The Best Social Media Analogy I Ever Heard

The images on social media are like the case of the Newscaster who sits at his desk, perfect hair, airbrushed-water-based makeup on, tie knotted, shirt crisp. He begins to speak, everything is excellent. Then the director yells, “Cut!”

He gets up from his chair, and the truth is revealed—he’s wearing no pants. His shirt hangs over a pair of baggy briefs. He tears the velcro tie from his shirt and yells for some beer while scratching his behind.

Summary, nothing is as it appears in reality, and especially on social media. 

We only ever see people put their best forward online. And can you blame us? We only curate happy memories, the bad memories would rather be forgotten. Plus everyone would like to be considered with dignity and not remembered for beating up a family member in the elevator (hey, no shade thrown). So everyone puts up happy family portraits; no one puts up a photo when cutie and you are having an argument, although I think, I might do this one day. One for the gram. Everyone puts up adorable baby photos, never photos of the screaming not-so-adorable baby who hasn’t slept in 6 hours; they do not Snapchat their toddler chewing indecipherable stuff from the floor either. No one puts up their credit card balance, but you see the Ferragamo logo. And just to drive home my point, I will never Snapchat my charred plantains, because charred plantains bring everyone joy and cheer...said no one ever.  

Don’t let yourself be overwhelmed by what other people’s lives look like on camera. That tie maybe velcro and those hair extensions too. On the other hand, they also maybe real. Either way, be joyful about the lives others are blessed with and content with all you have. 

The analogy cracks me up. Nonetheless, it shouldn't comfort us that these people’s lives may not be what they seem, in fact we should extend all human goodwill and pray they are as they appear in public or online—pray that couple is truly happy, that Ferrari hasn’t broken the bank, that baby is truly a toothless saint(right), that tie isn’t velcro and everyone has pants on. It’s the decent, human thing to do.

Do you ever post not-so-perfect photos? Ever have social media envy?

Analogy from my brother, Akin.

Love Bite: Entry #9

Love Bite #9

For the first time in a long time, I got on my knees and prayed. Leke had been missing for four days; I couldn't go to work; I still didn't know who was sending the videos. It was a mess- a hot mess.

I heard God likes hot messes. He could fix them.

Please bring Leke home. 

It was all I could mutter. I laid my head on the bed, whispering those words over and over. Quickly, the bedsheets dampened with warm tears and my sobs, muffled against the soft cotton. If God heard me, he wasn't in a rush to respond. I stayed on my knees until the stiff protrusions of the rug tendrils digging into my knees faded away and I fell asleep.  I woke with a start to the vibration of my phone. I squinted at the screen. It was a text message. A strange number.

💬 Meet me at VTO V.I at 9.

I arrived at VTO lounge a little before 9 pm. I half expected to see Leke, but Leke wouldn’t know Lagos’ new hookah lounge. Spotlights bounced off the tiled floors, and the air carried a sweet, fruity smell that made me think of fruity lip balms I loved as a teenager. Along the walls were black booths, lit with soft, warm lights enshrouded in hookah smoke.

I looked at my watch. 8:54 pm. I kept walking, squinting through the smoke at each booth. Then I saw her. 

My brows creased. 

Tayo.

What was she doing here? It couldn’t be her. How did she get the videos? Why was she in the compound that night?

Without a word, I slid into the booth across from her.

Her expression was grim and her lips tight. 

She watched me settle in; the white of her large eyes even whiter in the dim lights of the bar.   

“I’m only here because…” She started, “Honestly…I don’t know why I’m here.”

”It was you?”I asked. It sounded more like an accusation than a question. 

”No”, Her large eyes ran over me, offended. 

“Who was it? Who is it?” I asked.

She took a deep breath,”Next week,  during your national church convention, one of the videos will be released.” My heart sank. What?! Why? How? My mind began to spin. Leke’s face flashed through my mind. 

She continued,“He has a friend…someone at your church I presume.”

“Who has a friend at my church?” My voice shook. “Who is doing this?” My throat grew salty with tears. What did I ever do to him? A tear tickled my cheek.

