have been a great pupil, and it will be a shame to throw it all away for … this …”

“Thank you ma”. Sensing the long pause, I finally regained my ability to speak.

“Your father has said he will arrange a tutor for your school exams, as well as the national ones. This is the best we can do for you. Normally you wouldn’t even have the option of taking your exams. But as I said, I know what you are capable of, and I want to give you a second chance.”

“Thank you, ma.” I really couldn’t think of anything else to say. The shame and gratitude were too much to bear at the same time.

“Well, that is all I have for you. You can go back to your class now. Today will be your last day in school.”

“Okay … thank you ma…” I wanted to tell her I was sorry for disappointing her, for letting her down, for nullifying all the times she had used me as a good example for my juniors and my peers. I wanted to tell her that I did not mean for any of this to happen, and that if I could go back in time I would have. But I didn’t say any of those things. I just left, full of shame and anger at myself for disappointing so many people in my life.

I didn't go back to class. I spent the next couple of hours crying in the toilet nobody went to because it was always broken. I had ruined everything, but somehow, I was still being allowed to finish school. I don’t know why she was so kind to me. I didn’t think I deserved any of it. My father was barely speaking to me. Some days I woke up praying to wake up from the nightmare that was my life, then I would look down at my protruding belly, pinch myself, and realise that I was as awake as I could ever be. I kept rewinding, going back in time, wishing I had left when something inside my head told me to leave, wishing I had never tightened my school uniform skirts like all the other girls had. Wishing I never wore any lipgloss, or let my long, thick hair show. Wishing I could just scrub myself of all the mess that was weighing me down. I should have gone to a convent.

Dayo found me later, he’d brought my school bag, he’d obviously helped me pack my books when I was called to the Principal’s office that morning.

“Knew I’d find you here, ms moaning myrtle. Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“It is not the end of the world you know. I know it feels that way, like your life is over or something, but it is not. I never told anyone this but when Seyi found out she was pregnant, I caught her one day trying to kill herself. I kept wondering what if I was not at home that day. What if I hadn’t wondered out of my room to look for her? It is never that serious. Now Kike, the reason she almost killed herself, is literally the joy of our household. It is like she brought light that we didn’t even know was missing. That kid makes me smile and cry and laugh all at the same time. She’s such a blessing. I am sad you’re going through this. Because it for sure is not easy at all. I wish you’d speak to me more about it. Anyway, all I want to say is that I am here for you and it is not the end of the world. The sun will still rise tomorrow, and while there is life, there’s a world of possibilities open, even when it feels shitty... Okay, speech over! How did I do? I was practicing my lines for that play you roped me into doing. Also, I need your help with maths.”

“You’re so silly! What play? You can’t act to save your mother’s life. I am surprised you even managed to get through that monologue without looking at notes.”

“You righ you righ, I memorised the speech doing class. Clearly, I did a good job. How far this homework na?”

“Mschewwwwwww Okay, let me see what you’ve done.”

We spent the rest of the day finishing his homework in the abandoned toilet. He made me laugh, and in those brief moments, I forgot that I wanted to wake up from my nightmare. Perhaps the fact that I could still laugh really showed that it was not the end of the world.

Aunty Ajoke came to pick me up from school that day. I guess she knew it was going to be my last day. I was glad to have her with me, but I could not stand her kindness. I needed someone to be mean to me, to scream at me, to flog me. Something to make me feel less invisible. It was either they were avoiding me or being overly nice. It wasn’t normal. I had done something wrong, I deserved to be punished. I’d make myself cry just to prove that I was in the wrong and I was sorry for it. No one was giving me the opportunity to show that I was sorry, it is like I had that burden to carry all on my own.

On that day, my last day of classes, I had decided that I wouldn’t stay in touch with anyone from school. In the last few weeks, as I began to show more than I could hide, I heard them all whispering as I walked past. It wasn’t hard to see that I wasn’t just getting fat. I looked at people whom I had helped with homework or given a chance to correct their answers when I had to mark their work, and they looked away. I am not sure what it is about shame that makes people think it is contagious. I bore the shame alone, they did not need to avert their eyes, but they did. Even the teachers whose lives I had made easier did. Everyone did. And soon, to everyone in the school, I fell from my post as the shining star and became no more than a subject of discussion during break time. I was used to being spoken about, only it was almost always with admiration and some jealousy. I had loved it when people talked about me, it meant they were afraid, and they recognised my abilities. No one feared or admired me anymore. Everyone was ashamed of me. It made me feel even more ashamed of myself. So I cut myself off from everyone in the school.

