Why I Said No…….

In case you missed ” Why I Said Yes” Please click to read: http://toyinfabs.WordPress.com/2013/05/11/why-i-said-yes/


He was sated; that much was clear from the dreamy look in his eyes and the lazy way he sprawled on the bed. He was so easy to read, too easy. He lived his entire life with his eyes that sometimes I imagined how easy it would be to understand him if he were dumb, all you had to do was look into his eyes.

“I love you so much baby.” He said placing emphasis on the baby. Of course he loved me so much, he always did after sex. If he did the other times, I never find out, I never failed to give an automatic response of; “I love you too TaiTai.”

I like calling him TaiTai, I preferred that to Taiwo. It was the name his late Grandma called him, he claims she coined it specially for him and won’t allow anyone except her to call him the name. That was until I entered his life and I decided I prefer it to Taiwo. He allowed me because he had claimed that I was the only one who came close to replacing his grandmother in his affections. That had been said in his lucid moments, in post coital moments however, he would claim I was the only person he has ever loved.

“I love you baby”. He repeated licking his lips.

“I love you too.” TaiTai I replied rolling my eyes inwardly, how come no one ever told him licking his lips made him look like an imbecile. I wasn’t satisfied at all, He came when I was just building momentum but then it wasn’t so important because in the two years we had been together, he had never managed to satisfy me. The funny thing was how he would swear on his life that he was the best I ever had, he had good reason to brag; I had perfected the art of faking orgasms.

“Rate me Babe.”

There we go again, I thought. How come men who are poor in bed always come up with that phrase? Dude, you seriously don’t want an honest rating. I thought. If I gave him 40% it would have been out of generosity.

“85%.” I replied masking the lie with a smile and purring to add effect.

“85%? I thought I passed the 100th mark today.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Because I know how much hard work I did today, see me sweating in spite of the air conditioner being on 18 degrees.”

“Ehn ehn”

“What’s Ehn ehn, you don’t think I deserve more than 85%?”

“Actually, TaiTai you do, it’s just that I don’t want your head to swell too much.”

“Silly Girl.” He replied drawing me close to his chest.

“Marry me.” He whispered.

“What did you say?” I replied drawing back.

“I said you should marry me. Please baby, marry me.”


“Yeah seriously. Shouldn’t you be screaming Yes, Yes by now?” He added smiling.


“Yes really. Haven’t you ever given our getting married a thought?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?” You mean you have never daydreamt about being married to me?”

“It’s not about you Taiwo, It’s about me not thinking about marriage yet.”

“At 28? Why does that sound so incredible? This is supposed to be something you want more than anything else at this stage of your life.”

“Well…..” I shrugged.

“Anyway, now that I have made you think about it, will you marry me?”

“Why are you even asking me this right now? I am not even seeing a ring Taiwo.”

“I will get that later. This is just something I have a strong urge to do right now. Meanwhile, why are you calling me Taiwo?” He asked frowning as he sat up on the bed.

“I don’t know maybe because of the seriousness of the topic.”

“Really baby, what’s so serious and complex about accepting to marry the man you love?”

“I don’t know. I just feel this isn’t really you, I think it is your third leg talking.”

“I swear to you Titi, I mean it. Olorun ngbo.”

“If it’s about the ring, I will get you the finest ever. The stone will, be Ruby, your birthstone. I will get the best for you and ask you again in a more appropriate way but please say yes.”


“Hmm, what? Say yes now Titilola.”

“No, Taiwo. I mean no, I can’t say yes right now.”

“But why baby?” he said touching my shoulders with both palms and looking into my eyes.

“I treat you well; I show you care, love and attention every day, every minute. I go out of my way to make you happy, I think about you every minute of the day, I buy you the cutest things ever, and I constantly give you mind blowing orgasms most women will die to experience just once.”

“What else makes a man a husband material?”

“So much more Taiwo, as for the orgasms I won’t even go into that because I don’t want to upset you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t worry Taiwo, it’s not important. Let’s focus on the big issue.”

“It’s important o baby. Are you trying to say you would prefer if I didn’t make you come with that much intensity every time? Because if that’s what you are saying I will understand. I recently read an article where they made mention of a research that suggests women do get tired of orgasms especially when they are too intense.”

Ohhhh….crap. This guy is so conceited. I thought.

“Like I said, let’s leave that. I will tell you the major reason I am not so willing to be married to you.”