She looked at me, reached into her purse and offered me a pack of tissues.

She let out her breath with a sigh and rolled her large eyes. ”He’s scorned maybe. I don’t know.” For a second she looked sad, a little concerned. She spoke again, ”I always thought I’d be that woman who made a man forget any woman who ever ripped his heart out. But that’s not the case here.” She looked away like my tears made her uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know why he’s doing it. He’s still hung up on you, I suppose.”

I sniffled into the tissue. “Who?” 

 Then my eyes widened. It couldn’t be…

She cleared her throat.

”You were sleeping with Niran, while you were dating Leke. Even the night of your bridal shower... ” She shrugged.

My mouth was dry. The memory flashed through my mind. I had shown up at Niran’s apartment—the one he kept on the mainland away from his wife. I hate to remember all we did that night. I remember holding on to him like a lifeline. Niran had said he loved me and asked me not to marry Leke. He’d leave his wife too.

Tayo broke into the memory, ”Apparently, you decided to “settle down” and marry your husband. Left Niran high and dry.”

Her eyes bored into me. My gaze settled on the salt shaker on the table. 

”Anyway, it didn’t stop even after you were married. The first time as a missus, you vowed never to do it again blah, blah. Then it happened again.”Her tone was accusing.

“The third time, you filed a sexual harassment claim against Niran.”

”I know all of this”, I snapped. 

“No point getting testy. We side-chics need to bond together.”

”I am not a side chic”, My tone was ice. 

"Suit yourself", She shrugged.

She continued, a small smile on her lips,”Then Niran found out you were having an affair. Again. This time with his friend, Jare.”

"You know Niran?" Ngozi’s voice echoed in my mind. "Niran is Jare’s friend. Small world". Her voice lingered.

“We usually are at Niran's  apartment but his wife got wind of the secret apartment, so we started using Jare's pad. His wife is hardly in the country...so it works.”

I wasn’t breathing.

”The videos started as a joke. Niran would set up some fancy motion-sensitive camera”, She brushed away the details with a swing of her hand, “We’d record…stuff.”

“One day, he forgot to turn off the camera. When he retrieved it, you and Jare were on it. He talked about it all day, every day. He kept watching and watching. He was consumed with it. Since then, he’d leave the camera running.”

”I watched a few recordings,” She said excitedly,”You never imagine the girls they bring and what they do! I actually saw a family friend of mine and your friend—“

Tayo caught herself mid-sentence.

“What friend?” I frowned.

“Look. I’m telling you about this because it’s going out of hand. At first, he thought maybe having you on film would exonerate him. You had a habit. This would prove it. He told me once everyone knows what a phony you were, his name would be cleared. The more videos he watched, the less important clearing his name seemed to be. He wanted everyone to know. Everyone deserved to know, especially those who thought highly of you-your husband, your church, your friends, your colleagues." She said, "I’d even get the Marrakesh gig. So I just remained quiet and moonlighted your work."

”I leave for Marrakesh next week.”

She got to her feet,”There’s someone helping him.” Her braids swept over the bar table as she flipped her locks. 

She tucked a few 200 Naira notes under her coaster for her drink. And without another word, she walked away from the table, out of the dim lights into the spot-lit area and out of the lounge.

The thump-ump of my heart echoed in my ears. Niran. A swallow tried in vain to moisten my gritty throat. 

It wasn’t something I was proud of—reporting Niran. I had been sure that the affair would stop. It didn’t. Overcome with guilt, I filed a harassment claim. I had sexts and texts to prove. I figured if it became an official case, we would stop.

The lie caught on. It surprised me how easily it did. I was suddenly the victim—the pastor’s wife who supported her husband and needed a promotion from a demanding, womanizing boss. Niran kept his job but was on probation. No other company would touch him with a 9-foot pole.

I wasn’t proud of what I did but Leke came first.

He always did. I didn’t know where he was tonight. A dull fear spread throughout my chest. Had something happened to Leke?

