Crimson death

It was an ordinary day the day she died, a day like every other.

Maybe if she had known she would die that day, she would have woken up a bit earlier so she could have enough time to drink ijebu garri with sugar and ice cold water. She loved ijebu garri.

She was just 11 years old, it was just 10.30 am by the clock in the parlor, she had just had breakfast of akamu and akara and she knew that if she asked mummy for ijebu garri, she would look up from her laptop where she was always tap, tap, tapping away and say

"No"

"But mummy I am hungry"

"You just ate"

"But I am really, really hungry"

"You have worms, I will deworm you tomorrow"

*sigh*

She wanted to go to heaven so she was going to die like Jesus. She lay down on the bed spread-eagled, then tried to pull up her knees a little bit in the "Jesus" pose.

Very uncomfortable.

How did Jesus manage it? Anyway, he did not have a choice, she did and this was a very uncomfortable pose. She quickly adjusted herself, "let me make myself comfortable before I die here o. Oh wait, I am dying already. Let me just adjust myself and get used to it, mummy said we should be like Jesus so we can go to heaven when we die".

The door creaked open and her mom peered in.

"Uloma, why are you lying down like that?"

"Mummy, I am dying."

"Oh my baby, what is it?"

Mummy ran in, held her close and rocked her back and forth.

She reached down and showed mummy the crotch of her white panties soaked in bright red blood.

And mummy broke into relieved laughter and hugged her closer.

Amazon!

What???

Grace could feel the blood vessels about to pop in her temple.

What? Who dared to drop that kain silly comment on her thread? Must be a first timer. E be like say the person no know. Dem no tell am before say person no dey just take anyhow waka on top her wall?

Kai!

She hit both sides of her head with her open palms, then picked up her phone. She gazed into the distance briefly for a few minutes while she composed her thoughts and decided which words would send a barb straight into the heart of the commenter.

Make she just kill am finish one hand.

Yeye just dey smell up and down. No be hin fault.

"What exactly do you mean by asking who authorised me to dispense marital advice? You, by what authority are you constituting a nuisance of yourself all over social media?"

Almost as soon as her comment dropped, the "likes" began to pour in.

Comments:

"The Amazon".

"We know say you  no see the comment since na hin make you no respond."

"Who be the baggar wey dey make our Amazon vex like this?"

And so on and so forth. Faithful followers of the posts on her wall where she dispensed no-nonsense, no-holds-barred, no-punches-pulled relationship advice.

Today for instance, someone had come inbox and sought advice on how to handle a husband who was not being as responsive as he used to be.

"Please help me and put this up on your wall Aunty Grace. Please hide my identity and let your readers advice me on what to do".

She had put up the long story on her wall. Something about the man not responding to his wife's sexual advances. He would come back from work with a very sour countenance, eat his meal grumpily, get into bed and turn his back on his poor, long-suffering wife.

The poor woman had tried everything to get her husband to pay her some attention.

Music...

Perfumes...

Scented candles (she alomst burnt down the house with that one).

In desperation, the anonymous but frustrated young wife had written to the tough-talking Aunty Grace in search of a solution.

Grace had put up the story on her wall in her usual fashion, then proceeded to add her opinion underneath:

"This is why I said that women especially should shine their eyes before they marry. What sort of nonsense is that? How will he finish eating and then turn his back on his wife? I don't blame him. I blame the wife who continues to give him food when ordinary sex, he cannot give her back in return. Nonsense. Divorce him and marry a more caring man joor".

And the "likes" from the regulars on her wall who were more wary of being at the receiving end of her sharp tongue than they were of their abilities to sound like a gaggle of geese, endorsed and echoed her opinion. 

Except for that one comment.

That dared to oppose her? Nonsense comment, she was sure that in his small brain, the person believed he was making sense when he said, "Grace that is too harsh. Divorce for what? The man might be passing through work and other life stress, perhaps she should seek counselling or involve trusted parties to find out what the issues were".