Except Dayo.

Babalanlord 8

‘Lessons’ with Omotola proceeded as I had predicted. We did not interact much. She came in the morning, I let her in, and continued working on my practice questions. If there was anything I wanted, it was to surpass all academic expectations and boundaries. I had nothing else to do and no one but Dayo to distract me, so I studied and practiced all the time. I didn’t need her help. But somehow, it was nice to have another body in the room, one that didn’t know me, or look at me with pity or sadness, or eyes that showed me images of what could have been. We didn’t talk much. I figured the less we interacted the better.

“You know there is a faster way of solving that equation”, Omotola said as she annoyingly peered over my shoulder

“No, there isn’t.”

“Yes there is, I’ll show you.” She scribbled something on the board with two fewer lines than the one I had on my page. “You’re not the only smarty pants here you know.”

“Right. So why are you here stuck teaching a high school drop out if you are so clever.”

“Na condition wey bend crayfish.”

“Sure. Well .. thanks.”

“It is what I am here for.”

As I was considering whether or not to ask her another question about something, I had found difficult earlier, the door bell rang. So I went to open the door.

“Hi Molade.”

It was Tina, this girl from class I had barely said two words to, I don’t even know how she had gotten my address.

“Uh … hi?”

“I heard about what happened and I came to see how you were doing.”

I was shocked. I really had not said more than two words to this girl, I barely even noticed her. Her massive size belied how quiet she actually was.”

“Mmmm, okay, come in… I guess?”

“Thanks”

I let her in and took her to the lesson room.

“Oh, wow, you have a nice set up here, better than our classes.”

“I guess so. Do you want anything to drink?”

“No thanks... mmm...Maybe just water? … or juice … or maltina, if you have any?”

I went and brought her some juice, by the time I came back, I met her exchanging notes with Omotola on the maths trick she had just explained to me.

“… so you just carry the x, and it works out …”

“ Yes, I actually figured out that short cut a while ago. Comes in really handy.”

I never knew this babe was smart, she was always sooo quiet. I also didn’t really pay attention to anyone else’s grades as long as I was in the lead by far. But now it made sense. I don’t know why I had never noticed her. I lie, I do know. There wasn’t really anything spectacular about her. She never drew attention to herself and despite her size, was easy to miss.

“I got you apple juice.”

“Thanks! My favourite. So how have you been?”

“Fine I guess." I was still confused about her presence in my house. I also wasn’t sure how I felt about a semi-stranger asking me how I was in my own house

“That’s good to hear. I had travelled for another operation when you left school, so I only just heard. I thought I’d come see how you are doing. Dayo told me that you were home.” Ah yes, she was also mostly absent from school, that’s also why I generally forgot about her.

“Dayo? How come he’s never mentioned you to me?”

“I don’t know … we both take art class, that’s how I know him. He draws so well. He’s always drawing comics. He draws a really good version of you though.”

“I see.”

“Yea ”

We both stared at each other for what seemed like a while, till the silence was interrupted by Omotola clearing her throat.

“anyway, I am here if you want to talk, or something.”

“Uhmmm … okay. Thanks.” I felt bad because she was being nice to me and all I could think about was how unremarkable and huge she was. Not obese or like my 600lb life type of fat, but her belly wasn’t flat like mine had been before my Great Mistake, she had big arms, and her height made her seem more like a giant than a model. Her face was actually attractive if you looked closely enough, but she was still fat ... maybe Dayo had felt sorry for her, or worse, me. Since I had stopped talking to everyone else maybe he needs someone to share the burden of being friends with me… I quickly remembered myself “Thank you. That’s nice. I think I am okay though, but thanks.”

“Sure, I am here if you need me, Dayo has my number as well. Sometimes it is good to talk.”

“Yup.” I figured I could hide my irritation if I kept my responses to monosyllables. Who was she to tell me ‘it’s good to talk’?

“Anyway, I’ll get going now, thanks for the juice. All the best with exam prep and stuff.”

“Thank you.”

I let her out, not sure what to make of the whole interaction. It was too much information at once. I text Dayo.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!”

“Ahn ahn, cam down, I thought we said no caps na.”

He called, and I picked up the phone.

“Dude, why is there some random person coming to my house to ask if I want to talk?”

