by Eketi Edima Ette

There was a time, a time and a time ago, when I wore my heart on my sleeve and my middle name was Shakara-IyangaSpecial.

That was the time I met my Igbo Hustler a.k.a. My Sweet Egovin. Very hardworking fine boy.

Unlike my Yoruba Angel, I didn’t like or want this one. But persistence was this Nwannas middle name. He introduced me to his sister, the cousin he was closest to and his friends.
“Babe, go out with me,” he said.
“No,” I replied emphatically.

“Babe, I’m outside your house.”
“What??? Dude, it’s barely 6 a.m.!”
“I know. I just wanted to see your face and if you permit, take you out for breakfast.”
“Mtscheeew! You go stand there tire.”

“Babe, wheres your church? I want to come for service.”
“Babe, I’m outside your office.”
*me, answering with glee* “I’m not in town.”
“Where are you?”
I’m in Abuja.”
“Where in Abuja? I’m taking the next flight to see you.”
“Yeah, right. The next flight from Enugu to Abuja? Are you high?”
“Anything just to see you, Babe.”

*Four hours later, I got a call.*

“Babe, I’m in Maitama. Just came in from the airport. Where are you?”
I was too stunned and still certain it was a joke. So I gave him my location. Twenty minutes later, I got another call.
“I’m downstairs, Babe.”
I went to the balcony and peered out. There he was, phone to his ear, smiling up at me. I tell you, my heart skipped a hundred beats. That very moment, I fell YAKA…TA!

“Please, go out with me. Even if its only for lunch. PLEASE.”

Thinking of all the hoops he’d jumped through, I said with a long-suffering sigh. Okay. One lunch.

One lunch led to two lunches. Two led to three. Three led to four, and so on and so forth. I did things Id only imagined. Exciting things. Stupid things. Like lean my entire body out of a moving cars window and scream, I love you, My Sweet Egoviiiiiiin! Yeah, I can be romantic when I set out to be.
And so it continued by day and by day.

PAUSE.

Lets go back the beginning, where I said I didnt like him. Im not someone who dislikes people on sight. But when I do, theres usually a reason, even if its at a subconscious level.

Anyway, while my heart was busy doing gbish gbish gba, my mind was saying, “Ogbeni, watch where youre going o! You go soon enter gutter.”
And because Im a girl who listens more to my head that my heart, I started reading the signs.

Sign 1:
I happened to travel to see my mum somewhere. He came along. I said, “Mum, meet my friend.”
Let me describe my mother’s reaction in the immortal words of Justin Bieber: “My Mama dont like you and she likes everyone.”

Later on, when we were alone.

“Mum, why dont you like him?
“He has the shifty eyes of a thief. How did you say you know him again?”

Me, I sharperly turned deaf and mute.

Sign 2:
Anytime we were together, and his sister called and I said, “Say hello to her” or “Let me say hello to her,” he’d pretend he didnt hear me and hang up. This happened like three times.
Then a particular virus was always attacking his phone and whenever it did, it would select and corrupt only selfies of us and pictures of me. As in, the virus no like my face.

My inner Detective Benson became activated. I went to work. Hours of research about his family, friends, colleagues. What I found out shocked and horrified me to my innocent Scripture Union core.

My Sweet Egovin’s sister was actually his girlfriend.
My Sweet Egovin had more than one ‘sister’.
My Sweet Egovin was the Godfather, The Don Corleone, The Al Capone of Skirtchasers Association of Nigeria.

Before I started crying, I said to myself, “Eketi?”
Myself said, “Ehn?”
“Who send you work?”

Chai!

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Op–ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija

Eketi Edima Ette is a writer. She can be reached on Twitter @Ketimay