By Taju Tijani
Biodun Ajanaku (BA) wore a baseball cap backwards. It had the inscription BA in front. He is brash, bold, bouncing and bullish. He gave me a firm warm handshake and pulled me to himself in warm embrace. We settled in a cozy corner of the restaurant where noises are less damning compared to other areas of the restaurant. “Can I call you Mr T,” Biodun asked respectfully. “Yes, that’s ok.” He betrayed a shy smile and pulled his chair deep closer to the table. I could smell Hugo Boss on him.
“Olorun, olori buruku gba lawon babes London o,” Biodun charged. “O mean e,” I responded. “Look, Mr T, I am changed forever. There is no way I can ever respect a Nigerian woman abroad. Majority of them are weak, whores, gold diggers, proud, heartless, ruthless and betrayers. Once they have their papers (stay papers) they show up their true colour.
Two mixed-race ladies were milling and laughing near our table. You could tell that they were out to have a great time. It is Friday so why not come out for the beat – Nigeria’s iconic Afrobeats space and colonise it for the duration of the night. Suddenly, the attention of Biodun shifted from me to the mixed-race singletons nearby. They melted his heart, and I could see that he had lost concentration on our discussion.
“Sorry Mr T, I think one of those ladies looked like Candice who was an old colleague. That is why I was looking at them,” Biodun said apologetically. I smiled and said nothing. “Ronke, my wife, studied English at the University of Ibadan in the late 90s. She came from a well to do home. She had been on holidays to the US, UK and Dubai. She is a spoilt mumsy girl. Her dad studied in the US and later returned to Nigeria to set up a successful logistics company in Lagos.”
“We met at a graduate class in Leicester University. She was taking courses in computing as I was. That was 1996. She became my wife in 1998. It was like a virtuous wife came home. I was ecstatic and over the moon for getting her. She is broad shouldered, firm bones, tall, fair, simple and funny. She is a jewel of a woman. I celebrated her beauty in my dream and heart.”
A guy came over and shouted out his name. “BA! BA!! BA!!!…. how you dey ore? We no dey see you for here again, man.” Biodun gave him a high five salute and the guy disappeared to the bar area. He came back and placed a bottle of wine on the table for Biodun. His face lighted up like a child in Shoprite in Dugbe. I guessed it was his favourite wine.
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“Ronke did a bit of modelling for a lifestyle magazine as a side hussle. Things were fine but later a sudden change arrived. She became more assertive, unromantic, controlling and neglected her domestic duties. She will spend endless hour doing her hair. False hair, false fingernails and excessive makeups. She was not the natural-looking woman I fell for anymore.”
“In 2002, we had our first son. I love the boy to bits. Plump, handsome and playful. His name is Tope. In 2014, we had a family chat about the future direction of Tope. My dream was to send him to Nigeria for secondary school to learn our culture and grow up a mannerly, cultured and Afro-centric man. My dad and mum could not wait to have him in Nigeria. Then….”
“Ronke joined the Celestial Church of Christ. A friend asked her to become a member when the second child wasn’t coming. I objected and had series of fights with her. You know women Mr T. She raised hell on my refusal and hurled emotional blackmail at me. She went as far as suggesting that the problem of her inability to have a second child might be from my side – a kind of general curse of my father’s house.”
GTB came over. He had changed into a bright red T-shirt emblazoned with a golden G. It was a Hugo Boss label. He had a cap on and a pair of jeans trouser. He had a bulky wristwatch and looked very much like a spoilt high school kid from Ikoyi in Lagos. “Teejay, sowo Biodun nu jo, haba, kilo nso latekan?” GTB queried. “Be danu jo, Baba oni buka,” Biodun said. I watched the drama as the two friends threw banters and jibes until GTB returned to the theatre of the night groove.
“Mr T, my wife’s lifestyle changed completely. She began to dress loudly to church – heavy makeup, long fingernails, gold chain and earrings. The whole house began to smell of mercy perfume given by the church. I am a Pentecostal member. My church is Redeemed Christian Church of God. Despite all her Cele fanaticism, still no child o. I endured her ‘madness’ for three years. Then, I was down. I was placed on anti-depressant. Ronke was no longer my dream delight. The fire was out. I kept praying to God to heal my home and return Ronke back to RCCG. Seriously, I hold a bias against CCC.”
