AdEtOlA’sDiaRy (Episode 2) – Meet the Oshinugas

Wow! It’s been a wonderful response from my readers. Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to entertain yourselves on this blog. Thank God it’s tuesday; now, all you need do is sit (trust me you want to do that), relax and grab a pack of popcorn; while you enjoy episode two of “AdEtOlA’sDiaRy”. Much love always…

Dad used to work with Warset Nigeria Limited until he decided it was time he started his own company. It was the most respectable engineering firm in Lagos, Nigeria at the time (or so I heard). He made so much money; he could buy ten lands in a day (if the lands cost at least seven million naira). He would invite every tom, dick and harry into the house and nobody ever left empty handed. Dad was the most extravagant man on planet earth, as I grew to know, in fact every street around the area wanted to make him chairman of their various associations; which definitely meant they would get at least, 2cows, 10bags of foodstuff (rice, beans, yam flour etc.) with 50 tubers of yam every month for their Saturday meetings. He had all the chieftaincy titles one could ever imagine; and even though he didn’t go out in most of his cars, had a fleet of them in our very huge compound.

Mum wasn’t any different from dad except that she came from abject poverty to be whom she was. She also had titles like “Iya Alaje” (Most marketable woman), “Iya Oloja” (Head of market women) amongst others and was the leader of several other associations. She had many big shops in Lagos island yet, hardly ever went there. She owned several boutiques on the mainland as well but the only thing she enjoyed was to sit at home and make her accounts. Mum was a civil servant when she met dad, and even though I fail to believe it wasn’t the money that attracted her, they insist it was love at first sight. She was literarily “made” and had everything a complete woman wanted. Whenever any case of noise outside the gate was reported (be it the mallams begging for money, or some area boy that was trying to force his way through security), all mum had to do to avoid it was drop some money and everything was settled; It was all about the money.

I was one of the most loved kids at Pampers private school, Surulere; and that I believe, can’t be farfetched. Looking back at things though, I begin to wonder why they actually really loved me because aside from the money dad gave the school daily, weekly or monthly, I was also a very good student and never shared my first position with anyone. Up until primary five, I had many friends wherever I went and never for once got flogged by a teacher even for something I did wrong. As good as I was in all my subjects, I still received so much attention and every one of them wanted to be my lesson teacher; an opportunity to come to the house daily and receive more than their teaching allowance. I was literarily their world, because as much as mum and dad tried to make more children, I seemed to be the only one available and so even at Pampers private school, I was highly pampered.

Mrs Fadeke was the best of them all (I didn’t think the same back then though). She was my class teacher in primary five and also taught me PHE (Physical and Health Education). She never allowed dad’s money to get into her head, and whenever I did something wrong, she didn’t hesitate to scold me for it. I remember vividly being in primary 5A when I met my first crush.
Nosa, as he was fondly called was the cutest boy in class, his physique being everything to write home about. He had the height every primary five boy wanted, the swag and to top it all, the accent everyone craved for, including Mrs Fadeke. Everytime, I demanded to be left alone in class with him during break period and my classmates obeyed (thanks to the chocolates and money I shared with them in class daily). Everyone of us had a rich mum or dad, mine was just exceptional. On that fateful day, Nosa had just moved closer to me and started touching me like he always did, while we talked. However, things got out of hand and he asked that we left the class for privacy. We decided to meet in the female toilet and he started kissing me. We kissed (like I used to see them do in those movies mum and dad watched in the house – before they asked me to close my eyes for about a minute). It was a brief moment of frolicking and everything seemed interesting, until the distraction…the scream. I hadn’t even taken note of anyone opening the door to talk of standing before us, it was Mrs Fadeke! That day, I got flogged for the first time in my life, and my parents were called to school.
Mum said I embarrassed her but then, she made sure everything I initially owned was doubled and I was made to promise that such an occurence would never repeat itself. I was supposed to go to school sad and embarrassed the next day; but on the contrary, I went with pride showcasing all the new materials mum had gotten me; and all my friends that didn’t initially want to talk to me again started coming back around. I learnt a lesson that day never to disappoint my parents or embarrass them if I wanted toys from them but I also didn’t understand how if I did something I got flogged for in school, I didn’t get reprimanded at home (I didn’t care anyway). I was back to being a queen bee and that was all that mattered. However, Mrs Fadeke never stopped to scold me if I was wrong.

It was December 16th, 2000; on a Saturday morning. I still can’t explain how it happened, but I remember that day like my 10th birthday. It was the most unforgettable day in the lives of the Oshinugas. Mum rushed into my room crying; she hugged me tight while the huge dark-skinned man that followed her inside stood at the corner of my wardrobe, arms akimbo and waited for whatever it was he was actually doing in my room. I couldn’t fathom any of it. I knew almost all our security men in the house and they loved me; but the expression on the mans face didn’t prove a bit like he cared. I didn’t know what was happening, all I knew is mum didn’t stop crying and telling me I would be okay. She carried me out of the room and walked down the stairs until we got to dad. Dad wasn’t crying and that even baffled me the more. I wondered what it was that was making only mummy cry while dad kept a straight face. The men had increased by the time we got downstairs; they were more than a dozen in number and definitely outnumbered the security men that guarded our house. Mum kept crying and begging while dad kept dabbing his face with his handkerchief, talking to someone that looked like incredible hulk. I started to cry too…for no major reason of course, aside the fact that my mum was crying. I started to scream and throw tantrums and as much as I wanted to be given attention, no one was willing to look at me. Mum didn’t let go of me though, she never did and it was weird when I thought of what actually soiled my clothes – mums’ tears or mine. Finally, dad walked up to us, hugged mum, and said “we have to leave now darling, we have to leave”. It was like uncle’s car gear, mum’s tears increased with a resounding noise and so did mine (don’t forget I didn’t exactly know why I was crying). The men in black, looking like they didn’t have tongues and couldn’t speak just followed us behind until we were out and I saw them locking the gates, putting a tag outside which read “DO NOT TRESSPASS, GOVERNMENT PROPERTY!” and then my confusion got the best of me.

Guess what happens to a child that has always had everything at her disposal, only to be told “Sweetie, try to understand, daddy can’t afford to get these things no more”. Well, you probably have an idea of my present life…

(To be continued… on tuesday) Make it a date.

‘kisses always!