I was a curious child. While I did not
enjoy playing in the sand or fighting
with the neighborhood kids, I loved to
read. When I had read all the
available story books and newspapers,
I wrote my own stories to entertain
myself.
I was never a teacher’s pet, I was that
kid that sits in the middle row and
never asked or answered a question in
class. I would have been invisible if I
was not fat.
I always did well in school , I was a
brilliant girl and as an incentive, my
parents always “blessed” the kids with
good results. Treats like a day
swimming, a gold wrist watch, a new
brick game, a life size doll, a new
dress, birthday parties in school etc
were not uncommon but as I got older,
the anticipation for financial reward
was more than enough to make me
buckle down in school.
This is why I was disheartened when I
graduated from Law school and all I
got was a “Well done” from my father.
After I had shunned the parties,
ignored the hedonistic pleasures that
lovingly called on me for the 9 months
I spent in Bwari and all I got was
“Well done”.
I could not even hide my displeasure. I
told everyone I came in contact with.
All my uncles and aunts heard that
Loelah had done well in Law school
and all she got was well done. I sulked
and ignored everyone and my dearest
Uncle Moses took pity on me.
My Uncle had a meeting in Dubai and
decided to make it a shopping trip for
his wife; out of love and a large doze
of pity, he got me a ticket and VIOLA…
I had a call to bar present.
I packed a lot of novels to read
because idleness has never been my
friend. My Uncle had a friend/
business partner with him. His name
was Tobi and he was an unapologetic
and confirmed bachelor, I had heard
tales of his escapades . Tobi was at
least, 15 years my senior and I called
him “Sir” when I greeted him; he paid
no attention to me and I really did not
care because I hate and still hate being
in the spot light.
After 4 days, my uncle left Dubai, he
had urgent business to do in Nigeria
but Tobi did not join him, he decided
that he needed the vacation and chose
to lounge in Dubai for 4 more days. I
spent my days shopping, sight seeing
and reading and I could not wait to get
back home.
The day before we were to leave
Dubai, I decided to lie on a mini
hammock under the palm trees that
shaded us from the punishing desert
sun and watch people [a favourite
hobby of mine]. I had my book,
sunglasses for the blinding rays. I was
dozing off when I felt fingers brush
my stomach.
I jumped off the hammock, falling
gracelessly before black sandaled feet;
I felt strong hands circle my fleshy
upper arms and I raised my head to
see who had startled me… It was Tobi.
He picked my book from the sand ,
apologized and asked me to join him
for a drink. I followed [I had still not
uttered a word].
We spoke for a short while and he told
me that he had found a bottle of
Drambuie and would love to share
same with me….in his room.
I smiled at him and for the first time, I
took a good look at him. He was tall
and skinny. his arms had corded
muscles that screamed “I use the
gym!”, he was very dark skinned and
surprisingly handsome for such a
blackie-chan . I was about to graciously
decline when he leaned so close to me
I could feel his breath on my ear and
he whispered
“Have you found your song? “
I was confused but the tone of his
voice, his proximity to me and the
tingle that went down my spine
robbed me of words. All I could do was
shake my head.
“Would you want to hear your song?”
he asked.
I nodded.
He offered his hand and like a puppet,
I obediently followed him.
We did not open the bottle of whiskey.
I cannot remember all that happened
that day but I know that all the
reservations I had about my body; all
the folds I had been taught to hate, the
blemishes that defied cleansing soaps,
the uncoordinated choreography of my
body parts meant absolutely nothing
that day.
He made me sing in a voice I never
knew I had, he showed me how to
make him sing and like the thirsty soul
that I am, I was determined to and
learnt to draw out his Hallelujah.
Between us, we had formed a choir;
nay, an orchestra even, because some
of the sounds we made sounded like it
was stroked out of a fine tuned string
instrument.
I had over ten orgasms that day, his
stamina was equestrian and technique
was simply divine. By the following
day, my lips felt bruised, my vagina
was numb and my jaw and nipples
were sore; I had hickies all over my
body and muscles I never knew I had,
tugged when I moved.
As I made my way out of his room, he
pulled me back into the bed and
brought out two shot glasses from the
mini fridge beside the bed.
” I invited you here for drinks ” he said
as he poured the golden liquid into our
glasses.
We made silent toasts and hurriedly
swallowed the burning liquid in giddy
anticipation of what we knew would
follow.
I did not care that I was sore,
apparently my body did not too
because as I surrendered to the
tsunami of ecstasy that thundered in
and out of me, my body arched like a
well strung bow but my untrained
voice could not carry the pitch of the
symphony our bodies made together;
the only sounds I could make sounded
like the guttural cries of a banshee but
my body sang for me, and beautifully
too.
As I made my way out of his room, I
looked at the mess we had made: all
the bedding was on the floor, a section
of the curtain had dislodged itself and
strolled to the toilet door but most
significant was our bodies. He had
scratch marks all over his back, my
teeth had added a different pattern to
the tattoo on his chest and his nipples
stood out like tiny needles in his chest.
I thanked God for the miracle of sex
and the gift that is an orgasm.
I could not love my Uncle Moses
anymore than I did [and still do] but
my most profound gratitude was
reserved for Tobi, my teacher, my
maestro, for the bestest best gift in the
whole Universe, my own song.
