Oru Mu: Sunset
This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are a figment of my imagination – most definitely inspired by God and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
At the top of her game, the God-fearing Bola Ifetomi is the person everyone wants to know - she's connected and successful, all this despite her unfavourable upbringing. Not only is her career thriving, she’s been married to the best of the best - Duro Ifetomi, for five years. Bola has the perfect life, she has it all! But Bola doesn't believe so - she thinks her life is incomplete and imperfect, how long must she wait? Just like her upbringing, everybody she knows has something she wants, it’s almost teasing. Oru Mu is the Yoruba phrase for “it’s hot” - will Bola be able to withstand the sudden heat when her perfect life begins to show imperfect lines? How far will Bola go to obtain what she wants most and at what cost?
“Her husband Elkanah would say to her, “Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?””
1 Samuel 1:8 NIV
FIVE
Peju is a special type of human being. God forgive me for what I’m about to say, but I wish she never existed. At the very least I wish she wasn’t Duro’s sister, or relation in any way. I wish the day she was conceived that Pa and Mummy Ifetomi rethought their passions and only had enough energy to hug each other to sleep.
Dare I say it, I hate Peju, and no it’s not because she has children - I hate her because her very core is wicked.
I’m trying to get myself ready for what might happen at the naming ceremony this afternoon, the dreaded occasion.
How can one celebrate their enemy? She makes my blood boil. The annoying thing is when I tell Duro to check his sister he says, “She doesn’t mean it” or “Ignore her, I married you. I love you” or “She’s just looking out for me.”
Why should Peju taunt and slight me to defend her brother, my husband? IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.
Things weren’t always like this between us. Peju and I were cool. She was so happy to gain a sister when Duro told her we were getting married. We’d gist, laugh and chill like actual sisters. Then Peju got married to Jamil Ibrahim and not before long she got pregnant with the twins. At this time Duro and I had already been married two, almost three years.
Peju is the wicked family member in every Nollywood movie you’ve seen - she is the template they follow.
Duro asks me why I’m quiet… hmmm if I answer with the truth, he’ll regret asking me so I reply “no reason. I’m just tired.”
“See this is why I didn’t want you out and about yester…” I give him a side-eye, and he reconsiders what he’s about to say, “good thing we didn’t go to church today, huh?”
We drive in silence till we get to Peju and Jamil’s place. Guests are arriving already; Peju has enough friends to be perfect hostesses but of course, being the “Iyawo ile” I have the responsibility of being the hostess of the hostesses.
On entering the house a bucket of anxiety lands perfectly on my turban style gélé and seeps through my head all the way to my gut and heat suddenly causes my pores to open as if dispelling bad vibes from my body. I can’t go in. A panic attack. I can’t remember the last time I had one.
“Duro, erm wait, I feel funny.” I pant as I search for my hand fan - an essential item at any Nigerian celebration.
“Sweetie, really?” Duro doesn’t believe me. “Relax ok, just help out for a bit, then stick with me the rest of the night. I promise Peju will be too occupied to notice you.”
So he knows? I can’t question him now, but I’m hoping he’ll defend me today if need be.
We finally enter and I’m relieved that Peju isn’t anywhere to be seen, and it hits me, NJ could be here. What’s all this wahala?
**
I’ll admit that Peju and Jamil make the cutest babies, however, I pray God has given these children Jamil’s heart and not Peju’s.
The baby, Peju and Jamil’s only son, has been named Jamil - Jamil Junior or JJ. I sit at a distance admiring his peace and his innocence, as Peju’s mother-in-law cradles him. I’m transfixed, I’m taken by him. Duro grabs my hand of power from my stomach and smiles at me lovingly. I wonder if anyone noticed?
Thankfully NJ hasn’t shown up and I doubt he will, now that Sharon is back. But I am waiting for Ope and Wura to arrive, although I’m not sure they will come either, considering my dramatic exit yesterday.
“Iyawo wa?” I’m being summoned to greet relatives and people I don’t know. I curtsy to greet these unfamiliar faces as Mummy Ifetomi does the introductions.
