Afrosays to me

…random excerpts from my communions with the AfroMuse

Decades – The Fifth Decade (41-50) August 14, 2011

Filed under: Decades,Scenic — afrosays @ 10:00 am
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The Decades project I.

Thanks for following! In case you missed the preview, find it here so you know what to expect. Decades is a beautiful project that was worked on by a team of eight talented bloggers, some of which you’re familiar with. (The details are in the preview)

The project attempts to take you on a journey that is planned around how the life of a man is at different stages of his life. We use the lives of different men, some of which are intertwined to paint this picture. The stages are in ten-year intervals, hence the name project name.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.


The Fifth Decade (41-50) by @Qurr
Olusola Olufemi Coker’s father ( The Second Decade ) and Samuel Osifor’s employer ( The Fourth Decade ), He has a story to tell

Err… Another lengthy and very exciting story, more relationships, more depth.

...ongoing...

I can hardly contain my excitement as I read the message on my blackberry phone for the third time in my usual obsessive compulsion. My handyman, Dapo Adeola, has finally found my long-lost friend Yemi Olopade, who would rather be known as Ethelbert – a great man I have not seen in 24 years. He is very ill and on a sickbed at a private hospital in Ikoyi. I would have actively sought him out myself but as Justice of the Nigerian Court of Appeal I cannot be tolerated to fraternize with the general public, to avoid any incidence of prejudice or legal subversion. Dapo has even managed to obtain the phone number of Khadijat, Ethelbert’s own waiting maid at the hospital. This might be the third happiest moment of my life since meeting Ethelbert for the first time, and then seeing my wife Chiamaka return to us a couple of weeks ago, stunning as always, quivering as she sobbed and pleaded while I hugged her and wiped her tears. I smile and move to dial Khadijat’s number and then the familiar buzz of the electric gate rings out. I have visitors.
My name is Leke Coker, 49 years old, stoic and antiseptic; but a man through whom karma weaves a story, embodying a dark past laden with evil, guilt, and sorrow. Apparently I am highly successful in my career but my own family suffers discommode. But I believe in justice and retribution; I was only getting what I deserved, and the moment that dawned on me, things began to take shape again. Now I am a changed man. I am a broken man.
My steward ushers them in. Inwardly I am shocked though I retain my composure. It is Samuel Osifor, his arms around some beautiful young lady, sweat gushing down his face in possible fear. They disentangle briskly and in a greeting chorus he prostrates while she kneels. I urge them both to please get up. I have not seen my former driver Samuel in two years, ever since the day he dropped me off at the court, left the keys in my pigeonhole and vanished.
That morning I had received a phone call from the Dean of students at the famous Nigerian Covenant University. My first born Adaora had been discovered pregnant and had been expelled from the school. I was insane with anger, but I could not get to the school quickly enough that day to pick her up, what with my driver’s disappearance on the very day I heard the report. This vanishing was not unrelated to her tearful confession via a phone call later that night – as well as I had tried to keep men’s fingers off her, Samuel had betrayed me by impregnating Adaora. I had kept my voice down and spoke calmly to her, asking for her whereabouts but she refused to tell me. She eventually aborted the child at a questionable clinic, and almost lost her life. I was pained and I ensured the doctor and clinic were cleaned out. Then I met with her and her boyfriend Uche, had a long talk to ensure he really loved her, and moved them to the UK where I settled her down with Uche in marriage, established him in business using some old contacts and helped 21-year old Adaora start school again.
I watch and listen as Samuel pleads for forgiveness. I need to let him pour it all out, because it is part of the therapy. I had actually forgiven Samuel already. After all, I have dark secrets too even though I am a changed man now.
I solemnly reassure him that it is alright, for I have also received inner peace since I found God, the Judge of all Judges, quite recently. I press further to find out who the beautiful young lady is. He beams and says she is his wife and colleague. Pure young scintillating love. I smile as I recall how I and Chiamaka used to be in love, before she derailed entirely.
