Landing in Lagos on a Monday afternoon was stressful, and she hated it. It was a smooth flight and landing, plus a much-needed ‘me time’ in her cubicle on the plane, with no noise, no music, and no movies, so descending from the plane felt like she had just been eased into a big pot of boiling water, so big that wherever she turned, there was no escape. She felt the heat the tarmac emitted and mirrored it with the time of Noah when water was said to go from the ground up to the sky as rain. The heat scorched her feet in the Nike kicks she wore, and as she struggled to move along the queue that went into the arrival lounge, her hair stuck to her neck. She had begun to sweat.
As usual, she was welcomed by immigration officials who, by sight or by sign, wanted something from her, another signal that she had not missed her way. She was undoubtedly in Lagos. On a very good day, she would have considered stashing some thousand naira notes into their dry, wrinkly, beggarly hands, but today was not the day.
She immediately got on the phone with her mother, who had been calling her non-stop since she landed.
"Mummy, what is it?" She asked as she held the phone to her left ear.
"I’ve been calling since you landed. Why didn’t you answer the phone?" Her mother’s soft, angelic voice came through the phone, repressing the anger that had built inside of her. She sighed as if to let it out, and it helped a little.
"Mummy, I was trying to get cleared. I’m out now, I’m on my way home."
"Okay. You have a visitor waiting for you by the way." She could tell her mother was grinning as she spoke.
Jide, the son of Chief Ojo, her father’s long-standing business partner and associate was the first choice. She was not surprised. She knew her father wanted the relationship they had to continue, and what better way to do this than through the union of their children? Prior to him coming over to their monumentally large white house, she had never seen him before, so she had no expectations whatsoever. She had seen his pictures a couple of times, but she paid no attention to him at all. He had just graduated from Oxford University and had returned home to manage his father’s estates, the very controversial ones where people were said to die every year.
When he arrived at their house that day, she was still in her room getting ready. Their maid, Simi, had come to call her to come downstairs and meet her 'visitor' as her mother had instructed. A few finishing touches to her face, she picked up her phone and waded through their large hallway to the end, took a deep breath, and prayed for things to go well before descending the stairs, holding onto the white-glazed curvy stair rail. She could not hide the disappointment on her face when Jide turned to face her. He had a face only a mother could love, with a vivid scar just above his right eyebrow. As she held out her hand and he held it in his, like a vision, she remembered the night his father had called her father that his son had been in an accident around Dolphin estate. He was coming from the club with his friends, completely intoxicated, and had slept off while driving, going off the road and crashing into an electricity pole.
Hug who? Her face questioned. Her mother knew better than to ask her to hug a stranger; a handshake was more than enough in her books. Whatever her parents had planned was definitely not going according to plan. She was only sad that she would have to disappoint them, something she hated doing. But she was unmarried at her age, and by their actions, undertones, and nuances, her parents implied that they were disappointed in her.
She smiled at him and said "Thank you for coming to lunch."
“I am glad to be here and I’m happy Daddy and Mummy invited me.” He said to her surprise. Her parents were Daddy and Mummy to him, not Chief and Mrs Adewale like everyone else called them. Interesting.
“How are your parents? Are they well?” She asked, releasing her palm from his grip and easing back slowly. Last she heard, his mother had been flown out of the country for urgent surgery and his sister, Jade, who was studying at Lincoln University, had been taken to a psychiatric home in Madrid for treatment and rehabilitation after she started experimenting with meth and lean. But her parents had insisted Jade was on vacation in Lisbon, a vacation she had been on for a couple of months. Quite a vacation.
"So what do you do?" Her father asked shortly after they sat at the table to eat.
“Ah, daddy is just concerned, you know.’ Jide said and laughed, trying to break the silence. She looked at him now. His laugh was weird, almost mechanical. It looked as though his face struggled with putting the needed emotions to play and he just employed his chest to produce the sounds. She could not keep her gaze on him any longer, so she looked back at her plate.
“I am still managing my father’s estates, sir. We just acquired ten acres of land in Igbo Efon to build a new estate. Development should begin this week. We are also diversifying our portfolio and investing in startups across the city. The most recent one is Hive, a software company in Victoria Island. We invested fifty thousand dollars, and the company looks promising. We…”
"What do you do, Jide?’ She interjected with an emphasis on "you," now turning to look at him even though she struggled to. She needed to know him for himself, not in association with other people, especially his father.
"Let the young man speak now, Sewa,” her mother said gently, almost quieting her with her eyes. They begged her to behave and not offend her father. She looked from Jide to her mother and from her mother back to Jide, then continued.
“I, for example, am a fashion designer and illustrator. I just finished my second master's degree in fashion management and entrepreneurship. I’m opening my fashion store and the ready-to-wear brand soon, and I’ll be a panel judge for the soon-to-come fashion week.”
Jide looked stunned. Her father’s piercing gaze continued, and her mother’s eyes still begged her to hold her tongue. “So, Jide. What do you do?”
The silence lingered on and when no one said anything, Jide took it as his cue to leave. What a smart young man, not so smart but hey, still smart to leave. He left in utter embarrassment, you could tell. He hung it around his neck like a dumb man’s placard at the bus stop begging for money. He had slightly pushed his chair back and said "Excuse me, mummy. Excuse me, daddy," courtesied and left through the front door.
The date obviously was a disaster and her father reprimanded her heavily shortly after Jide left. Her mother apologized to him and he sounded a very heavy ‘talk to your daughter’ before storming out of the house that Sunday evening.
That was how she knew she was in Lagos.
Home, not so cool home.
As usual, she was welcomed by immigration officials who, by sight or by sign, wanted something from her, another signal that she had not missed her way. She was undoubtedly in Lagos. On a very good day, she would have considered stashing some thousand naira notes into their dry, wrinkly, beggarly hands, but today was not the day.
There was a persistent one whose name tag read A. J. Ale, he was dark-skinned and rotund and wore two big rings on the fingers in his right hand which he rhythmically drummed on the table. When he smiled at her in anticipation of her ‘showing love’, his teeth were a gracious mix of brown and yellow. She rolled her eyes at him and dragged her box out to the arrival terminal where Sanni, her driver was waiting for her.
She immediately got on the phone with her mother, who had been calling her non-stop since she landed.
"Mummy, what is it?" She asked as she held the phone to her left ear.
"I’ve been calling since you landed. Why didn’t you answer the phone?" Her mother’s soft, angelic voice came through the phone, repressing the anger that had built inside of her. She sighed as if to let it out, and it helped a little.
"Mummy, I was trying to get cleared. I’m out now, I’m on my way home."
"Okay. You have a visitor waiting for you by the way." She could tell her mother was grinning as she spoke.
She did not need a prophet to tell her who the "visitor"’ was, or could be. Her parents had been setting her up with the sons of their friends who they thought would be eligible for their beautiful and smart daughter. When they first started, she thought it was a joke or some silly adventure, until her father told her on a random Sunday morning about a year ago that Jide would be coming over for lunch later that day.
Jide, the son of Chief Ojo, her father’s long-standing business partner and associate was the first choice. She was not surprised. She knew her father wanted the relationship they had to continue, and what better way to do this than through the union of their children? Prior to him coming over to their monumentally large white house, she had never seen him before, so she had no expectations whatsoever. She had seen his pictures a couple of times, but she paid no attention to him at all. He had just graduated from Oxford University and had returned home to manage his father’s estates, the very controversial ones where people were said to die every year.
When he arrived at their house that day, she was still in her room getting ready. Their maid, Simi, had come to call her to come downstairs and meet her 'visitor' as her mother had instructed. A few finishing touches to her face, she picked up her phone and waded through their large hallway to the end, took a deep breath, and prayed for things to go well before descending the stairs, holding onto the white-glazed curvy stair rail. She could not hide the disappointment on her face when Jide turned to face her. He had a face only a mother could love, with a vivid scar just above his right eyebrow. As she held out her hand and he held it in his, like a vision, she remembered the night his father had called her father that his son had been in an accident around Dolphin estate. He was coming from the club with his friends, completely intoxicated, and had slept off while driving, going off the road and crashing into an electricity pole.
"Hi, Adesewa," he had said deeply, yet warmly, stretching his hand for a handshake. His face lit up as he said the words, and there was a bright light in his eyes, something to make her look at him for another second at least.
"Hi, how are you doing? Nice to meet you." She said quickly with a smile. As he shook her hand, she caught her parents’ eyes from across the room, her mother softly mouthing ‘hug him now.’
"Hi, how are you doing? Nice to meet you." She said quickly with a smile. As he shook her hand, she caught her parents’ eyes from across the room, her mother softly mouthing ‘hug him now.’
Hug who? Her face questioned. Her mother knew better than to ask her to hug a stranger; a handshake was more than enough in her books. Whatever her parents had planned was definitely not going according to plan. She was only sad that she would have to disappoint them, something she hated doing. But she was unmarried at her age, and by their actions, undertones, and nuances, her parents implied that they were disappointed in her.
She smiled at him and said "Thank you for coming to lunch."
“I am glad to be here and I’m happy Daddy and Mummy invited me.” He said to her surprise. Her parents were Daddy and Mummy to him, not Chief and Mrs Adewale like everyone else called them. Interesting.
“How are your parents? Are they well?” She asked, releasing her palm from his grip and easing back slowly. Last she heard, his mother had been flown out of the country for urgent surgery and his sister, Jade, who was studying at Lincoln University, had been taken to a psychiatric home in Madrid for treatment and rehabilitation after she started experimenting with meth and lean. But her parents had insisted Jade was on vacation in Lisbon, a vacation she had been on for a couple of months. Quite a vacation.
"So what do you do?" Her father asked shortly after they sat at the table to eat.
“Daddy, you already know what he does."
There was silence.
She could tell that her father was staring at her.
But she stared at her plate as she continued to poke at her food.
If there was anyone who pampered her in that house as an only child, it was her mother. Her father was too disciplined to have her misbehave, as she just did, questioning him. She could tell his look was no different from the one he had given her the first time she came home with her report card that had 4th in the position section, and all the other looks he had given her whenever he was displeased with her.
“Ah, daddy is just concerned, you know.’ Jide said and laughed, trying to break the silence. She looked at him now. His laugh was weird, almost mechanical. It looked as though his face struggled with putting the needed emotions to play and he just employed his chest to produce the sounds. She could not keep her gaze on him any longer, so she looked back at her plate.
“I am still managing my father’s estates, sir. We just acquired ten acres of land in Igbo Efon to build a new estate. Development should begin this week. We are also diversifying our portfolio and investing in startups across the city. The most recent one is Hive, a software company in Victoria Island. We invested fifty thousand dollars, and the company looks promising. We…”
"What do you do, Jide?’ She interjected with an emphasis on "you," now turning to look at him even though she struggled to. She needed to know him for himself, not in association with other people, especially his father.
"Let the young man speak now, Sewa,” her mother said gently, almost quieting her with her eyes. They begged her to behave and not offend her father. She looked from Jide to her mother and from her mother back to Jide, then continued.
“I, for example, am a fashion designer and illustrator. I just finished my second master's degree in fashion management and entrepreneurship. I’m opening my fashion store and the ready-to-wear brand soon, and I’ll be a panel judge for the soon-to-come fashion week.”
Jide looked stunned. Her father’s piercing gaze continued, and her mother’s eyes still begged her to hold her tongue. “So, Jide. What do you do?”
The silence lingered on and when no one said anything, Jide took it as his cue to leave. What a smart young man, not so smart but hey, still smart to leave. He left in utter embarrassment, you could tell. He hung it around his neck like a dumb man’s placard at the bus stop begging for money. He had slightly pushed his chair back and said "Excuse me, mummy. Excuse me, daddy," courtesied and left through the front door.
The date obviously was a disaster and her father reprimanded her heavily shortly after Jide left. Her mother apologized to him and he sounded a very heavy ‘talk to your daughter’ before storming out of the house that Sunday evening.
She would later find out that Jide had two baby mamas who each had two kids for him, a girlfriend that was his practice board for boxing, and a young undergraduate teenage girl from Unilag who was his sugar baby.
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