Please bring him home, I muttered again.

My mind drifted again to Niran. I remembered his poker face as I spoke to him and Dami Pedro. He seemed genuinely concerned and eager to assist.

There’s someone helping him. Tayo’s voice echoed in my mind. 

Yes, there was. 

And I knew who.

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Beard Envy

Ed and I once met this guy with a beard, a beard like nothing we had ever seen before. It was jet black( fiercely so), full, light reflected off its healthy sheen that from a particular angle, you'd think the hair was white. We decided to ask what his secret was. "Coconut oil", He said. Nothing else. He couldn't do anything wrong in my eyes with that beard. Of course, we both took a picture with him (not him really, but with his beard).

So did Ed have beard envy?

No, Ed didn't have beard envy. I did. I wondered, "How could someone have such an awesome beard and I don't?! All that awesome chin hair."  If that guy ran for the presidency, he'd win. No joke

I know. I know. I'm female. But that doesn't matter! Why don't I have that beard?

Why don't I have a beard?

Sulk.

Irrational? That's exactly what our thoughts sound like when we envy other people. 

Lol!

Why don't I have that?

Envy is a show of discontentment with our present circumstances, which could be a good thing if properly addressed. Envy makes us lose sight of who we are, what we have, what we are able to achieve, what we represent. 

Let's say I decided to lose sleep over getting a beard and started rubbing coconut oil on my chin. Imagine if my chin is still hairless after a year? I’d get frustrated and bitter, and every time I see the guy with the presidential beard, I'd go bright green with envy- getting all green in the face for something that isn't tied to my destiny and purpose. 

Do we ever wonder what our path should be in life and if we are on it? Or do we veer off by staring at someone else fulfilling their dreams, envying them?  What if you don’t need that person’s endowments to achieve your goals? What if I don’t need a beard to be great? Envy has never driven anyone to pure success. Instead, it has driven many down dark paths in which most of their dreams are mediocre and unrealized and they forever sit on the sidelines of someone else’s race, hoping to get on their own tracks but they never do. 

I've stopped pining for beards and the awesomeness of others, instead, I celebrate my bald chin and all the treasure that exists within my being.

Edited at Will Rogers Airport, during a 9-hour flight delay.  

Love Bite: Entry #8

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character.

Love Bite #Entry 8

Leke had vanished. For three days now, I got to hear the annoying, high pitched voice which announced that his phone was off. He wasn’t at the church, neither was he at Pastor Remi’s. He hadn’t spoken to his siblings in six weeks. His mother suspected nothing when I asked if he had called her to say hello, instead she began to talk about grandchildren. Somewhere in her lament, I heard a sniffle. She was coming to see us, she announced choking back her tears, she’d arrive in two weeks-- right after the Women of Proverbs 31 Global conference. This year was the year she would carry her grand babies. 

After several unhelpful calls, I focused on calling Leke’s phone every ten minutes.

On the evening of the third day of his disappearance, Abigail drove me to the police station, and we filed a missing person’s report.

The lanky policeman had snickered as I scribbled Leke’s profession on the form. 

Pastor.

“Maybe he don runaway with one choir mistress for church with tin leg.”He joked, the bulge in his neck bobbed as he chuckled.

By day four, I sat at home, numb, exhausted. I wanted us to move on, to get past this. That was what I had told him that night he saw me stepping out of Jare’s car. He had listened quietly as I spoke about Jare and I. It had meant nothing. He meant nothing to me. I said it over and over. 

I told him about the videos.

I told him about the gateman; of Ngozi.

I kept hoping he’d interrupt me, maybe throw the coffee table against the wall, scream at me. Instead, he leaned against the backrest of the armchair, his chin cradled in his palm, his eyes glazed over. A part of me wished his eyes would cloud up with tears. They were clear. Dry. 

“You slept with this man over and over”, His tone was even, “While I was building a dream for us?”

Building a dream for you. I thought to myself. I didn’t grow up as a little girl dreaming of the day I’d be married to a Pastor, wearing strange hats and having people call me Mummy. 

