Leyin osu meje (Seven months later)

The dry, unforgiving harmattan wind swept over the land from the nearby Sahara desert. It left dehydrated plants and brown grass in its wake. People dusted their homes, offices and market stalls constantly. They shook their heads as they muttered "Igba wo ni oye yii ma lo gaan?When will this harmattan end?" The sky was cloudy and the air was laced with suspended dust. The days were scorching and the nights were bitterly cold.

Despite the apparent severity of the dry season, it was much milder than what prevailed in the Northern region of Nigeria. Obashola, my hometown was in Oyo state in the South-west region of the nation. It was a laid back but prosperous town with spacious tarred roads, good schools, a general hospital and nice houses. I absolutely adored how it was a blend of our ancestral civilization—deeply bound with the old Oyo empire and contemporary life.

Tall, palm trees lined most of the roads and the streets were teeming with pedestrians and cars. People laughed and smiled as they chatted with friends and passed each other by.

"Bawo ni? How are you?" A man in an orange traditional outfit called out to his friend across the street.

"A wa l'owo Olorun. We are in the hands of God," his friend in a suit joked in response.

I chuckled when I overheard their little chat. It was the characteristic banter of Nigerians who were facing challenges but were determined to overcome them.

Both men laughed out loud. "Yio dara fun wa l'agbara Olorun. We shall prosper by the grace of God," the man in the suit said. They bid each other farewell and went their separate ways.

Most of the people were engaged in subsistence farming, so fresh, affordable food was abundant. Eating organic was not 'a thing'. It was what practically everyone did. Even I had a garden in my backyard where I had some papaya trees and grew tomatoes, bell pepper and African spinach.

A woman across the street roasted groundnuts and the sweet, charcoal scent drifted through my window. I sat on a bamboo chair near my balcony and looked over the hedge. A man zoomed past on his motorbike and I smiled. He was wearing one of the aso wishersiform clothes selected for my father's burial ceremony It was by all means an elaborate celebration. The green and white lace material was worn by thousands of people, in accordance with the custom of showing solidarity with friends and family during special occasions.

People wept when my father's remains were committed to the Earth. Mourners cried bitterly and told stories about all the wonderful things that the king, Oba  Oyeyinka did for Obashola.

During the ceremony, people I had not met before patted my shoulder and told me to take heart. "He was a great leader and will be dearly missed." Iyalaje, woman leader of the market people said.

"Beeni! It is true," the well wishers chorused.

I curtseyed. A mark of respect to elders, as I thanked them all. "Eyin mama wa, baba wa, aburo wa. E se pupo o. Our mothers, fathers, younger ones. Thank you very much."

However, there were no sad or mournful faces at the ceremony which was held at the Town Hall. Beautiful canopies were pitched side by side and everyone one was welcomed to eat, drink and be merry. People danced and sang as the talking drummers and other instrumentalists entertained the guests.

In Yoruba culture, if you were elderly when you were gathered to your ancestors, your burial would be a joyous celebration of a life well spent. Except you were unfortunate or your children or family members did not prosper.

I smiled at the memory of my father insisting that Obashola was not a village. He was right, it was not comparable to Lagos or Abuja, but it was a pleasant and peaceful place. It took some getting used to after living in New York all my life, but I eventually grew so fond of it and decided not to leave.

My mother, on the other hand could not get on a plane fast enough to return to the United States.

"I am not ready to endure the scrutiny or judgement of the High Chiefs or your father's family members," she said as we stood in the departure lounge at Nnamdi Azikwe airport, Abuja. She hugged me tightly, and both of us cried. "Always call me and take care of yourself. Remember to be careful around them," she said as she wiped her tears.

"Yes ma'am. Bye mom," I replied. We hugged again and I watched her as she departed.

For the most part, I got along with my father's family and the High Chiefs. However, I tried to retain as much privacy as possible. Unfortunately, they did not seem to like that.

An unexpected video call from my friend, Maxine interrupted my reflections.

"Hey Tenny! Hey girl!" she chimed in her melodious voice. Her trademark honey curls bounced as she greeted.

"Hey Max! Hey honey!" I responded with a chuckle.

"How are you doing? I miss you so much, I can't believe you are not coming back," she said.

"I miss you too, but I like it here. By the way, I never said that I am never coming back. I will probably come round for Christmas."

"Really? I can not wait to see you again. