Love, Lust and Lost. {Episode 2}

It would be the first time they were going to a hotel, oh!. I meant the first time he was taking her out to a hotel. They had always done their kissing and caresses where no one could find them. Sometimes at the close of school - when teachers were no longer around or at some food canteens on the field which were left open by their owners and, by at least 5:30pm - if no match was going-on on the field, would be deserted.

She had never let him into her house whenever he accompanied her home. She couldn't take the risk, couldn't ever dare to as it would mean over-stepping her boundary because of the unlimited freedom given to her by her boss.


He had tried to cajole her on several occasions when her boss were out of the country on a long vacation but she feared it might be the day she let him in, - they would come back and catch them, which would spell as if she had been doing it for long.


He had to leave her to her fears since she couldn't summon the courage to take the risk. `Don't let me be the one to ruin her stay with her boss,' he had resolved and they kept to their usual joint.



They passed by the famoss guest house, some few walks further - they got to the Sunnypool hotel and entered through the main gate. A man stood resting on a wall, a lit cigarette in his right hand between fingers and a lady leaning on him, - her hands in his trouser which belt was loosed.


It dawn on Theresa at that moment, those she had walked past; various girls and women in indecent dresses were all prostitutes. Many of them in their `I don't care attitudes, chewing gums like a village girl just learning the act, their mouth sounding Ngna! Ngna!! Ngna!!! Up and down like restless he-goat chewing grasses.'


The picture was now painted clear to her realisation, seeing the place they entered, - `a hotel!' She exclaimed, her eyes bulging out of their sockets.



“Izu, what are we doing here?.” She asked, halt and turned to face him.




“Ermm! Ermm! Don't worry, when we- 'ge' 'insidee' the room, I go tell you” he replied pleading in his cracked-up english.



She didn't resist and he left her presence to negotiate a room with the attendant.



“Bros, how far na, how much be room?”




“Na 200 for 1hour!. Shey you get change sha?” The hotelier asked. A yoruba man of 24years of age, - Sule by name who was managing the hotel for his aged father.



“Shey no be 100naira?, arh bros!” Izu protested trying to beat down the price “na 100naira I pay last month wey I come carry woman,” he added.



“You self see yourself, last month and this month na same thing?” Sule replied trying to make Izu clueless, which he wouldn't have an argument. “I get something wey I wan go do if you never ready o.”



He drew him back as he made to leave, squeezing the dirty 200naira into his palms. He raised the money up to the light, holding it with his two hands to the bulb as if looking may be it was fake. The bulb that hung in the lamp-holder at the wall of the bathroom, a 5 by 4ft room without a door, bare cemented floor with white remnant of foams still hanging at corners of the wall, was handy.



“So na this kind dirty money you carry come f^ck woman, make sure you wash your hand make you no go give the girl craw-craw for to`to o,” Sule made joke and guffawed as he directed a grunting Izu to a room pointing to the west where he stood.



Izu winked at Theresa and she read the code by following him into the room. It was painted sky-blue, a single red bulb hung on the almost collapsed ceiling-board above.

The small room accommodated a 6ft bed with mattress on it, a faded white bed-sheet which looked very dirty, almost brown was on it, -  stains of blood sprayed on some parts, dried vagina fluid or sperm making uneven rings on the bed.
There was no window in the room but a wall fan hung above the bed. A plastic white chair on the left which any customer that lodged till day break might find a use for; a basket full of used condoms, tissue papers and sort in it stood close to the bed.


The room didn't smell nice even as it appeared it was about an hour ago it was last used. Theresa looked round the room, hands folded beneath her chest.



“Si-don na,” Izu said in somewhat uneasy voice.



She looked at him as she sat down  with inquisitive eyes and watched him bolting the lock of the door, shutting it behind them.



“Izu, what are you doing?” She asked in fears “Hope you are okay?”




“I'm okay Theresa but you see, we can't keep going the way we are.”




“What way is that?” She asked with her brow furrowed.



“I mean,” he scratched his head as though it were a recharge card and through that, it would reveal the code to his intended speech. “Always waiting till 'teacher' go home or at the food 'vendor' koisk.” He tried to explain, his speech depicting someone with 's' factor problem, someone who does not know how to add an 's' to teacher or vendor, to make them possessive words '`teachers' or `Vendors'.

 His face now written and seeming as the word 'pity' would or might mean.