Biodun excused himself for the gent. I began to figure out where his marital problem was heading. I was trying to make permutations in my mind like a loafer selecting sporting numbers to play Baba Ijebu in Oshodi. Is Biodun afraid of CCC notoriety for…. I just could not know what to think. But I knew that the plot was thickening and leading somewhere. Biodun’s mood was one of a jilted and angry husband. Then…
“She began to hide her phone and placed it on silence. At times, the Olusho or the church shepherd will drop by to say hello. I hate the Olusho. There was something about him that was totally fake. He looked like a body builder – all visible muscles and no spirituality. Guess what, he jerrycurled his hair and bleached his skin. He had gold rings on both hands, gold rimmed glasses and fake gold tooth.”
Wale Osiewu the dreadlocked bar boy had been scouting for me. “Mr T I have been looking for you. GTB asked me to serve you with food and drinks. Can I bring it over?” He requested. “Just the drink,” I responded. Wale made a detour from the toilet to the bar to grab another bottle of wine and cocktail. He pushed the cocktail to me. I lapped it all up with a blue straw. He gave me a penetrating look and a weak smile. I had a feeling he wanted to throw down a bombshell.
“The Olusho’s relationship with my wife became a contentious issue. I got my family involved. Ronke fought them all. I voiced my suspicion that something romantically sinister was brewing. Ronke denied such suggestion and defended her right to worship where she liked.”
“The doctor had been waiting for us. The Ikeja hospital was a story building located at Toyin Street. A friend recommended Dr. Abraham Adigwe as a DNA specialist. He ushered us into his office. It had been a sunny February day. He called one of his nurses to give us table water. I was in no mood for water. I came for war. I saw a slim brown envelope on his desk. My heart was making loud noises. I was fidgeting. I was impatient. Dr Adigwe was making a drama of it all. Mr T, this is now a matter of life and death.”
“Ronke looked like someone who is mourning. She kept a stony face. Her wig was falling off. A call came for her. She looked at her phone and ignored the caller. She gave me a worried look. I gave her a very unfriendly look. At that point waiting for Dr Adigwe was like waiting for the coming of Christ. The minutes ticked away….”
“Dr Adigwe called me to another office. He looked downcast. What’s the matter, doc, look, I hate this medical drama,” I said angrily. “Calm down Mr Ajanaku…you just must understand that in life shit happens. We all make blunders in marriages. I have seen a lot in that office. Husbands and wives who destroyed their homes through thoughtless actions,” Dr Adigwe lectured. “Meaning?” “Oluwaseun is not your daughter,” Dr Adigwe said holding me down. “What!!!” “Mr T, we had Oluwaseun in 2008. That was 6 years after Tope. We returned separately to the UK. I packed my stuff and left the bitch to sort out her shattered life. Ronke is the third victim of Olusho who I gathered has a harem of side chicks all over London,” Abiodun said tearfully. READ ALSO:
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I sighed. I gave a deep breath. I went into a pensive mood. Why are sexual escapades so common in some of our churches? Why are false prophets seducing our women with dark magic and the promise of deliverance? Is there no more fear of hell? Should we blame Ronke or Olusho or the friend who lured her into the deadly journey of damage, disaster and destruction in her quest for another baby?
“Man up bro”, I encouraged Biodun. He looked at me with misty eyes. I gave him an assuring smile. GTB waltzed to our table. He looked at me with a knowing look of “Did I not tell you that our women are wicked, dangerous and devilish the last time we met at the party. “Shey, you don hear Abbey’s own. Ore, this is Yomi Onifade, him get him own too,” GTB said.
Time was 11.00pm, I went to the dance floor. I jabbed the air with my hands. I did some moonwalk dances and gyrated a bit. Twenty minutes later I raced out to Peckham High Street. “Yomi, I’ll see you next week, I hollered at the door.” “Ok Mr T we go catch up, goodnight o,” Yomi said waving his hands at me.
