There is a story to be told. A story that transcends over the years, a story that spanned time in its continuum. Where it stops or it moves, or it rests, it is a story that makes all reasoning stand still and calls for a better assertion than logic. Can there ever be such story, we ask? But really, there is. There are stories. At time, we hope they are just imaginative figment of the Nollywood or Hollywood or Bollywood and every other woods there are, but they contain in them existential problems that must be reasoned. Alas, we have already asserted that they go beyond reason. How then can we find a rational rationale?
We tell stories not just so we want to tell them, but because we know it is deserving of the world to be in the known. Knowledge, they say, is the priceless of all pleasures – if we can ever price pleasure that is. Regardless, whatever way we see it, or whatever we want to take from it, it is a story that must be told. It could be clichéd (but doesn’t that just mean people aren’t learning?), or a new development altogether, but, we must reiterate that it is a story that places life in the spotlight and questions the doings of that universe – if ever in itself it is capable of doings.
What is the story?
Let us cast our mind to a blissful man and woman and another man. Humans of dusts created simply to be. They take pleasure and pain in different things but the creator indeed created them to do what they find pleasing, or not. A man married a woman and they promise each other together and forever. They found with each other a place they could call home. A place of rest, a place to go away from the world’s insanities and have a respite from inane doings. They call each other husband and wife, and since it is indeed the will of the creator to multiply and be fruitful, the woman bore two children for the man. Bliss continued to reign, or so we thought.
A façade whatever way we see it is fake. It brings about the false. But can we say it is false if, to the onlooker or even those whom the façade has successfully encapsulated, they thought they see the real? Whatever the situation is, a spade continues to be a spade no matter how we passionately desire to ascribe to it the nomenclature of a certain kitchen cutlery. The woman was not happy. She was not satisfied, or maybe she’s just a bit too much and can’t really be satisfied. Or the husband just wasn’t satisfying, for we must consider all possibilities. Sometimes, people do categorise such situations as one where the woman’s face and body are all outside. Indeed, it would seem the woman was sexually frustrated. Then the other man comes into the frame. In this story, we get two men and one woman.
I have not written this piece to throw blames or find faults in individuals. Providence has guided me to know that the sentient being that we are, we sometimes submit to our desires. Our hedonistic affairs sometimes overrule our ability to use reason in whatever situation we find ourselves. We think we think, but we do not. Pleasure then guides us, but it was asserted that we cannot indeed say we do that which is bad because of being overcome by pleasure, rather by lack of knowledge. Indeed, we can rightly acclaim that no one does evil knowingly. And so, this piece is not to throw blames, but to find rationales, if ever we can.
The woman, whether by some supreme force of nature, or the supernatural force that we cannot even comprehend, or by sheer sexual frustration, made to find pleasure outside the marital home and whilst the husband thrusts away every other night, she fills her tank every other afternoon with another man’s blissful offerings. Then we arrive at that juncture where we question what love is. As has been pointed out at the beginning of this story, we could find it clichéd, regardless, we will tell it. Do we even in the minuscule of all reasoning faculties, have an assertion, or even a pinch of opinion, that love indeed is blind? Or maybe lust is that which disguises itself in the appearance of love and since disguises aren’t real (remember how we establish façades are cruel?), the one whom this lust-cum-love has embraced is blinded. Apparently, if something is in disguise you cannot tell it’s true nature.
The friends and neighbours and enemies of the husband entered the picture and they all hinted at the extra marital congenital proclivities of the wife. But the man, blinded by something I have refrained from naming (since I know the power of façades), refuted all claims and positioned that his wife is chaste to the lettered. How cute! We suppose that trust is needed in every relationship, but when trust becomes excessive or unfounded, then it becomes outright stupidity. Where do we find a rationale to ever take trust into consideration and find one who offers the whole of it as a fool. Do we, in a manner of speaking, ever think the good can come to evil even if we adhere with all principles of that good? Do we suppose that nature makes that which is good evil just by its sheer wickedness? And can we really ever say nature is wicked? To say that is to say the creator is wicked, but the creator is all good (so it has been asserted).
This man continued to please his woman. He recounted himself that he is sure he pleased his wife. Well, end of story, full stop. But can we really end it there? If that was the case, there is no story. Nature has its way of consigning human to damnation. Melancholia treads the path of every human, but whether fortunately or unfortunately we encounter it, nature dictates that, not us. Pitifully, these blissful families – or so they thought, met their own tribulation.
A day is fateful when it is bad or good, but mostly, when the word is used, it is bad. So let’s employ it. One fateful day, as nature had planned it, so it is not by freewill but by fate. The man, in the company of his friends, spots the car of his wife quite far away from home. Closely behind this car of hers is another car. The man could simply have kept quite and wondered not as to why a random car is behind his wife’s car, I mean they are not the only ones with cars in the world, but as has been said, the day was fateful. The man enquired, and indeed what the mouth wants the eyes to see, even the ears would participate in the knowing. He asked and he received, he was given. A rather sunny day became blighted by darkness. Nature, we can say is a master planner. Fatefully, (we have to use the word) the person, from whom the husband enquired his wife’s adulterous affairs, knew the man with whom the adulterous affair is committed. How reasonable. He said that the man was the friend of his friend’s brother. Indeed, he knew the hotel which they use and the room which they always lodge.
Now, let’s find a rationale. Did the man not repeatedly say he trusts his wife? Why enquire about an event that is not suppose to take place in his perfect world. Is the woman really not satisfied enough with her husband’s doing on bed and materially? The man, the adulterer, or let’s just say the equally sexually frustrated other gender, also had a wife. Three reasons crossed swords, we find a rationale, or so we thought we did, and fate’s machinery wove a beautiful piece of web that astounds even the onlookers. Hell broke loose.
Do we break strides in seeking a rationale and just say love is blind and end the story. That would not be natural, right. Now, you see why nature is mentioned repeatedly. The man divorced the woman and the home broke. The woman moved to the other man’s place (his outside place) and became a mistress. But nature isn’t that pleasing to offer us a happy ending. Indeed, in this story, a broken home is a happy ending. Nature does not break its strides, humans do.
The man wants his wife back. Love or lust, pick your choice. This brings up the assertive question, can we love to a fault, if yes, then love contains a fault, but love is suppose to be good and beautiful and it has been asserted by a person of intellect, that a thing cannot accommodate its opposite as it either perishes or the opposite is not present. How then can we say one loves to a fault, it’ll be erroneous. What then is wrong with the man, who wants his adulterous wife back? Where do we place him? The father of the man then issued a warning to the man that there is death in taking back a woman who repeatedly had adulterous affairs. It is simply the ways of the universe. Adultery does not bode well for anyone, now factor in a woman as the doer. We had lived in a patriarchal society (or we still do) and an adulterous woman has no dignity, for a man, he is simply exhibiting his manliness.
The man refused to understand that one thing damaged the virtuous Ajao; his arms were longer than his legs. And he sought for a thing that was beyond his reach. He sought for his wife in search for love, a façade that had blinded him, and he refused every advice from friends and enemies alike.
From the narration, we can indeed see where this is headed, cant we? Fate played it’s part again. The man invited the woman into his house, their previous home, and after numerous spurs of moment, the man could not have enough and asked the wife to stay. Indeed, we look but we do not see. Catastrophe reigned supreme and travesty offered itself in the lives of persons who thought they’ll make a life. They saw Esu on orita and it demanded their blood as water. Tragedy descended
The man slumped and died on bed. Not many story could be added to this, just that he simply died.
The father of the man, instructed people not to bury his son and that as a father, although, it is a bad thing to see the corpse of one’s child, he’ll like to see his son one last time. The father came, eyes sunken, shoulders down but mind up as he had warned about the impending death, and simply bathed his dead son with water he had brought along. He then turned around to the woman, bloodshot eyes but with calm tone he announced to the glorious hearing of the world that if the woman even have the slightest of hand in the death of his son, then she’ll join his son in eternal darkness (or light since we cannot categorically say what exists after death). He departed and she likewise. Indeed, lightning does not strike once. The woman and the other man, the adulterous man, both died. The woman died six days after the other man performed his valedictory routine in the world. Tragedy struck in the lives of three persons, whom the creator had created to live and multiply, but they found themselves wanting and they met death. They found the ultimate and they lived not to tell the tale.
We have heard this story countless of times, we throw blames, and we simply ignore most of them. But can we, for a moment of reflection cast our minds open and find a rationale why all these things had happened as they did. Reflect and find a rationale, because it hurts, whatever it is, it hurts.