Celestine Ifetomi is a gentlewoman. Peju is nothing like her. Each time she sees me she hugs me with sincerity, she smiles at me, but her smile stops halfway and I see a look in her eyes. I can never tell if it’s a look of pity, sadness, tolerance or guilt - but guilt for what?
“This is Bola, my daughter, iyawo Duro.”
One mama replies, “E ya! My daughter, don’t worry, you’ll carry your own child soon. Be prayerful ok.” Imagine! Not even a hello.
Another, “And you’re beautiful oh!” as if beautiful people should have children and ‘ugly’ people shouldn’t? I don’t understand the compliment but I smile in response as the mama continues. “Just use this ceremony as your divine point of contact and God will do your own. If you’d like I can introduce you to my pastor? He is…”
“Ese.” Mummy Ifetomi smiles thanking her guests and carefully pulls me away. “My dear please bring water, malt and small chops for our guests.”
I curtsy again to the council of unwise women and make my way to the kitchen then I stop in my tracks. I hear my name coming from the guest room near the kitchen. The door is ajar so I stand at an angle and I listen to what is being said. Even when I’m not there to defend myself, Peju still taunts me.
“Bola? Who is Bola?” Peju snickers, “You mean that empty barrel?”
SIX
Bola was shaking inside as she barged into the guest room.
The guest room was decorated like a nursery or playroom, telling from the colours and cartoon-like animals painted on the walls. Bola wouldn’t have remembered what the room looked like before because she avoided visiting her sister-in-law at all costs.
Peju sat on a woven throne chair while her friends sat around her, their attention fixed on her as she ‘gisted’ them about her feelings towards Bola.
“What did you say?” Bola had had enough; she didn’t care if she was at a naming ceremony or not, Peju clearly didn’t care either.
Peju laughed unphased by Bola’s arrival and that bothered Bola all the more - “How can she think this is ok?” Bola thought.
“I asked you a question! What did you just say?” Anger as hot as the sun rose in Bola as she stepped further into the room.
“Bola, Bola, Bola.” Peju laughed from the pit of her stomach, which still showed signs of her recent pregnancy. “Bola, please oh! Please pick a struggle, is it deafness or is it barrenness that you want because I don’t know again?”
“Aye! Peju - she’s your brother’s wife oh.” Zarah, one of Peju’s friends, interjected.
“So, you all didn’t know I was her brother’s wife a few moments ago?”
“I beg oh! Don’t talk to my guests like that. What is it even? Abi, I said something you’ve never heard before? Did I lie when I said you’re an empty barrel…”
“Peju you are mad!! How dare you!”
Peju continued, “Or would you prefer I call you hollow or maybe you like the word void.” Peju laughed again looking to each of her friends as if addressing a jury at a court hearing. “After all, I can’t call you a mother, can I?”
“It’s you who is empty and void! Peju, you’re wicked. Even at your child’s naming ceremony you still have time to look for my trouble.”
“Ay! Will, you shut up?!” Peju rose from her throne chair and took a step closer to Bola. “Remember you’re in my home! And by the way who is looking for you for anything? Even children avoid you! You’re unwanted, unnecessary and useless! Just leave my brother alone OHHH! Let him live in peace! I have plenty of friends who’d give Duro what he needs.” Peju stretched her hands to indicate that any of her friends in the room could be a suitable replacement, she even had the audacity to wink at a frail-looking friend of hers who stupidly smiled back. That’s when Bola completely lost it!
Peju had been winking and smirking at this friend when Bola’s hand of power rose above her head and travelled with precision to land on Peju’s face. Bola would have caught her target had Ope and Wura not magically shown up yelling her name, distracting her from the beating she was ready to give Peju. By the time Bola realised what was going to happen Ope held her back while others stopped Peju from retaliating. Wura had gone to call Duro and Jamil, who both stepped into the room creating more distance between the two sisters. There was commotion, women shouting, men shouting, however, Peju and Bola’s voices remained the loudest.
“JAMIL! SHE WAS ABOUT TO SLAP ME! JAAAMMMIIIILLLL! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!! GOD PUNISH YOU BOLA!!!” Peju screamed the promise, as Jamil tried to calm her down.
