Loved, Saved and Redeemed

Shola was a very wonderful guy, and I couldn’t be more excited that I met him.

Just right on my eighteenth birthday, I noticed this giant pull of adrenalin rush gushing down my spine. It felt like a mixture of thread and bead interwoven in equal parts moving to and fro my cervical vertebrate and waist region. It seemed like there wasn’t air percolating round the hall that I almost choked.

Not that the ventilation was poor or that the guest were too many for the size of the hall, but the love I got was so much that an average lady in her thirties would barely affirm that she had received half of that iota of love on any of her birthdays.

Shola, the perfect planner. He did an amazing job by secretly collaborating with my friends in putting all the things together and keeping everything out of my slightest suspicion despite my being highly sensitive.

I saw myself as the most luckiest, it looked like I had hit the jackpot early in life and it seemed like the universe was aligning and neither anything nor nobody else was important other than me.

Every damn thing that made sense to me, made perfect sense.

So there wasn’t any need to worry even though my academics was in limbo, my parents didn’t have my name crested in their good books and my spiritual life had sooner been compressed from shallow to nothing.

I saw it that I had nothing to lose. Is it not to plea for financial freedom that make people venture into that time-wasting swindle regarded as “educational pursuit”? Isn’t it because their parents still fend for their financial needs that university students cared about their opinions? And is it not the incessant sought for blessings that triggers people to calling the name of God?

All these and more weren’t the case I found myself, as I had gone passed all of that. Whenever I wanted anything, all I needed to do was to beep the love of my life, and in the shortest time possible, the best of it will be served at my feet.

I thought I was living life to the fullest. In my mind, even fishes aren’t as privileged to be quenched of their thirst, as I was not just for my needs to be swiftly catered for, but also my wants. It seemed as though, I was drowned in the stream of blessings and lullabies of sweetness didn’t cease from my mouth.

I could bet it that “in this life, nothing was as beautiful as being financially secured by the account and wallet owned by the one you are in love with”.

Shola was an Angel sent to rescue me from iotas of stress life was bent on cascading me with, and to prevent me from hustling and bustling off my beautiful face, sparkling skin and perfectly-carved figure eight shape. There was no doubt about it, Shola was made specially to be liberate me from every trouble. So whenever I thought of how it is expected of me to be bothered about the series of ‘F’s aligned like matching soldiers, just by my matriculation number in the result sheet, the next thing I soliloquize is “thunder fire devil!”.

Of course, I felt that it would have been foolish to stay up during the dark hours because of that. Me miss my precious sleep or stay away from the hot broad chest and bisects of the love of my life? No way!

After all, I was living the ‘good’ life.

What else did I need that would have made me sit on a metal or wooden bench, have my head buried down and begin to force chucks of information (including theories) that were earlier written or said by ancient minded people of which some were already in their graves?

I wasn’t moved by my grades; advices of concerned lecturers, friends and even my parents who weren’t aware that my studentship had been that threatened, didn’t move me even an inch.

I was convinced that I had met the man of my dreams; the handsome money man who seemed to cherish me than anything else.

I saw it that my love life was enviable and with the weight of wealth he possesses, I am a rich girl. No stress. No need for trouble. I didn’t need to struggle and I gat no worries.

The advice my friends gave, I saw it all like crap and outward expressions of bitterness and jealousy. I took none of it seriously and began to ‘pepper dem’ the more, by flaunting pictures of the cozy places I visit, those of the expensive gifts I receive and other selfies and snapshots that were excerpts from my love life (including those that were not meant for a third-party to behold).

I felt excited about the way things were and thought life was going to continue that way, until I was given a ‘big punch’.

Did I just use the indefinite article ‘a’ that signifies it was just one punch? Please scratch that. It was two big punches. No, I mean two plus one which gives three punches actually.

Everything happened so fast. So so quick that before the upper and lower lips would completely embrace each other after voicing out “Jack”, the next one had already fallen on me.

What could have been worst?

