October 24, 2017 – Hearts: A Story Of Love, Life & Heartbreak Part 2 By Moses Emorinken
By Moses Emorinken
In pretense, he would gloat with his shoulders raised high in the presence of his goons. However, deep within him was the ensnared little man in manacles and chains of addictions; crying for help. The heaps of adulations from his friends were literally millstones and burdens weighing heavy on his soul. He felt lost, empty, finished and dry.
Fast forward into the seminar hall where she is conveniently seated with other participants and of course, the charmer – “Mr Femi”.
Femi, on the other hand just could not help himself because the innocent-looking, gregarious, and adorable Amarachi had caught his fancy. His mind was so busy with thoughts and plots to win her heart that he unconsciously voiced the words – “I must get her!”. The person seated next to him quickly turned to Femi’s direction and shook is head…he must have muttered – “i am so sorry for you”. Femi quickly comported himself and at least pretended to be listening to the facilitator.
Now Femi hasn’t always been a serial womaniser, in fact, he was a well brought up and cultured young man from a well-to-do family. He was an only son amongst three female siblings who were always in the boarding school. His early childhood was not so different from an average child that lives in Lagos. He played on the streets under the sun and in the rain, enjoyed comic books and videos games, displayed some caricature Jackie Chan moves after watching one of the classic movies, and hated to have his bath twice daily; he did what boys his age would normally do.
However, his days of innocence were coming to an end rather too early at the age of 11 when his entrepreneur dad and banker mom decided to employ Edidiong as a house help. As part of her chores, she was responsible for tending to Femi – from feeding, bathing, down to bringing him from school daily. Femi hardly saw his parents even on weekends. They are usually out of the house before he’s astir in the morning and arrived very late at night when he’s already asleep. He’s always in the company and tutelage of the housemaid who cared less about him, save for her monthly emolument.
One very unfortunate day, the unexpected happened to Femi. “Femi come here”, Edidiong said with her airy-low voice. She took him to her room, turned the key twice in a clockwise direction to lock the door, and closed the window blinds.
Femi stood transfixed in the centre of the room not having the slightest idea or premonition of what was about to go down. Aunty Edidiong, he said. What are you doing? Why are you locking the door and windows? She walked slowly towards him, drew him close to herself and said “let me show you something!” That was the beginning of the end of the affable and morally cultured Femi. She abused him sexually and threatened to take his life should he report the incident to anyone, especially his parents.
Edidiong stayed with his family as their housemaid for another seven years. These years were a gestation period into sexual addiction and inordinate foray for Femi. His mind and body had been re-engineered, reconditioned and tampered with by the housemaid so much so that his profligacy and womanising tendencies had reached astronomical proportions before he was 18 years old.
Now Femi is 29, every night he reminisces about his life – the scores of relationships he had been in, the hearts he had broken and other “touching” stories better left untold. He sheds tears sometimes because he knows that he could be a better man and live a better life instead of the bestial adventure that reeks from his being.
Femi is the happening guy, the man of the moment, the ladies man, the “oshomo one” of Nigeria etc. These are some of the alias and praise names his friends would usually heap upon him. In pretence, he would gloat with his shoulders raised high in the presence of his cohorts. However, deep within him was the ensnared little man in manacles and chains of addictions; crying for help. The heaps of adulations from his friends were literally millstones and burdens weighing heavy on his soul. He felt lost, empty, finished, and dry.
Now the program was over and Amarachi had packed her seminar materials and was heading for the bus stop when Femi quickly drove his Mercedes-Benz C-Class beside her, wind down his side window and offered to give her a lift. Please milady, can i give you a ride?
Watch out for the concluding part…
About the author:Moses Emorinken, Email: firstname.lastname@example.org,Twitter: @memorinken, Instagram: @memorinken