Pastor’s second wife episode 8
I didn’t sleep through out the night. How would I sleep when my mother is hanging between Gboko and Kabba. At about 8:12am my phone rang and I rushed to pick it. Hello, my name is inspector Tajudeen Adeyeye. I am calling from police divisional headquarters Gwagwalada, Abuja…. On hearing this I went blank and I couldn’t explain what happened thereafter.
When I regained consciousness at the hospital, I saw a lot of people gathered around me with long faces. Where is my mother? I asked angrily. A nurse came close and held me firmly, madam you must take it easy, she whispered. Take what easy? Where is my mother? I removed all the drips on me and went for Deji’s neck, Deji where is my mother? Everyone in the ward bursted into tears. My mother died in a ghastly accident that claimed four lives.
Another chapter of sorrow was opened for me. Everything I have been hiding must come to the open. My father is going to kill me for all I have done secretly and making my mother die for it. Who is going to break the news to my father? This time was really difficult for me. The naming was postponed due to my mother’s death. The family head in Deji’s clan called an emergency family meeting to address the issue. It was so complicated because my father is not aware I was in Kabba, neither is he aware of my secret affair with Deji. Worst of all, my mother did not tell my father the true reason for her journey.
In fact she lied she was going to see me in Lagos and not in Kabba. How will my father take these sad news at the same time?
I haven’t [email protected] my baby for three days because of my grieve. Deji’s mother seemed less concerned about the tragedy of my mother’s death and more concerned about her grandson. Her attitude began to make me hate my own son. She wanted me to give the boy full attention without mourning my mother. This was so irritating and annoying. Those who came around took more time to celebrate the baby than mourning my mother. They will spend so much time playing with the baby but greet me casually on my mother’s death. These people are wicked and heartless. I began to develop hatred for them.
After the family meeting, it was resolved that two elderly men will travel to Gboko to inform my father of all the tragedy. I insisted I will go with them but they refused. When they arrived Gboko, I was following up everything with calls. Series of meetings were held with my elders on what to do. On the third day, the two elders from Deji’s clan came back with loads of news. Come with me to part nine for the family resolutions.
At first, they didn’t want to tell me the resolutions of the elders of the two families. I noticed they were talking in their dialect secretly but I was hearing part of their discussions. My father sent me a heartbreaking text message. “Thank you for killing my wife”. When I read the text I wept bitterly. My father was right, I killed my mother with my foolishness. All this while, I couldn’t talk to my father because of the tragedy.
Eventually, I had to force Deji to tell me what the elders discussed.
1. They must bring my mother’s corpse home at their expense.
2. They will be responsible for her burial rites and expenses.
3. Deji must pay my full bride price and marry me.
4. Deji must come home to swear an oath never to leave or allow me suffer.
The first two conditions are not grievous but the last two are impossible. Deji is a pastor and he’s married. He can’t marry two wives neither will his faith ever allow him to go and swear an oath before an idol. I knew this was going to be a serious battle. All the four conditions must be met at the same time.
My mother was to spend one month in the morgue to enable Deji’s family prepare for a befitting burial for my mother. My fears grew everyday as the burial of my mother drew netheirr. Deji went back to Lagos, I guess to avoid suspension and to raise money for the burial and the marriage rites.
A week later, Deji was back to Kabba. We’ve really not be talking with Deji because I detest his presence. We only talk when there are pressing issues to discuss. My baby became sick for lack of attention and malnutrition. I hadn’t slept for three days because of accvmulated stress. My head ached like migraine, my body became fragile for not eating. I forced myself to take a short nap at about midnight when I had a knock on my door. Who is that? I asked. It’s me, Deji responded behind the door. There was no need trying to shut him out because the doors of the rooms in their compound are all bad. Anyone could open it from outside. He pushed the door open and found his way into my room.
“How are you Mercy?”, he greeted. I didn’t utter a word, nor behaved as if any one was around. He sat by the bed and played with my baby for about ten minutes and tapped me by my shoulder. The hands that once turned me on became like a thorn on my body. His s£xy voice became like the sound of a monster. He tried to make me talk but all to no avail. I hated him like I hate Lucifer. You can’t believe Deji was trying to make love to me a month after I put to bed not considering I was still mourning my mother. What a heartless man! It was an unpleasant drama that night with Deji.
I gave him a dirty slap that will affect his ancestors in their graves. The slap was so bad that he landed on the floor with his back. When he stood up he wore a face that connote vexation, his eyes were red and full of rage. I was not sorry or remorseful about it. I would have wanted it hotter if I had the opportunity. Thank God there was no dangerous object in the room, I would have hurt him. He stood up, came close and began to struggle to have his way into me. He tore my dress in the process but he couldn’t pull the jeans knicker I wore underneath. I gathered all my strength to fight him that night.
When he was tired and it was clear he couldn’t have his way, he gave up. Mercy, I am now your husband and I will be paying your bride price in a couple of days from now. Denying me s£x is uncalled for. Haven’t you read in 1 Corinthians 7:5 which says: “Defraud ye not one the other, except it be with consent for a time, that ye may give yourselves to fasting and prayer; and come together again, that Satan tempt you not for your incontinency”.
When he left my room I began to nurse the thought of exposing him. This is a man who is seen as a super pastor in the city. Our G.O believed so much in him without knowing who he was. Why it took so long for God to expose him, is what I don’t know. How can a man who calls himself a pastor be this heartless and cruel? Are those testimonies about how God used him to bless members of the church false? I will never forget Mrs Bode’s testimony that turned the church right up. Deji was said to have prayed for her son who had been insane for seven years and he was healed instantly. She was in church to testify and I was a witness to her testimony. What of the numerous healings, deliverances and other outstanding miracles wrought by Deji? I don’t understand this God anymore.
He stopped talking to me because of what happened that night. I didn’t mind him because seeing him irritated me a lot. I have enough money in my account, so I don’t need him. My mother’s burial was getting closer and I noticed all arrangements from Deji’s family, even though they didn’t involve me nor consult me for anything. I wasn’t bothered because it was their sole responsibility to bury my mother. What was giving me concern was the fact that my traditional wedding was coming up the same day with my mother’s burial. A secret and forceful marriage to a man I don’t love. A double faced man, cruel and wicked. A man who impregnated my best friend five times and sent her to exile is about to become my husband. What would I tell Stella if we eventually meet again? If I expose him, he is sure to loose his job as a pastor. The church will scatter and many souls will be lost to the kingdom of darkness.
We left Kabba on Thursday morning for Gboko. My mother’s wake keep was to hold on the eve of her burial and my traditional wedding. Through out the journey I didn’t talk to anybody because my heart was heavy. I wished this cup could pass over me. Why don’t we just have accident and let me die. How would I face my father and my siblings? Who will be on my side? As we got closer to Gboko, my thoughts choked me the more. I was restless and bitter but I must give this last respect to my mother who died for me. We arrived Gboko at about 7pm and all arrangements were set for the burial and traditional wedding.