'See this guy sha' she thought 'you even get chance to dey kiss and touch me, you no happy'.


“But it's still all good na, at least we've not been caught and it doesn't seem we would be anytime soon.” She said trying to make him see reason.
She just loves Izu, even her earlier thought was rebuked in her mind.



“See Theresa, what I'm talking about is not on 'been' caught or like so,” he paused to take a breath of courage, so he could proceed with what he thought would not be nice to say to her.

He felt saying it might get her offended or so but wasn't sure what her reaction might be. Her face looked to have brighten-up and enthusiastic when she knew he was going to give her a good explanation to see reasons with him, not knowing what was on his mind. She always knew he got her heart no matter what the issue of misunderstanding might be.



“We can't continue with just kissing and romancing,” he finally let the cat out of the bag “make we do the real thing, I dey fed up of that  `yama yama' thing.”


Her demeanour changed once she heard him say what he said. She knew what he meant by that. He had asked her for it several times in the past but she had told him to wait.


She wanted to be sure what he meant really, so she asked “what are you trying to say, Izuchukwu?”




“Sex na Theresa, biko nu!” He pleaded.




She moved her face sideways, her hands tucked-in her laps as she engrossed herself in what Izu just said.


Sex???. Yes! She remembered!. It had always been the reason he wanted to come into her house. She was right after all about what he was driving at . It took her mind off the room, very far that it seemed some 100years ago; the distance between Lagos to Owerri could not be compared with going from Lagos to America which she had always fantasized about whenever her boss said they were going to America. But the distance was much, nonetheless.


She had met Chukwudi one day as she was going back home, basket containing harvested yam, cocoyam and cassava placed on her head. Chukwudi was one of the finest guy in their clan and an Ozo title-holders' son. He was light in complexion, 6ft heavily built, - with beards on his jaw to give him a manly feature. He looked  someone older than thirty but he was really a 22years old guy. He wore a singlet and tied a yellow towel on his waist, as he appeared from the bush holding a bunch of banana branch in his right hand.



“Hey!” He called out as she passed through the cleared path, his voice like every pompous child of a chief “what is your name?”


She told him her name and walked off when he followed her hurriedly “I've been keeping an eye on you for the past 2 months now and I thank my chi you crossed my path today.”



“Yes!. What can I do for you?” She asked bringing down a hand from the basket.



“You see Nkiru, I like you and want us to be friends, very close friends and you know what value is added to it being a friend to the next Ozo title-holder after my father!. There are a lot of respect attached to it if you become my friend,” he said with pride in his voice.



“See Chukwuna or Chukwuka or whatever your name is. I'm not interested in being your friend. If your money is what you think can get me to yourself, then you are just like Joseph Nchakwu the dreamer.” She blurted angrily and increased her pace.


She thought that would be the end to their encounter; that she had put the  shithouse proud turd into his pocket not knowing what his wicked and heartless plans were.


Two days' later, she had gone to fetch water at the stream. On leaving the stream some few distance apart with her water-pot balanced on her head, - she didn't smell the brewing danger. She was double-crossed by same Chukwudi but this time rather hostile. He swept her off aggressively, lifting her to his shoulder as she beat his back continuously as though it might set her free or have any effect on him; - her water pot smashed on the floor.

She screamed but no one came to her mercy as it was deep into the forest. That came to her mind now, the worst day of her life; the day she wept and went through the pain of being forcefully slept with. The very unfortunate event that led to the loss of her virginity.


She reported the case but as no man of words her family were in the clan against the chief, Ozo title-holder for that matter, chukwudi was only warned not to repeat such act again.

That was the advantage you get being a man of honour in our society, - she wept, cursed and didn't eat for some time until it felt she would die. She recovered and it opened her life to the continual longing for sex. It led to having sex with 2 other guys in the village before she left for Lagos. But had not dared to do such the past 3 years of her stay in Lagos. Although, she sometimes felt the urge to lure the gate man but she had been reasonable on her path. Her madam's husband sometimes often show up in her imaginations but she dared not venture on such shameful event. And here was the opportunity she had always wanted, to have a man between her legs. Staring in same room in her eyes was the guy she ever had something called love for. She thought it to be the right time to give it to him but rescinded.



“Ehn! Ehn Izu! I've heard you've recently been seeing Enore, the girl in SS1. I heard it while she was still in the Junior school but overlooked it as mere rumours,” she said trying to divert the topic.


He frowned hearing her say that and knew what she was driving at. He tried to reason what he could do to make her drop the topic.

Love, Lust and Lost {Episode 1}.

The dark cloud hung up in the sky like mango leaves branches giving shade to the earth beneath it. Stars all dotted in it to show, it would not rain anytime soon, no matter how the weather might want to manipulate the seasons.

The Obalende road as fondly called could be seen immediately after the Ikoyi bridge, the Dordan barracks, - the St. Josephs’ church gate formerly known to be the State House gate etched at the left end of the wall. On the same road at the left ran about a 100 yards wall of the Ikoyi cemetery, - then breaking it on its 80th yard was another gate which led into the Dordan barracks. There stood mounting security checks on civilians entering the barracks, some uniformed army officers in their usual camouflaged outfit worn on their iron-sole combat shoes (boots).

Beside the gate was a transformer caged in burglary-proof. From the transformer running back to the tip of the bridge was; mosque erected against the cemetery wall, people bending; sitting on the pavement to perform their ablution for the 8:10pm Isha’a prayers. Some were setting down their trays of coconuts; trays of ‘kulikuli’ and big bowls of ‘suya’ with lantern placed in them hurriedly so as to be in time before the muezzin  called all religious to start the ‘service’.

Refuse were scattered around the refuse dump kept in place by the Stable Cleansing Service as though fowls had carried out their food hunt there. The odour that emanated from the dump, the stagnant water that logged in potholes and spilled out of the drainage were offensive but people who were used to the environment went about their activities, some smiling, chewing whatever was in their mouth as if they were around a cake factory in V.G.C.

Taking continuous gaze on the right side of the road were erected structures of different kinds; bungalows; one storey buildings, mechanice workshops, and beer parlours with some 2-3 streets dividing them at a strategic point. The yellow streetlights could be seen visibly shinning, rather gloomy to reveal the different call-girls, call-women, ‘Ashawos’  ‘Aturu’ as some tribe would have it, ‘Poros’ as niggas would have them, prostitutes as an Englishman would rather have them called, in their mini-skirts; some without pants which was revealing with the way their asses clump and shake like tick pap. Cleavages showing in their singlet-like tops, spaghetti, halter-necks, and tube top, to entice feeble minded men passing by who took stroll of that area either to feed their eyes or to exercise their joystick.

“Bros come  now, I go do you well,” a lady who appeared to be in her middle twenties, face very white as though it had been dug  in sack of flour, - magenta lipstick gracing her lips said pulling the hand of a man that passed by her. A 5ft 6 man putting on a faded blue shirt that shone white in the night. He pulled his hand free and increased his bearing but what the other ladies in same profession but in different indecent dresses with the lady under discussion were

 “Foolish man, na church you call this place?” a lady in a man-like voice asked rhetorically without expecting any reply.

“E no fit do!” another calabar ‘poro’ said.

“Him Moses rod too small, e be like crayon” another Idoma prostitute made jest as if she had examined the man’s joystick.

Others seemed to mind their businesses as some could be heard negotiating with their catch.

“How much you go pay if you want all those styles and I go add love?”

“I no get pass 600naira o,” the man said in his what could be seen as sex starved face. The kind of man that would have gone to an alcoholic or herb joint for ‘mama 2 shot’ to make him last long and bang ruthlessly, - a desperate fellow!

“Shey na free to’to you wan f^ck?” the lady exclaimed rather offensively “abi this my to’to na for promo?” she asked practical in a Benin accent.

The man made to leave as the lady pulled him back and they went out of light, incoherent complaints followed their trail.

Outside the famoss guest house were plastic chairs filled with human buttocks; tables carrying the burden of beer bottles; 33, Star, Gulder, Small Stout, Malt, plate of pepper soup, bowl for hand wash on their heads. The On and Off interval of the decorative light of small red, blue and green bulbs added life to the merriment as the song of Blackface ‘Hard life’ blared out of the horror and hollow sounding speaker.

A short stroll after the guest house was the unnamed street; the second, - some distance apart was the Suya Junction. It was given the name because of the activities around the place. Nice smoke of ‘roasting’ meat took to the air as the A’bokis added groundnut oil to the suya or meat placed on the hot grill. Sweats cascaded down the sellers’ faces as they wiped with their shoulder pad, lifting their shoulder to the face.

“Hey A’boki! Me no go collect that suya for your hand o. why you let sweat dey fall inside am na?” a guy complained walking out of the mallams presence, with curses flying to catch up with him “Ubanka! Banza ni.”

“Sannu oga madam,” another A’boki welcomed his customers cutting 2 chunks of meat called ‘tasting or customer hospitality’, dipping it in suya-pepper, and placing on a newspaper table-mat in front of them.

Some A’bokis were raising large suya up so it could be examined by their customers, stretching it on the grill to show it worth the prices they gave. Stalls of various structures stood with chicken stretched thighs-wide on sticks; tomatoes and cucumber stuck in them. Meat-fats and red beaten meat on their stalls.

Another part of the road accommodated the stalls of some A’bokis that made local sandwich or rather burgers out of Agege bread, salad leaves, cucumbers, onions, mayonnaise and fried eggs. Flies hover around lamps like customers going about their various shopping. Idle men who didn’t have money on them but ordinarily taking in (perceiving) the aroma that rouse the atmosphere, could get their stomach filled – walked around aimlessly.

Izuchukwu, a chubby boy of 19; very shy and timid; had just finished his Junior Secondary School WAEC(WASSCE) - light skin with somewhat red eyeballs being the most attractive feature in his baby-face round head. He wore a 3-quarter black trousers beneath his green T-shirt; his stomach slightly bulging out to reveal his recent hobby of visiting beer joints. Izu for short, though not bright in his academics and through his 'pick-a-pick' speech in Igbo accent, one could easily recognise how dull he would be faring in his studies, but what he couldn't make-up for in his studies were used in his footballing abilities. Though a bit chubby, it made for him a perfect advantage to use his body to attack opponents first before a pass got to him and then attack the ball with no man marking, which earned him a quick entry into the school team in his JSS 1. He didn't seem to bother being in the same class with people of 11, 12, or 13 years of age as he had people of his age too in same class as to compare himself with.

Followed closely behind him was Theresa, a girl of same age and body but with different colour of the skin. Theresa was ebony 'black' with some dark spot all over her body; her eyelids were appealing to anyone who gazed at her. She was not a girl who could have declared intention to represent her state Imo at any beauty pageant as she was just beautiful in her own world. Her beauty could not be compared to quarter of Stella Damasus neither could her ugliness be partnered with any beast, but was okay to Izu who not in his, was handsome but a guy without a choice. His 'Boniface' only gave him an upper hand to get Theresa as his girlfriend.

Izu was living with his parents in their makeshift Shop-house apartment A.O 36, Ilubirin Mechanic Village while Theresa on the other hand was a maid at the house of her Aunt's friend. She got treated like a daughter and had everything she wanted as her bosses were rich. Although she didn't attend a private school like their children but was satisfied she was being educated, which wouldn't have been the case if she were still working on the farm at Eshimeshi, Owerri north.

She wasn’t quite bright but pursued average unlike her dull-headed boyfriend who cared less whether he was average or not, so long he was getting promoted and kicking football until he gets picked to represent Nigeria or any foreign base club.

She tried to examine what she wore by gazing from her sandal and ran her eyes upward as she walked behind Izu, she wore a long skirt like a deeper-life parishioner on a red and white rose flower designed blouse which covered her medium calabash-size breast, well packaged in her underwear.

 As he took a left turn into the Daniel’s compound well known to people as a small and affordable hotel, she wanted to take a halt as it came to her mind ‘why didn’t I ask Izu where we were heading?’ but she hesitated and followed suit, taking her left turn, “well, he is my boyfriend and wouldn’t do any harm to me” she soliloquised.

She seemed to be so overwhelmed by the love he showed her. He was the best ever she had met because on her first day at school, Izu had walked up to her and asked in Igbo what her name was “kedu bu afa gi?” which she replied “Nkiru.”. From then, their love adventure had started. The way he spoke one word at a time like someone who was going to stutter or practicing public speaking perhaps, not to fumble in the presence of his audience, made her love him so much, - she had affirmed in her solitude that he couldn’t hurt an ant if he were given the order to.

Her gaze met people on the left just coming out of a room sweating profusely and another man and lady entering hurriedly into same room as though they’ve not had sex some decade’s ago. She imagined the room still boiling heat, foul odour of sweat, semen and vagina fluid concoct the unventilated room, even the fan of it would blow heat due to continuous thrusting and battle between sex organs of both gender.

“I would rather the heat die down and they sprayed the room with air-freshener” she thought scornfully as they burst out of the compound to the Obalende road, Izu already waiting for her so they could cross to the other side of the road together. She caught up with him as they walked two abreast to cross when no vehicle was in sight. Izu facial expression conveyed what might be going on in his mind, - his mission at their destination which beclouded Theresa’s thoughts.

We hope he can't hurt an ant as she vouched!.

Love, Lust and Lost.

                                                    PROLOGUE:-

You see, my people! This word called ‘love’ had been given different definitions and expressed in ways we won’t delve into right now. It is not certain we could pick up a dictionary to know what love is. Love is feeling and so those who wrote or compiled the dictionary would have had diverse feelings to give their various definitions.

To you reading this piece, what does love means to you?  Do not try to deceive yourself of the ‘lust’ you are into right now; many girlfriends, sugar mummies; many boyfriends, sugar daddies. Nah! Love is more than that, more than just mere lust or playing on others’ feelings.

The caresses of the water spurting out from the rock, the pressure of it against the rock and the coolness it gives to the rock are often amiable and could be seen as the love between the rock and the water.

     The love of mother-nature towards its (most specifically) human inhabitant are also laudable. The sun shining brightly but with intended belligerence in its own stupidity on the human skin to dazzle it, hurt it or keep it warm is also one meaning of love.

The love between a mother and a child cannot be overemphasized. As the mother, no matter how angry she might be during the difficult upbringing of a child, would always love her child even when he/she steps on her most delicate nerve.

In the beginning of the world, after the first six days or so, God in his infinite goodness and total love made Adam and removed Eve from his ribs – to give man a love that would never depart from him. Though, God knowing fully well he was not like man in every nature, - might not have satisfied man to always be his love, even when he’ll never stop loving his own creations.

Perhaps, he knew his supremacy-of-love to be above what man would require as a close mate, - and gave him a man of his kind, which they could both share whatever nature of love (deceit) with each other.

    The type of love exhibited by Adam and Eve, might have been genuine as the very second varying type of love after God’s love but if I were permitted to say it, - was a stupid love (may God forgive me), because Adam being the first to be created out of them two and the first to receive instructions against the forbidden fruit of the tree of bad and evil; - should not have collected the fruit from his wife Eve (women sha!). But out of the genuine love shown in plain ‘mumuciousness’ by Adam, they were both cursed forever and lost the privilege of God’s love, even as he hasn’t stop loving them.

If that type of love still exist in the world today, the world would have been a better haven of love. The prevalent case is the opposite, -lust- filled in the world around us today, full of deceit.

 Many young people now interchange or misinterpret love with lust. The world has drifted far from the world of true love. I remember vividly how our parents talked continuously about the way love was, in their own time, - though we were not present then and could not assert how true their stories might be, but could do nothing than to accept and believe the world has really changed. Romeo and Juliet case of love would be a more clarified and true meaning of what love should be as compiled in history and told today. It would be very rare to see a true and genuine love of such these days.

The type of love clamoured for is that which, when Boye is about to run bankrupt, Bioye would stand by him till the very end, - not one that sees her boyfriend/husband running into empty ‘can’ (pun not intended), and leave for another man reigning in affluence at the spur of that moment.

Adefemi, Zainab, Fatimah, Izuchukwu, Lazarus, Bola, Kazeem, and other colleagues the story would bring forth their characterization seemed to be overwhelmed by their last day in the Junior Secondary School not knowing what the future holds for them (particularly in their Senior School); their changing feelings from ordinary friendship into relationships would threaten not only their performances in academics but also their life in all facet.

Miss Funmi, and Miss Yemisi, the youth corps’ love for a boy of 14; - Femi, who was young in mind and didn’t know what love by these teachers’ meant.

 Mr. John and his colleague, NYSC student-teachers, would never forget in their life their experience/s in the Business study class.

These and many other characters and themes are set on edge if you, my readers would permit me in my amateurish style of writing to present them to you as they come into mind and through inspiration, words of encouragement, comments, corrections and constructive criticism (the 3 C’s) as I’m just learning the trade of being a better and informed writer. This would also be the first story I would tell in the eyes-of-god/God narrative technique or as famously called the omniscient point of view/narration, so it might be a bit new to me but I would try to adjust the little I can in this technique as I learn more.