I think I was the first person among my clique of friends back in Secondary School to gain admission into the University. I use the word ‘think’ because I might have been the 9th or 100th. But with the word think, I’m right. So if anyone comes to say but Nancy gained admission before you, I can easily say “Oh, are you for real? I thought I was the first o!” It’s all a matter of semantics, really.
I’m rambling bah?
Focus, Ykayy. Focus!
Anyone who hears me say clique now will think I was one popular happening babe who belonged to one “Yoppy” clique like that. Iffa hia!
I was just one regular geh like that o. When I say clique, I mean my novel loving friends like Aloma Agwu, Comfort Nkana and Habibat Ali. I’ve lost touch will all of them, though.
Anyways, I was home on holidays from school one fateful Tuesday (ojo buruku esu bo omi mu – bad day devil carry water drink) when an old friend of mine, Tola invited me over to her place in Abule-oja.
“Nna ehn, I dey brooklyn o. If I come, na you go pay my bike fare o” I said.
“Comot jawe. Big geh like you. How much be bike from your house reach here? No be just #80?” She asked.
“Oya, I no dey come again” I threatened.
“Come jhoor, I get gist for you” She cajoled.
So bored jobless me put on my Christmas clothes( I had to represent nau. As per, I don enter school finish 100 level and my friend still dey write jamb. Aswear I dinnor have sense in those days. Look at what I was ‘priding’ on top. Lol.), powdered my face with my mom’s Black Opal, used a bit of lipstick, and off I went to Tola’s house.
It was a beautiful reunion and we had such good laughs gisting about the good ol’ days, any and every Wesco student we remembered, my escapades in ‘Ajayi and the Crowd’ as a fresher and her escapades at the prestigious Timmy O Jamb lessons.
“Nna ehn, I dey H o” I said.
“Wait sef, that woman wey dey sell fish for that junction still dey?” I asked. Back in Wesco, I used to buy fish from the said lady with my transport fare and then trek back home.
“Yes na” she replied.
“Wuna get garri for house?” I asked, and she nodded.
“Make we go buy fish take am soak garri abeg”.
“That reminds me sef, how you and Mr. XYZ?” She asked.
“Mr. XYZ? Whu dah wan epp?” I replied.
“Siddon dere make pant dey wear you” she replied. ” You no hear say Mr. XYZ don hammer? Hin don even buy the car.”
“Na lie!” I screamed. “Say God!”
“Olorun gbo. He’s one of the biggest boys in the area now o. Hin no dey even stay for house again. Person wey lodge for Joy Hotel for over two months” She explained dramatically. I wonder why the girl went to science class sef, she had a flair for drama.
“Eeya. I’m happy for him sha” I said.
“Call am now. Maybe hin go carry us go eatery go chop” she suggested.
“Mr. XYZ? Buy us food keh? That stingy koko boy? Even when we were dating sef, the only thing he bought for me was #15 Guguru and Epa. Iffa hia that he buys food for us” I replied.
“Haba nau! You get vivid memory o. You no dey ever forget something. Which wan be #15 Guguru and Epa. He was broke then now”
So I dialled his number.
“Yea, hello. Who is this?”
Who is this keh? I hung up immediately. So this guy doesn’t even have my number. I felt hurt.
“Haba! No reason am like that nau. You know how many phones hin don change recently? Hin fit to don lost your number nau.” Tola said.
The phone rang. It was Mr. XYZ
“Hello, you called me just now. Who is this?” He asked. The sound of his voice alone, awoke feelings I thought were long dead.
“Hey, Solly Pizzle! How are you?” he said, sounding excited. (Well, I like to believe he was excited to hear my voice. A girl is allowed to dream. Right?)
“Lemme jhoor. So you deleted my number abi?” I asked, sulking.
“Delete your number? No o. How’s school nau?”
” Fine o. I’m on holidays though. I’m in Tola’s house”
“Tola’s house? I’m home. Come over nau”
His house was a ‘trekable’ distance from Tola’s house, so we walked down. In retrospect, I think Mr.XYZ was expecting that I would come alone. He wasn’t expecting me to come with Tola.
It was a full house. One of his brothers and some other guys were in the house. Chai! See fine boy. I remembered why I ever fell for him in the first place.
We hugged and began to gist. One thing became immediately apparent. Mr. XYZ was no longer the person I used to know. He was obviously richer, the gigantic chain on his was an attestation to that fact. He was finer( You know how they say that nobody is really ugly, they are just broke. Even though Mr. XYZ had always been a handsome young man, the money had made him fresher and more attractive) and even more arrogant. “Na so” I thought.
Tola began to nudge me to tell him to take us to an eatery as planned. Iffa hia that I talk. Me that my eyes were just pushing me. I dinnor talk o.
The guys engaged Tola in a conversation while myself and Mr. XYZ went on a trip down memory lane.
“Let’s talk outside” he said, offering his hand. He led me out of the room into the room he shared with his brothers.
That was how I used my own two legs to walk into the slaughter-house o. I know what you are thinking, that why did I enter the room in the first place,abi? Well, I had entered this same room over a dozen times and Mr. XYZ had been the perfect gentleman on each occasion.(Well, except for the usual french kissing and smooching sha.)
Upon entering the room, Mr.XYZ began to whisper sweet nothings into my ears. “Are you still a fargin?” he asked.
“Hey!” I said, trying to withdraw from him. “Abeg, that is nor why we are here o. Me, I came for the food o. Na oshofree food carry me come here o.”
Mr. XYZ began to press kisses down my throat, my nape, my neck(this is good. I thought) down to my boobs. At this point, I protested. Before I could say PMB, Mr.XYZ had removed his trousers and was forcefully trying to remove my top. I was wearing a flare mini-skirt, so all he had to do was shift my tong to corner(Not the song o). The way he overpowered me, I dinnor know he was that powerful.
I texted Tola, asking her to tell his brother or one of the guys to come open the door(I didn’t know when he locked the door. It all happened so fast), but she replied that the guys mockingly asked if I was forced to enter the room and threw her out of the house. “No be her leg she take enter the room? Person force am enter?” they asked.
Na that time e clear for my eyes say obago one chance. Mo ti wo gaaahuu!
I decided to calm down for Jaysus while using my eyes to search for a weapon, anything, to fight him with.
Then the Lawd had mercy on yours truly. You see, Mr. XYZ’s “kini” was not standing. No, sratch that. He was not having a full erection. At least, not enough to penetrate me. At first, I didn’t notice it.
After a while, he got off me and began to drink an agbo-like mixture(whether it was opa-eyin o, abi Falila Ketan or even Alani Pamolekun, I dinnor know) while trying to stroke his “kini” to full erection. For where? The thing dinnor stand.
That was when the scene I was watching became clearer to me. Mr. XYZ’s”kini” was not standing. I was safe.
Eh Gawd o! That was how the oppressed gained the superior hand.
Come and see me forming Karashika. As if I had anything to do with his not “kini” standing.
“It cannor stand! Taar! Me, you know I be? Bla bla bla bla ……..” I began to taunt him.
Mr. XYZ was forming ‘ganjaban’ at first, but he later became scared enough to let me go. That was how my fast thinking saved me from the snare of the fowler o. Me that I had not gotten over my first near/actual rape experience, another one wee now come and happen? Ka ma ri! O do odi!
Whilst walking me out the door, Mr. XYZ asked why I overreacted. “I mean” he said, “we used to play like this before”.
“Whick kain rough play be that?” I replied.
Maybe I did over react, maybe I did not. But truth is, Mr. XYZ would have penetrated me without my say so if his “kini” had cooperated. So yes, I did not over react. I was right to have been scared.
“You have changed” he decided.
“And you have not,” I replied, “you are still so full of shit”.
Photo culled from Pininterest.
This is a true life experience. I changed the names of the people involved except mine, and removed the maggi and crayfish in the story, while adding some pepper=flavour, and salt to the story, just to protect the anonymity of the other two people involved.
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