Grace was not in the mood for that kind of yeye talk.

"Is he a baby? Why should she have to go through all that stress and cajole him to get him to talk? Chai. Women are suffering o. Arrant nonsense."

"But Grace, are you married? If yes, is that how you would handle it if it were to be your husband?"

"First off, my marital status and issues are none of your concern. Secondly, I will not even think of marrying a man who will not confide in me as soon as something begins to disturb him o..."

"Hmmm, that might be easy to say but in a marriage situation, you have to take your partner into consideration most times."

"That is for the Proverbs 31 woman, not me. If any man tries that nonsense with me, I will deal with him properly."

====================================

Grace clicked on the status update button.

"What's on your mind," the social networking app asked her.

"Plenty", she thought as she started typing a rant on husbands and how they would attempt to manipulate their wives into waiting on them hand and foot.

She ranted about "equal rice for human beans" and how marriage was just a piece of paper. If it was her decision to take, she would just scrap marriage and stop the oppression of women by yeye men masquerading as husbands. She would just promulgate a decree that would allow people just cohabit and bear children.

Somewhere in the far recesses of her mind, she heard the security gate sliding open. A quick scan of the status update for errors and finding none, she clicked on "post update", then stood up and adjusted her dress.

Just as she switched off the device she had been using and slipped it in between the couch pillows (she would hide it properly after he had gone to bed), and switched on the smaller blackberry phone where she was the admin on a few virtuous women prayer platforms and meeting groups, the door opened and her husband came in.

"Good afternoon Sugar,"  she greeted, bending one knee slightly.

"Hmmmph."

"How was work today?"

"Hmmmph".

"Baby talk to me now, what do you want to eat?"

"Nothing."

"Hah, you can't  say "nothing" o, baby. You have not eaten my food in the past seven days. Please baby, okay tell me what you want to eat and let me start cooking now. I made your favourite yam porridge with vegetables but if you don't want it, I can pound yam with vegetable soup instead. Please baby. Please, just talk to me."

The Conversation...

"Hello".
"Hi Stella, how are you"?
"Ummm..."
"Stella, are you there"?
"Ummm, yes I am".
"So why did you hesitate before answering"?
"Sorry, I was trying to get into a comfortable position. I am okay now. How now"?
"I dey o, how your side"?
"Very well. I arrived Nigeria two days ago and have been calling you since then. Didn't you see my calls? Why did you not pick"?
"Sorry, I was busy".
"Busy with who again? All these men that keep taking your attention from me"?

She laughed and made herself more comfortable on the bed.

Jeremiah had seen her picture on a friend's Black berry profile and had worried him until he got her contact details. That was a couple of years ago.

Their mutual friend had chatted to give her a heads up and then sent her Jerry's picture.

Average height, average looks, averagely dressed, she placed his age at about late 40s to early 50s.

There was nothing spectacular or breath taking about him, he was an average man. But she had also spent quite a lot of time chasing the spectacular with little or no results. Scratch that, loads of heartbreak, disappointments, cheating... as each relationship ended, she left a little bit of her soul behind.

She was tired of spectacular.

She could do average.

Matter of fact, she WOULD do average.

Bring it on Jeremiah Adeife!

They had never met physically, but had spent countless hours on phone chatting, skypeing, instant messaging... you name it. Meeting physically would be for formalities sake, they had planned his return to Nigeria carefully.

He would come and meet her first and they would have a chance to assess each other physically, confirm that all that chemistry while they chatted on phone could translate to the physical, and maybe they could take it from there.

Just to be sure though, they had gotten engaged over the phone.

"Are you there Stella"?
"Yes"!
"You just laughed now, tell me, I hope none of those small small boys are chasing my property around o. Shebi you know you are mine".
"I told you no na, I always warn them off and tell them that I am already engaged".
"Good girl. So, what will you keep for me when I come"?
"Ah, abi no be me go ask you wetin you bring from abroad"?
"Wrong answer babe. That was not what I was expecting from you".
"Oh sorry darling, what do you want me to keep for you"?
"You know what I like now."
"Honey remind me now".
"Breast"!
"Oh"!
"What do you mean "oh"? You know I have a soft spot for breasts na. And you will give me to suck morning, afternoon and night ba"?

