DIARY OF A NAIJA WIFE {The butterfly} Part 6
I eventually spent the week in Ibadan, as the main girl in the guest room, and the baby mama in the master bedroom.
She would hum and sing all manner of songs when Derek wasn’t home and when it got unbearable, I would leave the house. She would drag the chairs, rearrange the living room, hit kitchens utensils against one another just to make me uncomfortable when her baby was asleep upstairs.
I keep asking myself why I stayed. Why I took it all and the only thing that comes to mind was my total lack of self esteem, self love and the absence of a healthy dose of self worth. I mean, what could be more degrading than this?
However, I was forced to leave Derek for good on my fifth night in Ibadan. He would sneak into the guest room in the middle of the night and have sex with me. Did I tell you how good he was in bed? I guess that might also be one of the reasons I refused to let go. I digress. Well, we were nearly done when Sekinat barged into the room, charged at him and pushed him off of me. She was in a rage. She looked ready to kill.
“You are an A-hole. A mean douche bag. You just had sex with me. You thought I was asleep right? So you came to your whore. I had always suspected you. You are mad Derek, mad.” She screamed.
Derek ran out of the room, and she pounced on me. She gave me the beating of my life, even though I tried to reciprocate. I was no match for her rage and the element of surprise plus the fact that I was stark naked did not help.
Thinking back, I still marvel at my foolishness. I stayed in the same house with another woman who had a child for my boyfriend and the boyfriend whom I knew nothing about, beyond what he told me.
Hmm. What if they had killed and buried me for whatever reason?
Anyway, that was my cue. I left Ibadan and never looked back.
I told all who cared to listen that I was involved in an accident.
There was no way I could tell them that I got beat up by my precious American boyfriend’s baby mama.
Life went on for me as usual. I dated older men, rich ones mostly, and my bank account grew with time. I took good care of myself though. I am sure a good number of young girls out there can relate. I didn’t have sex with all of them; just a few that met my requirements and standards, I also made sure I avoided unprotected sex as much as possible.
My dream of going to the tertiary institution gradually faded away as I was an industrious girl. While in paid employment, I started my business. I started selling fabrics. I would buy them at cheaper rates from the Lagos Island market and sell to my friends, colleagues, their boyfriends, and everyone around me; and that was how I met Edosa.
He was from Benin, as his name reflects. He was a young man also in his twenties. He helped his uncle manage one of his shops at Balogun market. I used to buy fabrics from the shop and that was how our friendship started. I knew I couldn’t date older, married men forever, and I felt really strongly about Edosa. In fact, he was my first love.
I fell in love with him because of the way he treated me. He worshiped the very ground I walked on and he was honest in all his dealings.
He had lost his father at a young age, and in a bid to help his mother who had seven children to cater for, his uncle had chosen to train him since he was the first son. He had just completed his ordinary national diploma at the Yaba College of technology, here in Lagos, and contrary to what his uncle had planned for him, he begged the man to allow him work so as to support his mother and his younger siblings.
His uncle wanted him to further his education by enrolling for his higher diploma straight away, but he insisted on working and going back to school later. The man had helped them a great deal, so Edosa felt it was time for him to step up. His uncle had just had to fire the shop manager for fraud, so Edosa asked for the job. He even told his uncle that he was willing to go back to school part time, if that would make the man feel better.
Our relationship started and we both made progress. I eventually resigned from the British airways and faced my textile business full time. I owned a shop not far from my aunt’s house, and I still sold to my former colleagues and in other establishments. Life was good. I even helped my mother set up a restaurant like she had always wanted.
She was a hardworking woman but the travails of life had slowed her down. Her older sons did not help matters either. They were usually in and out of jail for one offense or the other.
I didn’t hear from my father, and I couldn’t care less. He didn’t care about me after all, so there was no love lost here.
Edosa was good to me, and wise beyond his years. He was a handsome man too. Tall, dark, with impressive muscular strength. He loved the gym. He was also a hopeless romantic like me, something that was scarce in those days among Nigerian men.
Edosa of all my love interests was the best to me. I still have goose bumps whenever I remember him.
_________________________
“Mum, mum, you really need to talk to Jenny. She came into the room while we are still cleaning. She got on the bed and she won’t allow us to make it.” Jane brought me back to reality.
“Look here girls, I only have three hours before I get back to work. I need to rest. Jenny, stop being silly and help your sisters.” By now, the whole clan had marched into my bedroom except Boluwatife who was at work. She recently graduated from the Michigan state University where she studied psychology. She had just secured a job as a social work assistant.
