(Episode 8) LOVE AFFAIRS | A novel of the OmidanWURA_files By Segun Alonge Jr

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‘There was a time in my life that I made up my mind never to get married,’ Elder Adeyinka began.
I was scared of the noble institution because of the experiences I had had. May you not have a taste of a turbulent home!

‘Amen’

I left my parents at a very early age due to frequent sicknesses. I was the only surviving male child of my mother, the others had died mysteriously. My survival was a narrow escape. I can say that I lived my early life practically as a house boy.

Although, most of the families I lived with never saw me as such. I was always taken in as a son. But you know, if it’s not home, it cannot be like home.
The level of freedom you enjoy with your own family is incomparable.

I once lived with a family that made marriage appear like a constant war of superiority and inferiority – a home where morning pleasantries is a combination of rhythmic proverbial songs between the couple.

You would wonder if they slept in different houses overnight. Neighbours were not adequate to settle quarrels anymore…..as a matter of fact, it got to a point that they just left them to do whatever they wished.

The drama extended into street fights. Well respected people for that matter! All those did not nullify the fact that we all still gather in the evening to sing hymns and give thanks for the day well spent. Maybe by tomorrow, I would find out the cause of all the troubles.

They both took me in as a son. I was much older than their children. Coming to visit us then, you can never differentiate which is the biological child and which was not. I was so much drawn to mummy’s (as I fondly call her) business that we often spend time together. She loves God so much – or should I say she was so afraid of evil attacks that she kept a handful of prophets and witch doctors at an arm’s length.

‘Hmm….oju ti ri,’ he said as he clears his throat to proceed.

‘Do you mind a glass of water,’ Sir? I asked.

‘I do not, my dear’

We often make trips together to consult these fetish men. Many of them combine rituals with their profession. I often wonder why they are not stinkingly rich themselves. There were times when mummy would be handed a long list of items that are unimaginable – items you cannot find in a normal market.

‘Is there an abnormal market? I questioned’

‘Um…. Omode o m’ogun on pe lefo’. Ever heard about markets that open to traders around 1am every five days? Those are the kinds of markets I am talking about - a market where you are not permitted to negotiate anything.

As a matter, you won’t see the face of the one you want to purchase from. That’s the kind of market I am talking about. As the fathers would say, “B’omode o ba ita, a ba aroba”.

I recall an instance when we were asked to buy a plain white nanny goat at such markets. The witch doctor had instructed that we just lay a hand on it and whatever the price placed, we must pay. No bargains!

As soon as they begin to list the ridiculous items, mummy would just cut in and ask for the sum total of the items and pay in excess – except for some special cases where they would insist that making the purchase ourselves was part of the ritual process.

We consulted a prophet who doled out 21 days foods free fast. Upon hearing that, I knew mummy cannot practically engage in that. She requested the option of proxy and he obliged. Not without a long list of body nourishing items, anyways. We supplied the provisions and left him to seek God’s face on our behalf.

To be continued
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