I met with Oga Pius, the grocery store owner as planned and on many more occasions. He gave me money all the time.
Though not so much but more than enough to meet my needs. I also went back to my mother a few days later to discuss my future.
“Look, my daughter, let me tell you the truth. I left my friend’s house because I couldn’t bear the way I was being treated there anymore. I currently sleep in a shop close by. I was sleeping in this my ramshackle space until the woman who owns the shop got to know about it. She invited me to her house, but I refused because I had promised myself not to do such again. She then asked if I could sleep in her shop. At least, it is safer since it is properly built and I can lock it from inside.”
“I did not know. What are we going to do then? I don’t want to live with that man anymore, even if he allows me. He hates me.” I started crying again.
“You don’t have to worry, I have spoken to my younger sister. The teacher. She doesn’t have much but she has agreed to house you till we can figure out what you will do. i did not consider living with her because she shares a small room with two other girls. You will have to manage the space with them too. However, I think the most important thing is for you to get a job. You need to get a job and start saving towards your education.”
“Yes ma, I will get a job. Thank you ma.” I said, beaming and all smiles. I was going to leave that man at last. I was beside myself with joy.
I moved out of his house before the ultimatum he gave me lapsed. My aunt lived with two of her friends in a small room on the island. I was happy to have left my father's house.
Although Aunty Biodun was not perfect, living with her was a whole lot different from living with my father. Soon after I moved in, I got a job with the British airways as a clerk. I loved the job because it made me feel like an adult and I was making money which I did not collect from any man. It became more difficult to see Oga Pius because of the distance and my busy schedule. But I lacked nothing since I got a reasonable pay and men always wanted a piece of me. They showered me with gifts and money.
While working with British airways, one fateful day, this handsome looking young man needed to go back to the hotel where he lodged to pick up something he forgot. He begged me to help him keep an eye on his luggage. I obliged.
He was tall with fair skin. He looked like an African, but his accent said otherwise. It was purely American. His face was well shaven except for the fine moustache above his lips. He was neatly dressed in trousers and t-shirt. His pair of canvass was white and looked like he didn’t walk with them. He was in his mid thirties from what I later gathered, but he didn’t look a day older than twenty seven. This meant he was about fifteen years older than I was.
This was the beginning of another friendship. His name was Derek and he was indeed, American. He worked at the University of Ibadan as a lecturer in the department of African studies. He loved Africa so much and that was why he lived most of his life here in Nigeria.
On several occasions, when he came to Lagos, I would get to any hotel he lodged in, and see him with different ladies at the lounge or the hotel bar, and when I asked who they were, he would say they were mere acquaintances. People he had met while sitting and minding his own business. He would then take a long drag from his constantly lit cigarette stick and tell me jealousy doesn’t look good on me.
We would both laugh it off and continue whatever it is we were doing or wanted to do.
Derek loved to wear African prints and attires so much that on a typical morning, he would dress in his ankara print or aso oke top and a pair of jeans pants. He would finish the look with a pair of sandals and have his bag strapped across his shoulder and his camera around his neck, he always looked like a tourist in my opinion. My tourist.
He came to Lagos regularly and when he did, I would meet him in his hotel room and spend days with him sometimes. I would go to my office from there and return there after closing hours. He said he loved me, but he was too much of a free spirit to be married. He gave me money and showered me with gifts. Even my aunt loved Derek because whenever he was in town, I never went back home empty handed.
Then, one day, Derek had not come to Lagos for a whole month. This was very unusual. I thought of going to visit him. When I told my aunt, she agreed. I left home very early that fateful morning for Ibadan. I had already applied for a week long sick leave at work; I was excited that I was going to spend the whole week with my lover. I was happy I had stylishly copied his address from one of his books. This was going to be a very pleasant surprise.
But I was in for a rude shock.
I found my way to the address with me without any stress. Ibadan people were a helpful lot. It was a duplex. It had a car garage and a neat lawn, just like many others around it. I alighted from the campus shuttle and went straight to the door. I said a silent prayer that he would still be home. I hoped he didn’t have an early morning lecture.
I knocked the door softly.
A woman, or rather a very young lady opened it. She looked right about my age.
Pretty, petite, caramel skin, pointed nose, in a very short dress which showed that she was at home. She looked about my age or even younger. Lastly, she held a baby on her shoulder.
“Yes, can I help you?” She asked in a not so friendly tone.
“Hello, I am ‘Radeyo. I am here to see Derek.”
“You are here to see Derek. Hmmm.” She said. In another tone I did not understand.
“Derek!!!” She screamed.
“Derek came running down the stairs in nothing but his boxers shorts.
“Rade. Hi.” He said in his American accent. The accent that used to mesmerize me irritated me suddenly.
Àdùnní
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