Chapter two of Ghost in the Neighbourhood

CHAPTER TWO

There was a great cheer when the plane was spotted. The arrival time was 2 pm but as early as 11 am, a mammoth crowd had gathered at the airport. Story had leaked out that Chike was coming back to Nigeria from Ghana after over three years in exile. Initially people considered the news as fake. How could Chike be alive? He was killed as he attempted to escape from the prison. His death was in the news both locally and internationally. But over time it became obvious that Chike was still alive and well, and indeed coming back to Nigeria.
Friends and people that wished Chike well therefore trooped to the airport to welcome him. Even his parents came all the way from the village. Everybody was anxiously waiting for a great reunion. It was therefore not surprising that they became wild with joy when eventually the plane touched the ground. The cheers heightened as Chike emerged from the terminal and started towards them.
Nneka broke away from the crowd and ran to meet him. On sighting her, Chike dropped his luggage and ran to her as well. He had been looking forward to this reunion and was grateful to God for making it possible.
As they got close to each other, he spread his arms to hug her but the first bullet, which cut through his chest stopped him in his track. The second bullet shattered his head and he fell in a heap.
Nneka let out a loud cry and opened her eyes. She sat up in bed and heaved a deep sigh. She got out of bed and went into the bathroom. It was already 7 am. She must hasten up as she was supposed to be at the cemetery by 8:30 am. The mass usually started at 9 am and she had never been late. The date was November second, a day set aside by the catholic faithful as the feast of All Souls. The nightmare about chike’s death had become a kind of alarm clock in her head that reminded her to join other mourners who gathered at the cemetery on that day every year to pray for the souls of the faithful departed.
She showered quickly, dressed up and set out for Saint Michael’s cemetery located in Yaba. It was 8:35 am when she arrived at her destination. She discovered that only few people had gathered. She chose her usual seat and waited. The cemetery would soon be filled and the mass started. The priest was always on time, so was the congregation.
 As always the mass started at 9 am and was over two hours later. Most of the mourners dispersed immediately after the mass but Nneka and few others stayed back to say additional prayers and meditate.
She barely concluded her prayers when he spoke to her.
“Hello!”
Nneka looked up and saw a total stranger staring at her. She was sure that she had never seen him before. He was tall, dark skinned, athletically built and very handsome. Just like Nneka and other mourners, he was in black attire. Nneka noticed the camera in his hand and wondered why he came with that instead of a bible or a prayer book. It was supposed to be a sober event, not a picnic. Perhaps, he was a photographer. Most Nigerian photographers attended events uninvited, snapped guests without their permission and of course expected them to pay and collect the pictures.
The stranger was definitely one of them. And the last thing Nneka wanted was to take pictures. She only came to pray for the repose of the soul of a loved one; nothing more, nothing less.
“May I sit?” the stranger asked, cutting into Nneka’s thought. She answered with a shrug, implying that he should go ahead if he wanted. After all, the seat wasn’t hers.
He smiled and sat down. They were sitting side by side and not facing each other. Nneka’s gaze was on the ground as she waited for the stranger to make his mission known.
“Is it your husband?” the stranger asked casually as he gazed into space. Nneka looked at him and wondered why he wanted to know. He had kept the camera beside him and was now holding a pen.
“Are you a detective or a journalist? Am I being investigated?” Nneka was not in the mood for questions and answers and she made it clear.
The stranger smiled and shook his head. “I am neither a detective nor a journalist and you are not being investigated,” he said and paused. He heaved a sigh after a while and continued. “I lost my brother over three years ago. He was assassinated.”
Nneka turned to face him. She wanted to sympathize with him but hesitated. It was possible that the stranger wanted to use the assassination story to win her attention. She had to be wary.
“Ever since he died, I have always come here on this day yearly to pray for the repose of his soul. I was very mournful the first time I came and I noticed that most of the people were, as well. When I got home that night, I had a dream. In my dream, my brother appeared to me. He told me that the best prayer I could say for him was to be happy, insisting that it was only happy people that could make others happy. I never believed in dreams, but that particular dream made so much sense to me and I resolved to spread the good news. So, I come here every year not just to pray for my brother but also to cheer mourners up …, to give them the message from my brother. Funny?” he laughed briefly. “See, my dear, the bible says that we should not mourn like the gentiles but like believers. Death is not the ultimate end but only a transformation to everlasting bliss. This is our faith, so instead of grieving without end, we should happily wait for a great reunion which is sure to happen on the last day.”
The stranger was right and Nneka couldn’t agree more.
“You are a pastor, right?” Nneka asked. She earlier mistook him for a photographer, later tagged him a detective or journalist but right now, she was sure that he was a pastor. Only a pastor could speak in the manner the stranger spoke to her. He was very articulate and knew his bible verses very well.
The stranger smiled at Nneka’s assertion that he was a pastor. He smiled a lot. Nneka could attest to that.
“I am not a pastor. I am an insurer,” he told her. “I run an insurance company.”
“Really?” Nneka said. “In that case, we should meet someday and discuss business.”
“That will be nice,” the stranger was happy to hear that. “So tell me; who are you mourning for?” he asked again.
“My fiancé,” Nneka answered simply.
“What a pity!” the stranger said sympathetically. “What happened to him?”
“He died.” Nneka’s tone indicated that she didn’t want to discuss Chike’s death. No need bringing back bad memories.
There was a short silence. “You must have loved him so much to be coming here every year to pray for him” the stranger said as he tried to take a picture of a kit of pigeons flying about the cemetery.
Nneka wanted to ignore the stranger’s comment but she didn’t want to embarrass him. He seemed genuinely concerned and didn’t deserve any malicious treatment. “I loved him more than words could explain,” Nneka’s voice cracked as she spoke. “And he loved me too. He was a very good man…, a gentleman par excellence, an embodiment of Mr. Right. We shared many memorable moments together. It is very difficult to forget such a man,” Nneka glowed as she talked about her relationship with her late fiancé and the stranger figured that the man was still very much alive in her heart.
After over two hours of chatting and laughing, they said goodbye. The stranger gave her his business card and she promised to call.
“I am sure we will do business together,” she said as she glanced through the business card.
“I will appreciate that,” he said, shook hands with her and walked away.
That night Nneka kept a vigil, reminiscing on her encounter with the stranger.
'…only happy people could make others happy.'
The stranger was very correct. Her heart had been filled with anger and frustration. It just occurred to her that she had been complaining to God instead of praying for the repose of Chike’s soul. The stranger had really inspired her but beyond that, he had also swept her off her feet. She liked him. But which lady wouldn’t like such a handsome man with a very sound mind. He seemed to be godly as well.
She picked up the business card she had collected from him, looked at it and smiled. She had promised to call for a business meeting but she knew that she wanted much more than business. She wanted friendship and if possible, a relationship. She smiled again when she remembered that she was the one that initiated the only blissful relationship she ever had.
Chike had been the lead detective that investigated the case of embezzlement which took place in her father’s company. She had met Chike in her father’s office and it was love at first sight. Chike wasn’t just handsome, but equally bold and smart. Nneka wasn’t surprised that he solved the crime within the shortest possible time. She would have been disappointed if he didn’t. He was too smart not to have solved that case.
She had invited him for a drink to celebrate a job well done and that birthed a very wonderful relationship; a relationship that would have led to marriage but for Chike’s death.
She looked at the business card once again and that was when she saw the stranger’s name. She laughed when it occurred to her that there was no introduction between them and here she was crushing over him.
