THE STING OF NAIJA LOVE – Part 2
“Honey, you must miss home a lot,” I pointed out one morning before leaving for work. “I really do, sweetheart. I am happy that I am here with you now, though.” I kissed her passionately before leaving. The next weekend, I took her to Disneyland in Orlando, Florida. We had so much fun, but Munachi would not get off her phone. Every time she had a few minutes, she would get on the phone to someone. One night, I was sleeping and when I stretched, I could not find Munachi. I got out of bed and turned on the light. I frantically searched for her. Finally, she was on the balcony at 2:00 Am on the phone. Again, she claimed she was talking to her mom. “I miss my family a lot, sweetheart,” she said. Of course, before I had time to think about it, she was on top of me in the bedroom, making me speak in all kinds of tongues again. My goodness, she was incredible in bed. “You know we could visit Nigeria in summer, if you want. I’d like for you to see your family,” I offered in the morning. A splendid smile appeared on her face. By summer, we spent a month in Nigeria.
Not even that stopped Munachi from hugging her phone consistently. I decided to overlook it. She went back to school to get an MBA. She did not want to get pregnant until she was done with studying. Then she made excuses after she was through with studying. “Let me work for a year, honey. At least, a year. I need some experience before having a child. I’d like to take a year or two off after having a baby, so if I get experience now, I will be ready to get back into the job market without looking like a greenhorn afterwards,” Munachi argued. As usual, I gave in to her. … “I don’t love you anymore!” Munachi yelled. I thought it was a dream. I wanted to wake up and find out I had been having a nightmare. Sadly, it was real. Munachi was threatening me with a divorce. I yelled, begged, pleaded, cried and cried a bit more, but sadly, she was serious. Just when we were supposed to have a baby, she said she was no longer happy with our marriage. “I brought you to this country and paid for your education, Munachi. Are you really serious about walking out of our marriage like this? Is this how Naija love works?” “I just don’t love you anymore!” she insisted. It was unreal. I snapped into depression. I lost weight rapidly. Before I knew it, Munachi served me divorce papers. One night, I managed to get my hands on her phone while she was in the shower. It felt like an arrow was piercing through my heart. Munachi had been chatting with a guy, an old boyfriend in Naija. She was going to divorce me to marry her and bring him to the US. I even saw naked pictures of herself that she sent to him – Lots of them. I fainted. I could no longer bear it. All along, from the get go, Munachi had been playing me. She just wanted to use me to come to the US, leave me, marry her old boyfriend and then, bring him to the US. “You are evil!” I shouted when I finally came around. “Nigerians are evil!” I yelled. “Nigerian girls are evil!!!” I could not control myself. I even thought of killing Munachi, but I could not bring myself to do it. “I just don’t love you anymore!” She insisted callously. She got most of the things I had worked tirelessly to build following the divorce. I started life from the scratch again. “God, why have you done this to me?” I found myself asking God. The pain was excruciating. I avoided even my old Nigerian friends. They killed my parents, now they have destroyed me, I concluded. I tried to get over it, but I was never the same again…for a long, long time. Things hurt even more when I found out that Munachi flew to Nigeria and married her old boyfriend. Apparently, each time I went to Nigeria with her, she would sneak out to be with him. I felt like a fool. … It was a cold winter night. I had come to the end of the road. I could no longer take it. I decided to take my own life. I had pushed away anyone who wanted to help, most of whom were Nigerians. One of them, Iruka was particularly stubborn. She and I had been classmates at University. “If you ever want to talk, I am here for you,” Iruka would text me every week. Sometimes, she would arrive at my door unannounced. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” she’d say with a smile that angered me. Why does she have to smile all the time, I thought. “I am ne, Iruka,” I’d say to her, refusing to let her into my apartment that was degrading further by the day. I had cleaned anything. I had hit rock bottom, ravaged by depression. As I walked home from the pub where I had soaked my soul in beer, I thought of the note I’d leave for my younger sister, Ebele. She was the only one I felt anything for in the whole wide world. I dragged my alcohol-ravaged body up the stairs to my apartment. I locked the door behind me, scribbled a note for Ebele which read; Ebii girl, It has been long since I called you by that (Ebii girl). Do you remember when we used to play in our backyard in Onitsha? You would climb the tree and I would ask you to jump. “I will catch you, Ebii girl,” I’d say, and I always did. You are the most beautiful human being alive. When you get this note, please don’t cry for me. Life has beaten me so badly that I have no more left in me to live on. Please forgive me and don’t cry. Like I used to catch you then, I will be watching over you from the other side. I will always love you, even in death. Again, I can no longer live! Take care of yourself. I dropped the note on the living room table, took the poison I had obtained from the street, placed it in a glass of apple juice. I watched it for quite a while trying to rev myself up to take it. I wondered if God would forgive me; if he would understand with me. But does he really care about me? After he let me suffer all those atrocities. Go ahead, drink it, I urged myself. As I reached for the cup, my phone buzzed. I stared at it for a moment. I ignore it and reached for the glass the second time and my phone buzzed again. This time, I took it. It was a text from Iruka. It read, I am thinking of you tonight. I am led to share this with you tonight. All these years, I have been watching you…watching you from afar. I have watched you hurt. What you may not know is that I have been in love with you from university. I always had a crush on you. Somehow, I have refused to marry because I felt if it was not with you, it was not worth it unless I fell in love with someone else. So far, I have not. I am still waiting. I am outside your door knocking. I can’t bear to see you suffer any longer. Another one read; Eloka, please would you let me in… just for once? I want to clean your apartment for you. You don’t have to love me back, but just let me help you. That will fill a tiny pocket of place in my poor, waiting heart. Just once! Iruka had been in love with me? She waited all these years for me? I could not believe it. Somehow, her texts melted my heart. I looked away from the cup of juice and walked to the door. When I unbolted it, a blast of cold air rushed in, and there she stood – Iruka. She was there waiting for me. “Just this once!” she said with tears in her eyes. “Not every Naija girl, not every Nigerian is bad. I have loved you for many years now. I know I am not as pretty as the other girls you have been with. I am not as tall either, but in my heart lies a deep, tall, large ocean of love for you. I have tried to make it go away but it wouldn’t. You may not love me back, but just let me help you,” she said. I had reached the end of the road. I fell into her waiting arms. She wiped my tears, cleaned me up and cleaned my stinking, dirty apartment. Sometimes, when you have reached the end of the road, God does finally show up. I had thought that love was just good sex…how wrong I had been. I do get it with Iruka, don’t get me wrong. But there is more…so much more. I feel a deep, strong connection with her. Today, we have two wonderful children and I have my career back on track. Iruka is a strong woman. I would not trade her for anything. It happens that Naija girls or Naija love can be strong, deep and meaningful, after all. I would cross the oceans and trek through the desert for Iruka. Now I know what true love is. As for the gold digger, Munachi, she is divorced again. The guy she had brought to the US left her, just as she had left me. And, I hear he made sure to smash her heart to shreds before walking away, leaving her with a child to cater for. He is married to a white girl now, while Munachi is struggling as a single mother…with no love. I don’t gloat over her misfortune. I can only feel sorry for her. Sometimes, we don’t know what we have until we lose it. I plan on holding Iruka tightly, with everything in me!
THE END
