London Style & Lagos Living – Imagination vs Reality


Continued from here.

I don’t believe in holding out a ray of hope to anyone, knowing full well that there will be no time in the near future where I would be inclined to go the way of a relationship with them. I detest when people, because of hope of financial gain or because of the fear of losing on both ends, play with people’s emotions. I don’t want to do that to Chima. I don’t want to hurt his feelings; I don’t want to ever be accused of stringing him along or making him feel there’s something between us when there’s absolutely nothing.

I’m no longer in high school where you may be tempted to string a boy along just for occasional lunches and dinners.

As I explained myself quietly to my mother and hoped that she would stop this charade which basically involves pursuing a one sided relationship between Chima and I, I felt a twinge of fear in my heart . What if I am making the wrong decision? It’s not like I am dating Nnanna really.

Do a few kisses seal a relationship? I doubt that immensely. I don’t like this place of uncertainty I seem to have unwillingly found myself in. I like being confident in my decisions, no matter which they might be and now it seems my mind is in constant turmoil.

I remember Chima’s face now. So drenched in disgust that I wondered if it hadn’t been just that one day we all spent in the house, if for a moment I had unknowingly and unconsciously deluded him into thinking that we were an item. I had rummaged through my memories and found nothing to the effect and when I was sure that I was still quite on track, I walked past him into the house, shrugging him off and saying to him that I owed him nothing.

I didn’t owe anyone any explanations. I repeated to myself even as I endured the evening with the Okolis. His father intrigued me. With his soft manners and quiet countenance. His eyes were the only sign of the strength that must have led him to make a name for himself. I wondered how he saw the world. If he saw it with the pleasure filled eyes of his garishly made up wife or if he saw it through the pride filled eyes of his son who felt comfortable in the knowledge that everything was set for him to ease into and claim his rightful position.

Mum: “I can’t make this decision for you my daughter,” my mum’s voice brings me back into the present, “Inugo?”

“I can only hope that you realize that love alone is never enough to hold a relationship together let alone marriage. It doesn’t feed hungry bellies, it doesn’t account for urgent needs and it doesn’t provide and definitely doesn’t cater for the children in the end. Love is a taker. There has to be a lot more in a marriage to make up for what love can not do. Uwa emebigo. Marriage buzi ten ten kobo.” she concludes.

Kubi: “Mum what happened between you and my father?”

I don’t know where that question came out from but it was out before I could stop myself. I have always respected my mother’s decision to keep the details to herself even if deep down I longed to know what had become of him.

Mum: “Do you think that it’s because things were wrong between your father and I that I’m trying to fix you up with Chima? Do you think it was a case of love between your father and I, Afuihekaubi gbachara anya gi?”

Kubi: “I don’t think anything Mum, I just want to know”.

Mum: “I hope you it’s only on this issue that you don’t think, because if you don’t think at all then there’s trouble in paradise.”

Kubi: “Mum, you know what I mean.”

Mum: “You’ve forgotten that I don’t speak English but thank God I gave you overseas education even though I can’t remember paying for these wings you grew.”

Kubi: “But Muuum…”

Mum: “Don’t but me, but bu onye ebe? Please tidy up the kitchen, I’m going to bed”, she says walking out on me in the process.

I’m not surprised. This is how it always goes. Hopefully being back in Nigeria would give me the opportunity to spend some time with older relatives and maybe bit by bit I would find the truth.

I reach for my phone. No message or missed call from Nnanna. Well it’s barely four hours since he dropped me off. No pressure. I can’t start thinking like the typical Nigerian girl.

A quick shower and then I into my favorite pjs and get into bed. I know sleep won’t come easy so I settle in to read Olikoye, the new novella by Chimamanda Adichie but my mind constantly strays Nnanna’s kisses. I tried to stretch the moment and in my embellished memories, the seatbelt hadn’t been a barrier. His hands had found the clasp of my bra and in one swift move he had set Olivia and Jennifer free, grabbing them both in one passionate move.

My phone rings and once again, I’m brought land back in the present with a bump.

Kubi: “Hello”

“Hi”. I recognize Chima’s voice.

Chima: “I’m sorry about my attitude. You must understand my displeasure.”

I have nothing to say.

“Are you there?” he asked.

Kubi: “Ok.”

Chima: “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I would have to get back to you on that, check my schedule and all that”, I say vaguely.

Chima: “Alright, have a pleasant night”.

I’m about to put away my phone when I decide to call Nnanna. You don’t always have to wait for the guy to make a move, right? I mean this is the twenty first century and we’re fighting for equality and all that stuff.

His phone rings twice before he answers.

“Hey Mr Macho”. I purr in my flirtiest tone.

“Errrr, who’s this?”, a female voice responds.

I drop the phone like it’s hot puff puff.



To be continued next Friday.



  1. No wonder

    Can we get translations? Not everyone understands your language. Someone already brought up this complaint but it seems little attention is being paid to it.
    There will be a loss of interest when we can’t seem to get a vivid picture of the story.
    I hope something will be done about it.


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