Samson was his name and she hoped to be the Delilah in his life. Not the Delilah that would bring him misery but the one that would bring him happiness and peace. She decided that she would call him the next morning but never did. She couldn’t muster enough courage. She dreaded rejection and embarrassment. It took over a month to make up her mind and when she finally called, it was the most awkward telephone conversation she ever had. She had to explain herself over and over again, yet Sam seemed not to have any iota of idea of who she was. She was so embarrassed and angry that for a fleeting moment she wished she could become the real Delilah in this Samson’s life just like in the days of old. She wished she could make him feel the kind of pain she felt at the moment.
She went through the conversation once again in her head and felt like crying:
“Hi! This is Nneka,” she had said into the mouthpiece with so much excitement.
“The only Nneka I know is a prostitute. Is it the same Nneka?” Sam had responded scornfully.
Nneka had been taken aback but she felt better when she remembered that he didn’t know her name. He didn’t ask her at their last meeting and she didn’t volunteer but that shouldn’t justify his reply. He was rude but nevertheless, she tried to explain herself.
“I am the lady you met at the cemetery about a month ago.”
“Are you a ghost, too,” Sam said with a laugh, “because the only people that live in the cemetery are ghosts?”
At that point, Nneka heard a female voice in the background, asking who was on the phone. “It is either a prostitute or a ghost or both. I am not sure yet.” Sam had said in response to the voice.
As Nneka angrily cut him off, she wondered whether the arrogant and rude folk she just spoke with on the phone, was the same handsome man with a very sound mind that inspired her a lot at the cemetery. She had already saved the number on her phone before making the call and the only option she had right now was to delete it and of course tear up the business card and trash it. She was close to doing that when an idea occurred to her. She could actually retain the number and pretend that nothing happened and wait patiently for revenge, for she was certain that Sam would call one day either by mistake or intentionally. Most brutes would do that. Some might even apologize, raise your hope and dash it one more time. Savagery was their stock-in-trade.
She retained the number but edited the name from Sam to Bastard.
Nneka’s prayer wasn’t answered as Sam neither called back nor texted. She was once tempted to go to his office and confront him but she later advised herself. She might be assaulted physically this time. Time was the ultimate healer. With time, Nneka healed and moved on. She still remembered Sam once in a while but she had become indifferent about him.
It was a Friday afternoon and as usual, Nneka had to close at 1 pm instead of the official closing hour of 4 pm. She was gathering her things to leave when her secretary announced that there was a man waiting to see her.
“Not now,” Nneka cried. She had already scheduled to see her hair stylist at 2 pm and she had a dinner party at 8 pm. “Who is he and what does he want?” she asked impatiently.
“I didn’t find out. I needed to be sure you could see him, bearing your schedules in mind,” the secretary said as she made to leave the office, probably to go and find out the visitor’s name and reason for coming.
“Just let him in,” Nneka said, feeling that protocols would waste more time. She reluctantly sat back and waited.
“Come in,” she said when someone knocked gently on the door. The frustration in her voice was unequivocal.
The visitor slowly opened the door and stepped in. On sighting him, Nneka instantly sprang to her feet. “You!” she screamed, pointing menacingly at the visitor. The confused visitor stopped in his track and looked back. He was sure that his hostess wasn’t addressing him. Someone else must have entered the office right after he entered. But there was none else. It was just the two of them.
“Are you talking to me?” he asked, pointing to himself.
“Is there any other person in this office?” Nneka said as she circled her desk to approach him. “I can’t see any other person except you. Oh, why am I so forgetful,” she said, hitting her forehead with her left palm. “How could I forget that you see ghosts? And how could I also forget that you patronize ghost prostitutes?” She laughed and sobered up suddenly, “But this is not a cemetery. Please go to the cemetery and meet your customers. They are not here.”
“What are you talking about?” the visitor honestly didn’t understand.
“You don’t understand?” Nneka smirked, as she circled him slowly. “I will refresh your memory then. I am sure you are familiar with these sentences; ‘the only Nneka I know is a prostitute; … you must be a ghost because it is only ghosts that live in the cemetery’. You even had the guts to tell someone in the background that I was either a prostitute or a ghost or both.” she halted in front of him and began to look him eyeball to eyeball as though it was a contest.
“How could I have said all these to you when you didn’t call me as you promised?” Sam had never felt so embarrassed in his life. He only came for marketing. He didn’t even know that the office he came to belonged to the lady he met at the cemetery and fell in love with. He had waited for her call day and night to no avail and one could image his happiness when he walked into the office and saw her. But she had succeeded in turning his happiness to sorrow by accusing him wrongly.
“I waited for your call. I truly did but it never came. I pined for you. I really did but you never called, probably because our meeting didn’t mean anything to you. The feeling I had was obviously not mutual.” He paused briefly. “I couldn’t call you because I didn’t have your phone number. I didn’t come looking for you because I didn’t have your address. So I resigned to fate. Then coincidentally, fate brought us back together but instead of a happy reunion, you are busy accusing me of something I know nothing about.”
"Does it mean I called the wrong number?" Nneka thought aloud and fell silent for a while. “But I copied the number from your business card,” she said to him. She sounded subdued. Even though she felt he could be lying, she had to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Can I have your phone number?” Sam said as he pulled out his phone from his trousers’ pocket.
“What?” Nneka asked, wondering why he was asking for her phone number.
“Just give me your number,” he repeated. Nneka obliged him and he dialed the number. “Your phone is ringing,” he said, pointing at the phone lying on her desk. “I don’t know if you saved the number you called earlier. If you did check if it’s the same number that is calling now.”
Nneka reluctantly did as she was bidden and that was when she saw it. In her anxiety, she had replaced 6 in Sam’s phone number with 9 and of course ended up speaking to some tout, probably living in a certain ghetto. The mere thought that she had spoken with a criminal sent shudders down her spine. She heaved a noisy sigh. “Look, I am very sorry. I thought you were the one I spoke with.”
“It is ok.” Sam smiled.
“Thank you so much for understanding.” Nneka said with relief and hugged him briefly. “Come,” she said as she dragged him to a seat. “Please, sit and make yourself comfortable, and tell me what I will offer you.”
“I am here for business not for pleasure,” Sam reminded her as he sat down and crossed his legs.
“I know but we will discuss business later. I have a dinner party this evening at 8 pm, we will discuss business then.”
“But I won’t be at the party,” Sam also reminded her.
“Why not?”
“Because I am not invited.”
“I am inviting you, then.”
They attended that party together and four months later, they announced their engagement. Both of them agreed on a quiet wedding. Only family members and few friends were invited. Sam had earlier met and adopted Chike’s parents as his since his own biological parents were dead.
The wedding reception held at Nneka’s parents’ house. Her parents had wanted a fanfare but Nneka insisted on a quiet reception. She had passed through a lot in the past few years and just wanted to get married to her former fiancé reincarnated into Sam. The only difference between Sam and Chike was their faces. Other features and attributes were exactly the same. She couldn’t thank God enough for gifting her with Sam. He was just a perfect replacement.
The event was low-key only in terms of the number of guests but grand in terms of other components. Everything was provided in excess; food, drinks and souvenirs. Famous musicians and comedians were on the ground to entertain the guests. The high point of the reception was the settlement of the new couple by Nneka’s parents. The couple got two brand new choice cars, a house, fifty percent of the equity of Nneka’s father’s conglomerate and of course a voucher for honeymoon in any part of the world. The initial plan was for the new couple to travel to Dubai but because of issues at work that needed Nneka’s presence, they decided to stay around.
They were therefore driven straight to Golden Tulip from the reception venue. They were to spend a month in the hotel before moving into their brand new mansion.

My Rose Flower

My Rose Flower (A Valentine Poem)

You are like a rose flower adorning the face of the earth.
Oh..., how dazzling your color...,
And tantalising the aroma that oozeth forth from thy nectar.
Little wonder honeybees swarm...,
And buzz  around to get a glimpse of thy beauty...,
And of course savor the perfume of thy nectar.
Some are stupid enough to think they can tap the nectar... 
And pluck some flowers.
How foolish they are!
How narrow-minded they are!
Leave them...!
Shoo not them away...!
It isn't your fight but that of he who owns and waters the flower.
You are my rose flower...,
And sweet valentine.
I love you!

The Chicken (poem)

The chicken.

Season and out of season, human beings eat me without ceasing...
They kill me for every occasion and even when there's no occasion...
I was happy when recession arrived as I looked forward to a measure of respite...
But despite the recession my case remained the same...
I blamed it on MMM and so I was very happy when MMM recessed...
Still yet my case remains the same if not worse...
As I speak right now my brothers and sisters are being cooked, fried and roasted...
Others are in fridges and freezers waiting to be cooked...
Many are in prisons waiting to be executed and of course cooked and eaten...
What have I done to man to deserve this kind of treatment...?
I know I have done nothing, man only slays and eats me because he is more powerful...
No problem but I have resolved that in my next life I will be a termite...
I am not wicked so I won't slay man in revenge but I will patiently wait for him to die...
And he will surely die and he will be buried...
Then I will eat him raw because anger won't let me cook him before feasting on him...
I will eat him in season and out of season without ceasing...
At that moment I will have the last laugh...

Happy new year from Dr ezeokeke book club. Please support us as we try to revive the reading culture amongst Nigerians by establishing book clubs in our secondary schools. God bless you.

Ghost in the Neighbourhood

CHAPTER ONE

The ambulance was on full speed and the siren was blaring. The destination was Arch Angels hospital. The patient was Nneka who just fainted when the news of her fiance’s demise broke. Chike was accused of character assassination; conspiracy; and bribery and corruption, prosecuted and sentenced to fifteen years in prison. But the young detective attempted to break the jail and was shot dead in the process.
On arrival in the hospital, she was quickly taken to the Emergency room where the doctors battled to save her life.
“How is she, doctor?” Nneka’s mother approached one of the doctors as he emerged from the E.R.
“She is fine, Madam,” the doctor answered, the smile on his face was reassuring.
“Can I see her now?” she asked anticipatorily.
“Sure,” Dr. Joe said and led the way. “She is yet to regain consciousness but like I said earlier, she is fine. Her vital signs are stable. I can assure you that it won’t be long before she comes to,” the doctor said as they stood beside the patient’s bed.
“I hope so,” the woman prayed. “So, what’s wrong with my daughter?”
“She suffered what we refer to as neurocardiogenic syncope, which results when something triggers a short-term malfunction of the autonomous nervous system (ANS). This causes a drop in the blood pressure and heartbeat and pulse rate will slow down leading to a temporary interruption in the brain’s blood and oxygen supply.
“Possible triggers include sudden exposure to an unpleasant sight or experience; extreme embarrassment; sudden emotional upset, for example when receiving bad news; among others,” the doctor finished, and smiled when he noticed the confusion on the woman’s face. He had definitely confused her the more. “Bottom-line is that she is in good hands. You don’t need to worry yourself,” the doctor reassured and left.
True to the doctor’s words, Nneka regained consciousness two hours after arrival in the hospital. She was discharged the next day but her life was no longer the same.
In the days that followed, she avoided people, suffered mood swings, behavior changes, insomnia and nightmares whenever she managed to sleep. She lost her appetite and consequently grew very thin.
Her parents weren’t so worried initially because they believed that with time she would overcome the emotional breakdown but it persisted. In fact, her condition worsened prompting a second hospital visit. This time, she was reviewed by a psychiatrist who made a diagnosis of Posttraumatic Stress disorder (PTSD) and placed her on therapy. Her parents were advised never to leave her alone as she might attempt suicide.
With the antipsychotic drugs and regular home visits by her Psychiatrist, Nneka made a slow but steady recovery and after one year, she was ready to go back to work. Her doctor was even planning to wean her off drugs completely. Her life was back on track but there was an aspect that had been battered beyond repair. And that was her love life. She loved Chike so much that she couldn’t imagine loving another man. She had given Chike all her love but now that he was dead she had to transfer that love to her work. Her father was yet to retire, so she worked as his deputy even though she did most of the work.
“Hello, dad!”
Chief looked up from the files on his desk and smiled. “Come,” he said as he stood to welcome his only daughter. He hugged her and scrutinized her with fatherly attention, then motioned her to sit down. “When did you come back?” he asked as he took his own seat.
“Just now.”
“I am proud of you. Very, very proud of you. I have always known that you would take this company to greater heights and you have always proved me right,” the old man said as Nneka handed the contract documents to him
“Thanks, dad.”
His construction company had just won a multimillion naira contract to construct a dam in Adamawa State courtesy of Nneka’s hard work and ingenuity.
Chief smiled again after going through the details. “Wonderful! This calls for celebration,”
“We will celebrate later, dad. For now, I need to shower and sleep like never before. It has been very hectic,” Nneka said and made to stand.
“Just a minute,” Chief said and rose to his feet. He paced for a while and then faced his daughter. “I am very happy with you but…,” he allowed his voice to trail off as he resumed pacing, “… my happiness won’t be complete until you are married. You aren’t getting any younger, my daughter. You will be thirty-four in August. Look, women are like flowers that blossom in the morning and whither in the evening. Men prefer morning flowers.”
“Am I supposed to catch a man and force him to marry me?” Nneka asked in a way that suggested that she didn’t like the topic
“You are not supposed to do that, my daughter but you need to give men the opportunity to approach, woo you and court you. You need to loosen up a bit,” Chief advised. “I know you loved Chike with all your heart and that it would be difficult to love another but you can’t shut down your life. You have to move on. I am sure that Chike would want you to be happy but the truth is that a lonely heart can never find happiness. You need a man in your life to complement you; a man that will help you run this company.” He paused for a while. “I am tired, my daughter,” he said suddenly and Nneka panicked.
“Should I call the family doctor?” she asked, reaching for the phone.
“I am not implying that I am sick,” he said, fixing his gaze at a distance. “I meant that I am getting old and need to retire. I have paid my dues. I deserve some rest.”
“But you can go ahead and retire, dad,” Nneka said with a shrug. “Or don’t you trust that I will be a good replacement?”
Chief thought for a while and sighed. “I trust you, my dear but I am worried that the demands of running the company alone would overwhelm you. That is why I want you to get married so that you will get the necessary help and support from your husband.” Chief explained.
“I see,” Nneka said and rose to her feet. If there was anything she detested so much, it was the pressure she got from her parents to get married. The way they were going about it, if she wasn’t careful, she would rush into the arms of the wrong man. “I will see you at home, dad,” she said over her shoulder as she exited the office.
It was already 2 pm when Nneka got home. She met her mother in the sitting room. “Good afternoon, mom.”
“Good afternoon, my darling. Welcome home, hope your trip was comfortable” the older woman stood and welcomed her daughter with a hug. She sounded so excited that Nneka wondered what she was up to.
There was an aura of festivity about the house. The stewards were setting the dining table while the butler was refilling the bar, everybody was in high spirit. Nneka quickly scanned her brain for any anniversary but there was none.
“What’s going on, mom?” she asked. Her curiosity was palpable.
“We are expecting an august visitor,” her mother replied simply.
“Who?” Nneka asked curiously.
Her mother laughed briefly at her curiosity. “Chief Dunu.”
Nneka raised an eyebrow. “Chief Dunu is a regular visitor in this house. How come he is an august visitor all of a sudden?”
“He’s coming with his wife and son. Frank just came back from the States and they felt it would be nice for him to say hello.” There was a twinkle in her mother’s eye as she whispered the words.
Nneka shook her head slowly and started upstairs. She needed no more explanations. She already knew what the hustling and bustling in the house was all about. Another suitor was on the way. She hissed as she recalled her past suitors. She had had three suitors in the last six months, all arranged by her parents. In fact, the last one proposed to her on their first meeting. She had been so annoyed that she had gotten up and left, allowing the poor boy to kneel as long as he wanted. This happened about two months back. Her mother had been so mad at her that she fell out with her. They made up not too long ago and another suitor was already on the way. Nneka sincerely wished that she had allowed her faceoff with her mother to linger. If they hadn’t made up, her mother wouldn’t have sought another suitor for her. She hissed again and decided to cross the bridge at the appropriate time. For now, she needed cold shower and the comfort of her bed.
The first two knocks didn’t wake her, she was deeply asleep. She was, however, aroused by the third knock. She slowly climbed out of bed and staggered to the door. On opening the door, she saw her mother smiling boldly.
“They are here,” her mother said, almost rubbing her palms. “Make haste and come downstairs.”
