I remember everything that happened last night; I remember it like it was a second ago. I put the young man six feet below me for one reason – he deserved it. I am not sorry for what I did, I believe my decision was the best call. The police must be close by already but whilst I await their scary handcuffs, let me tell you my sorry.
My name is Eve. I did not get the opportunity of meeting my biological parents – good I did not. I was found inside a properly weaved basket floating on Mbuti’s gentle stream. Madam Sako, an elderly woman deprived of children saw me and came to my rescue. She believed me to be a gift from the gods, I was deemed an answer to her prayers. I grew up knowing her as mama, I loved her so much. I was more precious to her than Gollum or Smeagol’s love for Frodo’s ring. I was all she was talking about, I was Madam Sako’s laughter. She built trust between us by telling me how she found me, I could have decided to trace my roots but I was still calling her my mama – she was my comforter.
I was nine years old, still yet to start school. I was always assisting in mama’s shade. Ishi Ekpe village was remote to development, it had two schools which was presumably erected by Mr. Adolphus upon missionary visits to our village decades ago. Mama could not afford N15,000 school fees, and this was why I did not see the gate of the schools – I understood the financial confrontations. Mama called me one evening and tipped me about her discussion with Mazi Arinze. She was telling me how Mazi Arinze requested I accompany him to the city that I may become somebody, only for her to be in tears. Mama wanted the best for me, but was luminously scared of letting me go to an unfamiliar place.
“Mama ki mee i na-ebe akwa?(mama why are you crying?)”, I asked innocently. I felt it was a great idea only to join in the tears when mama said she was not going to the city with Mazi Arinze and I. It was a complete emotional night for us but what had to be done had to be done. Mazi Arinze came the following morning, he was mama’s childhood friend, with a Nokia phone. He gave this to mama, he gave mama money to get a sim card and whatever she might need. They agreed there and then that I would come back every December. I was happy that I would see mama in a short time as it was by my calendar, September. More exciting was the fact that I was going to pursue a good life in the city.
“Mama, motor, cheii motor”, I said this smiling sheepishly. I hugged mama goodbye, and quickly entered the blue Peugeot car. We arrived Lagos in the evening, and I was too sleepy and exhausted to notice that Mazi Arinze fathered eight girls probably my age. It was 6am the next day when Mazi Arinze came to my room, he held my hand and welcomed me to Lagos once more. He discussed school plans with me, he told me that I would start the following week to catch up with the already begun session. I was entirely grateful, and was asking almost immediately if he was the father of the eight girls. He laughed after an unconscious belabor of OH OH OH; “Mbanu my daughter, mu na-enye nnu ncha aka ka uwa di mma” (no my daughter, I am only giving you girls assistance that you all find life less of an albatross), he carefully stressed. He said he had just one son named Buchi. Mazi Arinze then told me that there was great need to change my name from Nwamaka to Eve. When I curiously asked why, he said that this is the city and English or succulent names are borne by every child. I believed wholeheartedly. “Mazi ka maka nwa gi? O noo na lagos?”(Sir what of Buchi, is he in Lagos too?), I was asking. Mazi Arinze told me that Buchi was in Spain schooling; he was proud talking about his son’s ever excellent performance even without me prompting the long details.
I had grown into a woman. I was 20 years of age but was still under the roof of Mazi Arinze.
“Sir, I would like to visit mama. I learnt she is unwell”, I said. Mazi Arinze seemed carried away and when I traced his eyes, he was staring at my chest area.
“Mazi! Mazi!”, I smiled – he was only being a man lustfully attracted to ripened breasts (I understood his unconscious glance). I needed money to take care of mama, but Mazi could not be of assistance, he expressed his broke state – the girls that I grew up with stole his savings from his cherished KOM KOM, and were nowhere to be found. Buchi was back from Spain, he was now a medical doctor, he was now my last hope if I must get the required sum to save my dying mama.
“Hey Senorita! Why are you looking perturbed? Come sit on my lap that I may solve your troublesome worries,” Buchi said. Buchi and his words, he knew how to make me blush – his thighs seemed like heaven as it was enough comfort whenever I rested my bottom on it.
“My mom is down in health, and I need N50,000 for now so that the doctor over there can commence treatment,” I was saying. Buchi quickly reminded me that he was a qualified medical doctor, and while he stroked my hair, he said,
“Tell Mama that she will be fine. my team will get her fixed tomorrow.”
I could not control my emotions anymore, I was kissing Buchi aggressively. He was busy touching me in my private chambers, he was the only man that understood my body language. He was not only skilled at healing the sick off the hospital bed, but he was extremely adroit at doing more than enough to my urge plea.
“Hmmm..uhhh…Buchi stop! We cannot make love, you are like a bro..”, I was about completing my sentence. Buchi was not going to have no for an answer, so he forced my legs open and defiled me. I was hurt so bad, he left me bleeding and laughed.
“Ewoo! O Buchi mee m ife? Sooo!! Chimoo”(is it Buchi that did this to me?), I cried in my room. I became his sex slave afterwards as he came for more chops most of the time. I could not take it anymore and had to report to his father who was instead quick to deny my claims. I was kicked out of the house, and settled with N100,000 by them. I used the cash to pay hospital bills for myself and mama. Mama died of cancer regardless. I came back for blood, I went back to Lagos to stop the screams from my inside – mama was screaming in my head though six feet under. My world was ruined, my life knew extinction, and my hope was met with shadows. Buchi was just about entering the compound when I caught him unawares with a noiseless stab; he died with little struggle as his heart accommodated the big knife. I killed him in front of the gate man, I was totally relieved.
I am listening to the policeman read my rights to me.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Buchi Okonji. You have the right to remain silent as whatever you say or do will be used against you in the court of law…”
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