A story written by Alexandra…
Uyo, Akwa-Ibom..
08:00 am
Chief Bassey Itah was a man with heavy matters on his mind.
He drank coffee thoughtfully, sitting on the balcony that jutted out from his bedroom and overlooked the grounds of his palatial mansion in the exclusive Ewet Housing Estate. His house was an absolute marvel of architecture, lofty pillars holding it strong and firm as it towered above an electrified fence, the edifice was always guaranteed to catch every passing eye and elicit envy and admiration. There was top notch electronic security to protect the environs, as well as guards, mobile policemen and trained dogs, and yet Chief Bassey Itah felt far from safe. He could not escape his thoughts.
He sipped from the steaming mug in his left hand again and sloshed the hot coffee around in his mouth, relishing the pain as the hot beverage seared his tongue. There was a photograph clutched in his right hand, but he did not look at it. The face of the young woman in the photograph had been seared onto his mind with the branding iron of guilt. She was pretty and creamy-skinned, just as he remembered her mother, but everything else- her eyes, her high forehead, her Romanesque nose, her Cupid ’s bow lips- were exactly like his. The truth had screamed up at him from the first moment he saw the face. He knew exactly who she was.
He pushed the now-empty mug away and fought with the temptation to pour himself a fresh mugful. He knew he was deliberately prolonging his morning coffee break, postponing the moment when he had to go back inside his house and face his wife of twenty years. It was time to tell her the truth before she found out on her own; she would never forgive him if that happened.
The Chief sighed and lumbered to his feet reluctantly. He could not avoid the moment forever. It was time to tell his wife about his past indiscretion and the living, breathing result of it, with evidence he still had clutched in his hand.
When the chief took one step and then another, the poison that had been used to generously lace his coffee finally reached his heart. He was only aware of a sudden sharp pain in his chest and he clawed frantically at his shoulder as his body went into spasms before he tumbled to the floor.
When a servant rushed onto the balcony, drawn by the sound of the falling tray and breaking coffee mug, he found the chief prone on the floor, his eyes rolled up, his fingers still curled around the picture of the young woman who looked so much like him.
Soon, shouts and crying filled the Itah mansion. Death had visited them on a warm morning.
Chief Bassey Itah was dead.
Ikeja, Lagos.
8: 15 a.m.
“Sister Kate! I want to use my money to buy biscuit!”
“Sister, me I want yoghurt o! Mimi, biscuit has too much sugar, it’s bad for us!”
“It’s a lie! I don’t buy the sweet ones. Sister Kate, don’t mind Dennis o.”
Kate Udoh smiled fondly, watching her siblings fight over what they got to spend their lunch money on. Dennis and Mimi, aged 8 and 6 respectively, were two bundles of energy, always debating one thing or the other and always guaranteed to cheer their big sister up.
And heaven knows I need all the cheering up I can get right now , Kate thought gloomily. She kept her thoughts off her face, only showering her siblings with a sweet smile as she pressed some money into their small palms.
“You know what? Today is a special day, so I’ll give you both enough for both Yoghurt and biscuits.”
Mimi erupted into joyful shrieks but Dennis seemed a bit suspicious.
“A special day? Why is today special, sister Kate?” his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I hope you don’t want us to help you pick beans or water leaf again o.”
Kate laughed. “Silly boy, if I needed you to do that, I won’t pay. Won’t you eat the soup as well?”
Dennis looked unconvinced, but he decided to accept the unexpected windfall. “Okay oo. Thank you, Sister Kate.”
Kate hugged them both and shooed them out of the small two-bedroom flat. She walked them to the gate of the compound and watched them, neat and smart in their blue and white uniforms, until they reached the gates of their school which was just a blessedly short trek away. It was her usual morning routine. If she was not available, she made sure a neighbour did the same thing every morning; her second greatest fear was her siblings getting lost.
The first fear was waiting for her when she returned to the house. Her sick mother lay in bed, deep in a tired sleep, exhausted after another night of writhing in pain and discomfort. Kate sat beside the bed and stared sorrowfully at the swelling on her mother’s throat. She knew the local herbs and scarce drugs they could afford were only bringing her mother little pain relief. What the woman need was actual surgery to remove the expanding growth that was slowly rendering her bedridden, but they simply did not have the money for it. It was already a challenge to eat and pay Dennis’ and Mimi’s school fees.
Kate dabbed gently at the sweat on her mother’s forehead and returned to the living room, counting pennies in her head. It was already a month since she had finished her national youth service, and she was yet to find a job in Lagos. She had found employment as a research assistant in Abuja, where she had served, but her mother’s illness had brought her back home. She could not afford to live in a different state.
The little money that had been saved up since her stepfather’s death had dried up quickly and her siblings, mother and paternal stepmother were now dependent on Kate’s small side businesses of baking, selling clothes, shoes and writing for an online magazine. The money was not much, but they were surviving. However her mother’s condition had only worsened. As it was, Kate was afraid she would soon have no option but to use social media to solicit for funds. The thought horrified her as she hated to ask for help. She knew only a miracle could help them.
Unknown to her, the miracle had just occurred in Akwa-Ibom State.
Chief Bassey Itah, wealthy scion of Itah and Associates, had just died, and Kate Udoh was his firstborn child and rightful heir.
.
.
To be continued!!!
Hey! That is one hell of a great story! I live in Uyo and Lagos and I can relate with every tiny detail of your story and its setting. I am even having a few buildings in Ewet Housing in mind, that fits the description of Chief's residence. Hahahaha.
Tell me, who is Alexandra? The name on the cover photo, acclaimed as the author. And, if you don't mind, we could connect on Discord and discus some stuff, or maybe even hook up in Uyo.
Last thing, can I suggest you add a description and a display name to your account to give it a layer of authentication?
Keep writing!
My previous comment assumes you are writing an original post under the alias of Alexandra. But if you aren't, I'll love to inform you I found this exact article published on another date at https://greennews.ng/the-prodigal-daughter-episode-1/
I took the vow of celibacy in 1906. I had not shared my thoughts with my wife until then, but only consulted her at the time of making the vow. She had no objection.
- Mahatma Gandhi