Nneka wanted to protest but maturity got the better of her. She couldn’t afford another faceoff with her mother .She could always play along and say no at the appropriate time. She had never liked arranged relationships. Most of them usually hit the rocks. It was usually worse when the suitor in question lived abroad. To her most guys that lived abroad were not to be trusted. Many were into drugs, crimes, contract marriages among others. They could actually mess one’s life up and Nneka wasn’t ready to give anyone such an opportunity
“Ok, mom let me freshen up,’ she said.
“Make sure you look your best,” the older woman said, winked at her and left.
Nneka shook her head and closed the door.
Few minutes later, she joined her parents and the guests in the living room. Chief Dunu had come with his wife and son, Frank as expected.
A cursory look at Frank showed a young, handsome man with an air of affluence about him. Nneka really found him attractive and that was unlike her. Since Chike died, she rarely had time to look at men let alone fall for them. This was actually a good sign.
She exchanged pleasantries with them and took her seat. She barely sat down when her father spoke “Let me formally introduce Chief Dunu’s son to you,” he said looking at Nneka. His name is Frank. He just came back from the States where he has been living for the past 18 years. He is a Harvard-trained accountant. He also bagged both masters and PhD from the same institution. Until his return to Nigeria, he worked with Silicon Valley bank in New York. As the only son, he has returned to manage his father’s numerous investments as my friend here is not getting any younger.” He finished and smiled at Nneka.
“Your father forgot to mention that my son is single and searching but I know that his searching days would soon come to an end,” Chief Dunu added and all laughed except Nneka. It wasn’t funny.
“It is a pleasure meeting you,” Nneka said to Frank out of courtesy. Deep down, she was very uncomfortable and angry…, at everybody.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Frank responded with a smile. And honestly, he sounded very refined and responsible. He wasn’t just handsome, but also, a gentleman, if he wasn’t pretending.
After the introduction, Nneka’s mother invited everyone to the dining table where assorted foods and drinks had been served. They ate to their full and drank to their satisfaction.
Dinner over, the fathers went into Chief’s study while the mothers went to Nneka’s mother’s room thereby leaving Nneka and Frank all alone in the sitting room. The young chaps understood the game plan and didn’t disappoint their parents. They chatted and laughed like old friends.
Frank was really fun to be with. There was no dull moment with him and he was quite knowledgeable. Nneka couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun chatting with a friend, especially, male friend. It must have been before Chike’s death.
It was around 8 pm that their parents emerged from their different hiding places and it was time for the Dunus to depart. She escorted them to their car while her parents stopped at the porch.
Just before he entered the car, Frank kissed her hand. “I had a great time,” he whispered.
“Same here,” Nneka smiled. She was genuinely happy.
“Can we do this again,” Frank asked.
“Any time,” Nneka truly wanted to hang out with him.
“Thanks,” he said and entered the car.
Nneka waved him goodbye and waited till the car pulled out before she started back to the house. She was already thinking of a robust relationship with Frank. They seemed to be compatible but just one meeting wasn’t enough to draw conclusions. She reminded herself.
“What do you think?” her mother’s words cut into her thought as she approached the porch.
“About what?” Nneka asked, pretending not to understand.
“About Frank, of course.”
“Oh!” Nneka smiled. “He’s handsome, smart, knowledgeable and most importantly, a very good company. His sense of humour is second to none. I must admit that I need a soothing balm for my ribs because I laughed like never before.”
Nneka’s mother looked at Chief and the couple smiled at each other.
“We should fix a date, then,” Chief said, looking at Nneka for approval.
“Date?” Nneka was truly confused. “Date for what?”
“Date for the introduction, of course,” it was her mother that answered.
“Mom!” Nneka’s eyes were huge with shock. She couldn’t believe her ears. How could her parents talk of introduction when she barely knew the suitor? Frank hadn’t even said anything.
“Frank hadn’t said anything and I don’t even know him.”
“But we know his parents, my daughter,” her father said, putting his arm round her shoulders. Nneka shrugged severally, indicating that he should take off his arm from her shoulders but he refused to yield.
“His parents are nice people. I am sure they raised him well. You don’t have any reason to worry. He will make a good husband,” Chief assured her.
“I am neither getting married to his father nor mother. Any man that intends to marry me should woo me, court me and then propose to me. It is only when I say yes to his marriage proposal that we will start talking about dates. For now, I have works to do.” She shrugged off her father’s arm and stormed into the house.
The days that followed witnessed another faceoff between daughter and parents. Nneka wasn’t bothered in the least. She was already used to faceoff with them. If the only way she could be friends with them was to marry a total stranger, then she would rather be an enemy.
About a week after their meeting, Nneka got a call from Frank. He wanted to know if she would be chanced for a dinner.
“Yes, I will,” she responded with undiluted excitement. She had waited impatiently for his call. There was no doubting the fact that she liked him but things must be done properly. A Cart must not be in front of a horse.
Frank was supposed to pick her up at 6:30 pm and he was right on time. He scored another point as Nneka got the impression that he didn’t like standing ladies up.
He was exchanging pleasantries with Nneka’s parents in the living room when Nneka came downstairs and stood at the foot of the stairs.
Frank’s jaw dropped on sighting her. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “You look so beautiful,” he said and walked across the room to meet her.
He didn’t exaggerate. Nneka was indeed looking very beautiful. She was dressed in a red overflowing dinner gown. Her makeup was light, making her face to glow with natural beauty.
As he approached, Nneka stretched her hand for a handshake but he hugged her instead.
“Thanks for the compliment.” Nneka smiled.
“You are welcome,” Frank returned her smile. “Shall we?” he asked and Nneka nodded slightly.
The young couple said goodbye to Nneka’s parents and left. Their destination was DeChills restaurant. When they arrived at the restaurant around 7 pm, it seemed the whole Lagos had decided not to eat at home that night. Nevertheless, they were able to secure a table at a good spot. They sat down and placed their orders which came without much delay and they began to eat.
“Do you like the food?” Frank asked after a brief moment of eating in silence.
Nneka nodded severally. “I love it. It’s quite delicious. How did you find here?”
“I was looking for a special place to take a queen like you to and a friend suggested here,” Frank explained.
“I owe that your friend,” Nneka said and Frank laughed. He stopped eating and fixed his gaze on his new friend. She was obviously enjoying her meal, so she didn’t notice that he was staring at her.
“You look so beautiful,” he said suddenly and Nneka’s spoon stopped half way to her mouth. She looked at him and smiled. “Thanks,” she said and resumed eating.
“My mom kept telling me how beautiful you were. I thought she was exaggerating but now I can see she underrated you. You are a paragon of beauty.”
“I can see you also have a degree in flattery,” Nneka teased him. “Thanks, though.”
“I am not flattering you,” Frank said with sobriety. “It’s nothing but the truth. You are also intelligent, smart, humorous and down to earth. I like you and will be happy to be your man. Will you be my girl?”
Nneka kept awake that night reliving and analyzing the events at DeChills. Frank had stated his intentions in black and white. He didn’t mince words. He liked her and would want her to be his girlfriend. She liked him too and would cherish a relationship with him but she must be careful, very careful. All that glitters is not gold. She had always been suspicious of men that lived abroad. Most of them were wolves in sheep’s clothing. They would come with message of love, promising you paradise on earth while in real sense they had nothing except heartbreak to offer you.