“You aren’t home.” I said. Almost a whisper.

“But clearly he is.” His tone was controlled, disciplined, like a trained counselor‘s.

Was this how all couples talked about these things?

”How many times did it happen?” He leaned his upper body on one elbow and his other hand lay on his knee. 

”Leke, is it really necessary? I—“

”It is.”

”A couple of times—“

He leaned forward in a flash. The thunder of his fist on the glass stool jarred me.

”How many?!” Still, he didn’t yell.

”Seventeen.”

”Seventeen!” He was chuckling now, a low, almost secret chuckle. The glass had cracked.

“All in that house? And you didn’t get caught? Until that night?”

I remained still.

”Leke, it didn’t mean anything.”

”Did you think of me at all? While you were with him?”

The silence spoke for me.

“I want to be with you. Not him.” I wished he’d scream at me and not lecture me like a child.

“And at that, I should be delighted?”

“Leke...”

He got to his feet and walked into the bedroom. Three heartbeats passed, then I followed him. The bedroom door was locked. I kept knocking. 

I spent the night on the sofa. In the morning, our bedroom door lay wide open.

Leke was gone.

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

20 Ways To Adult Like A Pro

Adulting is like nothing I’ve ever seen! There is the professional ladder climb, work politics, crazy-people management, food portion control, dried raisins and carrots as snacks, self-control exercises—such as cutting up credit cards, dependence on reason and a moral code, the ocassional glass of red or two...hundred(kidding), steady-ish relationships, minimal daydreaming(if any), choosing not to meet the expectation of others—but doing you; all this while trying to manage your time the best way you can.

Time was a soothing sea of possibilities when we were children. There was never any hurry, there was ample time to daydream, and yet be productive. Well, now we’re adults, and if you are like me, it feels like time hates you and there’s never enough of it. Not to mention insufficient sleep, that skinny salary due to your sudden affinity for ultra-fine dining, clinking wine glasses and flossy weekend trips. And of course, attending all those weddings and parties.

Well, as adults we need all the help we can get. Here are 20 tips which will help us get through adulthood like pros: 

1. Go to bed early so you don’t feel like a washed-up crab in the mornings

2. Put down your phone and achieve your goals. Don’t have any? Get some, write them down…please

3. Review your work performance yourself every two months. Highlight and quantify your contribution to your organization, update your resume and have a check in with your boss. Did someone whisper “salary increase?”

4. Treat yourself. Yes, you are saving for a rainy day but you deserve to be spoiled, and deserve at least one day when you don’t think about rainy days and Wellies 

5. Reassess your clique from your teenage years, if they are still with you. If “Cool babes” or “True squad” or “Flossy posse” isn’t adding value to your life, you need to put them in the back seat of your life or preferably outside the car. However, if “Cool babes” is still the litest crew and the best friends in the world, then you should shop around for a new name, and forever anahilate that name from the earth

6. Listen to the voices in your head, especially the ones that you know are actually good and add value to our world

7. Get rid of the demon on your shoulder. You know that voice that tells you you can’t make it or that you make a poor worker, friend, wife, husband, mum or neighbor. The one that tells you you can never change or stop bad habits. Yeah, that one, talk back to it and tell it that it’s wrong. If you can, slap it in the face

8. Make good decisions that reflect your values

9. Do not remain in emotionally deficient or physically abusive relationships

10. Eat well. The rule is: whatever goes into your body and acts as fuel for your cells should be good quality. Your cells will dish out what you give them...

11. Call your parents. I can’t stress that enough. They really, really want to hear from you. If that doesn’t make them more loveable I don’t know what will. Call them more and let them talk for as long as they’d like. Remember when you talked their ears off as a toddler? Repay the favor and enjoy it! Also don’t poke around IG or play “Words with Friends” while they are on the line

12. Choose good friends and paralyze them with love, especially when they mess up. 

13. Don’t gossip. Leave the ear-whispering to pimply strangers. There’s no dignity in gossip as an adult. None.

14. Buy a pet or be your own pet. I am my own pet. I love moderately short walks and sugary popcorn, I’d rather throw than catch and I really like taking pet(me) portraits. 

