“If there’s any one I should ask not to leave us today, it will Jideofor Okoli, not for any negative reason, but for the singular fact that he is the golden boy of this great institution” that was the last statement I heard from my principal, on my last day in secondary school.
As I tell this story for the first time in my life, that pronouncement keeps echoing in my head, as I wonder: What would have happened if that request was granted by heaven? Would it not have been better for us- I, his mother, and most importantly Jide, as he was latter to be known on campus. But I am certain he would have still found a way to become a greater ‘AGBAYA’
Jide was a student of one of the most prestigious grammar schools in the western part of the country. As early as year three, he was already celebrated in the school. He had in his third year beaten all the science records in the school, going ahead to set new ones by developing a silo, concocting insecticides and pesticides and to the amazement of the entire society, built a boat and a flying object, that if I remember very well was classified as a rocket. As Jide got to the senior classes, he became too busy with the literary and debating society, rather than focus on his science and sports, as he was also the best athlete in the school and the school football captain.
This involvement in the literary and debating club was his first crime, as not staying back like the principal wished was the second.
I first noticed Jide in one of our debate rehearsals, where he was telling a friend that the only reason he joined this club was to get close to the pretty girls in the art classes, as the science classes and the field had nothing to offer a real dude. In my naivety, i thought‘a dude’ meant having all the works, so when I hear someone referred to as a dude, I always wondered what it would be like to spend time alone with a ‘dude’ not to talk of a real one. From that moment Jide stuck to me ‘like bad breath to a smoker’. I am sure you are wondering where I got this from, it was from Jide. He always likened every good and bad thing to a smoker; little did I know that his father, whom he hardly spoke about, was a chain smoker of marijuana and an unrepentant fan of ‘abamieda’ back in the day. Jide always wanted to get it done with school and visit Lagos to go experience the shrine.
JAMB results were out and Jide and I made it to universities in Lagos and Ife respectively. I gained admission in Ife, to study Quantity Surveying, in the faculty of Environmental design and management, popularly known as EDM in Ife. Jide went straight to the Faculty of Engineering in his new-found Lagos school. We were so happy and barely 17 years old. There were no mobile phones then, nor hardly business centers to check emails in Ife, so we resorted to fortnightly visits. It was at this point that our relationship entered full gear, it was clearer to us that being in a relationship meant that I could hardly concentrate on my studies for those two weeks each time he visited, or when I visited him. Everything was fun and fine at the same time at that initial stage; we felt the world had grinded to a halt to allow us some foolish space and time.
My father showed up in school one day in a brand-new SUV to announce he had been given a federal government appointment, which meant we were moving to Abuja. “Abuja ke?!?” I muttered, and dad asked if I didn’t like the thought of moving to Abuja. I told him there was nothing wrong with that, just that I won’t be seeing Jide during the holidays as we used to. My father was silent for a while, and then spoke, “this Jide thingie, I hope you are not taking it too seriously yet”. You know, I wonder why African parents have a way of not saying everything they think or know to their children until something bad happens, and then they come back to you with the famous ‘I TOLD YOU SO’.
Well my family moved to Abuja, I got more money which allowed me a lot of luxury, like spending most of my time with Jide in the famous Mayfair Hotel. So the holidays were spent in Mayfair under the guise of having holiday tutorials. My parents didn’t mind as long as my aunt, who took it upon herself to spy on me just to get favours, always informed them she met me on my way to or from town to buy food stuff.
By our third year, which was in 2000 I got one of the greatest shock of my life. One of my toasters, or suitors to the unitiated, in ife, who promised to stop at nothing until he snatched me from Jide, walked up to me after lecture with a grin to announce to me that he’s been mandated to stop toasting me by his number 1. And I asked him what bloody number 1, yes bloody, because at that point he told me how the gist got to lag about his intentions and his number 1 was contacted immediately to inform him to ‘die the matter’ that jide was a strong member of his brotherhood. Whattt!!! legs grew weak and numb at the same time, my head started spinning. If there was anything I had warned Jide about, it was joining any fraternity of any sort. In fact I had warned him not to even join any fellowship sef! All I wanted was for my dude to make a first class and land an oil company job as an expert in the United States or United Kingdom, so we could have the life we desired.
By the following weekend Jide with his own mouth confirmed that he was rising through the ranks already in the so called ‘frat’ and that I should make no mistake in discussing the matter with anyone or anywhere. He assured me he knew what he was doing, that most of the senior lecturers were ex-members of one fraternity or the other and joining them guaranteed him graduating with a first class. This marked the beginning of a stranger in the form of Jide, he had totally changed.