“What is that?” He asked moistening his lips.

“You are mean.”

“Me? Mean? Jokes.” A look of how can you even say something that preposterous on his face.

“Yes you are mean. It’s not a joke and the problem is that I don’t like how my tears never affect you. For a girl who cries over movies, it’s a big one. Everyone I know gets affected by a girl’s tears and would do anything to wipe them away. Everyone I know but you. You would rather whistle or sit down to drink hot chocolate licking your lips in glee while I cry.”

“But babe that’s when we have….”

“Don’t even go there. Don’t tell me it’s when we have a fight. Fight or not, my crying should affect you. Even if you were annoyed, the anger should evaporate at my distress.”

“I mean Tai, we would have quarrels and I will be there crying my heart out, wailing with mucus trickling out of my nose in a stream like fashion and you would just walk around or sit somewhere unaffected. I can’t live the rest of my life like that. It’s always been one reason I know we can’t be married.”

“Is that it? Is that why you don’t want to be married to me? Because it’s a small thing then, I can change. In fact, I promise henceforth that when you as much as grimace, my whole world will crumble in response. I will make sure you never have a reason to cry but if you ever do, I will wipe your tears and make you smile again.”

“Sweet words Tai but it still won’t work. Somehow I am convinced that you can’t really love me. You might not have noticed but you only say you love me after we have made love.”

“You know I love you Titi. Why are you making this so hard? If I didn’t love you why would I want to marry you? If you think I don’t, why are you still with me?”

“Good questions. I have been wondering why you want to marry me since you didn’t love me. As for why I am with you, ever heard of the stop gap theory? Managing what you have in hand while you look out and wait for the better or best.”

“Oh really? He said. His eyes taking on a “fuck you, who do you think you are” look. Since you don’t love me, then I probably don’t love you too. Perhaps I just want to marry you because of all the ladies I ever had sex with you are the best.

“Perhaps.” I replied. Smiling to let him know I wasn’t hurt by his words. I stood up then to retrieve my dress from the bedroom floor. I didn’t bother with my undies but just crammed them in my handbag, hurriedly putting on my wrap dress.

“How about we forget I proposed and get on with the relationship then?”

“Sorry Taiwo, we have passed that stage now with all the honesty we’ve displayed this morning.” I picked my bag and walked to the door.

Just because I couldn’t resist, I gave a parting shot as I reached the bed room door.

Turning back I said;

“Besides, the sex is very bad. I fake it all the time. Yeah, I faked it every single time. No exception. I added enjoying the shocked look on his face before I closed the door after me.




Symphony of Confusion by Osowe Olugbenga (@gbengaosowe)



Hysterical laughter from the throats of elders,


The cacophony of voices of their children,

Anger’s children,

Coherently incoherent in speech,

And consistently inconsistent

In their convictions,

Daggers drawn, bellies receiving

Harpoons set, jugulars endangering

Swords of words subversively delivered

Facts distorted,

Truth corrupted,



Harmonized guffaws,

From the ones who enslave us,

Our confusion, their joy

Our fights and battles, their entertainment,

Children of anger they call us

Spawns of confusion we truly are,

Mutual hatred and bile


Birthed in ignorance,

Fuelled by arrogance

And pride,

Not for motherland

It’s all about our bruised egos

Symphony of confusion

Cacophony of opinions

Common sense takes the back seat,

Conversations driven by arrogance

Shhhhhh…. Do not disturb

Mudslinging in progress

In robes of dirt we all now dress

Hurling insults,

Trading blames,

Cacophony of thoughts

Symphony of distortion

Accusations and Rebuttals

Energy dissipating

Nation building ignoring

Peace still elusive

Now the looters stay looting

Youths one another keep abusing

We against we, divided

By our egos and opinions

They amongst them

United in dishonour

Laughing and mocking,

Plundering and pillaging

Their mirth, a harmony

Our voices, a symphony of confusion

This will be the last time……….


“This will be the last time.” She decided blinking back tears as she alighted from the Okada.

“ I am never going to do this again.”

“ahn ahn, when it’s not a curse or something. I have to be wise because this thing oo, it’s me that it will affect in the future not him.”

She was mad at herself at her carelessness and lack of judgement. She kept criticizing herself as she walked to the building. She didn’t have to do a five minute walk, she could have made the Okada stop in front of the house but she was too ashamed to do so. What if he knows what young girls come here to do? She had thought.