15. Pray and praise more. So many burdens we carry, all because we don’t carry them to God in prayer. Seriously,

16. Save. Whether in a kolo(piggy bank), in the helm of a curtain, in the ground, in the tree trunk of that fruit tree in your compound or simply in a less-dramatic savings account. Save.

17. Travel.

18. Build others up. So your life feels upside down, what better time to build someone else up. You are pretty broke, what better time to give to someone else; you’ve been looking for a job since 2012, what better time to connect a fellow seeker to an employer? Build others up.

19. Find God. He really, really wants to hear from you too. 

20. Know yourself, know especially your strengths and weaknesses. Build on your strengths and don’t dwell on your failures. Stay away from voices that remind you of them always. Listen to voices that encourage and reassure you. Keep your eyes ahead and keep your mind strong and fearless. 

How’s adulting treating you? Have anything to add?

Love Bite: Entry #7

Love Bite Entry #7

It was 10.50pm. The sound of Leke’s snore filled our room, drowning the creaking of the ceiling fan. I stared up at the swishing blades as they spun on their round axis until all I could see was a white blur in the dark. Leke had fallen asleep after the pastors left. Dinner had been a slow ritual graced by the clinking of cutlery on plates, light chatter, and an uneasy Leke, who chuckled nervously at all their jokes— even the ones that were drier than harmattan-crisp leaves. All night, he waited for the important discussion, but it never came.

I did that—I destroyed his career.

Surely, now I had to tell him. Not now. I'd tell him in the morning. I felt a strange peace. Maybe Jare would do the same—tell his wife. He'd put us out of this misery.  When I saw him earlier, I swore I felt his arms around me, as he wrapped those arms around her. That woman. They were the problem—Leke and Jare’s wife. If they could be erased from the picture somehow...

My phone lit up.

💬 Abby: What’s going on? How you dey?

💬 Me: Everything has gone south

💬 Abby: Foluke Condoyle tried tracing the video source. It’s some weird anonymous app.

💬Abby: Called Anonytap or something. Have you figured what to do out?

“It's all a mess but I may have a plan...” I typed. My eyes grew tired as I stared at my blinking cursor.

It was worse than a mess.  Was there something I could do to make this all go away? Did I have to tell Leke? Did anyone have to know? A cold chill swept over me as a lone thought filtered into my mind. Was it possible? Could I tell Abby? I could try first, and tell her later...

My breathing became shallow and my throat crawled. In the light of my phone, I could see Leke’s form move a little and settle back into sleep. He didn’t have to know. He didn’t have to find out. The darkness crept in so quietly. The hairs on my neck stood on end. I turned to look at his heaving back. He doesn’t have to know…

I placed my phone on the sheets until the lights went out. The darkness gave me confidence. My breath was ragged. My fingers wrapped around the edge of my pillow. No one would hear the muffled noise. If I jabbed him in the throat before using the pillow he wouldn’t be able to fight. He’d never find out. He’d never see the videos. He’d never have to see my cheating face again. His heart would never break. My knuckles strained against my skin, the pillow still in my grasp. It would all go away…

The voice was gentle.

What are you doing?

It came from within.

My grip on the pillow slackened, and I let out my held breath. Shame soon replaced the confidence.

I thought about killing my husband. Leke. My Leke.

The tears flowed, tickling my cheeks. I sniffled quietly. Leke snorted and mumbled something in his sleep, then began to snore again. My heart was racing. 

Who was I? Who was I becoming?

I picked my phone, read my unsent message to Abby and tapped on the backspace tab until my screen was blank. 

It was more than a mess.

A message appeared.

💬 J.R.K: Hey

The preview disappeared and my cursor blinked in the chat box. I suddenly felt hot. Now every sound echoed louder; the blades cutting the air above me, Leke’s snore, the rustle of the bedsheet was deafening.

 💬 Me: I need to fix this tonight. 

