She tapped her long finger nails impatiently as she waited for the Pizza delivery guy to press the door bell. Junior had slept over at the Bankole’s at Rancliffe Road, to study with Femi their son. She had let him go despite the violence and knife wielding hoodlums prancing around the streets of East London.
There was no way, she could have him in the house with the beast rattling his chains down in the basement. Even with the gag on, he still managed to cause a raucous. Patience, that was all she needed. They were all the same, entitled chauvinist beasts but she will not be provoked, nothing will be achieved if she lost her cool.
The door bell jolted her from her reverie and she opened the door to collect the pack of pizza.
“Finally” she mouthed.
“What was that?”
She glared at the Pizza boy
“Wasn’t talking to you mate”
“Not that, there’s a sound…”
“Mind your own business”
She banged the door shut in his face, anger stirring her inside. Oh she will so unleash it, every shade of it.
She took the wooden steps to the basement carrying the Pizza like an offering.
Without uttering a word, she removed the gag for the beast to feed.
But he would rather talk? She forced herself to listen to him with an expressionless face.
” Lady you got to remove these chains Mehn! We were having fun last night when you attacked me from behind with a hammer, I’ve lost a lot of blood. Christ! I shouldn’t have left the club with you, you are crazy.”
Just then she smiled for the first time after the last hunt, she liked them opinionated.
She dropped the Pizza on the floor and in a flash picked the butcher’s cleaver and buried it in his skull.
Then she switched on the light, breathing hard; to reveal a chopping board, a set of knives and a deep freezer in the corner.
As I stepped out of the plane at the Nnamdi Azikiwe International airport in Abuja, I turned to see that a hunky Mulatto guy behind me had his eyes glued to my bum in a chiffon mini skirt, I knowingly twerked it and he gasped. I glared at him and pulled my sun shades on. As my feet touched the tarmac, I felt a strange mixture of trepidation, anxiety and excitement. Tomorrow I would be meeting my birth mother again after 25 years. I walked towards the arrival lounge, I let the mild heat brush my face, yes this was my home.
My name is Cassandra Bisong and I am 32 years, this is my second time of coming to Nigeria. First time was when I was five years old and my parents were still happily married. My parents are both from Obubra in Cross River state. I am fair, petite but well proportioned in the way Calabar women are known to be. I chuckled to myself as I remembered how my Jamaican professor had described me when he was hitting on me back then in school. “Tiny waist fanning out in reckless abandon to juicy hips”.
I was born, and grew up in the quaint town of South Orange in New Jersey, 14 miles from Manhattan. After my high school, I went on to Seton Hall University where I studied International relations and majored in diplomacy. After graduation I worked in the Embassy of the federal republic of Nigeria in Washington DC for 6 years.
Well! my dream had been to become an Ambassador but I ended up there as a Public relations officer, after shuffling papers and dealing with wide eyed, desperate, somewhat cunning Nigerians or Naija, as they called themselves. I can say I’m very fascinated by their confidence and notorious reputation. Enough to want to come to this very controversial but intriguing country to experience it firsthand. There is more to it anyway though, my father told me that my mother abandoned me and fled to Nigeria 25 years ago, this is puzzling because the Mum I remember is gentle, beautiful and loved me with her life.
Keep a date with us for the next episode on Wednesday 3-06-2020, same time for another suspense full Episode. Please send in your comments at the comment section, it’s important to us.
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