POSTED 03/24/2018 11:29:13
When thunder rumbles at night.
It means Amadioha splitting your head open with his thunder bolt. It means that the slit in between your legs is no different from other holes. It means that no matter how lustful organs hit against each other, love is not guaranteed. It means you heeding to the eerie voices in your head as "they" tell you that the only palliatives is the thick rope dangling from the ceiling fan In your bedroom. But rather, you prefer a subtle method, the sniper insecticide you bought for your mum. You've heard your friend Temi talked about a woman whose child drank it thinking it was juice. You've also heard how the child's innards were rotten before they got to the hospital.
You're Conjuring the image of the young lad rolling on the floor, saliva deluging from his small mouth, asphyxiating defenselessly. You're timorous, your eye lids are dilating and your whole body is doused in sweat especially when you look up to see the blue-eyed portrait of your mum hanging on the wall looking at you. No you can't use the sniper method it's rather too excruciating. The thick rope on your ceiling fan will do.
You remembered when it first happened, the memories were still fresh. You remembered that cold Thursday evening at the cinema, you were running to the rest room because of your runny stomach as a result of the peppery jollof rice you ate at Temi's. Or you would rather call it pepper with a little sprinkle of rice.
Everybody knew Temi's penchant for pepper, that even her tea was gingered. You've gotten your tongue scalded by pepper in her food on several occasions. That was how she earned the name pepper mint back then in the University.
On your way to the rest room, you bumped into a tall handsome man, probably in his mid-thirties. The first thing you noticed about him wasn't his well carved lucent set of teeth or the muscles of his chest protruding from the well-shaped, fitted T-shirt he wore or his pseudo-Anglo-American accent which showed in the he enunciated words correctly like all those Pentecostal pastors playing with rhymes; it was the way he ran his eyes over you like a scanner, making butterflies flutter in your stomach, your body pulsating hard and your embellished face glistening with sweat.
You quickly comported yourself by telling him you were sorry but it was already late. The mystery man had already swept you off your feet.
In the weeks that followed, you were restless because of the image of the mystery man flooding your mind. You told your friends about it but they laughed at you calling you Cinderella and the missing prince. But you knew it was love, only it can make a lady like you stay up all night thinking about a man, erratic feelings of lust, and amorous thoughts flooded your mind day and night. This must be the man you've being waiting for you thought.
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to year, you're seating in a restaurant with your mystery man. Smiling like a simpleton.
Your mystery man had already engaged you, he had also gotten for you an apartment in Lekki, an iPhone 7 extra, a Range Rover Porsche, VIP seats in big events. Your life was a movie. He was a perfect example of a gentleman, he opens the door for you, he even stays on his feet until you've taken your seat at the table in a restaurant. Where has he been all your life? You wondered.
You became a marriage counselor overnight, advising your friends that their prince charming would soon come, they should pray.
Then one morning you informed your prince charming that you were pregnant.
"Preg wetin?" he had asked you, you were surprised to hear him speak pidgin for the first time.
He gave you a hysterical laugh and asked you to quickly to get rid of it.
"Get rid of that nonsense" he had said.
When you protested that you wouldn't, he gave you a hard slap on your face which made your lips bleed and your eyes swollen.
You got rid of the baby like he wanted. You had even started bleaching because he said your ebony skin colour nauseated him. Each time he came back home drunk you were his punch bag. You suffered in silence, you didn't want friends to know, they would deride you.
You started praying and fasting, jumping from one church to the next and one pastor to another, with different flavours of anointing oil casting and binding your village people who wanted your downfall. Just the other day you nearly got hit by a car in the early hours of the day as you were busy breaking a mustard seed oil at a T-junction. The book of psalms became your companion especially chapter 35; you're asking God day and night to make war with people that makes war with you.
Then one morning prince charming walked up to you, he went down on his knees. Tears flooded your eyes, your prayers and fasting were not in vain, truly God works in a mysterious way. You didn't even allow him to talk, you told him to get up that you had forgiven him a long time ago.
He said he was grateful for your forgiveness that he was afraid of what you would do when he told you. You were surprised and asked what he wanted to tell you.
Then he told you that he wanted you to leave the house that his wife and kids were coming back from the states.
You stood still like the Eiffel tower, you could feel your blood coagulating; you were asphyxiating, then you came tumbling down like Jack and Jill.
You walked up to the thick rope dangling from the fan, you were ready to end this life of shame once and for all. Prince charming didn't only throw you out, but he had infected you with HIV. That was the heat of it, you couldn't take the mockery from your friends anymore.
You stare into the test result for the last time, and walked to where the rope was, you were about to put it on your neck when the rumblings of the thunder woke you up to the drug stench room and the inquisitive eyes of Temi.
She told you how she found you dangling from the ceiling fan and how she quickly brought you to the hospital.
You closed your eyes and listened to the unceasing rumblings of Thunder in your head.
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