memories

Photo credits – Google

 

I spent the last few days of my vacation lazing around Lagos and getting re – acquainted with the city’s hustle before work resumed in earnest.

Back in the office, I had innumerable anecdotes from my vacation to regale my colleagues with. Lunch time usually found me in the canteen, surrounded by an attentive group of hangers-on who were thirsty to hear the salacious details of my Brazilian escapades.

So it was for a while until finally the novelty started to fade and life gradually went back to normal.

Towards the end of September 2014, I met Caroline.

My last relationship had fallen apart in the months preceding my trip to Brazil. Suzy and I dated for roughly four months before she decided that my kobo pinching ways were not in line with her own life goals and left for more fertile pastures. Except for the heady sex, I didn’t miss her much.

Compared to her, Caroline was like a blessing from heaven. Beautiful, always smiling, warm, caring, attentive, super intelligent and a whiz at planning, she was the perfect woman. We met at a buka under the bridge at Obalende, and the first thing that attracted me to her was her down to earth nature. Many would have called her razz, but not me. Not many chicks I know would have dared to eat in such a place, but she did it, and without fuss to. She later told me she would trek the Sahara for Mama Tawa’s yam and vegetable pottage. I was sold on her, and ready to forsake my disorderly ways.

Three months after we met, I got introduced to her mum (her dad was late) and in another two we quietly got married at the Ikoyi registry.

Life was looking good.

A thorough cleaning and rearrangement of my apartment was one of the first tasks my new wife embarked on after she moved in and the dusty bag I had used for ferrying stuff from Rio was one of her fist finds. I’d flung the empty bag inside the bedroom cabinet after offloading the souvenirs and she brought it out to clean and store properly, only to discover it wasn’t totally empty.

My iemanja doll was there, still covered in the cellophane it had been wrapped with when I bought it. I had somehow forgotten about it in the months after my return.

She had wanted to throw it away but I didn’t let her. On my way back from work the next day, I bought a packet of small batteries but it wasn’t until the next Saturday that I remembered to load the doll up.

Her green eyes started glowing immediately and it looked so beautiful that I had to look for standing space on my small bedtime table.

None found.