“Oh! Tina! She’s not random now, she’s awesome, she’s in my art class. She asked me why I was looking sad and stuff, so I was talking to her about you. She said she understood …”

“Wow, so now you have a whole new best friend already, and both of you are gossiping about me. Weh done.”

“Come on!”

“I have to go finish my prep. I am already behind schedule, all thanks to you and your friend Tina. You know, if being friends with me is too much work for you, you can just say so. Bye.”

“Come on now, it is not like that.”

I hung up. He called again. I didn’t answer. After about the third try, he stopped. I was jealous. And conflicted. I wanted to be angry with him, but he was my only friend. I was just sad that he was getting close to someone else, and they were both feeling sorry for me. She wasn’t even that fine, and she was fat.

I was clearly fuming, pressing the pen so hard on the page it tore, quarter to tantrum I stood up and started pacing the room, talking out loud to myself, “this is how it starts, then you are left all alone, just like you deserve … what a traitor that guy is … men are really trash”

“You know, maybe you need to see that your friends, are just trying to be there for you.”

“This is none of your business. Thank you very much. You know nothing about my life. You have just come here to make money. So, let us just leave it at that. Thank you.”

“You have no home training”

“Evidently.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and let the people who want to be friends to you do so, otherwise you will lose everything and everyone because of your pitiful pity party. Get over yourself.”

This time it was my turn to walk out on her.

I got to my room and cried. Then my phone beeped again.

Why are you ignoring me? We need to talk. Still thinking of you...

I deleted the message, then text Dayo to apologise.

“Nawa o. This baby is turning you into suntin else. Ahn ahn.”

“I said I’m sorry na haba. sorry. You can send me Tina’s number. Btw, I never knew you had a thing for thick chicks.”

“I only have eyes for you babe. Sent her contact card on WhatsApp - Love you too.”

“Ode. Thank you.”

If you can’t beat them, join them, I guess…

Babalanlord 9

Omotola didn’t show up for the rest of the week. Feeling bad about the way I had reacted, I hadn’t told my dad. I didn’t want to get her in trouble, since it was my fault and she wasn’t that bad. At least she didn’t disturb me and perhaps she was not as useless as I thought. When she hadn’t shown up by Friday morning, I started to worry that she had quit. But she eventually turned up in the late afternoon 

“Nawa. So you remembered you have a job here. And you now decided to come at the end of the day. Weh done ma.”

“I told your dad I’d be away for a few days. Not my fault he didn’t feel the need to tell you. In case you didn’t know, it rained. Rain means gridlock traffic. So, when it rains you adjust your expectations of arrival times in this Lagos. “

“Oh. I didn’t know you had mentioned to my dad.” I felt stupid for feeling like I was covering up for her. It had made me feel better about storming out the week before. 

My dad still was barely speaking to me beyond ensuring I was feeling okay and driving me to my hospital appointments when aunty Ajoke couldn’t take me. 

“Okay...” I continued, not knowing what else to say. “So, what am I learning today?” 

I don’t know why I was acting so desperate. I think her absence made me realise the extent to which I’d become accustomed to her presence. It was lonely being home alone all day with my books- aunty Esther was busy with her usual daily activities, and Dayo was in class all day so I couldn’t text. 

She stared at me and shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one that has got everything under control. You’ve mapped out your study plan and have your practice papers lined up. I am not sure what I can do for you ma. She shrugged again. “... besides I like this your arrangement. It has given me a lot of time to think and plan. You’re not the only one that has a life and is going through things you know.”

“Uhm. Okay. Well, I thought maybe we could talk about the book, Efuru.“

“Okay ... what about it?”

“Well I wanted to discuss some themes in there that concern me.”

“I’m listening.“

“I don’t get why she marries her husband? It was obvious she was too good for him from the beginning. Yet she lets herself be enamoured by I don’t know what, and she even pays her own dowry - because she did all the work that ended up paying for it. Yet, she appears so intelligent and enterprising. Why did wisdom fail her when it came to the man she would marry? You’d expect that a woman like that would be more discerning.” 

“I don’t know either, perhaps it is the folly of youth. Perhaps he whispered sweet nothings into her ear and made her feel wanted. Clearly, he was a man used to being coddled by women- his mother, for instance. He may simply have been irresistible. When it comes to men, sometimes the best women are at their mercy.”