Chiamaka had eloped to her lover’s – or pastor’s – or god’s – arms. Your pick. We always used to argue over the most nonsensical things. She would hit me, slap me and taunt me to fight back but I preferred wielding passive aggression by giving her the silent treatment that she so hated. And of course, my muscles would tremble and ripple in my heavily built body so she knew that I was only choosing not to lay hands on her. She said I was godless (in fairness I had basically no regard for God in those days) and she began to deny me of herself sexually, saying she was drawing closer to her God and maker seeing that her own husband is decidedly hell-bound. Her pastor “Godspower Efe” had an eye for her, though, and I employed private detectives who discovered they were already sexually involved. Apparently, Godspower was her own God and maker. In all, I kept mute. Many times I was glad that I had secret bank accounts that she did not know about, for Pastor Godspower also gradually siphoned my financial resources through Chiamaka while he did a lot of wonders in her life.
Besides not being a good enough husband, I have not been the best parent I possibly could have been: what with Adaora’s case and Olusola’s involvements with hard drugs, university cultism and a generally wasteful, reckless way of life. Only Ajoke appears to have always been a good child of the three, which makes it obvious that the gene pool’s joke is on me.
My dear wife had derailed long before she wanted me to think she had, for I knew as well as she did that our 15 year old daughter – our Ajoke – with a striking resemblance to her mother, was not my own daughter. I had taken the child for a private DNA test based on my suspicion when we discovered she was sickle cell anemic. Chiamaka tried to cover up by saying she has the AS genotype, as well as I did, but I knew she has the AA genotype so there was no way we could have offspring with sickle cell anemia. I am generally seen as a thorough individual. But a man can just really shut up for the sake of peace, and so I did and I still do. Besides I could not reject any child the joy of living with loving parents, not after my own childhood ordeal. I shudder as I remember those early dark days once again.
Soon enough, Pastor Godspower had become bolder and told her that she had to leave me because I was festering negative influences that would destroy her life in the end. She believed him but as tired as I was of her, I refused to grant her a divorce to avoid a scandal; what with the children and my office. Then Chiamaka was given a last warning by her pastor that I was doomed to die in 5 weeks, and she had to leave me or else we would be damned together. In fear, she moved in permanently with him in all love, fear, reverence and gullibility.
I don’t know if I was scared as I watched the deadline approach but I, previously agnostic, made a prayer. I said, “God… I honestly don’t know which one of them – just in case there are more than one –do not let any impostor receive these prayers; let it be the one at whose feet my heart cries out. I don’t know the right words to use, so please hear my heart and not my mere words. Keep me and if I do not die as I have been threatened, if you will bind my family back together and be our secure guide; I will seek you out and belong to you for the rest of my life.” Somehow I think the prayer worked because years have gone by and I’m still hale and hearty.
Then I hear Samuel ask, “How is everybody?”
“Oh, we’re living by the mercies of God. Chiamaka finally came back home three weeks ago but she’s not home now. She went to visit Adaora and her husband Uche at East Sussex. As for me, as you can see, I am fit, whole and hearty. But what man is healthy when two of his children are ill? Olusola, now 21, is still at the Igbogbi Orthopaedic Hospital, he’s been there for five months since his car accident but he should be discharged next month. Our precious Ajoke is in her room, taking a very necessary nap.”
This woman right here, her nose and lips look familiar, I think to myself. I rack my head and come up with no faces, so I give up. I call out to a steward to provide refreshments as I half-listen to Samuel’s wife talking about her background – in truth I am probably not even listening at all – while I ponder my own childhood.
