DRIVING WITH CRAZY- The Finale.

Foreword.

       This is the last episode of the series Driving With Crazy. It’s been an honor taking this journey with Aisha and Alex and everyone who has taken out time to read any of the episodes. It means a lot. I hope we’ll reunite in the next post or story. Now to the good stuff….

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS….. (The Finale.)

To see all episodes, go here

     After driving like a crazy person down the express way and receiving insults from other motorists for flying down the road like a bat out of hell; I got to Nena's house. Kehinde's directions had been surprisingly easy to follow. I knew the way the house from the town market, so at least I wasn't too bad with directions. As I got out of the car with the box of Nena's shoes in one hand I was tempted to lie flat and kiss the ground! I had never been so happy to see the cream walls of Nena's family house. The devil's plan to keep me from this wedding did not work! I went around to the boot of the car and got Alex's luggage. It would be easier for him to get it from my room when he got back from the hospital.

   "You mean if..."  The pessimist in my head hissed.

    I pulled the box and struggled with the shoes and bag in my other hand as I walked into the house, expecting a battalion of people to accost me asking why I was just arriving. The first person I saw was Nena's mum who saw me just as I was about to climb the stairs. Now, Nena's mum was a "hugging screamer". The extreme type. Whenever she saw someone she liked and wanted to hug, she would start to scream her excitement. Impressive vocal chords, one of the many things Nena inherited from her mother.  

"Aisha! Is this you? Where have you been?! I've been asking Nena about you! She wanted to go mad yesterday when she thought something had happened to you. We've been expecting you, my dear!" At this point, I was still trapped in her extremely tight embrace.

“Aunty, it's good to see you. We had issues along the way. I hope she's fine now." I said making what I hoped she recognized as a conscious effort to free myself.

" Yesso. Taye's brother... Err Kehinde called to say you were close by."

"Oh ok. Let me go and see her. Is she in her room? "

“She’s dressing up in my room. Let me take your things to her room. Both of you were supposed to stay there." I handed her Alex's luggage and my handbag and took the shoes with me to see Nena.

   I pulled myself up the stairs, yawning all the way. There were so many people upstairs; most of the girls in the bridal train and a few of  Nena's aunts were standing outside Nena's mum's room. I figured she had prevented them from seeing her until she presented herself. They all had their beautiful champagne brown coloured dresses on with faces beat to perfection. As soon as they saw me, the noise erupted.

"Aisha! "

“You’re here! Nena has been waiting...."

“Oh my God! Aisha!” All these noisy girls sef. It wasn't like I had died and come back to life. Why were they screaming anyhow?

"Aisha, go in. I'm sure Nena would let you see her. No one else is allowed to go in so we're waiting for the bride to make her grand entrance abi exit. " Ify  said rolling her eyes. I remembered how Nena had told me Ify literally didn't let her sleep until she told her she could be part of her bridal train. The girl just had something about her that made me want to charge at her whenever I saw her but today was not her day. I made my way to the door and opened it and I sauntered in.

    "Didn't I say no one should enter this room!!?” Nena shouted with her back to me.

    “Calm down, Bridezilla.”

 She turned sharply on hearing my voice and almost at the same time I caught a glimpse of her wedding dress in all it's glory. I had seen Nena wearing this dress before, I was with her when she bought it and we had chosen it as the best out of the three she had liked initially but there was something about it today. Maybe it was her hair as the curls fell softly down her nape or her face that seemed like it had been moulded with the finest of clays. Whatever it was, it made her look perfect. Really perfect. I was too stunned to speak for a few moments. She noticed that I was staring and waited for a comment. When one didn't come immediately, she got impatient and said "Talk now!" 

"Nenadi, you look stunning!" I said still trying to take it all in.

"Really? Are you sure the hair doesn't make my head look funny? "

“Oh shut up Nena. You look perfect. Well, almost perfect.” I said trying my best to hold off the waterworks and bring out the shoes at the same time.   

“Curse my over active tear glands.”