The gate was always open; it was as though the Doctor liked to think he was operating a standard hospital or Clinic. Yes there was a Clinic in the compound; a place where women who needed their babies came to give birth but she was sure the other thing he did inside his living quarters was his major source of income. It wasn’t like she had ever met another girl there in all the times she had been coming but she knew he had a long list of clientele. A list that included even married women. Dr Kilani was popular in the town. He was the top pick if you needed to kill a foetus or embryo as the case may be.

She held the duffel bag close to her chest, almost as if it were a weapon to defend herself with. She prayed in her heart that the Doctor’s wife won’t be the one to open the door. You would think the woman would respect her husband’s clients since it was a major source of their income; instead she seemed to have perfected the art of throwing disdainful looks. The last time she was there to kill a foetus; the one she had nipped in the bud so early it was almost as if it had never been there. The Doctor’s wife had thrown her big stomach in her face as if to say; “look, some of us allow it to grow”. She hadn’t thought too much of it then, not until later. All that went through her mind that day was how Dr Kilani could kill developing babies when he also had one on the way. Didn’t things like that attract Karma?

That day however, she heaved a huge sigh of relief as she saw that Dr Kilani was the one who opened the door. She saw a baby’s Cot just behind the door and almost said “Nice Cot”, so lovely” but she caught herself realising it won’t be appropriate given the circumstances.

“Folake, please I need about five minutes so I can finish this match. I hope you don’t mind?” He added with a smile.

“No, I don’t.” She replied.

Of course she didn’t mind. The same way she hadn’t minded when Tade told her he couldn’t follow her to the Doctor’s place because he had to watch the match, the same one the Doctor was watching.

She kept her eyes on the Cot thinking of how she would love to have something like it for her baby whenever she got married.

A creeping sadness washed over her at the thought.

Why can’t I keep this baby? she thought. “Maybe she would be really beautiful, my brother’s children are, it must be in the blood.”

But then she knew why she couldn’t keep the baby. The society didn’t expect her to have kids yet, she was supposed to be a good girl, face her studies and remain a virgin till her wedding night.

“Will you prefer to lie down on the examination couch so you can relax before the procedure?”

“No Doctor. I am fine.”

“Good.” He replied.

Procedure, procedure, procedure. She repeated over and over in her head. It’s a procedure and then tomorrow I will be me again. I will go home and no one will ever know I was pregnant.

I should just get up and leave now, she thought knowing she couldn’t. But this will be the last time. She told herself again clenching her teeth at the thought. I should write that in my Bible so that I will keep the promise.

“Oh crap. I know that doesn’t help.  Didn’t I write in it that I will never miss my quiet time?”


“The match’s over. We can go in now.”

“Ok” She replied.

“What were the scores?” She asked glancing at the TV.


“Who won?”


Oh Karma is such a fast bitch. Tade was a Chelsea fan. Now she was sure she wasn’t going to be the only one suffering.

She followed him into the room. The neatness of the room never ceased to strike her. She also always wondered if it was the Doctor’s wife that cleaned it or if he did it himself. It was like any standard hospital room. White washed walls, a drip stand, an examination couch, the reclining chair he used for the “procedures” and a high stool that he sat on while performing them. She dropped the poly bag that contained the usual items that she brought with her in a corner of the room; a bottle of bleach and a big sachet of detergent. One thing was certain; his wife was never going to run out of detergent and bleach.

She lay on the reclining chair, she had come prepared; a free flowing dress that would ensure she didn’t have to expose her body more than necessary. She rested her back, lifted up her knees and then parted her legs. She was ready; Dr Kilani had full access now.

She closed her eyes as she heard him move towards the high stool that was placed just between her legs. She heard every sound even though she wished she could tune them out. She exhaled deeply as he parted her thighs knowing it was going to start anytime now.

She winced as he inserted whatever it was that he always inserted into her cervix. She had never looked at his instruments. She saw them but never really saw them. They were always too disturbing for her to look at. She kept her eyelids shut tightly and her teeth clenched together as she felt him begin to scrape.

 “This would end soon”. She thought. “This is not like the first time. That was a nightmare.” She didn’t like to think of it but the memories always came back every time she was in the room undergoing the “procedure”.