I never knew my father, and my mother never knew him either. I was already a young teenager before my mother’s sister told me that mama had been a woman suffering from severe insanity, she had escaped care and gotten impregnated by an unknown person, was captured again by her family, and had died during childbirth. I had wept for almost 2 days after the revelation. Somehow, Andrew, the school bully, happened on this information – probably from some gossips in the town – and threatened to spread it in our high school. Andrew was older, but I was very well built and could fight back – having taken numerous private classes in the martial arts from the local gym instructor (in exchange for teaching his son Mathematics on weekends) – but I never wanted to be caught fighting in school because I was the esteemed school genius and I aspired to be Head Boy. So I let Andrew blackmail me for months until I devised a wicked plan to counter his blackmail. I was going to literally become the “motherfucker” he always used to call me whenever he seized my lunch, a daily ordeal.
Seducing Andrew’s single mother had proven easier than I anticipated. I had obviously over-planned. Everyone needs some love in their lives, even if by a 16 year old man like me who knew all the right things to do and say. On the D-day, she was riding me on our fifth round of steamy sex when Andrew unexpectedly walked into his mum’s bedroom. He yelled, crashed his fist into the glass window louvres, picked up a jagged splinter and ran at me. I heaved her off me, pulled my legs back and shot out at him, cracking his skull from the side with the left and simultaneously hooking his neck with the right. I made a full Nelson with my legs and snapped his neck; he collapsed as I rolled out of the way. His mother’s face was solidly frozen in horror – so I knew hers had to be less painful. I moved both corpses to the side and regained my breath before cursing out loud. Then I wore a pair of socks on my hands to eliminate fingerprints, got some bleach from the bathroom and neatly cleaned them both, leaving no traces of blood. Afterwards I carefully wore some clothes on her corpse, lay both of them on the bed and I fled.
The police had no clue what happened, and the case went unsolved although I wore the guilt like a second skin. My aunt, her husband and my cousins had no freaking idea about the horrible monster living in their house. In that final year at high school, I decided to study law at college in order to salve my own conscience. I graduated summa cum laude and rose very fast in the ranks. On my very first internship I had met Ethelbert, who came to our chambers to seek some legal advice. Thus began our 27 year old friendship. He was the only human I ever told my total history, as he told me his own. I look at the young lady again as she goes on and on. Sigh. Ethelbert.
“What did you say, sir?” asks the pretty young lady.
“Oh I apologize, I must have been thinking aloud. I just remembered a good friend of mine called Ethelbert. Amazingly, you quite resemble him a bit. Your nose, I think, and lips. Unless my mind is playing some pranks on me.”
“Ethelbert?” she asked.
“Yes, do you know him?”
“Err, no sir, but that name… I think that was the pet name my mother called my dad when I was little. Your mention of the name just brought back buried memories, sir”
I hold my breath. No, this cannot be, or can it be?
“..And your mother, did she answer to the name of Dorothy?”
“Yes sir! How did you know that, sir?”
“Oh God! Yewande, it’s you!” I yell as I burst into a rich and mirthful laughter. I laugh until the tears form in the corner of my eyes. Amidst the laughter I tell her how I met Ethelbert 27 years ago; how he was very kind to me when I was in distress, and gave me a free room to live in his 3-bedroom house; how we would discuss every topic under the sun and how Ethelbert had been searching for his lost wife and daughter.
My blackberry phone beeps, a message from Khadijat asking when I want to come and visit Ethelbert. I get up swiftly and announce to them both that we are going to see Ethelbert, who is dying. Then I place a call to my driver Charles to start the army green Land Rover 4. And another to Khadijat to confirm our visit within an hour. Finally I call Chiamaka – my precious, beloved wife – to tell her the good news.
Charles maneuvers the SUV into position as we step outside into the unforgiving sun and the dry harmattan wind swirls dust between us on the front porch. Karma’s circuit is finally complete, it appears.
SO THANKS FOR READING AGAIN. WHAT ARE YOUR VIEWS ON FORGIVENESS, KARMA, RELIGION vs AGNOSTICISM, RELIGIOUS LEADERS, AND GOD? WOULD YOU ACCEPT PAYMENT IN BAD COIN EVEN THOUGH YOU THINK YOU DESERVE IT? DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAKING ATONEMENT FOR OLD SINS?