The same shoes that had made me feel like I was spending a holiday in the valley of the shadow of death. I went on one knee and put both shoes on her feet. The fight with the tears became even more brutal after that.

" Aisha, don't even start! If you cry, I'll cry! “   She said while fighting to keep hers in as well. Nature won in the end, much to the despair of Joe, the make-up artist who kept on scolding us for making him redo 'his masterpiece'. After seeing Nena looking so stunning and the way her eyes lit up when she told me she had been so worried and how much calmer she was now that I was here; I knew the hell I had been through to get there was worth it. According to Olaf, some people were worth melting for. At that point, I felt like I had been panel beaten a couple of times. That had to fall into the same category as melting. Right?

                                                                      ***

       Much later at the wedding reception, after I had bawled my eyes out as I watched Nena's dad give her away and watched her become one with the man who had loved her so hard for so long; I stood with my glass of wine in hand giggling as I watched Nena and Taye have their first dance. The look of contentment on her face was priceless. After all the petty quarrels they had employed me to settle in the past, they had actually made it down the aisle. I remembered how Taye had begged me day and night to convince Aisha to go on a date with him. I milked him dry before I even thought to tell Nena there was a guy who wanted to take her out. I giggled as I remembered my evil exploits. I knew Taye would take care of her. I had drilled him back when I noticed their relationship was becoming serious and laid down some serious ground rules. When I was done, he learned that there would be very serious physical and maybe even spiritual consequences if there was ever any tomfoolery on his part. Yes, I was that friend. But Nena never had to do any of that, I always laid down the rules by myself in my relationships and none lasted as long as Taye and Nena’s.

    As I watched them look into each other's eyes, I was reminded of how much I wanted someone who would just get me and be happy with me. I wasn't girly like Nena or desperate for affection or any of that but I just wanted someone who was always on my team.

    "You have Alex, you know."  

I had felt some kind of chemistry with Alex during  the trip or maybe it was all the near-fatal experiences making me confused. But even then I had caught myself a number of times looking all over and worrying about him all day. Alex and I would make an interesting pair. With his charms and good looks and eccentricities and my -

"Hey, road buddy. " I jumped out of my reverie and turned to see him looking incredibly handsome in his dark suit behind me.

“Hey you. Don't creep up behind me like that again abeg. "

“If you weren't so lost in thought, you would probably have noticed. "

“There isn't a halo around you though. There's no way I would have noticed. “I said teasing him.

“You have to argue though.” He took a step to stand beside me as he joined me to watch Nena and Taye as they swayed in and out of tune to the music. “Taye and his lack of dance steps. I guess some things never change. "

" Ahan. Michael Jackson! You that knows how to throw down!"  Throwing my head back as I laughed.

 Then he stopped and cocked his head to the side feigning surprise." Aisha, but you should know now. You don't remember how all those senior girls used to queue to dance with me? "

“Queue? Only Senior Ola used to die for you, only God knows why! "

“That’s not how I remember it oh. And which one is only God knows why? Oh, good. Everyone is going to dance. Come and experience what kept Ola coming back for more." I laughed as I let him pull me to the dance floor.

   We danced and laughed as we watched other people dance and laughed some more as we watched each other dance. This was the cycle until it was time for the slow dance. He held me daintily with his arm against the small of my back as we moved back and forth to the rhythm. The feel of his body against mine had me feeling tingly all over.

"How is your arm?” I said with my head resting on his chest.

“Oh, the doctor said it was fine. I woke up just as soon as we pulled into the hospital. We might need to go back for that hunter's sedative though. Best sleep I've had in a while. " He said chuckling lightly

“You better be joking. I thought you were dead at a point. Three straight hours of sleep! "

He chuckled. “Were you scared? "

“More like relieved"  I teased. "Your meat would have been perfect to help my gastric situation."  We both laughed as we kept on reminiscing what had to be the worst road trip in the history of road trips. The music, his speaking directly into my ears, his scent;  they were all conspiring to fan the flames of my growing attraction.

"Don't worry, we'll get back at them soon enough. "

“We?”  I said lifting my head to look straight at him.