They had been more than careless, she in particular. She hadn’t even realised she was pregnant until she was three months gone and then they had used every drug they managed to hear of but the foetus only continued to grow, She had taken injections too from a Nurse that lived down her street. When that too didn’t work, she had started doing all the things that were supposed to make a pregnant woman lose her baby only hers didn’t plan on going anywhere. And then finally a week to her fifth month she had discovered Dr Kilani. When he examined her he had said just two sentences.


“It’s doable.”

He had then given her drugs, told her to lie down and did something that gave her stomach spasms and made her leak amniotic fluid. Come back after twenty-four hours he had said. By the time she came back, she was having what he had called contractions and then he had made her push the foetus out.

“It would have been a girl.” he had said asking if she wanted to see it. She had shaken her head and then he had cleaned her up and gone somewhere for about thirty minutes. She had guessed he went to dispose the foetus but she had never asked. It had been a horrible time, she had bled for days and had to go back to the Doctor who told her there were pieces of tissue left in her. That was the first time he did the scraping thing and then less than 10 minutes later, she was good as new.

She had never forgotten, the memory remained in her head and even now as she tried to stop herself, she couldn’t help the tears from falling.

This has to stop. This would be the last time. She said aloud as Doctor said; “We are done. You are good to go.”

“Interesting.” He replied. “The last time? Well if you say so.”

She hurriedly put her panties on; dropping the 10,000 naira she had told her Mom was for some advanced level practical on the Couch she had been lying on.

“I mean it Doctor.”

“I am not arguing Folake but you and I know you would be back. Your type always come back.”

She ignored his words and hurried out of the room.

“Don’t forget to use your antibiotics.” He called after her. “We don’t want you to have issues getting pregnant again.”

She heard him but ignored him again.

“This will be the last time. I will see to it.”



                    Celebration Mode: Lilian Elemchukwu-Ohia

When Rihana waltzed into the studio to put together her hit single ‘’We Found Love’’, l want to believe that she didn’t appreciate the depth of the reality inherent in the chorus of that song. This is because even though love is a universally acceptable lingua franca spoken from the heart, it is usually found in the unlikeliest of places, and therefore the ‘’hopelessness’’ of its discovery.

The banking halls of Nigeria’s new generation financial institutions have the distinction of providing leverage for the consummation of financial transactions. However, there is another leverage which these institutions provide but which is largely unspoken of: the consummation of emotional transactions. Quite a number of customers and bankers alike grace these hallowed halls in search of the highly sought after lucre, but some come out of them with much more treasures than those stored in the vaults therein; relationships that lead to marriages.

As Branch Service Head of one of Nigeria’s biggest several years back, the events leading up to the consummation of what l prefer to term ‘’a transaction within a transaction’’ could only be attributed to fate. At the time, one of my fervent prayer points was for a life partner. I had a well paying job, a good car and a house badly in need of a woman to transform it under a properly structured agenda, into a home. I gave God strict instructions on what l wanted. Yes. Didn’t he say we should put him to the test? Oh ho! And trust him to rise to the occasion with an ironic but somewhat comic twist to boot.

It so happened that my branch in Port Harcourt had a customer who effected a Funds Transfer to another branch in Lagos. This branch was headed by an attractive damsel that had a reputation as a no-nonsense Operations person. And it was true to type that she spotted an error in the procedure through which the Funds Transfer was done. Expectedly, the alter ego in me felt bruised when she requested that l cancel and redo the transaction. I was not prepared to take orders from her and this led to her escalating the issue to our Group Head who being close to both of us settled the matter amicably. Thus, began a friendship over the bank’s Microsoft messenger service, developing into a relationship and eventually marriage.

One very significant aspect of this narrative is the fact that we officially started dating on her birthday; the 17th of October, a date we have fondly coined as 17.10. Interestingly, the number to the current account l opened at the bank even before she joined the bank ends with those exact figures. Coincidence or providence? I guess that is irrelevant right now. Today, as she marks yet another birthday, l can only but look back in retrospect with nostalgia. So next time you walk into a banking hall, l advice you put on your cupid lenses. You just might be asked, your money or your wife?

This is a tribute to her and l am seizing this opportunity to say ”Happy Birthday Swit”. You have been an inspiration and you would always be the love of my life. I love you all ways and always!!!

Charles is an Environmental Management researcher at the Sheffield Hallam University, UK. His tweet-prints can be found at @9jaBloke.

Not So Happily Married …. Episode Fourteen (The Final Episode)

Hello Fam,

How can I thank you beautiful people? You all have been so wonderful. You made NSHM become this really beautiful thing I never imagined it could be. Alas, the show ends today. I hope you enjoy this final episode as much as you have enjoyed the others.

In other news, I will be getting married to my best friend this Saturday. He inspired Jite’s character. I love him so much and can’t wait to start and errrr ayam not Boye sha oooo, although I love her.

Wish me luck and check out our wedding website www.mywedding.com/synapse.

God bless you all.




Please read all episodes here, start bottom-up

On the flight back to Lagos, we talked about almost everything under the sun except anything that had to do with what happened in Calabar. I tried not to think about the incident too but when we got to the house, I couldn’t think of anything else.

Why was I so quick to judge her?

She is a victim like me; I should have understood and empathised with her.

I decided to call her.

“Hey babe”, I said hoping I sounded light hearted enough.

“Omoboye” she said flatly

“How are you?”


“I was thinking about the whole Dapo issue and realised I didn’t handle things well and I will like to apologise for that.”

“Hmmmm, it’s not important.”

“No, Boladale, it is important. I should have known better considering I have had a firsthand experience of how Dapo can be.”

“I know which is why I was surprised at the way you took it. I expected you to be angry but thought by the time I was done explaining you would understand.”

“I should have, but at that time, I was having lots of issues and it majorly had to do with women who get pregnant for other people’s husbands.”

“Oh…..are you and Jite having problems?”

“No.  At least not anymore.” I added remembering how Jite had said I should care less about what people think.

“Oh my God, hope nothing serious?”

“Not really, we are over that now. In fact we are having a vow renewal.”

“A vow renewal? So soon? Are you sure everything is fine? Should I come around; will you like to talk about it?”

“Relax Bola, we are fine, the worst is over. The renewal thing is just for us to say some things to each other, things we were going to start doing differently and all that.”

“Ok, Boye. Just know that I am always here in case you need to talk. So when is it?”

“We haven’t concluded, I will get back to you when we do.”

We talked about other things after that and then I asked her about the pregnancy and what her plans were. She said she was able to get the email address of Dapo’s wife and she had sent her an email about her pregnancy. I gasped at that, my heart aching for the poor woman. I asked Boladale why she felt the need to do it and she said she believed it was best that the woman knew the kind of husband she had. I was sure she would know that already but I said nothing.


I had no intention of killing Dapo at least not with my own hands but what does a man do to the man who abused his wife? Even if it was before she became his wife, the effect was still the same. It still hurt like hell.

The intriguing thing was if anyone had asked me how I would feel about hearing such things, I would have said I would be repulsed but all I felt was anger that anyone could take advantage of Omoboye so and worse, get away with it.

I knew people who could mess him up and inwardly, I thought of how to contact one or two, but still I hesitated.

There was bound to be some bad press given what happened in Calabar and I knew I needed to be there for Omoboye through it all. I resolved to concentrate on weathering the storm first and renewing our vows before taking on Dapo.
“Jite, about that renewal thing, when do you have in mind?” Boye asked breaking into my thoughts.

I looked at her as she walked out of the room and noticed her eyes looked tired.

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“Yeah, initially but remember I later agreed it would be a good thing. I think it’s a great idea though, It would be like we are starting anew.”

“Yeah. But I think we should wait for a couple of months so the media could get tired of you first. I expect that the Calabar story will break soon and I have a feeling it might be ugly.”



We didn’t have to wait long. I had calls pouring in by the evening of the same day.

“Babe, what is this that I am seeing everywhere?”

“Someone just cooked a horrible story about you, but wait ooo, they also have pictures.” “They said your husband caught you in bed with another man, who did you offend Boye?”

“Boye, you need to make sure they yank off that story, I know someone who knows someone that can help with that.”

“Don’t mind those bloggers, they are crazy people, but wait o Boye, did it really happen?”

The calls kept coming in and at a point we decided to switch our phones off. .

Later, we decided to check out the stories ourselves. Jite suggested that we go to a particular blog which was notorious for breaking unverified and usually false stories first but I told him I will prefer to Google my name just to know the extent of the damage.

The result of the search was astonishing and despite my “I don’t give a damn stance”, I felt my eyes mist over as I glanced at the web page.

“Popular makeup artist in adultery mess.”

“Caught pants down; MUA  Omoboyede Osereme’s lover rats out on her in public.”

“I rammed you so hard, you farted non-stop.  Femi Brody to Omoboyede Osereme”

“Boye of Delicious Makeovers’s young marriage falls apart.”

Jite’s face was impassive, he slipped a hand around me, opened all the links and together we went over it.

“This is preposterous, why did they decide to twist the story like this? Can’t we do something about this Jite? This is falsehood.”

“Baby, relax. We knew this was going to happen, didn’t we? Besides, we both know most of these bloggers are useless and will publish just about anything if they think it would make them get some hits.”

“But we can’t ignore this Jite, imagine them saying you caught Femi and I in the act and that we have broken up because of the incident.”

“You are not happy they didn’t say you are pregnant for Femi?”

“They dare not, I would have sued them.”

“You know you won’t baby, they don’t deserve that much attention. I give this story four days at the maximum; everyone will forget it and move on.”

“Four days? How will I cope with this way of existence till then?”

“Which way?”

“Holing up in the house with our phones switched off.”

“Of course, we won’t be that way after today. My plan is that we would even go out, so that people can see us. Is there any event that we can go to? If there is, we should go. When they see we are cool, everyone will shut up.”

“Good idea Jite but I can’t think of any. I think we should just make a video recording, tell everyone we are cool and what happened between you and Femi was just a misunderstanding.”

“No babe that will be attaching too much importance to this issue, we are going to ignore this.”

I wanted to argue, I wanted to tell him it was easy for him to say we should ignore it considering he wasn’t the one whose name was being bandied all over the town but common sense prevailed.

It can’t be easy for him too. I decided. No man wants to be pitied; no man wants people to think his wife was whoring.



Busybodies thrive on attention, you give them some; they come back for more. I believed they were all going to get tired of the story soon enough and Boye agreed. When we put on our phones, we told friends and family that we were fine and that my wife didn’t have an affair with anybody, to the bloggers we said; “no comments”. Boye felt they would take that to mean the allegations were right but I told her we shouldn’t care what they think.

With that behind us, it was time to plan our vow renewal party. Boye and I agreed that it would be a small party with fifty guests at the maximum.


We slated our vow renewal for our 6th month anniversary which was two months from the day we got back from Calabar. In an effort to rekindle my friendship with Boladale, I got her involved in the planning. I love elaborate parties but Jite wanted it to be a simple one and so Boladale’s other assignment was to constantly remind me of this.

A week to the renewal party, we were on our way to the caterer’s shop when Boladale received a phone call.

“Oh Christ!” She said repeatedly as she took the call.

What is it Bola, what happened? I asked when she was done.

“It’s Dapo.”

What about him? I asked my fingers shaking as I remembered Jite’s threat that he was going to kill him.

“He has been admitted to the Neuro psychiatric hospital.”

“What? Who told you that?”

“One of my colleagues just called. Apparently, his wife left him and he was trying to celebrate when it happened.”

“Hold on, a minute. His wife left him and he was celebrating?”

“Yeah, I am not surprised about that. He has always said he would like a situation where she gives him breathing space so he could have the freedom to do as he pleases. He is always excited whenever she travels and would even tell us he will be glad if she stayed longer wherever she was.”

“Hmmm, why am I not surprised too? But wait, how exactly did celebrating land him in a psychiatric hospital?”

“The details are quite hazy but my colleague was saying something about drug overdose and how he started acting funny and his children called the neighbours.”

“Oh my God, so the wife left her children?”

“Yeah, I learnt he didn’t allow her to take the kids; something about how no one could take his sons from him.”

“Bastard! How was he hoping to take care of two toddlers?”

“Who knows, maybe he was planning that his mistresses would be their stand in Mom.”

“Poor children.”

“I guess, they would be fine, his wife will go back to get them now.” I just feel a bit sorry for him because he might lose his job. Our employer is quite funny, if he recovers, he won’t want to have anything to do with someone who has been admitted for mental issues.”

“Well he brought it upon himself, what about you Bola, will you be fine? He is your baby’s father after all.”

“Yeah, he is but I have decided to see it as a sperm donor situation. The child is going to be mine alone; she will be taking my father’s name too. I don’t want her to have anything to do with that lunatic. To buttress that further, I have decided I am naming her, Teminikan.”

“Oh, Bola, that’s a good one and I am excited to hear you are having a girl. We are going to dress her up in the prettiest dresses ever and I know she will be so beautiful. In fact, I can’t wait. Have you started shopping for her? I will like to join you.”

Awwww, thanks friend, which reminds me, when are you and Jite starting a family?

“Oh us? We want to wait for like a year, we are still having fun and stuff?”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” I replied ignoring the part of me that reminded me I was not supposed to be lying about my life issues just because of what people will say.



The day we renewed our vows, I wore a Blue Guinea Brocade Buba and Sokoto while Boye wore a Blue dress designed by some fancy designer. I had told her, I would like for us to wear the same outfits but she said matching outfits was so outdated, I didn’t argue.

Like I predicted the stories died a natural death especially after Femi granted an interview and he said everything he said about Omoboye was a lie and that she was a good woman and wife. Another good thing was the Oil tycoon Skipper got pregnant for agreed to marry her and she had become his fourth wife in an elaborate ceremony that had the whole of Lagos talking for weeks.

The morning of the renewal, Omoboye asked if it was still necessary considering; we were already doing things differently. We were talking more, laughing more and fighting less. I told Boye it was necessary that since we got married under false pretences, it was only right that we redo it in the proper way.



 I felt like a bride. At last I knew how my wedding day should have felt, I tried to laugh at the irony of it all. We had spent so much money on decor, food, outfits and still we had both felt like we were being sentenced. This was different however, I was all smiles as I got ready, this time there were no bridesmaids, no hair stylists or make up artists just myself and my husband.                                                                                   

“So baby, what are you planning to tell me today?” He asked.                                                                            “You will find out soon sir, shey we agreed we won’t tell each other before hand?”                                “I know Boye, I am just curious”. He said moving close to me.                                                              


I closed my eyes as he planted a kiss on my head. He wrapped his hands around me and I wrapped mine around him. We stayed that way for about five minutes rocking to a beat that existed only in our hearts.

Marriage is beautiful. I thought the smile on my face spreading wider.

Who would have thought that talking more and assuming less will be the secret to our happiness? One month and no drama, I intended to keep it that way. Those dark months must never come back. I said aloud.                                   

“They won’t if we don’t want them to baby.”                                                                                           “I know that now Jite.” 

Thirty minutes later, we were in the restaurant where our renewal party was scheduled to hold. I was glad to see the people there weren’t more than forty. I knew Jite would be pleased. Everyone there was family except for Boladale and her Mom.                                                       It was a day I will always remember; everything was perfect, the food, the decor, and our vows too.

Simple yet perfect.                                                                                                             

When it was time for our vows, Jite went first. With each word he said, a fresh tear fell. He said;                                                                                                                                                         Boye, with God’s help, I will always be your friend, champion, defender, protector, lover and confidant. I promise to never second guess you, I promise to always give you the benefit of doubt, I promise to never stay mad at you, I promise you my heart’s devotion, a smile to chase away every tear of sorrow, a love that’s ever true and growing, a hug and a kiss each day and a love devoid of suspicion and rancor. No matter what happens, I promise I will always love you, even when you grow old and wrinkled, with shaky legs and a toothless mouth, you will still be to me, the most beautiful woman on earth. Omoboye Olamide Ayomipe, I will love you till death.   

 I was still crying when he hugged and kissed me.   The claps and hoots was defeaning and out of the corner of my eye, I saw both our Moms hugging each other. They must have been worried for us, I realized; especially my Mom.                                                              

And then it was my turn, I asked Jite to sit down and then I knelt in front of him, holding his hand.                                                                                                                                                    Jite, I have asked God to help me to be the wife he wants me to be and I know he will. I am grateful for your love especially because I know I don’t deserve it. I have made silly mistakes and yet you always kept a space for me in your heart; for that I will always be grateful.

From today husband, I promise you a tongue that speaks good tidings and blessings, a heart that trusts, a heart that forgives all wrongs. I promise to obey you and love you with everything I have. I will always be your best friend and confidant, the one who has your back anytime, anyday. I promise you a home devoid of stress, rancor and bitterness. With all that I have, I Omoboyede will love you forever.                                                                         

He drew me up when I was done and kissed me whispering; “this dress is so beautiful, did I tell you that earlier?”                                                                        

“No, you didn’t.” I replied feigning hurt.                                                                                                 “Guess I will have to do penance for that later then. I am thinking I could help you take it off later, just to show how much I like it.”                                                                                           

“I will be looking forward to that.” I replied

Afterwards, our parents prayed for us and then it was time to eat. Bola had organised a band even though it wasn’t part of the plan but she said she decided that will be more fun and I agreed.                                                                                                                                               The strangest thing and which also turned out to be one of the highlights of the evening happened when I went over to Boladae to ask her if she had paid the band.

“Good afternoon Mummy, I am so glad you came.” I told her mum kneeling down to greet her.

“It’s my pleasure Boye, I am grateful to you for how you have supported Boladale through this pregnancy wahala and I am so happy to witness this beautiful ceremony.”

“Thank you ma, ire a kari.” I replied kneeling again.

“Rara o omo mi, you shouldn’t be kneeling down anyhow like this oo, it’s not a good thing given your condition.”        

“Mummy”! Boladale exclaimed. “You have started again.”

“Which condition?” I asked looking at Boladale

“Your baby.” Her Mom responded.

“Baby?” I asked glancing at my flat stomach.

Boladale sighed. “Boye, my Mom has this strange almost psychic ability to detect pregnancies. She even claims to know day old pregnancies. I have always told her it’s embarrassing and that she should try to keep it to herself but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh, really.” I asked looking at her Mom. “But Mummy, I am not pregnant.”

“You are Boye, you are carrying my dear.” Her Mom replied drawing me up.

“See ehn, Boye. I am sorry about your one year no pregnancy thingy but if Mom says you are pregnant; then you are.” I smiled at her words and quickly changed the topic. But all through, I was bubbling with excitement and praying she was right.

For two months, I had not thought of pregnancy, I had just focused on loving my husband and I prayed that Boladale’s Mom was right; I didn’t want to be reminded of pregnancy only for it not to exist.



My eyes never left Boye as she moved around the room and I watched as she left Boladale’s seat and walked back towards me.

My wife forever. I thought as she sat beside me.

“How is my bride doing?” I asked

“She is confused.”


“Something Boladale’s Mom said.”

“What is that?”

“She said I am pregnant and Boladale said she is one of those people who can see even a day old pregnancy.”

“She may be right.”

“You can tell when someone is a few weeks pregnant too?”

“No. It’s just that I can tell when you have not been menstruating. You haven’t done it for two months now.”

“And you didn’t tell me.” I replied rubbing my stomach.

“I didn’t want you thinking about it yet. I was too glad to notice you were over that obsession.”

“Oh, Jite, you are so going to pay. When is this show ending so we can go home and I can start my revenge?”

“Not before we dance baby. Everyone has been waiting for that.”

“Then let’s dance.”

We walked to the platform and started dancing to Boye’s favorite song – From this moment on by Shania Twain.

We had danced to it at the wedding too but this time it was different.

“Errr, wifey, your revenge might be delayed a bit; our mothers want us to come over for dinner, it’s holding at your parents’ place. They said they want to celebrate us.”

“Who says it will be delayed, you have forgotten the mind blowing sex we had the last time we were at my parents’?”

“How can I ever forget?” I replied kissing her.

She by Aje Mofifunoluwa (@rossymorph)



Flowing with milk and honey
Yet her tits are dry like a virgin’s
Giant they address her
Yet like ant she works
They call her home
Yet they run away from her
Still they say “no place like home”
Her colour signifies growth
But in corruption and deceits she grows, births and swims
Peace, again, her colour
Yet war is the order of the day
Unity her logo
Yet battles with ethnicity rivalry
Her children are as helpless as the okra tree prone to the wave of the wind
Yet the leaders among the children are as solid as the orange tree
With their calabashish stomach wanting to get bigger
She is weak
She is in pain
She is suffering
She is dying
Her strength is gone
Her eyes are filled with unshed tears
She wants to be like other mothers
Welcoming her children back home with big loving arms
Children come back home
She awaits you like one waiting for her lover.

BOUND FREEDOM by Mofifunoluwa Aje (@rossymorph)



Freedom without progress
Liberty without achievement
Free on the surface, bound in the mind
Radiant faces, shallow thinking
Surrounded with wealth yet poor
Talents lie fallow, still, searching for whom to do what
Spinning in tangibility yet looking for irrelevances
Diamond folded at hand, but passionately searching for decayed wood
Opportunities fly around but seriously blind to it
Free, yet can’t stand
Freedom, no productivity
Freedom yet still bound


The writer is on twitter as @rossymorph

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