Stories about yesterday

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Throwback to when I just graduated from University. It was as if I no longer had direction. I could no longer get money for “textbooks” or “domestic life practical”. I had to drop this means of extra money at the University.

 

It suddenly felt like I was carrying the burdens of the whole world. To be honest, I could not figure myself out. I really thought life was supposed to get easier after graduation, but after schooling, real life waits for everyone. 

 

I don’t even want to talk about how draining my clearance period was up to registration for youth service. I packed all my money to give one Mr Brown and he chop my money while telling me silly stories. I still pray for him — he would choke on his spit.

 

Now I’m stuck in Ekiti. I thought ABSU was the worst place anyone could be in, but Ekiti makes my Alma Mater seem like the abroad.

 

What next? If you have connections it would be easier for you to figure it all out. If you are like me, oh well. So I was thrown to Ekiti. I won’t talk about Ekiti today, but there is one thing about places like that; they would never leave you the same. No more comments on that.

 

Whenever I spoke to my friends who were managing in their own holes, I told them that I would soon break free, I would soon try Olosho work. The thing was that, I said it as a joke and they laughed. I was not quite joking.

 

My father did not understand that allowee was not enough for my upkeep in a month. My mother could not do much but keep garri For me to carry whenever I returned home.

 

Ninety eight percent of the time, it got so heavy that I cried during break periods while the pupils played outside.

 

 I realized I needed more money to move to a better apartment. Then I shared a room and toilet with two girls, then shared the kitchen with up to ten other people – guys included.

 

It got real. When I talked about Olosho business, I meant it, but people still thought I was joking. My boyfriend stopped finding it funny and he stopped trusting me even before I did it. When I missed his call, he would ask if I was on night duty. He would laugh, but it was not funny. He claimed to “feel” what I was going through. That was all! All he could do was feel my pains.

 

Someone connected me to my first client. Hah, it was even a match making arrangement. The man was looking for girlfriend or wife. Me, I was looking for money.

 

I made one friend in camp, Rita. I liked her more when she was quiet and when she gave her uncle, Albert my number. She often talked about this her uncle, especially when he sent her money. I wished I had someone like that too. 

 

The day we met him, we bumped into him at the bank. He was in a hurry and Rita quickly gave him my number to reach her because “her phone was dead”.

 

After he left, I just stared at Rita and she shrugged with a smile.

 

“He’s not married,” she said, like it was an explanation.

 

Oh, I was scared of that man. I was scared of any person that mingled with politicians. I was scared of young people who owned three cars. He was not so young though; he was in his early forties.

 

He asked me to send my pictures one night. I told him I could do video call. I was scared that if I sent my pictures he would take it to an evil altar.

 

I later sent my pictures and he said, “thank you” and also, “I’m very grateful”. Hah! I got more scared and asked what he was using my pictures to do.

 

” Is it suspicious?” he asked. I didn’t even think it was suspicious. I only thought it was somehow, so why did he think it was suspicious?

 

The first day I went out him with him, he opened the car for me and held the door for me to pass. He was not looking for sex, so it was difficult to bargain.

 

I offered my body to him by myself. I said it over a chat.

 

“Do you want to have sex with me so you can pay me?”

 

I hit send, put off my data and covered my head with my pillow in shame. After some minutes I ran online. The message had been delivered, but there was no reply. I deleted it quickly.

 

My roommate stared at me as I walked round the room biting my nails. We weren’t close, so I could not tell her what I had done. I wanted to tell Rita, but the shame was much.

 

His reply came in early the next day. “How much would you charge?”

 

I had slept on it and I knew what to charge. It was the price for the new place I wanted to move to. 

 

Albert: When?

 

I looked at the text and realized from here there was no going back. I have done a lot of things, but I have never slept with a man for money. This was the first that would definitely leave the door open.

 

Me: Just this once.

 

He types for a while, but his reply is shorter than I expected

 

Albert: That’s okay.

 

Albert came to pick me after my CDS on the Thursday of that week. I was in my khaki, not dressed like someone for an appointment. It was a hot afternoon. Definitely not the best time for a sex appointment.

 

He took me to a hotel, but we remained in the car. I kept imagining how this meeting would go and I did not overlook that I would do it again once it turns out easy.

 

“But Laura, I want more than sex with you,” Albert said.

 

“I’m in a relationship. It’s only this I have to offer.”

 

We finally got out of the car and made it to the room. It happened. More than twice from that time till the next morning. He was attentive. He kissed me in all the places he should and places he shouldn’t. I found myself comparing him to Victor, my boyfriend.

 

When he sent me my money, I felt so encouraged.

 

I could not tell Rita about it, just one of my old school friends.

 

“I feel you are like a child who was offered a whole meal, but he decided to settle for crumbs.”

 

My boyfriend called one day complaining of the strain between us, I decided to spite him then. I told him I had slept with someone for money. His shock stilled his tongue for a while before he asked the day and the hotel.

 

“What color of pants did you wear?” he asked.

 

“Blue.”

 

“What positions?”

 

“How is that important?”

 

“You are not sorry,” he said. “Are you joking?”

 

First I realized that indeed I am not sorry. I wanted him to feel incapable. Secondly I realized that if I said it was a joke, Victor would take it. He might not believe it, but he would take it.

 

I told him I was serious. He said nothing more. We broke up over silence, because after that he blocked me everywhere. I had no chance to be sorry. 

 

I met with Albert again. It was at night this time. He slept throughout, then dropped me home the next morning. These were the crumbs my friend talked about — this stupid arrangement of hotel meetings. Olosho work.

 

One day, Albert stopped picking my calls. He sent me a message that he needed to stop seeing me in order for him to concentrate on another woman. I wanted to be his woman. I sent him a text saying I wanted to be in a relationship with him, but he never replied till today.

 

Sometimes when I look at who my daughter has become, I wonder if she wants to live in a continuation of my sins and mistakes. I will tell her about myself some day. I will tell her that some days will be tougher than the rest, but there’s always a good way to manage. I will also tell her that if she finds a good man, she should let herself be loved.

 

 

 

 

 


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  1. Great piece Laura, I enjoyed every bit of it.

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