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

FIND THE ART OF @qurr here
N.B. The project still goes on for the following three days. Tomorrow we have The Sixth Decade by @capoeirapanda.
You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project or in the comments section).
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49 Responses to “Decades – The Fifth Decade (41-50)”

  1. Just wow. I was waiting for a murder plot. 😀

    This is so awesomely written. Didn’t expect anything less sha.

  2. 0laToxic Says:

    It’s all coming together now. This ‘episode’ has one or two implausible bits sha but it certainly fits very nicely into the series so far.

    Good one, Qurr. The Afro… (y)

    • @Qurr Says:

      Thanks man! Can you kindly tell me the implausible bits? If I guess, I would say maybe young Leke’s actions at Andrew’s House, and how he handled his daughter Adaora’s case? May I not pre-empt you. Please reply here or via DM. Glad you enjoyed the story. Ethelbert will fill in the gaps in this linked story, and watch out for the other two decades too! 😀

      • 0latoxic Says:

        Sorry, I’m just seeing this. I guess ThinkTank nailed it. It’s largely the murder scene. From the seduction to the murder in itself and what happens after. Couldn’t help thinking to myself: it’s somewhere in the Nigerian mid/late 70s. Bleach? Finger prints? A 16-yr-old snapping a bigger kid’s neck with just his legs? Followed by his mother whom he’d just been having sex with? Not likely? Didn’t help that all of these came together in the same scene.

        That scene however doesn’t take anything away from the rest of the story, which like I said earlier, sits nicely into the rest of the series. Well done bruv…

  3. Slim Says:

    *thinking to myself*
    You have to contain your excitement! Why do these stories excite you so? Relax, Ada.

    Oh, but the twists! ARGH!!!!!!!

    Calm down, Ada. Caaaaalm down…
    Yeah. That’s it. That’s good. There.

    Beautiful writing, Qurr. Now awaiting the next decades 😀

  4. ibetapassmynebo Says:

    Aww qurr….really enjoyed ur decade… Ds papa na badt guy shaaa

  5. I imagined myself in the plot! In the mind of the writer. Excellently written!!

  6. Maze Says:

    This is tres awesome!

    I loved every little bit. Every single bit. I scrolled down and saw it was a long read, then I remembered, shit, it’s Qurr writing. If it’s a 6000 page writing, I better damn well read it!!! I won’t say I’m surprised, because that will mean I expected less.

  7. @Qurr Says:

    Glad you guys liked it! Still waiting for dem deep comments on religion, karma, restitution, forgiveness, God, etc.

    Humming “I don’t want to wait in vain for comments….”

  8. @shettoo Says:

    Got the mail of this post in church and boy I was tempted to open and read immediately cos I knw God would av forgiven me if I did.

    I want to believe KARMA now has a G6 so circumnavigating the world is far faster than before nd Religious leaders? No comment on them……our (human) acts are the only seeds I believe will germinate no matter whr it’s planted so we’ll reap what we sow whether we like it or not

    Nicely written @Qurr. This is ur first post am reading pls help with the link to ur blogpost. (Y)

  9. oyewande Says:

    Oh my! Awesome work

  10. BoukkieO Says:

    Wow.

  11. obafuntay Says:

    Following this Decades has made my past week interesting.
    This is one AWESOME write-up I must say!
    Can’t wait for the 6th Decade.

  12. keLvin Says:

    You go daddy! 😀

  13. THINKTANK Says:

    Great work Qurr!

    *sigh* on religious leaders. Nigerians seems to throw away all sense and logic once God is mentioned. Obviously, that is what happened with the poor mans wife. If only she had asked herself “would God want to break up my marriage after I said my vows in front of him?”

    To be honest, the seduction and murder plots did seem a bit implausible. Then again, he never did confess his crime to the authorities so I wonder if the karma-mobile is done making its rounds.

    As regards, the story, I feel ekwem encroached into your part a bit and took some of the sting out of the story. Also, there wasn’t much by way of mentorship and his career, important parts of a mans life.

    But all in all, still damn impressive. I’m looking forward to the rest 🙂

  14. tomi Says:

    So far ds is pretty cool… Luv hw all d characters 4rm every decade seem to mix one way or d other, especially hw d character of decade one was somehow in decade 4…

  15. @Lady_corrs Says:

    First of all, nicely written @Qurr. This is your first post I’m reading and I think I’ll follow your blog asap. As for comments on the afore-mentioned, my views are that there are only 2 sets of people in life: The good and the Bad but most of them cloak themselves with religion.
    Religion does nothing for me. Frankly, most of the best people I’ve interacted with are atheists, moralists and the likes. However, we cannot banish the existence of Karma. Its inevitable. Although I’♏ yet to acknowledge the existence of the God most of the churches preach about, I know there’s a divine power/force we cannot explain. I don’t believe that I’ll do wrong and because I kneel down and confess to another man like me or mutter some utterances vocally or silently I should be forgiven. We should all take responsibility for our actions.
    As for Religious Leaders, I’♏ yet to find a Religious leader that made me shudder. But I guess there’s somewhere the Bible says we shouldn’t judge God’s prophets or something of that nature so I’m keeping my lips shut on that.