“I see ...” I thought about all the ways I had been foolish, especially with the male species, and understood Efuru’s actions a bit more. I still thought them stupid, but I also somehow knew that didn’t take away from the woman she was. Perhaps her choice of husband was to show that we all have our weak points. Sometimes those weak points are the decisions we make about who to trust, and the shameful consequences we have to bear.

As I was gathering my thoughts further, the doorbell rang. It was uncle Deji, my doctor and dad’s best friend’s son. He was my gynaecologist, which I initially thought would be weird, but he’s actually so chill.  I wasn’t sure why he had come, I had only just gone to see him the week before. 

“Hello Molade how are you?”

“Good afternoon uncle Deji, I’m fine. Thank you. I thought I didn’t have to see you for another few weeks.”

“Yes, that’s right, but you forgot your prescription. I decided to stop over on my way back from the hospital and drop them off for you. I also have to speak with your dad about some business. ”

“Oh, thank you very much. He’s not home yet, but he will be home soon, I think. He usually comes back early on Friday. You can watch tv in the living room or come join me in my lesson hahahaha”

“Hahaha you’re doing lessons? Aren’t you supposed to be resting and eating? Just kidding. Okay lemme see what you’re up to. I may learn a thing or two today.“

“Yup! My teacher’s name is Omotola. I gave her a hard time initially but maybe she’s okay.”

“You this girl.” He said as he shook his head “troublesome as ever.” 

When we walked into my lesson room, I wasn’t prepared for the look of recognition that passed between them. 

“Oh hello! I know you! How’s your friend? You never called. So, I’m guessing she’s alright.”

She looked just as stunned as I was. 

“What are you doing here? You’re very far from your hospital! She’s fine; thank you for asking. Much better, though still getting migraines.”

“Okay great to hear ... so lesson teacher? Did not have you pegged as a teacher.”

“Well ...” she shrugged again. This Omotola liked to shrug. “don’t judge a book I guess.”

“I guess! So, what are we learning today?”

Before either of us could answer, his phone rang and stepped out to answer it. 

“How do you know uncle Deji?” I asked, slightly annoyed that in their little interaction they had forgotten I was there. 

“Oh. He helped treat my friend who’d gotten into some trouble.”

“Oh okay” She didn’t look like she could afford to get treatment in his hospital. I was going to say as much when Uncle Deji stepped back in before I could think of the politest way to say so. 

“Sorry about that. An old friend is coming over to drop some things for me. You should know him - English teacher or something.”

“Mr Ajao?”

“That’s the one. Tunde Ajao.”

“Oh that’s good for you Molade, we can discuss the questions you had about the book.”

“No thank you. I’m feeling tired. I’m going to go up to my room now to lie down for a bit. Uncle Deji daddy should be home soon. Aunty Esther will bring you some refreshments. Sorry for being a party pooper. Just realised how tired I was when more work was mentioned.” 

“Hmmm okay, if you say so. Here, don’t forget your meds. Take them before your nap.”

“Okay thank you. Omotola, see you on Monday.”

“Okay, see you.” I ignored the strange look she gave me, a look that indicated she thought I was avoiding everybody related to that school and made the effort to walk slowly and sigh heavily so they could see I was truly tired. 

When I got to my room, I text Tina. 

“Yo, do you want to come to my house tomorrow?”

“Okay cool. I can come in the afternoon.”

“Okay. See you then. “

For some strange reason, I felt the urge to unburden myself to someone. I’m not sure why the someone I picked was Tina. 

Babalanlord 10

“Excuse me sir, please can I see you after class, I have a question to ask about my essay.”

I ignored the bad beles who rolled their eyes and looked straight ahead at my teacher. I didn’t really have a question. In fact, I had gotten top marks, but I wanted a chance to speak with him alone. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. The class was coming to an end, and he never stayed back for more than a couple of minutes. 

“I am not sure what question you could possibly have Ms Johnson. If I recall correctly, you did exceptionally well on the assignment.”

“Yes, but there is still something I would like to discuss please. It won’t take too long.”

“Okay fine, I’ll spare a few minutes after class.”

“Thank you sir."

The class emptied quickly. English on Tuesday was right before lunch, so everybody rushed to the dining hall at lunchtime. If you showed up at your table late, everyone assumed you weren’t coming and shared your portion of food. Tuesday also had the best jollof rice. So, nobody was going to stay back after the class before lunch on a Tuesday. 

