Firsts Baba Isa (FBI) is Legal Practitioner and writes from Abuja
The things we, men, do for women ehn.
I have always loved love. The concept of love thrills me. The idea of loving a woman tingles me. I have always been like this. You know when you were a child and your parents’ friends will call you “my wife” or “my husband” and you will start crying? Not me. In fact, me, I was the one [ads1]that was marrying all my mother’s friends.
I marry you based on how regular you visited my mum. If you come this week and don’t show up in the next two weeks, that’s your problem o; because by the time you come around, I have already married another of my mother’s friends. No time.
So while other 5-7 year olds were crying when being called “my husband”, I was having serious arguments with my mother’s friends about who to marry and who to divorce. The ones I divorced most were those who promised to buy me mai-mai or agidi and failed. I sent them packing straight. I don’t have time for drama please. After all, fine boys like us we no dey too look for women like that, na dem dey rush us…
I also protect my women. I remember one of my mother’s friends who is adept at using this against me. The woman wasn’t buying anything sef o, but we always stayed married for a long time; a couple of divorces here and there but we always get back together. Her trick was that she will always tell me she was feeling sick, especially if I want to break up with her after staying away for a week or two. Once she tells me she was sick, my 7-year old heart will just melt with pity for her. I will tell her a million sorry’s.
Then she will throw in the punch “Isa, you know say I been no well na it make I no come see you o. You go still marry me abi?”
“Yes Ma. I will marry you!” I will declare. No sick woman deserves to be divorced. No way. And once I decide to marry her, any other woman at that point in my life stands divorced.
My mother will say, “Chai, Isa! What of Mama Agbo?”
“I no go marry that one again.”
“Why?”
I will not answer. But I will be thinking, “well, it’s not my fault, if she knew what was good for her, she would have been sick na.” I can’t bring myself to choose a healthy woman over a sick one. No way.
Looking back now I don’t think it was really about anyone being sick. It was just my natural manly inclination to protect and defend women. I guess men, or most men, are born with this. We feel comfortable and even proud taking the heat for our women. It’s always good if you have a woman that appreciates this; not like this Deeper Life girl.
I was in year 2 at the University of Jos when I met this naturally beautiful girl one day in cab heading to school. I paid for the two of us. She was very appreciative. Though I wanted badly to get to know her, I started walking away; mark e no come be like say because I pay cab fare for her I want to take advantage of that begin toasting.
Luckily for me she stopped me and said we should walk together into the school. See levels na. We talked. Babe is a 200l medical student. Omor. I started feeling lawyer and doctor things. The next week I asked her out to lunch somewhere close to school.
On D-day I went to the bank to remove my last 2k to give medical-student-future-wife a treat. We went to restaurant, sat down and made our orders. I was just looking at her. Pikin fine abeg. No make up, no earrings and she is this fine? Speaking fluently. She sabi things. God abeg o.
Our food was served. We were eating. Then this bad smell just hit me. Ahn, ahn. Wetin so? Is it the food? It can’t be na.
The smell passed. Then it came again. Wetin be this na? Make e no be say…
Wait… Is it… Is she… Hay… Kai… Chai…
Another couple sitting very close to us were also turning up their noses.
It passed again.
Then… A loud bang… Jesu! Fine girl don gash o. The couple sitting close to us heard it loud and clear. They immediately stood up and took another table close to the entrance and far away from us and the festival of rotten smell.
I didn’t say anything. I sat down there enduring that smell like the patron saint of true love. I was trying hard not to make her feel embarrassed in anyway, so I was speaking and laughing loudly, drinking in the smell. I calmed down a little bit when I noticed that the thing was smelling her too o. She was struggling not to laugh so that the smell will not fill her mouth. Eheen? So na me be mumu abi? I lock up too o, before I come die here for my mother. A few more clouds of putrid smell rose and fell before we rose and left.
As we were walking towards the entrance, everybody was just looking at us. I wonder what the relocated couple has told them. As we got close to the entrance and to the table that couple was sitting, something crazy entered my mind.
I just walked up to the guy and said: “My guy no vex o. That was me mehn. I ate something horrible yesterday.”
The guy nodded and we walked out. I don’t really know why I did that, but I guess it was because I didn’t want them looking at my girl somehow when they see her somewhere. I thought I was saving her from embarrassment.
Fine girl come provoke for me o.
“Isa, you know I was the one that did that right?”
“Yeah”, I answered taken aback.
“Then why did you tell them you did it?”
“I don’t know, but…”
“You lied!”
I died.
“I’m sorry… But… I was just trying…”
“Isa, the point is that you lied. I’m a core Deeper Lifer. Lying is a sin.”
“What of farting in public? Is it not a sin?” I was getting angry.
“Farting can never be a sin. You lied. Just face it.”
I was stunned.
“I don’t think I can be with a guy who lies unnecessarily.” She walked away.
I was simply petrified.
What just happened? That girl don go o.
I never called her again. I never begged her. Our paths never crossed again till today. And for years after that I held a grudge against every Deeper Life person. Even when I see their signboard, I dey vex.
Dear fine girl, I hope you became a medical doctor. You should, you were so intelligent. If you ever read this, from the bottom of my heart, I say thunder fire you!
First Baba Isa (FBI) is a Legal Practitioner and writes from Abuja.