She had heard so many stories of how unsuspecting girls were scammed into marrying criminals, drug dealers and addicts, destitute and men who were already married to white ladies to enable them naturalize in their countries of abode. Though Frank had relocated to Nigeria permanently, Nneka would still want to know the kind of life he lived in the U.S. He appeared to be responsible. Unlike his contemporaries, he didn’t have tattoos and didn’t wear earrings. He also didn’t weave his hair. But she must tread with caution.
She was also conscious of the fact that the relationship was arranged by their parents. If they eventually got married, theirs would be a marriage of convenience. Most of such marriages were not based on true love and hence never lasted. One of her friends actually got involved in such a marriage and now she was divorced. Nneka didn’t want that to be her case.
Furthermore, the way Frank brought his parents into every conversation was very alarming and disturbing. If it wasn’t ‘my mom said’, then it was ‘my dad suggested’.” She needed to be sure that the man she was going into a relationship with had a mind of his own. As the only child, it wasn’t surprising that his parents would monitor and interfere in his affairs but he must be his own man when necessary.
Despite Nneka’s concerns, she was ready to give the relationship a chance. She had to be positive and pray that things turned out well. Frank could be a different breed. It was better to give him a chance and later call it quits if he didn’t live up to expectations rather than reject him out of pessimism and eventually he turned out to be good.
The relationship blossomed within a short period and three months later, Frank proposed and Nneka happily said yes. The last three months had been so blissful for Nneka. Frank had proved to be a very responsible and loving man and Nneka had looked forward to spending a fulfilled life with him. So, it was a dream come true when he proposed.
The wedding preparations started immediately. The couple wanted a low-key wedding but their parents wouldn’t hear of it. They wanted an elaborate ceremony. Frank was an only child while Nneka was the only daughter, so one would understand their parents’ stance.
A wedding planner was engaged with a mandate to organize the biggest and most grand wedding in recent times.
The guest list contained five ministers, two governors, and fifteen members of the National Assembly, captains of industries, relatives, friends and well-wishers. All the big wigs in Lagos were on the list.
Gucci was contracted to take care of the wedding dresses and accessories. Nneka’s father had completed arrangements for express importation of the latest Phantom Limousine. He had earlier bought a magnificent house in a choice area. His daughter deserved the best wedding gifts and he was equal to the task. The wedding venue was a one-thousand capacity hall, yet accommodation was going to be a problem as over one thousand, five hundred invitation cards had gone out and it seemed everyone was coming. Even Ben, who had not been to Nigeria for over ten years, sent words that he was coming with his wife and two boys.
“Oh my God! This wedding gown is so beautiful,” Chinwe enthused. Nneka had just taken delivery of her wedding dress and accessories.
Chinwe was her favourite cousin and best friend. Her mother was Nneka’s mother’s immediate younger sister. Her parents lived in Port HarCourt. Her father was an engineer with Shell while her mother was a business mogul.
Just like Nneka, she was the only girl of her family and therefore doted on exceedingly. Her friendship with Nneka started when she gained admission into Queen’s college, Lagos. Nneka was already in class two then, so she played the role of a big sister even though she wasn’t up to a year older than Chinwe. Eventually they became more of friends than cousins. Chinwe spent most of the holidays in Lagos. Even after secondary school, both attended university of Lagos. For over eleven years both women were rarely apart from each other. They were like Siamese twins, sharing escapades and secretes. Chinwe knew all the guys that made passes at Nneka from secondary school days and vice versa. They always confided and sought advice from each other. It was actually Chinwe that encouraged Nneka to date Chike and even the current relationship with Frank was approved by her before Nneka said yes. When Chike died, Chinwe took a month compassionate leave from her office in Abuja to stay with Nneka who had suffered depression.
So it was natural that Nneka would choose Chinwe as the maid of honour and two weeks to the wedding, she arrived in Lagos to assist in the wedding preparations.
Chinwe snatched the wedding gown from Nneka and looked it over. “Try it on. I am sure you will look like a queen in it,” Chinwe said as she removed the dress from the transparent garment bag.
Instead of doing Chinwe’s bidding, Nneka folded her arms and began to pace. She was obviously perturbed.
Chinwe raised an eyebrow, “What’s wrong. You look so disturbed.”
Nneka ignored her cousin and continued to pace. She later sat on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands.
“What is going on?” Chinwe panicked. She joined her cousin on the bed, put her arm around her shoulders and tried to uncover her face. Nneka resisted initially but later yielded. And when her hands were off her face, Chinwe noticed the tears.
“You are crying?” Chinwe couldn’t understand why Nneka should be crying instead of rejoicing. She was about having the biggest wedding in town and should be happy. “Is it Chike?” Chinwe asked, reasoning that probably Nneka remembered her dead fiancé and became depressed.
Nneka looked steadily at her cousin and shook her head. “I think I am about to make a big mistake.” More tears gushed out as she spoke.
“Mistake? How? You are scaring me.” Chinwe was truly scared.
Nneka wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “I saw Frank …,” she hesitated, “… at the church.”
“What?!” Chinwe screamed as her jaw dropped. “What was he doing there?”
Nneka shook her head. “I have no idea but whatever it was calls for concern.” Though her voice was calm, the agony in it could not be missed.
The church was actually built as a place of worship. The pastor had taken a loan from the bank to finance the project but wasn’t able to pay back. So the bank auctioned the building to a powerful drug baron who later converted it to a casino. With time, it also became a crack house and a brothel. Even though the function had changed, the building was still referred to as the church and its patrons, referred to derogatorily, as the congregation. The church enjoyed a wide range of patronage and majority of the clients were prominent men and women of the society. They visited for various reasons but people had the same impression about them; they were all irresponsible folks.
One could therefore imagine how Nneka felt when she saw the man that would become her husband in about two weeks emerge from the most notorious building in town.
She had called Frank earlier in the day, requesting him to take her to DHL office to take delivery of her wedding dress and accessories but he declined, claiming that he had a meeting with his dad in his father’s office. Nneka had resorted to a cab since the route to the courier giant’s office was always gridlocked and she hated driving on such roads. She could easily engage in road range. So to avoid all that, she called a taxi.
On her way back, the cab driver had used a rat run and the church was on the street they used. Nneka wouldn’t have seen him if not that the cab slowed down at a speed-breaker in front of the church. Frank had emerged from the building, walked briskly and entered a waiting taxi. He wore a pair of jeans trousers, sneakers and a T-shirt. His face cap almost covered his face completely but Nneka knew him too well, besides his clothes were very familiar.
“I told the driver to follow him,” Nneka said and sighed
“Where did the cab take him?” Chinwe asked impatiently
“King David’s Mansion,” Nneka supplied. “He alighted and disappeared into the hotel. He reappeared about thirty minutes later, entered his own car and left. Meanwhile, when he reappeared from the hotel, he was wearing a suit, not Jeans and T-Shirt anymore.”
“So he drove to the hotel, parked his car and used a cab to avoid being identified,” Chinwe analyzed.
“Exactly,” Nneka concurred.
“What are you going to do?” Chinwe asked after a brief silence. She could suggest but she wanted her cousin to give her own opinion.
Nneka thought for a while. “I will engage a private investigator. I need to know who the man I am about to marry really is,” she said and Chinwe completely agreed with her.
The investigation report came in ten day later and it was filled with shocking revelations:

Frank was a drug addict who was jailed in the U.S for ten years for illicit use of hard drugs. He was deported immediately after serving his jail terms. His parents knew that he went to jail but kept it a secret. They hoped that getting Frank married and giving him a prominent position in his father’s multimillion naira business would make him turn a new leaf. Initially, he didn’t agree to the marriage plan but with his father promising him a whopping sum of money if he agreed to marry, he had no choice as he needed a lot of money to carry out the plan he hatched with his U.S wife.
Iliana was a Mexican girl who worked as a striptease dancer in a club Frank frequented back in the States. His first visit to the club was while in his penultimate year in the university. He was introduced into club life by a Nigerian classmate, Tunde.
Iliana was so spectacular that Frank couldn’t help falling for her. He became a regular visitor to the club until he gained Iliana’s attention. It was actually Iliana that introduced him to hard drugs. He became so addicted that his education was affected. He didn’t graduate with his set and when he eventually did, his grades were nothing to write home about. By the time he graduated, his relationship with Iliana had grown so strong that she had quit strip dancing and moved in with him. She became pregnant six months down the line, prompting the couple to have an urgent court marriage. In order to meet up with the financial demands of running his new family, Frank had to quit the Masters programme he just commenced, converting his school fees to family upkeep money. Yet he struggled to meet up as he was also spending a lot on drugs. As the situation got tougher, he started peddling drugs. He was nabbed and jailed six months after his daughter was born.
Throughout the ten years he spent in jail, Iliana was very supportive. She visited him daily, periodically, bringing his child’s pictures along to enable him to be part of her development and growth.
Upon release from jail, Frank was deported to Nigeria but he maintained a strong link with his family and hoped to reunite with them someday. He couldn’t wait to achieve that. And the only way to make that happen was for the family to relocate to another country as he was already a fugitive in the United States. He therefore agreed with Iliana to move the family to Mexico. Iliana was from Mexico and he was married to her, therefore getting a Mexican visa wouldn’t be a problem. The only problem was raising enough money to accomplish the plan. But with his father’s promise to give him plenty of money after his marriage, all he needed to do was to play along, get married, then get the money, and elope with Iliana after the wedding.