“Yes, Ms … Johnson how can I help you?” he said as he looked up from the stack of exercise books he was making.

I had to stifle my laughter. Who was he fooling? “Ms Johnson ke”? I wondered why he was being so formal, he can’t have been that much older than I was. I just called him sir, because we had to. I was not sure what to ask him, I had not planned that far. To be honest I had expected him to give some excuse and say he couldn’t meet.

“Uhm … sir … so I have been thinking about applying to schools in the US. I wanted to ask if you could please help me with my application and scholarship essays. There are many, and I will need a lot of help editing them and making sure they are thoughtful.” I was lying out of my teeth. I hadn’t thought of applying to the US. I just overheard one girl talking about how her brother was in school in Boston and so it was the first thing that popped into my head. 

“Oh really?” Suddenly he was interested. “That’s good to hear. I have always thought the US has a well-rounded tertiary educational experience. I encourage you to go for it. I will help you where I can.”

That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.

“Thank you sir. Please can we set up some time to work on them after school? I can do Wednesdays after lunch. I have a free period. I have other free periods, so if that doesn’t work, I can find another time.”

“Let me get back to you on that.”

“Okay thank you sir. Can I come and ask you in your office tomorrow? I will really appreciate your help and support. I have heard getting into good schools in the US is really hard. So I want to be well prepared. ” It was important that we met regularly. I didn’t want it to be a one off meeting, so I had to try to be as helpless as was believable given my apparent abilities. 

That was how I started chasing Mr Ajao, my English teacher. 

Perhaps it is that I was bored with the ease with which I passed my classes, and I began to see him as a young, handsome challenge to overcome. Maybe I was tired of all the other girls talking about what they had “done” with their boyfriends, and I hated that there was something in which I wasn’t an expert; I thought I would best them by having an actual teacher as my conquest.  Maybe I wanted a scandal to get my dad to stop working so much and spend more time with me like he used to do when I was younger. Or maybe I just read too many books and watched too many movies that put ideas into my naive and foolish head. I don’t know. I started it. And although he appeared cold and distant in the beginning, he was actually weak, very weak. However, the weakness of my conquest gave me a short-lived victory and the heaviest burden to bear. 

…

I spent weeks laying the groundwork, and it was taking so long for him to respond to my numerous advances. I had taken in the sides of my skirt and hemmed it to be short enough to be suggestive without attracting attention to someone who wasn’t really looking. I had never paid much attention to the fact that I was nowhere near flat-chested, but from what I had observed when I looked up from my books for a bit, I was under appreciating my assets. I suddenly became aware of my good figure and devised a way to enhance it without it being obvious. I started wearing lip gloss and lining my eyes a little - subtle enough for the teachers to ignore, but not enough to go unnoticed. I made sure my thick hair was always in a bun big enough to show it off and did a whole bunch of stuff that I never took the time to do before my ... project. I didn’t realise how much time was wasted making oneself look attractive within the confines of a secondary school uniform. I can’t believe the other girls in my class had been doing this for a while. No wonder they struggled to find time to study. The space it took up in my mind was as much as that of an extra class. 

My time with Mr Ajao made me realise that I actually wanted to go to University in the US. So, although I had started the essays as a joke, I found myself taking the applications seriously and getting excited at all the opportunities that could potentially be mine. He was helpful enough and provided me with insights that I otherwise may have overlooked. In all of the new excitement, I didn’t forget my mission. 

Because I read a lot of adult books, and perhaps because of my closeness with my aunty, I was quite mature. I saw that he almost always forgot that I was his student and would begin arguing with me. However, there were times I would say things that betrayed my age, and he would remember himself - almost as though he’d just snapped out of a trance and retreat behind his cold wall. So, I became very careful not to mention anything about classes, homework, other teachers or students, anything that would have reminded him that I was his student. It worked for the most part. Although in hindsight, that was a waste of effort - we met under the pretence of him being my teacher … how could he have forgotten?

...

“Ms Johnson, see me after class.”

This time I rolled my eyes. I was getting impatient. At this point I was spending many afternoons with Mr Ajao under the pretence of essay help. While I enjoyed the new male attention, it meant I had to stay up later to finish the rest of my homework and study for my tests. I couldn’t afford for my grades to slip … he wasn’t that important. 

“Okay sir.”

I stayed back after class to hear what he had to say.

“ We can’t meet in my office today.” He held up his hand and smiled as I began to protest “You can come to my quarters, it’s usually quiet around that time. We can work there.”