Àdùnní
I eventually spent the week in Ibadan, as the main girl in the guest room, and the baby mama in the master bedroom.
She would hum and sing all manner of songs when Derek wasn’t home and when it got unbearable, I would leave the house. She would drag the chairs, rearrange the living room, hit kitchens utensils against one another just to make me uncomfortable when her baby was asleep upstairs.
I keep asking myself why I stayed. Why I took it all and the only thing that comes to mind was my total lack of self esteem, self love and the absence of a healthy dose of self worth. I mean, what could be more degrading than this?
However, I was forced to leave Derek for good on my fifth night in Ibadan. He would sneak into the guest room in the middle of the night and have sex with me. Did I tell you how good he was in bed? I guess that might also be one of the reasons I refused to let go. I digress. Well, we were nearly done when Sekinat barged into the room, charged at him and pushed him off of me. She was in a rage. She looked ready to kill.
“You are an A-hole. A mean douche bag. You just had sex with me. You thought I was asleep right? So you came to your whore. I had always suspected you. You are mad Derek, mad.” She screamed.
Derek ran out of the room, and she pounced on me. She gave me the beating of my life, even though I tried to reciprocate. I was no match for her rage and the element of surprise plus the fact that I was stark naked did not help.
Thinking back, I still marvel at my foolishness. I stayed in the same house with another woman who had a child for my boyfriend and the boyfriend whom I knew nothing about, beyond what he told me.
Hmm. What if they had killed and buried me for whatever reason?
Anyway, that was my cue. I left Ibadan and never looked back.
I told all who cared to listen that I was involved in an accident.
There was no way I could tell them that I got beat up by my precious American boyfriend’s baby mama.
Life went on for me as usual. I dated older men, rich ones mostly, and my bank account grew with time. I took good care of myself though. I am sure a good number of young girls out there can relate. I didn’t have sex with all of them; just a few that met my requirements and standards, I also made sure I avoided unprotected sex as much as possible.
My dream of going to the tertiary institution gradually faded away as I was an industrious girl. While in paid employment, I started my business. I started selling fabrics. I would buy them at cheaper rates from the Lagos Island market and sell to my friends, colleagues, their boyfriends, and everyone around me; and that was how I met Edosa.
He was from Benin, as his name reflects. He was a young man also in his twenties. He helped his uncle manage one of his shops at Balogun market. I used to buy fabrics from the shop and that was how our friendship started. I knew I couldn’t date older, married men forever, and I felt really strongly about Edosa. In fact, he was my first love.
I fell in love with him because of the way he treated me. He worshiped the very ground I walked on and he was honest in all his dealings.
He had lost his father at a young age, and in a bid to help his mother who had seven children to cater for, his uncle had chosen to train him since he was the first son. He had just completed his ordinary national diploma at the Yaba College of technology, here in Lagos, and contrary to what his uncle had planned for him, he begged the man to allow him work so as to support his mother and his younger siblings.
His uncle wanted him to further his education by enrolling for his higher diploma straight away, but he insisted on working and going back to school later. The man had helped them a great deal, so Edosa felt it was time for him to step up. His uncle had just had to fire the shop manager for fraud, so Edosa asked for the job. He even told his uncle that he was willing to go back to school part time, if that would make the man feel better.
Our relationship started and we both made progress. I eventually resigned from the British airways and faced my textile business full time. I owned a shop not far from my aunt’s house, and I still sold to my former colleagues and in other establishments. Life was good. I even helped my mother set up a restaurant like she had always wanted.
She was a hardworking woman but the travails of life had slowed her down. Her older sons did not help matters either. They were usually in and out of jail for one offense or the other.
I didn’t hear from my father, and I couldn’t care less. He didn’t care about me after all, so there was no love lost here.
Edosa was good to me, and wise beyond his years. He was a handsome man too. Tall, dark, with impressive muscular strength. He loved the gym. He was also a hopeless romantic like me, something that was scarce in those days among Nigerian men.
Edosa of all my love interests was the best to me. I still have goose bumps whenever I remember him.
_________________________
“Mum, mum, you really need to talk to Jenny. She came into the room while we are still cleaning. She got on the bed and she won’t allow us to make it.” Jane brought me back to reality.
“Look here girls, I only have three hours before I get back to work. I need to rest. Jenny, stop being silly and help your sisters.” By now, the whole clan had marched into my bedroom except Boluwatife who was at work. She recently graduated from the Michigan state University where she studied psychology. She had just secured a job as a social work assistant.
Àdùnní
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