“Wale! Wale!!" she shrieked. Oh no, it was going to be my third sleepless night in two weeks. it was the loud one again. I hadn't gotten round to her name yet. Sleep usually disappeared with the first ecstatic screams. If they stopped by 3am, I would be lucky.
I suspected he was on some aphrodisiac. Those thrashing sounds were too super human.
I turned on the radio trying to drown out the sounds, hoping for a miracle. The music was appalling as usual. Her screams were getting louder. Perhaps the end was near.
I might have to have a word with him at this rate. Things could not continue like this. I had to go to work tomorrow. He would probably think I was jealous because he was living the Dream. The dream every male corper nursed secretly or openly, depending on his pretensions. They dreamt of starting or maintaining the most fabulous sex life- the life of a Casanova during that one year; teaching in some secondary or college during the day then 'servicing' the female students at night, changing partners as they got bored. Maybe he would be right. The youth service year could be very lonely. Thousands of miles away from family, friends and Facebook, many corpers turned to sex for recreation. This night, I did not lay claim to any self-righteous beliefs or moral high grounds. I just wanted to sleep and drown out my own stalking nightmares.
The other corpers in the lodge were teachers in a college of education in an obscure town in Ekiti. The college being the town’s only claim to fame. Ugede High, it was called, the name gotten from the treacherous hills and valleys surrounding the tiny enclave. I was a microbiologist in the college’s clinic.
“Hey Chairman," he hailed me mockingly.
“Oga Sir" I answered in the lingua of young Nigerian men.
My courage had failed me, for my greeting was tacit approval of his exploits of last night. As I rinsed out my mouth, I watched him leave with our noisy guest of the previous night. She was a light-skinned girl with small horizontal tribal marks probably not more than seventeen years old, far too young to be calling my neighbor by his first name.
"Good Morning, Sir”, she was definitely a student.
My confrontation with Wale would have to be another day then. My lethargy would cost me. More sleep to be lost I thought as they left for the school area.
One evening, as I flirted over a game of dice with a cute female corper, Wale walked in, distraught. He ambled past us, mumbled a greeting and headed to his room. A few minutes later, I left Ifeanyi with a novel to check him out.
“Ol’ boy, wetin do you?” I cut to the chase, wanting to get back to unfinished business.
He hissed …in that peculiarly African manner; long, hard with plenty of meaning and spit.
“ppppssshhewwwwssstttt”
“wetin do you?” I insisted.
“Doctor, abeg I don tire”.
After a little more prodding, it came tumbling out. Ireti, the loud one had become his nemesis. My mind raced; pregnant? HIV? Ogbanje?
Sadly, none of my dark fantasies materialized. It was a bit less dramatic. Apparently, Ireti had become so besotted with Wale or his bedroom prowess that she now stalked him all over Ugede, chasing off all his other exploits. Imagine in this third-world backwater; a real life stalker. Wale had enjoyed the unrelenting attention of this village belle until it became a nuisance. He had become dismissive until one day Ireti, frustrated, had decided to share her predicament with her father. Yes, her father, , the most dreaded and successful Juju man in the seventeen towns that made up Ekiti. So fearsome was he that Vigilante groups from across crime-ravaged Nigeria traveled to Ugede to buy from him, potent Juju for fighting armed robbers. Ireti had spared few details about her trysts with Wale. Scandalized, The Alapinni had given his daughter the beating of her life and then summoned Teacher Wale. The Alapinni offered Wale two options, well one actually.
“Marry my daughter or…….”.
Or he would place a curse on Wale. He would invoke the forces of Irumole (the Yoruba spirit world) and make sure Wale suffered consistent and systematic misfortune until his life lost all meaning.. We had about two weeks left to the end of service.
I laughed it off, trying to cheer him up.
“Nothing go do you, this na 21st century!” I could hear the false bravado in my own voice. The Alapinni had a time-tested reputation.
Everyone hailed her and clapped as she fed him the wine. We were back in Ekiti. One year had passed since we left this hilly town. Wale, smiling, was underweight in his flowing white agbada. He looked happy which was a lot, considering what he had been through in the last few months. After submitting his applications in dozens of companies in every imaginable industry, attending tens of interviews, he had given up looking for employment and gone into business for himself starting a small photo studio. One day he had come to work to find his neighbors weeping, the State Environmental Task force had cleared the row of shops where he had had his studio. He had lost everything, even the equipment he had bought on loan from his aged mother’s thrift and credit society. His constant visits to hospitals to treat a mysterious fever only worsened matters. Wale had become withdrawn, inconsolable and about to suffer a major nervous breakdown.
One thing had led to another, someone spoke to someone, and the elders were consulted. So we were all back in Ekiti, this time for a wedding.
Ireti dropped the glass of wine and leaned forward to kiss her husband. The Alapinni smiled the fulfilled smile of a father. The slim sweating comedian cum MC announced gleefully
“A round of applause for the latest couple in Ugede”.
The End.
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