“GOD ALREADY PUNISHED ME BY GIVING ME A WICKED SISTER-IN-LAW LIKE YOU!” Bola responded as Duro begged her to stop shouting. “WHAT IS IT? WHAT IS IT?! SO BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE CHILDREN I’M AN OUTCAST?”
“BOLA! Stop, let’s go!” Duro demanded.
“YES! MORE THAN AN OUTCAST! YOU ARE A BLOODY WITCH!”
“AH! PEJU!” Both Jamil and Duro exclaimed.
“ME, PEJU? NO PROBLEM! LET ME JUST TELL YOU - YOU WILL GET WHAT’S COMING TO YOU! I SWEAR! AS LONG AS MY NAME REMAINS BOLA IFETOMI…”
“BOLA! It’s ok now!” Wura whispered hoping it’ll defuse the situation. “She’s not worth it.”
“HOPEFULLY YOU WON’T REMAIN AN IFETOMI AFTER TODAY!!” Peju teased.
“HMMMMM… YOUR OWN IS COMING!” Bola licked her index finger and pointed heavenward, a Nigerian gesture that equates to “I swear to heaven”.
“WHAT CAN YOU DO?! JUST LEAVE OUR FAMILY WE DON’T WANT YOU AGAIN! AJE!! AJE WHO CHOPS CHILDREN!!”
“PEJU!! THAT’S ENOUGH!!” Jamil was irritated.
“Bola let’s go!” Duro didn’t know how strong Bola was till that moment, even with Ope and Wura holding her back she wouldn’t budge.
“PEJU! MARK MY WORDS! THE TROUBLE YOU WANT YOU’LL SURELY FIND IT!!”
Peju wanted to respond and that’s when Celestine entered the room like a judge and the room grew silent.
“OYA! If you’re not a child I birthed or a spouse to a child of mine, leave this room now!” Everyone left the room except the culprits who fit the description.
“Se were se yin ni? Have you all gone mad? You have guests here to celebrate with you, Peju, and this what you’re up to? We could hear you in the living room.”
“But mummy now, why must you call my name first, is it not Bola you…”
“If you don’t shut that dirty mouth of yours I’ll shut it for you. You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing and what you’ve been saying about Bola?” Bola’s eyes lit up at the defence of her mother-in-law.
Bola’s adrenaline was still high but the reality of what just happened was sobering her. She had never been in a physical fight before, and the thought of this almost becoming one made her very uncomfortable - this wasn’t her, something was very wrong.
“Mum… mummy, I want to apolo…”
“You! Bola! I’m disappointed in you, sincerely I am.” Bola’s heart broke, the only mother she had come to know was disappointed with her. “A naming ceremony?! Instead of you praying and celebrating so that you’ll experience your own, you want to turn a playroom into a fight club?!”
Bola didn’t say another word. Celestine’s disappointment cut her deep, an even deeper wound was caused by Duro not saying a word either.
“I’m going to ask everyone to leave,” Jamil informed the family; he was so angry.
“Yes, celebration is over.” Celestine agreed, “Duro you take Bola home. Peju you go upstairs and tell Alexia to come down and put the girls to bed. Never in my life have I seen such. We will have a proper family meeting tomorrow.” Celestine left the room with sorrow in her eyes as her children, biological and by marriage, all stayed silent.
“You see what you’ve caused.”
“Peju, don’t you dare say another word. Oya! Upstairs.” Jamil ordered. “I’m sorry Duro, I’m sorry Bola.”
“Me too bro. Me too.” Duro was tired. He waited for Jamil and Peju to leave the room before saying anything again. “Bola let’s go.”
“Duro, really? You didn’t even defend me!”
Duro snapped, “Bola! Are you kidding?!” He took a deep breath to calm down and sternly whispered, “Meet me in the car.”
**
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM MUMMY IFETOMI:My dear children, having assessed today’s incident it’ll be wise that we meet on Tuesday rather than tomorrow. We all need a day to cool off. Tuesday, 7pm at my place.
