JAGUNLABI✔

PART TWO: CHAPTER SEVEN

NIYI

"O dami loju pe Olorun a dari ololufe mi wale. I am sure that God will direct my darling back home to me." It was my heart's cry as I held on to hope because I had nothing else.

Odidi ojo kan gbako ti koja. A whole day had passed. Teniola indeed missing.

At about six in the evening yesterday, I expected Teniola to be back from the market. Thinking that traffic might have been hectic, I called her but her number was not reachable. By seven pm, darkness had fallen and there was still no call, text or even a flash from my precious TenTen.

I called her step mother:

"Mummy, se gburo Teniola? Mo pe nomba re ko lo. Mummy, have you heard from Teniola? I called her but she was unreachable."

"Rara o. Not at all. It's been a while since we had a chat. Bami ki nigba to ba wale. Extend my greetings to her when she comes home," she replied.

A similar question and response chat happened between me and her uncles, colleagues and even our pastor. At a nearby police station I lodged a complaint, and they assured me they were on top of the situation, a promise I doubted but accepted. With great reluctance, I was forced to call her mother in the United States. It was almost as heartbreaking as Teniola's absence. TenTen was her only child.

Suddenly, my mind was troubled by disturbing thoughts. Was Teniola getting cold feet? Perhaps I rushed my proposal? Maybe she found the idea of spending the rest of her life with me overwhelming? The negativity crept into my head, and was about to build a house before I rebuked it.

Teniola and I were in love. We had a bond. We had an indescribable connection. Whenever I looked into her eyes, all I saw were love and adoration. Everything about her was perfect, and she made me feel the same way.

"Niyi! Okunrin ni o, fokan bale Nkan kan o le se Teniola. Niyi! You are a man, calm down. Nothing bad will happen to Teniola. Nigbati o ba n sukun, ki lo fe ki a won obirin ma se? When you are crying, what do you want the women to do?"

My father spoke in a stern voice and jolted me out of my thoughts. I wiped the tears my eyes were silently shedding, but they kept flowing. The last time I cried was when grandma died ten years ago. Dad adored Teniola, so I knew he was just trying to get me to pull myself together and keep hope alive.

Two of the high chiefs of Obashola had just left our house. Amaka came a few minutes later with red eyes and a face towel soaked with tears.

"Maybe this is all a prank to get us back for the proposal stunt we pulled," Amaka joked as she laughed through tears to cheer me up.

For a brief moment I chuckled. "Teniola is a naughty girl, but I hope she's not that naughty."

We both smiled and our tears flowed faster than before.

"Don't worry, Uncle Niyi," Amaka said. "Maybe I should go and check nearby hosp—" she froze and her eyes darted to mine. In a haste, she rose to her feet and ran out of the house.

"Lagbara Olorun, ki n se inu ile iwosan ni o ti ri iyawo re. By the grace of God, you will not find your wife in the hospital," my father said firmly.

Sympathizers had come and gone, including the governor's personal assistant, Mr Segun. I would have been tempted to shoot him if he set foot on my property any other day. Teniola told me all about his confessions of love and his attempts to woo her at work. The prevailing circumstances were different though, and we exchanged a few one word statements before he left. In fairness, he seemed genuinely distressed.

My father asked what appeared to be an obvious question. "Niyi, se iya Teniola ti n bo? Niyi, is Teniola's mother on her way?"

"Yes sir," I replied.

"Mo se ayewo lori oro yii. I conducted a divination about this matter," my father said. "I could not be discussing this matter with you in the presence of outsiders."

I sighed. My mind was void of any thought and incapable of seeing any clear revelation at the moment. "Daddy, ki le ri? What did you see?"

"Teniola's mother must be present for this matter to be solved," he added.

My eyes widened in disbelief for a fraction of a second, and returned to normal. This world was mysterious and fact was often stranger than fiction.

I asked a question but was not sure if I was ready for the answer. "Se mama e mo nipa bi a o se ri Teniola? Does Teniola's mother know about her disappearance?"

"Beeni, sugbon ki n se bi iwo se ro. Yes, but it's not what you think, he replied.