Jide stopped visiting Ife alone; would always come in the company of two or three friends, and whenever he was around, some strange guys from school would be visiting and always having two-asides in my compound with Jide. He led us to excessive drinking and smoking, though then drinking hadn’t degenerated to what it is now in schools. There was no codeine, ref, ecstasy, tramadol and all sorts of mixers young people use now. Bottled water and lacasera were never diced then. Then, we only drank beer and dry gin, but the weed was excessive and led to a high rate of unprotected sex.
Unprotected sex was Jide’s third crime and my first. There wereat least two to three abortions every semester and most of them were late. Jide had a line that made the risk seem ordinary- ‘sebina me go still marry you last last’. Foolish me, how did I ever believe a boy who wants to drink and have sex all day will marry me. Jide and I graduated from excessive drinking, smoking and unprotected sex to ‘minaj’, an abbreviation for ménage -a -trois(threesome). He made me bring one friend along whenever he visited; always saying every chief deserved two, and that an extra one is always good for the road. Considering my background and upbringing I was fascinated by this life style, on one of the occasions of bringing a friend ‘for the road’ I was convinced by the friend and jide to try making out with the friend, that was the trigger the demon in Jide needed to pull to awaken the beast in me. So, I and these my friends continued from wherever jide stopped each time he visited. Before I knew it, I was swinging both ways, while my GPA stayed down. Lest I forget, if you ever find your daughters always behind closed doorswith friends, please find a way to spy on them. That’s how these girls from the pit of hell go about spoiling young and promising good girls, same with your boys. Only parents should be allowed behind closed doors.
If I dwell on this Jide matter this way, it may bring out so much bitterness in me, which may push me to go after his family. For my sanity sake, I will spare myself the trauma of recounting the past and go straight to where the real problem lies. Jide eventually died carrying out one of his numerous hits on other campuses. I was totally broken to the point that all his friends and so called brotherhood took advantage of my vulnerability at that point and found in me a national treasure. They enjoyed themselves feeding off my pocket and my bosom. STDs were like course registration, each semester had new sets of them, and life became miserable and meaningless. All I wanted was just to see if I could leave school with a pass or even be rusticated. I just needed a reason to leave the school.
Eventually, I decided to join the final year brethren of my school Christian fellowship. My first meeting was so awkward that the coordinator kept apologizing for taking too much of my time. But something happened that day; I went back to town feeling better than I had ever felt in a long time. That’s how I found a new lease of life. I answered an altar call before my degree exam, got born again and then the fire started burning. I graduated with a third class, so I had to go for a PGD and then went abroad for my masters, returned to naija and landed myself a good job.
I started with a local church near my house on the island. In order to look like the serious Lagos based-born again-working class-sister, I pretended not to have had an ugly past. Yeah! I know my sins had been forgiven the moment I gave my life to Christ, but I never forgave myself nor asked God to heal me from whatever I must have suffered. I just did ‘go on soun’ and ‘itesiwaju’ with my life. Soon, I and one of the young dedicated HODs started a coded relationship, you know as we dey do am nah. He would visit me late at night, just to make sure no one sees his car in the neighborhood, since I lived very close to the church, and ours was quite a small church at that point. I painted a picture of a girl who has been born again since teenage, but that didn’t last long because he eventually fell victim. He didn’t give ear to that passage; flee fornication, not resist. “What did you expect creeping up on a young and very shapely working class girl’s house as late as 9pm, enh! Tell me what were you expecting?”, those were my questions the day he burst out in tears after falling. But gradually we got a hang of it. Oh! I forgot to tell you, he popped up the question of virginity days later, and I assured him it was sports, that I was very active in sports in school days, up to state level. He bought the story; you know how love ‘shacks’ the first time.
Ten years after our wedding, I’m yet to have a child, my husband is now getting impatient and prays like no man’s business now. Infact he has been convinced by his family to go for a comprehensive checkup in a good hospital abroad. Something we refused to do, putting all our faith, oh! It was most of his faith though in God. I secretly tried getting pregnant for a colleague of mine without his consent, ‘that one is even lucky say nothing enter’. I’ve been everywhere on my own to find solution, not until I opened up to someone about my past, who advised me to see a doctor, which I did and my greatest fear was confirmed.
My womb had been destroyed back in the days performing ‘D and C up and down’. My husband is now ready to see a fertility doctor after 10years. How do I un-tell my age long story of being a good girl with no history, how do I explain to him that while we were praying and fasting for 10yrs, while we were sowing seeds in various child care units and homes, while we were believing God and still believing God that I am the architect of our misfortune.How do I tell him about some Jide guy, whom I thought was a real dude when I didn’t know what that actually meant? Please can someone tell me how to put this across to my husband without anyone getting hurt?
I need someone to wake up that guy whose real name is Jideofor Okoli, but for the sake of being a real dude in the west, christened himself ‘JIDE’.
Jideofor Okoli, you need to come back to life and tell my husband that you led me in the folly of reckless youth to destroy my womb through quack medical procedures.