Nneka was breathless by the time she finished reading the report. Chinwe was feeling likewise.
“Oh my God!” Nneka cried. “I almost made the mistake of a lifetime.”
“You can say that again,” Chinwe’s voice was choked. “What do we do now?”
“Call off the wedding without delay,” Nneka said emotionlessly. It was no time to cry. It was time to act. She had suffered the greatest shock of her life when Chike was murdered and had since developed a thick skin. She wasn’t given to breaking down easily anymore.
She quickly called a family meeting, intimated them on the current situation and requested that the wedding be called off officially for she had already called it off within her. Her family obliged her without hesitation. It was a difficult decision but Nneka’s interest and safety were paramount.

Prologue to Ghost in the Neighbourhood

She was home alone. Her husband left very early in the morning for his usual Saturday morning exercise and he was not expected home until noon. The house was dead silent and that was exactly what she wanted. She had works to do and noise was the last thing she could tolerate.
She was deep in thought so she didn’t realize that music was playing in the living room located downstairs. By and by the music wafted into her ears as it got louder. Initially, she thought it was her imagination that was playing tricks on her, but with time it became obvious that it was real. She was home alone and therefore couldn’t understand how music would just start playing. Besides, it was Yanni and she wasn’t a fan. Her husband wasn’t, either. They actually hated yanni’s songs as they always sounded spine-chilling.
Gripped by fear and curiosity, she climbed out of bed and started downstairs on tiptoe. The music stopped playing and the lights went out the moment she stepped into the living room. She let out a muffled scream. She was so afraid that she couldn’t move a muscle. She closed her eyes and awaited her fate. She flinched when suddenly the music came back on, this time, at full blast. Then followed the lights.
She didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see her assailant. She didn’t want to know what he was going to do to her. He should just go ahead and do it. But her curiosity got the better of her. And when she opened her eyes, she saw the message written in blood on the TV screen:
AVENGE MY DEATH!

 Tomorrow may be Mine

 and Bushbaby

Ghost in the Neighbourhood

Tales that will hold you spell-bound

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