He loved sex. Or at least he said he did.

He talked about it a lot whenever they chatted and over time, they had started to sext and then watch each other masturbate over the internet.

She was not too captivated by sex, but had been priming herself for his obviously high sex wiring.

She was not surprised to hear him talk like this, na him way.

They chit chatted for a few minutes and made elaborate plans for when he would come to visit her.  He promised her he would come see her parents and then they blew each other kisses over the phone and then dropped.

She stood looking at the phone in her hand after he had cut off his line.

He had called her about an hour ago and they had had a disagreement over some trivial issue or the other. He had dropped the phone in anger.

She had had a rethink over her position and dialled his number only to realise she had run out of airtime on that phone.

So she had reached for her other phone. The emergency line which always had airtime however little. The number she hardly gave out or used to place calls.

There were just one or two little things wrong with the conversation that just ended.

Maybe just one.

Her name is NOT Stella.

Victory...

"To slap you just dey hungry me".

She kept quiet, head bowed and heart racing. Sometimes she was confused how to respond to his rantings.

Some days... "No be you I dey talk to? Why you dey keep me quiet? Abi you don turn "bebe"? Okay, you dey do me "silence is the best answer to a fool" ba? Come on..."

Gbish! Gbash! Gboosh!

On other days... "Na who dey talk wey you dey talk back give am so? E be like say you don craze finish! You no well. Like Mama like pikin. Like say your mama carry her nyash siddon for one place you for learn how to respect man. Idiot. Come on..."

Gbish! Gbash! Gboosh!

What was that saying again?

Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

The other her, the posh her, knew all the fancy sayings and cliches. Her fantasy world always welcomed her with arms open wide and whenever she chose to escape, she could be whom she wanted to be. Live the high flying life of a fast paced, career woman.

No furious fists to compel obedience at the end of the day.

Gbish...

Oh dear. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had walked into a "silence is the best answer to a fool day" without even realising it.

The force of the slap forced her first to her knees and then as if by instinct, she rolled onto her back and curled into a ball.

Gbash...

The force of his feet colliding with her back jolted her and she snapped back, then quickly recoiled herself tight as a foetus. Her mother protected her from her father's wrath, this was beyond her now.

She had someone to protect too.

Gboosh....

On her head. That was a new one, he had never done that before. He always hit her where bones were and then pulled his punches almost at the last minute.

The intention was always to cause pain. Deep pain. Long lasting pain. No visible traces.

She would wince as she walked, ate, bent and did the housework but could not point an accusing finger at the exact spot causing her pain. He  was THAT good.

As the blows and kicks continued to rain all over her, her toughened body refused to uncoil. He did not know it yet, but it was better she remained coiled for both their good. Her mind remained fixated on that one kick to the head, even as her body twitched from the blows and her mouth let out matching whelps.

Not feeling pain when he hit her usually called for sterner measures. Otherwise known as "the belt". She didn't want to meet the belt today, she might be unable to guide its course and protect the vulnerable one.

So she remained coiled, her mouth uttered sounds her mind did not give a damn about,  while her thoughts remained fixated on that one kick to the head.

Maybe if her mother had stayed at her father's, she would have learnt how to absorb all the thrashing and still remain meek as a mouse. But her mother had gathered them all up one day and walked. Never looked back.

He didn't look like her father, where her father was all muscles and brawn, he had looked soft, cuddly and gentle. Too late to realise it had nothing to do with appearances.

Too late.

The beating stopped as soon as they had started and she listened to his chest heave. She listened for the sound of him reaching for his belt. Nothing.