“Yes, Aisha... We. "

                                                                      ***

The phone rang and Taye picked it up and saw my name across the screen.

 “Baby! ....... Nena! Aisha is on the phone for you."

" Ohh , I'll be right there. I just put Tobi down to sleep in the living room. "

“Yeah, I'll be quiet.” Taye said handing over the phone to her.

" Aisha! My sweetheart. How are you? "

" Iya Tobi! I'm fine. Why did it take you so long to come to the phone? "

“Someone has to put your god-daughter to sleep while you're touring the globe. Don't you know?"   Her words laced with sarcasm. I giggled on my end.

“How is she doing? I've missed her oh." 

“She’s fine. Still looks like me. Hehe. So wait, you haven’t missed me? That boy is teaching you bad things oh.”

"Don't be jealous. You know I miss you almost as much as you miss me." I said as I laughed

“How is your trip with the boo going jor? "

“It’s been lovely. That's actually why I called. "

“What happened?” I could sense the concern in her voice now.

“Well, nothing really oh. Just that one of the fingers on my left hand now has a new dress code. " You could literally ‘hear the smile’ that was plastered on my face as I said that.

“Huh? I don't understand...... Wait! Aisha! Did Alex propose??"  She said as the volume of her voice increased with every word.

" Yess!! It took you long enough! "  I had to take the phone away from my ears so I wasn't deafened by her screams. Alex was grinning and blushing at the same time on the bed beside me as Nena screamed the news to Taye. I could hear her even with the phone away from my ear.

“Taye!  ….Taye!! …..Taye come!!!   Alex proposed!!!”

 She ended up waking Tobi on her own.

                                                                 THE END.