Just two days into the commencement of 2015/2016 academic session, I had happily rushed down to Shola’s place with my belongings, without minding that I had just been disowned by my parents for that same reason. On my arrival at Shola’s place, I got the shock of my life.

Guess what I saw?

That my dear, could be featured as a story in a tragic genre.

I couldn’t pick my words, it felt like it was my end and I could literarily feel the weight of the world that had crumbled on my shoulders. I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. It seemed like they partnered to play prank on me. But unfortunately and devastatingly, it wasn’t a prank but a hidden truth that I discovered that day.

Shola was a play boy. That may seem somewhat conventional. But what it was actually, had to do with discovering that Shola had girlfriends and baby mamas dispersed in so many states in the country.

And I’m sure you know what that implies.

Shola never loved me, those sweet loving moments with him occurred because it was just my season. Every care showered on me and every dime spent on me was just to allure me to grace his bed over and over again. They were all deceit.

He had been in Ife, after he left Benin so as not to be ‘cornered’ by Benin boys whom he had broken the hearts of their sisters after he even got some of them pregnant. He was a popular ‘fuck’ boy in that city and a wanted one at that.

My whole being was instantly ingested by scrap. I had nowhere to turn to, no one to confide in, then the cries and plea of my parents got to me. I began to see wit and wisdom in the advices my friends gave.

It was too late. Everyone had left me to enjoy my Shola and his money, and now Shola had ruined me. I had nothing and no one left. My entirety revolved around him.

I cried my eyes out, thought of everything possible that I could do. Then suicide came to me as a fantastic idea while brother depression comforted and curdled me.

I couldn’t stand the shame in the hostel any longer, so the hostel’s flyover sooner became my dwelling place. There and then, I met Ifeoma.

I remembered how I suddenly stopped crying and begin to stare at how fervent she prayed. How the words that pulled out from her mouth were so meek and sincere. How she poured her heart to God and concluded the prayer by blasting in tongues and bursting out tears in humility. I was touched. I was moved. The spirit of anguish and the thought of suicide mellowed. I became pulled by the Spirit of God that saturated that arena.

After the prayer that day, Ifeoma stopped by at where I sat to say she sensed I was burdened. I needed help and so I couldn’t deny. We spoke for hours into the wee hours of the next day. And that was it.

I began to take the things of God seriously and decided to get serious with my academics. Only to find out that I had been withdrawn from school.

Life is terrible! Isn’t it?

My whole life was in menace. It looked like there was nothing to live for. I was shattered, broken and despaired. But this time, it was different. I had met Christ. Then I knew; it only takes courage, determination and the most importantly, the Grace of God to start afresh. And I did. I started all over. Wrote jamb and post-ume, got admitted and began like a fresher again.

It was shameful. The whole journey was everything contrary to ‘smooth’. I gave up so many times and picked up again and again. I was encouraged by the school chapel and a priest took it upon himself to foot my financial needs. So I kept moving, and I am glad I did.

I am currently rounding off my part three (third year) in school. My parents had taken me back as their child, and my life in Christ had begun to make perfect sense. And this is the true meaning of prefect sense and not what I thought it was. The true beauty of life is in Christ, you know?

Now I can boldly say to every lady out there, “there is more to life than having a rich boyfriend. Be ambitious. Have a life for yourself. Have a dream and pursue it”

And to everyone, “you really don’t need to have all your life figured out all at once. Take those small steps. In the midst of trials, believe you’ll win, and you definitely will. Always remember the finished work of Christ on the cross in all your dealings. He loves you move than you love yourself. Just believe and keep believing in him. Do what is right. Sustain a relationship with Him that is not centered on your needs. And definitely, no matter what the challenges are, just breathe and keep going, certainly, you’ll be fine!”.

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Anulika Akpunonu

Anulika’s enthusiasm to contributing towards ensuring an informed society, pulls her pen to dance rhythmically. Her writing cuts across several niches and poses to be not just value-ladened, but also growth inspiring.

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