Bola sighed at the message but she was afraid to sigh too loud. The silence in the car was killing her. She wanted Duro to just say something but he stayed quiet the whole way home.
“Du…”
“Bola please I beg you! Do not call my name. I do not want to talk right now. Just stay quiet.”
Duro’s sternness and disgust made Bola sit up for fear that the very sound of her breathing would irritate him. He wasn’t just upset, he was extremely angry.
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM OPE:Hey B. Are you ok? Let me know when you’re home, I feel strongly that God wants us to pray together tonight. I know you have a lot on your mind, but please tell me when you’re home (I’ll probably call you anyway).
Bola rolled her eyes at the message, “Pray for what?” she thought. Between Sharon being back, Prophet Godwin and his darkness that she didn’t want to admit and Peju’s antics, Bola was not in the mood to speak to the very God who closed her womb. Her childlessness was the reason she was so disrespected so why bother with the person who enabled the disrespect, “No! No prayer. No nothing tonight, I’m done!”
SEVEN
The evening was eerie, surprisingly cool considering that it had not rained. Or was it Duro’s coldness? Bola couldn’t tell. Duro’s silence was too much for her. “Why didn’t he speak up for me? He knows what Peju is capable of.” Bola sat on their bed as she watched him restlessly pace the room, opening drawers and the closet then exiting and re-entering their bathroom - Duro was agitated.
“Duro?”
“What?” He kept moving.
“I’m sorry about this evening, I don’t know how I allowed her to get to me. But…”
Duro stopped and looked at Bola with confusion, “BUT? BUT? But what exactly? You can’t apologise and add BUT to it! You’re either remorseful or you’re not!”
“Duro! BUT it’s PEJU! Each time I’ve told you about how she disrespects and taunts me you give lousy excuses on her behalf. Why? Duro, I am your wife, stick up for me!”
“You’re my wife, but did you act like my wife today? No wife of mine would want to fight my family member…”
“But it’s ok for your family member to bully your wife?” Bola was getting hot again. She had to calm down now that she knew if pushed far enough her hands had minds of their own.
WHATSAPP MESSAGE FROM OPE:B are you home? I’m gonna call you. We NEED to pray.
“Nobody is bullying you Bola. Peju is a child at heart, misguided at times, yes, but deep down she doesn’t hate you - at least I don’t think she does.” Duro had to question himself. He wasn’t too sure how true his statement about Peju was.
“I can’t deal! The one person that should have my back is defending my adversary. It’s no surprise we don’t have children yet. How can we when you can’t determine the difference between a good and bad person - regardless of if they’re family?”
“What? What has my view of Peju got to do with us having children?” Duro clearly hadn’t thought his question through.
Irritated Bola responded, “EVERYTHING DURO! Your sister HATES me because I’ve not had children for you. Duro, why are you talking like you don’t know this? Stop it please!”
“How many times will I have you tell you; we will have our children at the right time. Having or not having children has nothing to do with Peju. And what should happen if we never have children? Will you blame everyone we know?” Duro sat on the bed looking at Bola and continued, “Bola, does it mean that without children our marriage is pointless? Am I not enough for you?”
Bola’s voice broke, she wanted to say something but no words left her lips. Then her phone rang, it was Ope. Bola wasn’t sure if she should pick up or not as Duro’s question hovered in the air around them.
“Pick up, she’s just checking up on you.”
“Hey, Ope. Ermm, it’s not a good time right…” Bola hadn’t realised that Ope had already started praying so she couldn’t end the call.
“LORD, the Giver of good things.
The one who permits things we do not understand, yet ensures we experience Your love and Your glory in such situations -
LORD we come before You asking for Your help, Your understanding and Your wisdom.
As the sunsets on this day, we ask for your forgiveness.
We trust that we’ll live to see the sunrise tomorrow, to do better with the time you’ve given us.
Dear Heavenly Father, Our Father;
Bola’s Heavenly Father, please give Bola a hug, encourage her, answer her and restore her.
She needs you more than she’ll admit.
Be her All.
Complete her.
In Your Child, Jesus’ Name, we have prayed, Amen.”
