I'M NOT CHEATING ON YOU

She told me about Chimamanda's book, Americanah that she was reading. The part where the lad traveled to school and left his girl in the care of his friend. We both laughed over skype, knowing fully well what transpired next, even though I had not read the book. In truth, she was talking to me, but I was too dumb to realize the logic. For she was already long gone in to the arms of another man. It was in March. It still froze. My judgment was beclouded with love - that ghost - to realize that the cold would send her into the bed of another. Lucky chap. Maybe a lonely Briton. Perhaps a lout.

Things were still rosy, even though I had raised eyebrows at the Facebook chat she had screengrabed and shared with me. The 'unknown' admirer. And then there was the birthday gift. Little did I know that the gifts were given in December, barely a few months after she had left for Wales. These two were tell-tale signs that Deola had left me. But I was still being stupid. We talked alot about the thickness of her winter jacket, the shop where she could get groceries from Nigeria, her coursework and the laptop I was saving up to get her. I hated for her to go to her friend's place first before we could skype. The privacy was non-existent.

I, Dimka Bernard was still love struck, and tied to the 'faithfulness' stake while she rode day and night by his side to school, then to the opera, the beach and even his bed. We argued over the email I had received from an anonymous person about spotting her and the Briton kissing on Bangor's streets. She chided me that it was a moment for my trust for her to be tested, "I am not cheating on you. People who know you online, see me interact with friends and course mates, and they freak out". I agreed. Though I was going through a rough patch, I was focused on her. She had just one year to spend in Wales and hopefully I will grow up to be that man who was right for her. I had swore, she'll be my last bus stop, so I invested every emotional resource I could muster. I was such a fool for love. A big one indeed.

I have now ended up in a pool of my own tears, with rage, anger, regrets, hate and grief as mates. For Deola riled me up to quarrel with her over my‪#‎WomanCrushWednesday‬ post on instagram of Bolanle Olukanni. Though Bolanle and I were good friends on snapchat, it was only on twitter that we grew our friendship. She was engaged to the father of her two year old son. I was secretly - which Deola hated with everything - in a relationship. And while in angst, she said she was walking away from what we shared.

Such silly jokes I thought. "How can you even break up with me on whatsapp? So I set about lending a car to drive to MMIA2 to pick her up in August when she was returning with her Masters. But she walked out of the "Arrivals" door, arm locked with a lad who had a moustache and an air about him that reeked of moral decline. She saw me and paused in shock. I gathered my now wobbly legs and dashed out into the milling crowd, half lost, half in rage as my chest to the left began to ache

SULE (2)

You see, I have the most amazing gateman, Sule. He's quite good at what he says. He sweeps the compound and leaves the gathered rubbish for the wind to scatter, so he can sweep them again the next morning. He leaves the water pump on, so that when the tanks are filled, the interlocked tiles of a garden we have gets watered. Oh, and he doesn't open the gate simply because you honk your horn or tap at the gigantic gate, no. You've got to call him up or even ping him as I recently discovered.

So, recently, I was frying tomato for sauce. I was having some hallowed guest over. Everything else was set except the sauce, and this guest will be arriving in 30 minutes. In fact, I'd been told they were on their way. While stir-frying the tomato paste and adding condiments and extra spices, I noticed I had ran out of seasoning. The Royco and Maggi combination was finished. So, I pinged Sule.

Me: Ping! Ping!!
Sule: Oga, yaya dai? Inzo ne? (Oga, I should come?)
Me: E, ka zo ka taya ni da wani abu (yeah, come and help me with something)

Sule struts at will, and knocks on my door. I quickly open up, and beg him to help me get a pack of Royco from the container shop down hill. I lay emphasis on 'quick please', handing him N500 note.

That was when my woes began. A supposed 5 minutes walk down and back up the small hill, became a 45 minutes wait for Sule. I'd gone ahead to fry and even simmer the sauce without seasoning. Then a knock on my door.

Sule: Oga, gashi an samo da kyar. Shago uku na zagaya kafin aka samu (Oga, finally. I had to check at three shops)

Then he hands me a big sized bottle of Hypo and N250 change...

Sule (1)

I uncharacteristically woke late today. This means I missed church. So, I set about cleaning the house, doing the dishes, preparing lunch and if there's extra strength, do some laundry. It was while I was doing the dishes that I heard it. Loud sobs. Really serious crying. It was my delectable neighbor. I don't even know her name (that is reserved for some evening of better acquaintance).but she was sobbing loudly. I paused and worry ran through my spine.

I dropped the plate I was washing, cleansed my hands and (like all nice neighbors will) dashed for her door. I tapped gently a couple of times, and the sob stopped.

"Who's there? Sule (thinking it was the gateman)"

"It's m...me...e. It's Ken" I managed to say, in a troubled (had to make her realise her crying bothered me) way.

After a run of tap and a couple of steps, she turned the keys and flushed the porch with her resplendence (with red eyes).

"Madam (until I get her name), I heard you sob and I REALLY want to know why you're crying" I said.

"Nothing, I'm fine" she replied.

"I'm not sure, because your sobs were loud enough for anyone to know you're not fine", I interjected.

Then she opened up... "Can you imagine? I'm watching the third of Cinderella trilogy, but it's not Cinderella, it's a boy named Quagliarella. It's not the glass stiletto as we've known it, but a pair of Levi jeans. The banquet with the prince is about to start, but Quagliarella can't find that magical pair of Levi jeans."

I sighed!

She said she had earlier watched the latest in the Shrek series, and Fiona was gone. Instead, there was a beardy dude of lithe frame called Frodo. She couldn't understand what was going on with movies anymore, and let out a shriek of a sob.

That was when I woke up, and heard the wail. Checked the time... 11:23am. I got off my bed, and dashed for the door. I have to find out why my neighbor is crying this morning.