THE DIRTY DIAMOND
THE DIRTY DIAMOND
By Wande Akindiose
Mary was a beautiful lady. Beautiful in the African way: tall, elegant, big and always cheerful and heavily endowed. Living together as neighbours was fun. She was a good cook too and I can attest to that by the barrage of sweet aroma that steamed from her pot on daily.
Mary was next door neighbour and living in Tudun wada, Kaduna then afforded me the opportunity to see her clearly. In our compound, there was no kitchen. So all of us, about fourteen tenants had to either cook inside your room or in front of the house. I doubt if Mary ever ate outside. Except for two or three months when the cold season sets in, Kaduna was generally a hot city, so most evenings, all of us would sit in front of our rooms while Mary cooked.
She was a single girl who was not short of male visitors. She had them in quantum. She had few female friends too. And they do visit as she does visit them. One of them was Ify. A very cheerful lady who, by all standards, was older than Mary. Ify was black, not as endowed as Mary. However, Ify was more reserved than Mary. She was not as loud too.
One of Mary’s numerous admirers was a man popularly called Mr Kay. he was found of Mary and she too like him. From his appearance, he was well off and Mary never joked with him as he was always treated like a king. Of all her visitors, it was only Mr Kay that would come and the would spend hours behind closed doors.
One day, Mr Kay came visiting with a friend of his whom he called Shola. They came in Mr Kay’s car and fortunately, Ify too was with Mary when the duo came in.
Shola was quite an elderly man. He was more advanced in age than Mr Kay. I was sitting in front of my room when they arrived and we exchanged pleasantries. Of course I found out that Shola was friendlier and livelier than Mr Kay. While Mary and Kay went inside, Shola remained with Ify outside. When he found out we were both from the same side of the country, he opened up and was throwing jibes that got that naturally quiet Ify reeling with laughter. It was quite a splendid evening.
At a time Shola asked Ify about her husband and children and she replied that she was not married and had no children. Shola teased her and asked if she will marry him. Ify just laughed it off. Then shola became very serious and said he was serious. Ify laughed and said the most shocking revelation and confession that jolted me but not Shola. Ify said as coolly as she could muster, “you cannot marry me”.
Shola looked at her as sternly as he could and said, “ is it because you are Igbo and I am Yoruba?”
“No. not at all”, Ify replied.
‘Then why? Or do you think I am joking”? Shola demanded to know.
“Look sir, just let me be. I will soon go now. There is no way someone like you will marry a woman like me. So please just let’s change the topic. God will give you a good wife if you don’t already have”. Ify tried to explain.
“I was married but my wife is late. I have two kids; a boy and a girl. So what is there that you don’t want to marry me”? Shola queried
All along the duo have forgotten all about me. They were no more aware of my presence sitting just about a metre away from them.
Ify then let the cat out of the bag and I nearly fell off my seat.
“Since you want to know. I am a prostitute. I live in the hotel along Musawa Road just up there. I will soon go since it is now evening to do my business. Are you satisfied now that you can not marry me?”
There was a pitch silence that lasted long enough for me to know that Shola was shocked. But he recoiled and said
“but why are you a prostitute? Is it that you like sex or what?”
‘Me, like sex? Is it food? Well, it was circumstances that made me to be a prostitute. I was married with a kid. My husband died and the brothers took everything we had. Threw me and my son out. I went back to my family but the rejected me” Ify said
“Why did your family reject you?” Shola asked
“It is a long story but the truth is that they warned me not to marry him. But I didn’t listen because I loved him. They warned me that the family and his village people were not good. But he was a good man. I loved him so I married him. So when he died, he was a big business man in Onitcha and I had a big saloon. They took everything. I have to provide for my son who is with my mother now” Ify concluded her story.
“So if you get your saloon back, will you stop this prostitution?” Shola asked in a very sobre and subdued voice.
“Yes now. Haba! Prostitution na work? Ify asked.
“Can I please see you tomorrow?” Shola inquired.
“Yes. What time? Ify demanded to know
“Around this time. I will pick you up here”. Shola confirmed
The next day Shola was there before Ify. This time around, he came alone and not with Mr Kay. He came in his Volvo car. I was sitting outside the house when he came. Unfortunately Mary was not around. I offered him a sit and we kept talking about the Nigeria Junior National Team, the Flying Eagles who, three days ago came back from 0 to 4 goals to beat USSR at the FIFA World cup in Saudi Arabia. It was called “the Darman Miracle”.
Not quite long, Ify strolled in and they drove away in Shola’s car.
Shola drove straight to a shop along Poly Road. When he opened it Ify was shocked.
That day, Shola has rented the shop and bought all saloon equipment with generator and gave the keys to Ify:
“This is now your shop and I want you to stop prostitution and marry me”. Shola said.
Well, Ify married Shola.
Shola on the other hand adopted Ify’s son and along with his own two children, they now had three.
In later years, Ify bore Shola two more kids and they lived happily thereafter.