“Oh … okay sir. I will come there instead.” My calm answer belied the excitement in my chest. Progress!!!!

…

“This babe, you spend so much time with Mr Ajao, are you trying to write a book or something?

“Dayo, Dayo, are you jealous? Na fam, I just have a lot of essays to write, and he’s helping me with my scholarships and stuff. He has lot of experience with the US system. Do you know he actually went to Princeton? That is my dream school. I just feel like I belong there. Although I don’t understand why anyone who went to Princeton will be stuck here teaching adolescents. He can’t be getting paid that much.”

“Yea … sure. I am sure you do. People are motivated by more than money you know … Anyway, me I am feeling abandoned. Also, aren’t your preparations super early? Applications aren’t due till January next year. It isn’t even summer yet.”

“Well, you know my workload is much. So, I have to start now. Let’s talk about something else. This is boring jare. I already spend so much time on those essays. What’s up? I haven’t seen your sketches in a minute. I feel like I am missing out on the latest comic strip...”

I felt bad lying to Dayo, but I was really sure, best friend or not, he would not agree with my latest mission. So, I decided to keep the secret to myself, at least until I had something to boast about.

“Na that’s boring. I need to tell you about my latest babe. Since you haven’t had time for me, I haven’t even been able to gist you. Guess what? She’s one of the A-levels students!”

“Okay sugar baby … I see you.”

“Yea, the guy is good” he said chuckling to himself. 

I wondered, at that moment, why he was so excited to tell me he was pursuing an older girl, and I wasn’t free to do the same. I guess he wasn’t chasing a teacher, and I was. 

…

“I thought we could work on my STEM scholarship essay today.”

“Okay sure”, he said as he sat down comfortably next to me.”

At this point we had moved our meetings permanently to his apartment. The progress was still too slow for me. We were going to break up for the holidays in two weeks and he hadn’t so much as given me a hug. Though I could see he wanted to. I didn’t know how to break his final wall of restraint. The more he resisted, the more I wanted to make him my conquest. 

“Okay so for this part, I thought it sounded a bit corny, but I am not sure how to change it and still remain authentic.”

“I am passionate about changing people’s lives in my community…” he read out loud. “It is not corny enough."

“Stop now, that’s embarrassing.” I said, as I mock pushed him away. We both laughed and I let my finger linger on his biceps. I could feel them go tense. I let my eyes find his. They were already staring at me … then I gave my most charming, mischievous smile.

“You’re going to get me into trouble …”

“Me? Model student like me? I don’t think I am capable of trouble.”

Apparently, I was … only he wasn’t the one that got into trouble. I was. 

…

I can’t say the precise moment I finally succeeded in totally breaking his resolve. But I have to say, I was persistent, and very careful. He got comfortable.  In my eyes he was a full-grown adult and I was proud of myself for getting him to notice me. When I think about it now, I wonder why I ignored everything I had achieved, and decided that getting that man’s attention would be my ultimate prize. It had to be the dumbest thing I have ever done in my life. 

Well, I got my prize and now I am paying the price. “Five minutes of pleasure … everlasting sorrow …” as my great grandmother used to tell aunty. 

Everlasting sorrow ... 

...

I was accepted into every single school to which I had applied. Princeton offered me all the money I needed. 

I stared at the tiger below the “CONGRATULATIONS!” banner on the webpage, then stared at my distended belly and watched the tears make a wet patch on my favourite, once oversized t-shirt.

…

“Why are you telling me this?” Tina finally said after a long moment of silence

I shrugged. “Dayo is my best friend. Sometimes I think the stupid guy knows me better than I know myself. I figured he knew what he was doing when he sent you here. I haven’t had the words to tell anyone this. And I don’t know. Something about your calm presence made me talk without restraint. But now that I have told you … I have to tell him. Maybe you can draw the story for me or something... saves me rehashing my stupidity.”

“I am not that good.”

“It’s fine. We can use stick figures.”

“I don’t think I can draw stick figures having sex.”

I stared open-mouthed for a minute before I caught her grin and realised that she was joking. We spent a good minute laughing.

“it’s okay. We’ll figure it out … besides … it doesn’t need to be that graphic a story. 

“Sure. Let’s see how it goes. Quick and very important question, why didn’t you use a condom though?”

Before I could answer, we both turned towards the sound we had just heard outside my bedroom door.