ALERO JUDAS!

As a young girl in the university I enjoyed life to the hilt. I was even a member of a five girl social club on our campus aptly named “The Glamour Five.” The memberships of this club were not more than five at any given time. If a member or more passed out of the institution, we replaced such members with new applicants.

Apart from organizing social events like beauty pageants, fashion shows, film exhibition and musical concerts, we also served as consultants to those men who were in need of female partners during conferences, political meetings and dinner parties.

As a matter of policy, no member was allowed to have a lover within the precinct of the university. We always kept recalcitrant lecturers at bay with or powerful men outside the campus. Any randy lecture who dared to push things too far did it at his own peril. Our school was a state owned University, so it’s just a matter of pulling the right strings from the ministry and the lecturer would meet his water loo! They knew better and we were always left alone. We even assisted some friendly ones among them to pull strings and enhance their promotions and political appointments. That was how powerful we were.

Despite my various amorous escapades, I still maintained a regular lover outside the campus. Dewale fondly called “Adewalag” (because he schooled in Lagos) was a son of a popular female hotelier in town; he was married to a beautiful daughter of one of the high chiefs in town. This handsome and rich guy was the only man I always had unprotected sex with. I could not just resist him.

Dewale would not hear of condom and I needed his regular supply of money to maintain my status on the campus.

This my indiscretion is the cause of my present predicament. At the last count, I had about six abortions without much ado. When I missed my monthly period again after spending a weekend with Dewale in Abuja, I did not see it as a serious issue. Even after receiving the money for the abortion, I still waited another month before I decided to terminate it.

On the appointed date, the doctor examined me and instructed that I should go for a scan. This was strange, but I obliged. I brought the result back to him. After the initial Pleasantries, he went through it and shook his head. His mien changed and he said in a mellowed tone:

“Nkoyo, I’m afraid you have to go for an operation. This pregnancy is a breach. What it means in a layman’s language is that instead of the fertilization to take place in the uterus, it took place in one of the fallopian tubes..,” what he was saying was too technical for me to comprehend as at then. My major concern was to get rid of the foetus and get going with my Life. I went back to Dewale and he gave me the required funds for the operation. This was performed promptly and it was successful. After few weeks of recuperation, I started my normal way of life again __ “G5 no day carry last!”

After graduation, I entered the world with full throttle. I rocked life is the fullest, but my parents would not allow me to rest. They wanted me to get married at all cost. When my elder brother, Richard, joined in the pressure group, I knew I could not hold on for too long. The recurring topic was marriage, I had to succumb eventually.

There was this handsome guy I met during my first visit to Sweden. I had gone there at Richard’s invitation. One thing led to another, and Soni proposed marriage. I later on realized that it was Richard and his wife that did the match making.

We had to come back home to arrange the wedding ceremony. Unknown to me, Richard had informed our parents about the guy. In a short time, we became man and wife. He turned out to be loving and caring.

 After about three years of marriage and pregnancy did not come, I became jittery. Understandably, pressure had started coming from his family at home.                   

Though, he tried to conceal it, he too had started fidgeting.

I could read it on him. He always had this forlorn look. This was not there at the earlier period of our marriage.

I decided to go for medical checkup. The result? The medical doctor confirmed what I had known; that one of my fallopian tubes was ruptured. The one that pulled the carpet off my feet was that the second tube had been blocked!

I had to rush back to Nigeria to intimate my bosom friend, Alero. She was one of the Glamour five way back in our university days.

She reeled our names of marabouts, priests, Alfas, etc who could be of help. We quickly got the ball rolling; going from one place to another. Spending fortune as we kept on consulting them.

By then, I had got a thriving business in Sweden; therefore, I could afford shuttling between Nigeria and Sweden. At a point, I became ill and Alero had to come to Sweden to take care of me. She had lost her husband in a plane crash some years earlier and her two children were in boarding school. She couldn’t wait for too long though. She had to go back when the holiday time was approaching.

Not long after Alero’s departure, Soni said he had to visit his parents in Nigeria. This trip took his entire annual leave. I became suspicious of this impromptu journey. Was Soni going to bow to the pressure of his parents? Had they got another woman for him in Nigeria? I decided to hope for the best; My Soni would not do such a thing.

We kept on communicating on daily basis. I tried to detect through the tone of his responses if there could be any tell – tale signal of infidelity. Nothing gave him away. Even when he returned, I did not notice any sign.

Not for too long though. One chilling evening, I received an anonymous call from Nigeria if I knew that a lady was carrying my husband’s baby. After dropping the bomb shell, the caller switched off her phone and I couldn’t link up with her again. I allowed the information to sink. I did not confront him immediately. When I eventually plucked up – courage to ask him, he denied it vehemently.

“My Angel, I’m not entirely surprised at such rumour. Many guys and ladies over there were envious when I arrived in Nigeria. This could be their machination. Forget it Nkoyo”.

That was how he dismissed the issue. When I told Richard, he advised me to be calm. My next life of action was to call Alero in Nigeria to help me do espionage on the pregnant lady. Her phone was ringing but she did not pick it. What could have gone wrong? Has she lost her phone? After several days of trying her number, I gave up.

I became confused and restless. I decided to visit Nigeria myself. On such trips, Alero was always handy to welcome me at the airport, but on this fateful trip, Alero was not available and I felt it. When we alighted from the aircraft and concluded the necessary protocols and formalities, I picked a taxi and decided to go straight to Alero’s house at Ogba. At least if she had left the town, there would still be some neighbours who would know her whereabouts.

Alas! Alero was at home. Alero! I screamed. She did not sound too enthusiastic to see me. I tried to hug her but I realized she was spotting a protruding belly. Alero was pregnant! “Wonders shall never end” I thought.

“Alero, how are you? What happened to your phone? I made several attempts at getting in touch with you on phone without luck. You don’t look happy… Why?”

She tried to mumble some words and stopped. Could it be the pregnancy that was taking its toll on my friend? She tried to put up some false pleasantries, but I was not fooled. Something was wrong somewhere, but I could not put my hands on it. I did a fast thinking and told her that I had to rush to Abuja that day that I would see her in three days time. I picked my load again and dragged them out of her house on the street. I flagged down the next available taxi and drove straight to Airport hotel in the neighbourhood.

After settling down in my room, I decided to call some of my other friends in town. The first one I called, Kike, gave me the clue to my worries. In fact, she was the one behind the anonymous call I received in Sweden. She dropped the bomb shell. She revealed that it was guilty conscience that was troubling Alero. She disclosed that the pregnancy Alero was carrying belonged to my husband. She made several frantic efforts to terminate it, but Doctors advised her that it was too risky to attempt. That was why she left the pregnancy. I thanked Kike and hung the phone.

“Alero, pregnant for Soni! My mind flashed back to her last visit to us in Sweden. I recollected my suspicion on Soni is sudden vacation trip to Nigeria. So this was what it was all about? The battle line is drawn. I can never allow Alero to spoil my joy.