    • @Qurr Says:

      Hmmm thanks Lady_corrs! I’m about to begin a series on religion “The Theism Files” this week 🙂 I will tweet the link when the first bit is up. I’m positive that you will like it! 😀

  16. @ekwem Says:

    *I hope it comment goes through. my female dog is more reliable than zain*

    lol at shittu’s G6.

    Nice story bro.the style of the narrative blew me away yesterday when I read it*to everyone else- yes,I am staff,so I have backstage passes*
    dunno what thinktank is saying about encroachment 😉

    great job, comrade!

    I actually don’t know how to do all that deep thing…the same reason I never comment on blogs that keep writing about deep stuff. so….*embarassed* I will show myself out.*I hope it comment goes through. my female dog is more reliable than zain*

    lol at shittu’s G6.

    Nice story bro.the style of the narrative blew me away yesterday when I read it*to everyone else- yes,I am staff,so I have backstage passes*
    dunno what thinktank is saying about encroachment 😉

    great job, comrade!

    I actually don’t know how to do all that deep thing…the same reason I never comment on blogs that keep writing about deep stuff. so….*embarassed* I will show myself out.

  17. @ekwem Says:

    *I hope it comment goes through. my female dog is more reliable than zain*

    lol at shittu’s G6.

    Nice story bro.the style of the narrative blew me away yesterday when I read it*to everyone else- yes,I am staff,so I have backstage passes*
    dunno what thinktank is saying about encroachment 😉

    great job, comrade!

    I actually don’t know how to do all that deep thing…the same reason I never comment on blogs that keep writing about deep stuff. so….*embarassed* I will show myself out.

  18. Betty Says:

    I adore Qurr’s writing. This is awesome work.

    Now shaking in my stockings, crossing all body parts that the female Decades is half as good.

  19. desola1 Says:

    This is by far my favourite so far…welldone Qurr 🙂

  20. Phatye Says:

    Just a pointer. If one of d couple is AA, there’s no way they would have a SS child. The woman being AA automatically means she can’t have a SS child.

    Lovely story btw although some parts are a bit OTT.

    • @Qurr Says:

      Yes, that’s the point actually. The man is an AS but the woman lied that she is an AS, in order to cover up for the illegitimate child.

      Thanks for reading!

  21. awizii Says:

    This is so awesome. I love the way the stories are inter-twined. Plus I’ve well and truly carried last. Been so caught up lately..*sigh*

  22. Chukyjunior Says:

    Hehehe!! Awizii u can’t claim last here! Nice write-up.
    Erm, concerning what Olatoxic said abt d implausible bits, I’d beg to differ on that point seeing as murder has been an activ part of human endeavour since after Adam. The finger-print ideaology ws available in doz days, albeit not in Nigeria. So it fits d profile of the intelligent teen dat overprepared for d whole event. #IMO tho…
    That said, this has been an amazing read & I think dat judge is a real badt guy!! Well done qurr.

  23. damie Says:

    I like how it is all coming together but if the woman is AA she can never have an SS child with anybody because she would always give the A gene to her child if even she sleeps with an SS man tht child would be AS… That and the kick tht led to death kind of took away from the story but I see what u are trying to do its still a good story tho

    • @Qurr Says:

      Thanks! That was an error in my writing actually. I meant the father is AA, mother is AS.A friend pointed out my error after I had published this. I thought I was saying something else.

      And as for the full nelson, please trust me it’s a well known killing move. I did some research before I added that part. Thanks again!

  24. anon Says:

    nice piece but i still don’t get what killed d bully’s mum? is it d shock from d death of her son or what?

  25. Yass Says:

    Abeg abeg abeg
    I know I’m late, but why do you people like to over hype things?
    And you bloggers can psyche yourselves!
    Basic basic stories on here, with basic basic twists!
    I have rolled and rolled and rolled my eyes tire! Later half of you would go on to diss Nollywood plots. You have no right, no right I tell you!

    Anyway, Decades II is waaaaaaaaaaaay better than these male decades.
    But for it, I wouldn’t want to come back here.

    Decades I = Nollywood stories + WAEC “had I known” essays.

    Hope you read this, and appreciate my feedback
    🙂


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