I hit send to Abby and laid my phone down.

After a few minutes, a message came in.

💬 J.R.K: I'm outside. We need to talk.

I typed a quick message to Abby.

💬 Me: Jare is outside

💬Abby: No way! What does he want?

💬Me:  BRB

I lifted my feet off the bed planted them on the rug. Just then, the snoring stopped. The sheets rustled behind me. I froze. After a heartbeat, the snoring began again. I crept into the living area and out of the house. Ernest opened the gate, he gave a little bow.

Jare’s black Lexus purred quietly in the glow of the orange lights on Garrison street. I was a little scared. What would I do? What was I capable of? Would I try to kill Jare too? And then his wife? Maybe his children too? I gulped my guilt down.

I stepped into the passenger's seat, the smell of his linen air freshener hit me along with the chill of air conditioning. The streetlights cast dark shadows on him.

“I have been trying to reach you!” 

“There’s no need to be upset—”

“No! No! Don't tell me not to be upset.”I was hysterical.

“I should be the one upset. Why did you come into my home? Talk to my wife? What are you trying to achieve?” His tone was even as he tapped his finger on the leather-clad wheel.

“I was there because Ngozi asked me to be—”He turned to me at once.

“Don't speak her name.”

“Oh, shut it!”I  shook my head until my wig tilted right.

“Someone has been sending me videos of us!” I said.

I dropped my phone in his lap. He watched for a few minutes and seemed to get lost in the video. 

“Who is it?”

“I don't know", I snatched my phone,  "I'm telling Ngozi tomorrow and Leke.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. It was quiet and steely with resolve.

“You can't", He said cooly, "Ngozi is out on an early flight tomorrow. She won't be back for a month." He continued with a shrug. "I freaked out when I saw you. I thought you were going to tell her. I can't ruin my marriage. If you'd like to ruin yours, you are more than welcome to.” He continued,”She’s gone tomorrow... And then we can be together for as long as we want.” His finger trailed along my neck. My skin crawled and I felt my dinner travel up and back into my stomach.

The smack echoed in the car and his hand recoiled.

“You truly are scum.” I shook my head, "To think I risked my marriage for this?”

He shrugged.

“It’s difficult for you. Isn't it? Getting over me? You still feel my tongue on you. Don't you? The pastor can't do it like I can. Huh?” He snickered.

My fists clenched. Maybe I should have brought my pillow. No one would miss this moron if he suffocated in his car mysteriously.

He was still talking, “You aren’t the only one…there's Pauline down the road too. And Nike in house 32..." He chuckled, "That may help you sleep better.”

How did I not see this side of him before? I took one look at him and slipped out of the seat.

“You’ll be back!” The door slammed just as our front gate opened. Out stepped Leke. He was dressed in his pajama shorts and a white crew neck t-shirt. His bare feet rooted to the ground.

He looked from the car to me, and back again. Ernest stood in the shadows.

I heard Jare’s window wind down, his snicker loud and derisive,  “Is that the Pastor-husband?”

I stood, frozen.

”Little wonder.”

“Hey, bro!”He called out to Leke,“No issues here. She’s my nightcap. That’s all. Nothing more. No issues.” He rolled up his window, snickering. A light, hot breeze washed over me as the car drove off down the street.

“Well done, sir.” Ernest spoke from the shadows,”Na madam new oga for work be dat…”

“Mister…kai…I don forget hin name...Na James abi Effiong...abi...”

Leke stared at me as Ernest rambled on.

I sighed.

No more lies. The voice said. 

“Leke...”I started.

“No more lies, Lani.” I said to myself, “Not one more.”

[Entry 8 out soon!  Goodbye-Writer's block]

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye

Dusty Desk: Writer’s block

I finally put new batteries in my keyboard and mouse. They have sat staring at me and giving me the look for ages now. They don’t seem to get writer’s block. Lol! Neither do I, frankly.