Bola’s ‘Amen’ was soft, but from the heart, she needed God. Ope’s prayer was exactly what she needed to hear.
“Love you B. Rest well and we’ll talk properly tomorrow by God’s grace.”
Bola looked at Duro and burst into uncontrollable tears. She longed for the day she would stop crying such sad tears, she wanted to cry tears of joy. She was tired of being sad and incomplete - Ope’s words rang true “complete her.” Duro leaned towards his wife and drew her in, allowing her to cry without interruption. Bola was thankful for his silence, this time.
EIGHT
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE IS DEAD?!”
That’s how I woke up this morning. With sleep in my eyes, and slightly disoriented I turned in our bed to find where the noise was coming from.
“PEJU! Slow down, what do you mean JJ is dead?”
I jumped up from the bed! I was no longer tired or disoriented. What was I hearing?
I see Duro with his phone to his ear as he struggles to put on his jeans and shoes at the same time. He is my confusion personified.
“Duro, what’s going on?” I mouth to him.
“Jamil! Jamil! What happened?... yes… ok… which hospital?... cool I’m on my way. You’ve called mum?... no problem. See you in a bit.”
“Duro! What happened to JJ?” I’m worried and that same uneasy feeling from the other day shows up.
“JJ has been rushed to hospital, Peju said he wasn’t breathing when she…” Duro is panting with panic.
“Not breathing? I don’t understand. How is that possible?”
“Listen Bola, I don’t know. When I get there I’ll find out and let you know. Keep your phone close.”
“O… ok. Should I come with…”
“NO! Not after yest…”
“Yeah, you’re right.” His rightness makes me feel guilty. “Let me know when you get there, I’ll be praying.”
It’s barely dawn when Duro leaves for the hospital.
I imitate Duro by pacing the room, thinking and praying that there’s nothing wrong with JJ. The same innocent JJ we just officially named yesterday? NO! That baby can’t be dead.
**
Jamil Ayomikun Oluwaferanmi Benjamin Ibrahim Junior is dead. JJ is dead.
Duro called me from the hospital to confirm it. I run to the bathroom and throw up. The thought of a child dying brings back too many memories I had suppressed.
The doctors said that JJ died from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome - SIDS. Cot death. I read enough about it a long time ago. JJ’s death is just like the others.
I’ve messaged the girls asking for prayers and I’ve messaged Princess to let her know I won’t be coming to work today.
As I wait for Duro to return, I notice that my body shakes from shock the more I repeat the truth. JJ is dead. Just like the others, I recite their names, I can never forget their names, no matter how hard I try. I throw up again.
The tiled bathroom floor cools me down as I ponder what life actually is. I want children, people around me are having children, and they’re losing children. What’s worse - never experiencing the pain of childbirth or experiencing the pain of losing a child? Both are losses. I wail at the unfair reality - why God?
My heart breaks for Peju and Jamil, their only son; regardless of how I feel about Peju, I would never wish…
OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH! WHAT HAVE I DONE?
**
Curled up with her knees touching her chin as her arms wrap around her legs, Bola rocked back and forth going over Saturday’s events. She agreed within herself that she should have never followed Princess to see Prophet Godwin.
The bathroom filled with the toxicity of the prayer. Her words seemed to appear on the walls in her handwriting, she could hear and see herself standing opposite Prophet Godwin in her pink silk shirt aggressively shouting:
“O LORD!”
“EVERY GENERATIONAL CURSE FROM MY MOTHER OR FATHER’S SIDE DESIGNED TO KEEP ME BARREN! SHOULD DIE BY FIRE!”
When asked to repeat the prayer, Bola remembered she had not cared if the prayer found its victim on any side of her family or that of Duro’s. She was a broken woman at war, a desperate woman and if it meant holding her child, then anybody responsible for the generational curse attacking her hollow womb would surely die by fire.
“But JJ was just a baby, there’s no way… I shouldn’t have gone. OH GOD…” Bola spoke brokenly.
Bola threw up again even though she had nothing left in her. She hoped The Holy Spirit would translate her heaving and groaning into prayers for forgiveness. She killed a child, again.