That meant the belt was not needed today, and since his trousers would not be around his ankles without the belt to hold them up, there would be no post-beating sex.

Rape her friend called it.

Not just her friends, the books did too.

But he said it was his right to sex her anytime he wanted, anyhow he wanted. Sometimes he beat her first to make it sweeter. Other times, he just put it in, came, and pulled it out.

"Come on stand up from there. Ashawo! Your mama better pass you, she burn full house. You just dey there, you no gree carry belle. Weight sef you no gree ad because every time, you no go dey make yourself happy. Weensh."

She dragged herself up wearily, the pains had already started.

"Enter kitchen go fetch me water make I drink. Useless woman. I marry man like myself put for house. Yeye."

She got to the kitchen, picked up a glass from the shelf and rinsed it out thoroughly. Exactly the way he liked, and then wiped it down with a kitchen roll.

She ran it under the cold water dispenser, and filled it to the brim.

She stood staring at the glass for a few minutes, then walked over to the sink and tipped out some of the water.

Just enough water.

He was seated on the couch, one leg lazily sprawled across the armrest when she came back with the water glass in a saucer. Pure white saucer, he loved cleanliness and purity. Like her, she was a virgin when  she met him, as pure as they come in both body and soul.

She handed over the full glass to him, just as she noticed the belt lying on the floor and his trousers zipped open. His turgid member peeked out through the flap, throbbing as he picked up the glass and took a sip.

"Come on kneel down there".

By force of habit, she knelt almost without thinking and watched eagerly as he began to drink from the glass. Her breath caught as he paused and looked at the glass, then raised it slowly to his lips and drained it.

His member pulsated with every swallow.

Without asking his permission, she stood and motioned to the glass. He handed it to her, then raised his hand to his mouth and slowly wiped his lips.

"Take it away, off your clothes and come back here. You know I love you ba? Only say you too dey like to dey make me vex, but I don forgive you. Oya, go keep the cup come quick quick. Today na today".

She stood in the kitchen and slowly reached for the hem of her dress. Ignoring the aches and pains she pulled the dress over her head, then stepped out of her panties. She left her bra on, he thought it was foreplay to take the bra off and then forcefully push himself into an unprepared woman.

She had long learnt not to complain.

He looked a bit constipated, but she kept her eyes averted as she walked back into the sitting room, pushed aside the coffee table and lay down with her legs spread apart.

He could not understand why his limbs were suddenly heavy, he did not beat her as much as he did the other time. Whish kain winsh be this when he don ready to gbains?

Anyhow wey e be sha, I must show her say I don forgive her so I must fuck her today o.

He struggled out of his trousers and positioned himself between her legs.

His arms were too heavy to reach behind her and unclasp the bra but as he struggled and fumbled, she kept her eyes fixed on his.

Sweat broke out all over him as he finally undid the clasp. He laid his head on her breast and felt his eyes closing a little.

No! He must do this now.

As he poised himself to thrust, she placed her hands on his shoulders. Surprised at this turn of events and wondering why his heart was racing so violently, he looked deep into her eyes and was scared by what he saw in there.

Victory!

"Baby, you know say you na useless man, from day one wey I don marry you till today na so so beating you dey gee me chop. If I carry belle, you go beat me sotay e go commot".

A haze descended over him as he struggled to hear her words. This woman no dey fear o, make he fuck her finish first, he go use belt show her Oba Bini today.

"But I love you baby shebi you know na," she continued as he shook his head in confusion. "God don bless us, I don carry belle now for the past tiri months".

He struggled to form words as his eyes widened and his penis went limp almost simultaneously.

"No worry baby, I go train the pikin well. You no need to worry but you no go ever beat me again as e be so. Na Godwin".

As he rolled off her and wondered what was happening to him, she leaned on his chest and looked into his eyes, savoring every second.

The last thing he ever saw or heard, was her face lowering until her nose almost touched his, and with her lips hardly moving, she breathed out...

"Oya go well you hear? I don forgive you finish".