Writer's block is so tangible, yet so unreal. I stopped right in the middle of Lani’s story. Suddenly, I couldn't write anymore. Well, we can't have that, can we? Of course, you and I know we have to complete that story (me, most especially...oh the scoldings I have received. Lol!)

I love Lani’s story. She’s going through a lot right now, and I hope she can get out of it. If you  are feeling graceful, I’m happy to fish her out of the mess for you. If you aren’t, albeit the season be so merry and bright, we can get her into more trouble*grinch smile* There's always trouble to be gotten into, if you are Lani.

But it’s almost Christmas, some mercy? Aye?

---

Would you like to start Lani's story? Click the button below! 

Love Bite: Entry #6

This fictional series contains foreign language, Nigerian slangs and some inappropriate use of diction. This is for the proper portrayal of the character.

Love Bite #Entry 6

A feeling gnawed at me—the strange feeling that the day would end in chaos or at least end in a state akin. I had deleted the video from Leke’s phone. The pastors were on their way.

Why were they coming? 

I brushed the thought away and buried myself in a burst of activity in the kitchen. I sailed from the cooker to the fridge, to my spice cabinet, and back to the cooker. They would arrive any minute now. The red stew spluttered over fried beef, the plantain sizzled in an old dark pan and the white rice steamed quietly. I tilted the cover off a large pot of vegetable that cooled on the kitchen counter and hurried back to chopping the onions, my knife knocking swiftly against the chopping board. The frenzy took my mind off the reason for the visit but still my heart beat to the sound of the chopping knife. Had the pastors seen the video? It was grounds for dismissal surely. 

Was Ngozi the person at the window that night? Where was Jare? 

What did this mean for my Leke and I?

I poured the onions into the stew and turned the flame off. I had to end it all.

Ernest, the gateman bowed as I slipped out of our gate to house number 25. The towering dark gate was so familiar, yet so alien.

The gate man opened the gate, after glancing at me through the peephole in the gate. He had no snide remarks or nasty looks today. His melancholy was comforting. He held the the gate open and he grunted when I asked if Ngozi was home. 

When I knocked on the door, the help, Marie, opened it and ushered me to the living room. In less than 5 minutes, Ngozi walked in. She had changed from her outfit from earlier into a shirt dress that showed off endless legs. Her soft smile was gone. Her strut a little angry, yet lagged a bit as if she was tired.

“Hello, Lani. How are you? I've had the most terrible day.”She made her way to me.

I was on my feet and planked stiffly into her embrace. 

“How was yours?”She asked.

“It was ok.”I answered.

"That promotion come through yet.”

The image of Tayo, Niran and Dami flashed through my mind, "No. Not yet.”

"I can put in a word with Niran if you’d like…” Her voice faded into the background and her lips moved quickly, her eyes concerned, fixed on me. 

Lani, just tell her. 

Her voice came back to the surface.

“It's like all hell broke loose today, you know. The PTA meeting was dead-boring. My spa attendant…I own a spa…Aquatia…you know it?”

I shook my head.

“My attendant was run over by a cab on her way to work. We had a flat on the way to the hospital. The poor darling broke her femur. Of course, Jare showed up early from his trip. That was a blessing.” Her cheeks rose in a toothy smile.

My ears perked up. Jare was back.

She continued,“The gateman won't stop sending Marie to me about some important information he has about an incident that happened the other night…”

The gateman…his dark, scowling face flashed through my mind.

I had to tell her. Myself.  I heard my throat swallow.

“Ngozi…we have only just met, but there's something…”

“Babe…”Jare walked into the room and stopped short. My heart skipped a beat and I hated myself for it. He wore a black linen shirt folded at his elbows and above that, his sculpted arms bulged against the fabric. Tall. Eyes I had gotten lost in too many times. Yes, I hated myself for it.

“There he is,”She said. Jare hadn't taken his eyes off me, frozen on the spot. His perfume rushed at me, with the gust from the AC. 

“Oh, darling. This is Lani. She lives up the street. I don’t think you’ve met—.”

”We have”, I cut in. Jare’s eyes widened.