The ringing of her phone startled her, she gently removed herself from the rim of the toilet basin to check her phone, it was Princess calling and by accident, Bola accepted the call.
“Omobolanle Ifetomi! Why aren’t you coming in today? Don’t tell me, you and Duro were putting your faith into much needed action last night? Awww you’re worn out abi?! Hmmm pele! I can send my carpenter to fix your bed?” Princess laughed at her own jokes unaware of the silence on the other side of the line. “Ah, Bola! I was joking oh, it’s just that you know us single people wish for such marital adventures. Anyway sha, will you be in the office tomorrow?”
The silence remained.
“Bola, are you there?”
“Pej… Peju’s baby is dead and I think it’s my fault…”
“What?!” Princess exclaimed.
Bola ‘confessed’ to Princess, presenting the evidence she had against herself, her investigation was thorough.
“OK, I’ve heard you, but I don’t understand why you’re upset?”
“Pardon?”
“Think about it both logically and spiritually, that child was clearly sent to ensure your womb remained closed for business.”
“What?”
Princess continued ignoring Bola’s interruption, “Now that the child has gone back to whoever sent him, I suspect the marine world - he has sha gone back and the shackles on your womb are now loose. That’s how the war prayers of Prophet Godwin work my dear! Precise, quick and with impact.”
“Princess you’re not actually helping, I need to figure out what to do now.” Bola was in a pensive state weighing up the odds if she confessed to Duro and the family.
“What to do next? I’ll tell you what to do next!” Bola pressed her phone closer to her ear eager to hear Princess’ plan. “If I were you and Duro were my husband, I’d jump on him right this moment to allow the free flow of babies enter me!” She laughed like a mad woman convinced that her advice was the best.
“I… I should have sex with my hu…”
“YES OH! YOU SHOULD! And when you’re done, you better record your testimony video and send it to Prophet Godwin with a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Bola, please wise up. The gift is money na. You must thank the man of God.”
At that moment Bola remembered Wura’s words from that Saturday “Princess again? I don’t like that girl o.” This time Bola didn’t ignore the warning. It was as if smoke had been cleared from her eyes, Princess was indeed an enemy of progress. How could a so-called friend advise her this way? Even if Bola did admit her wrongdoing, what Princess was advising wasn’t right and The Holy Spirit made sure Bola knew.
“Princess, thank you. I have to go, but before I do, please don’t call me again. Delete my number. From today we are no longer friends.” Bola didn’t let Princess respond before she hung up the phone and swiftly blocked her.
Bola acknowledged that she needed to do something and quickly - the only thing she could do was pray.
“God help me. What should I do?”
The words of Saturday’s crazy prayer began to vanish off the bathroom walls, and there she saw God’s instruction.
Bola read the words over and over again: “Go back. Go to the house.”
“God, I can’t go back there. I’m never going back there.”
“But you asked Me for help. I’ll give you further instructions when you get there. Go back to the house.”
Fear gripped Bola; she couldn’t go back. She had vowed never to go back to that house again. What she didn’t realise was that she had already gotten in the car and started the journey to the house. To the same house where her journey began, the house where she first experienced death as a result of her being alive. The brown two-storey house on the corner, the house that belonged to Kolade Ekundayo, popularly known as “Baba Bola”.
God wanted Bola to go home.
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GLOSSARY
Iyawo ile - Wife of the house
Gélé - Head tie worn by ladies at events/ceremonies/parties (for more about Gélé catch up on my story: Sometimes, I Tie Gélé
Wahala - Trouble/Stress
Iyawo wa - Our wife
Iyawo Duro - Duro’s wife
E ya - Sorry (an expression for pity)
Mama - Mother/older woman
Ese - Thank you
Gisted - Gossip/Talking/Informing
Abi - Right
Aje - Witch
Aje who chops children - Witch who eats children
Oya - Let’s go/Right now
Se were se yin ni? - Is madness doing you all/Are you all going mad?
Pele - Sorry
Sha - Right/Anyway
Na - Now/Right
Baba Bola - Bola’s Father