THE MONSTER CALLED RAPE

            I guess that my difficulty in being able to write about women related themes in my writings stemmed from the fact that when I had grown to the level of self-realization, my mother who could properly guide me through the mountainous range of knowing and appreciating the opposite sex was no more of this earth, or perhaps because I didn't have any female siblings, or even maybe, because I grew up in a conventional Nigerian family , ferociously grounded in morals, where it would amount to a taboo for a man to ever think of stooping so low to the level of a woman( Infact, God help you if Papa should as much as catch you innocently daydreaming about the opposite sex).                                             I had methodically embarked on a joyous voyage of Thank-God-I-Am-A-Man themed writings. A moment of introspection had awakened in me and opened my eyes to the wonders and amazing world of being a woman. A task which I will not set out here, but suffice it to say that being a woman is a very beautiful experience. That sadly seems to be on a sharp decline as evinced from the various acts of violence against women. Questions after question continually barraged my mind. What if my future wife was someone who had undergone the damaging and traumatizing effects of being raped? What if I am nowhere to be found tomorrow, what will the fate of my future daughters in a world of prejudiced values against women? What if my only sister, had she been alive, grows to become a victim of rape? Worst of all, what if I had been born a girl, who could tell, if I wouldn't have experienced such traumatic moments of being dehumanized and downgraded? As these unanswered questions kept nagging at me, I found myself invariably departing from mainstream Collins; trademark Arikor, who naturally is stone-hearted when it comes to matters concerning the opposite sex. Because whichever way you decide to look at it, the issue of rape touches us all in one way or the other. And then an inner voice told me it was time to wear the shoes of rape victims so as to feel how it pinches; it was time to lend my voice to the dastardly act of rape; This monster called rape.
       A casual glance through daily newspapers will reveal the alarming rate at which rape is now jostling positions with the now 'perceived-normal' Boko-Haram endemic. For every page that reports about the inhuman activities of the evil Boko-Haram sect - which are very many - there is a corresponding page of a rape report somewhere from Abia to Sokoto; Lagos to Kaduna; Ebonyi to Rivers etc. The custom of blaming the act on the devil seems out of vogue now( I believe maybe the devil must have angrily cautioned any rapist to mention the devil at the rapists' own peril). The flimsy and unreasonable excuse now is that the sheer dressing of the victim and her flirtatious lifestyle called for her to be raped!. What sexual appeal, if any, premised on her dressing, a five-year old toddler has can best be answered by the rapists themselves.
            There is no gainsaying the fact that our society is a jaundiced and bigoted one, where the male folk reign supreme. And so we were born into such a defective system, and we find ourselves as men, being tutored to exalt ourselves above our female counterparts-even our elders, thus our lives are shaped by this societally-accepted ill. A judge of the Court of Appeal once captured it concretely when he held obiter, that our own society is of a patriarchal heritage, where everything ought to be done according to the wishes and whims of the man! What a myopic view? And so, the woman finds herself at odds with a father who desires to choose her husband for her, or his 'happy' thoughts whenever he recalls the handsome sum she would fetch as bride price, or even the so-called husband, to whom she is expected to submit however unreasonable his sexual urges are. If the husband ever forces her to have sex against her will, that is not rape! We now have many animals, to say the least, roaming in the body of humans, holding on to their bigoted and short-sighted views that every woman ought to be ravished and subdued. I know my future children - male or female - will not forgive me should they ever find out that I had the opportunity to speak against this evil and I never did.
             In short, the damaging ordeals which society imposes on women leaves much to be said. In a  rape trial not long ago , after the victim had painstakingly narrated the heart-wrenching pains she went through, the judge still dismissed her claim based on expert opinion given by male medical doctors, who opined that she could nonetheless consent to the sexual act even in a drunken state, and because a former girlfriend of the accused had testified that he was a 'gentleman' who would never force a lady to sleep with him against her will. In another scenario, a lady's claim of attempted rape was dismissed because the accused person had only removed his clothes after entering the room she was in and locked the door, when( thank goodness) he was interrupted by someone else. In the words of the judge,"...the actions of the accused cannot amount to attempted rape, for he was only in the process of having a connection with the lady and nothing more...!" Whatever the judge might have meant by 'connection', only him can sufficiently explain, whoever told him that the lady wanted to enjoy the unwarranted and unjustified naked sight of the accused man? In yet another disturbing scenario, a clear and established case was struck out because the accused led evidence, which was easily believed by the court, that prior to the rape, the victim had told him of her numerous earlier sexual escapades and one-night stands with different men. On the day of the rape, she had gone out with him and had started kissing him amorously at some point, which consequently led to his arousal... I guess the judge in this case had no difficulty forming the words: cheap slut! dirty whore!! common prostitute!!! You deserved what you got! There abound cases where women who might be shy or soft spoken are forced to graphically paint the lurid pictures of the ordeal they went through, much to the pleasure and joy of the audience. They will have to re-create the unsavoury scene, from grabbing her against her will, to pinning her down, to beating her up in order to subdue her, to the shredding of her clothing, to the dastardly act of invading the essence of her womanhood, only for such cases to be thrown out on basis of technicalities. All the mentioned instances, are, of course, obtained abroad. I don't have to describe what is seen here, for everybody knows of the absurdity of our legal system.
    We have a further situation where the male folk having adorned themselves with pornography, which basically reduces women to mere vaginas, breasts and buttocks, will set out to experiment what they've seen. And when the desirable becomes unavailable...we have cases of fathers raping daughters, brothers raping sisters, uncles raping nieces and so on. I don't have to tell of the numerous women whose lives have been threatened should they ever speak up against the ordeal they went through.
           The time, I believe, has come when the status quo ought to change. Guys, take my advice, which is a very good antidote. Whenever you see a semi-nude woman, or even a nude one as some of them prefer, just become momentarily blind. Again, this issue of the man having dominion in a marriage or relationship should stop. Granted that the Holy Scriptures designated that the man should be the head of the home, it never said to the point of annihilating the woman! For all I know, marriage is a contractual agreement between consenting adults of equal status. Where then lies the basis of positing that the women ought to submit to the sexual urges of the man, for he owns her, her body and even her soul? If the marriage was premised on a consensus ad idem from both parties, then the consummation of same  ought to involve a consensus from both parties.
Finally, as a word of quintessential wisdom to fellow men, there is a great difference between wishing pain and suffering on someone and actually inflicting such pain on that someone. The traumatized survivors of the various Boko-Haram engineered bombings will easily attest to the truism of the above statement. The pains they go through is not different from that of many a rape victim. Civilisation should be the key word here. And to be civilised, one doesn't have to see the four walls of a classroom. The psychological make-up of women does not allow for such ordeals we put them through, so we shouldn't ever delude ourselves into believing  that women actually enjoy being raped. Even a prostitute takes offence at being called a prostitute, how much more the innocent and decent woman on whom you  unleash your animalistic tendencies? Infact, to say that any man who rapes a woman is an animal would be insulting to animals. It is time to cage that monster between our legs. And if any man feels he is too prominent to obey this simple rule, well, as the Igbo adage goes:"When the hen digs an unfathomable hole, it should not run away from whatever comes out of the hole."