”You have?” Ngozi looked from me to him, a slackened smile on her face.

”Yes, at the gym.”I said,”Ngozi, about why I’m here—“

“Ngozi” Jare recovered,”A quick word?” He looked at me like I was a plague that had come into his home. His arm circled around her waist, guiding her out of the room. 

It cut deep, the way he held her and seemed to protect her from the bad news which would be me. 

“One minute.” She excused herself, as Jare hastily led her out of the room . 

Marie popped her head into the room, "Madam, your gateman, Ernest, say your guests don arrive in your house.”

The pastors were here. I looked into the corridor for Ngozi and Jare but they had vanished. I stood an extra thirty seconds and slipped out their front door. The gateman was outside, sitting on the far end of his bench, peeling an orange with a broken razor blade.

I shoved a wad of money into the hand that held the blade. He looked up. 

“Please. Who was it?” I begged. Who was here that night?” He continued peeling. 

He started singing a song in Yoruba which I didn’t understand as he peeled his orange. Both eyebrows raised, and forehead furrowed, he continued singing, and seemed to relish every word and note of his song, not failing to stress some words mockingly. 

Agbèrè. What did that mean? Ìyàwó Agbèrè.

"I came here to tell Ngozi myself." My tone was steel. He looked up. "I will make sure you lose your job. You knew your oga was bringing me into the compound at night, abi? With her and the children in the house?”

“You will lose your job. We are all going down together.” I touched my finger to my tongue and pointed to the sky. He had stopped peeling and singing. Now he just stared at me like he had seen a ghost.

My phone vibrated. Leke was calling.

“I’m coming back tomorrow. You better know who it was by then.” I snatched the money off his bench.

"Ahn! Madam wait now—"

He jumped off his bench. 

I swung the gate open and hurried to my house. At the gate Earnest was letting in the pastors, Pastor Linny, Pastor Kore and Pastor Remi. I stepped in quickly after them. They turned around, their faces serious. Pastor Linny’s face lit up with a smile. The others weren’t as delightful.

I was sure now why they were here. 

“Sis Lani.”The senior pastor, Pastor Remi smiled. I saw more in the smile. It was a gentle and pious—a smile of grace. Was that disappointment I saw hidden in that smile? Was it regret?

“Leke is a real hardworker”, I blurted, “He’s hardly home… always at church sites. He’s diligent…” My heart was beating wildly. I couldn’t catch my breath. “I'm not the most supportive wife...and I get lonely.” The tears began to stream down my face,”I get lonely… Please don’t fire him.’ Pastor Linny stepped forward, her arm around my heaving shoulders. I completely melted under her touch. All the tension and lies, the aches and fear, the guilt, the shame, they came undone as I sank to the floor. “The videos are enough shame for him…Please don't fire him.”

The pastors stared at me. 

“What videos?” Pastor Remi asked, “We came to talk to Leke about heading the new church branch opening up in Victoria Island. He has served under me for five years now. It’s about time.”

Pastor Kore, the pastor with the tufty afro spoke “Although, if you do have any pressing information that may adversely affect this new role…this will be your best time to speak.” He looked like a slender toadstool with a generous black top.

“Also, if you know you have family pickles to get through, we don’t need to know them,”Pastor Remi spoke, cutting into Pastor Kore’s haughty tone.

Pastor Remi stepped forward and held my shoulder, his voice dropped to a whisper,”Clearly, something is going on.”His eyes looked into mine. A quiet calm resonated in them. "Deal with the problem. We will come back another day.”

“Once you sort this out, we will reconvene and reconsider.”

“I…”My voice trailed off. Leke appeared at the front door, jogging to where we stood, his eyes wide and his nervous grin across his face. Saliva pushed against the knot in my throat.

I knew the day would end badly. The feeling had tugged at me all day. I had just destroyed all my husband had worked for five years. I had threatened a gateman's livelihood and almost ruined someone's marriage. But the feeling persisted still.

The day was about to get worse. 

Entry #7 out next week!

Copyright ©2017 by IkeOluwapo Adegboye