                                                                                                                      COLLINS ARIKOR




AUTHOR'S NOTE: This article owes its inspiration to:
Oghosa Annabel, Victoria Nkechi who unknown to them, readily provided their brains for me to pick, in order to fulfil my selfish ambition of relieving my competency in writing.
Nkechukwu Andrea, Kosisochukwu Goodness and Imosieme Khadeejah for leading me through the intricacies and delicateness associated with womanhood.
Ogochukwu Ethel-who assumed the role of a mother in my life and taught me what every true mother ought to teach her son(s) concerning the female gender.
I am proud to call all these great ladies my girlfriends for showing that being a lady is truly a beautiful experience.

THE MOST HANDSOME REWARD

      I grew up always believing that the many foodless days I and my siblings experienced, and our many holefull clothes had constituted poverty, but my opinion changed when I got to see poverty on a firsthand basis. On my arrival at Ajegunle; blessed A.J. City of Lagos. I empirically felt poverty in its strictest sense. There, rats, the size of small cats, were busy scavenging and darting to and fro the shacks made of rusted zinc and termites-infested boards which the inhabitants called home. Mosquitoes, as big as butterflies were siphoning what little blood they could suck from the glistening bodies of the brown-haired, kwashiorkor-imprinted and skeletal children playing. Among the sights that met the eye were naked children jumping in and out of pits, which I guessed had to be the latrines because of the pungent smell emanating from within. The women, tying their threadbare wrappers with exposed breasts sat huddled with that faraway looks which were not of this world, but of the world beyond and I heard that they were living in an urban area.

     My August discovery was made even more profound by what my companion had to say “ These people have scores of people collecting a constant supply of emoluments and other numerous benefits on their behalf at councillorship level, local government level, state level, Federal level and even International level! “ What crime had these people committed to be rewarded with such was still a mystery to me.

   My personal experiences had necessitated my desire to become a writer, not because my little arsenal of words should be used to impart a life in what little way I could, but because I strongly felt that my extraordinary childhood afforded me the right to create my own world of refuge; where I would always run to and hurl blame at other people. At least, I had a roof over my head (even though we usually collected a substantial amount of water through the ceiling whenever it rains, and God help us when it rained during the night, we would have to kiss sleep goodbye). Yet here were a group of imperturbable people living despite these inhumane conditions and they didn’t even have the slightest intimation that they had the right to better lives.

   2015 is around the corner, and as usual, posters and billboards will spring up at every road one bothers to look, televisions and newspapers will all tell of the American-wonder type of achievements of these various office seekers, and why they should be ‘duly’ rewarded by being elected or re-elected as the case may be, for they self- assuredly believe it to be so.

   I have always engaged in a personal war on the proliferation of fake politics in Nigeria, not because I understood the simple fact that much, if not all of what we need to live a quality life in Nigeria can only be guaranteed by the quality of politics we receive but because I now solidly understand that, every upright citizen, no matter the position occupied in society, as a matter of natural logic, has a duty imposed on him/her to see that the lives of people around him/her are positively touched in the least manner possible. For the reward that awaits can only be the most handsome reward.

                 ARIKOR COLLINS……..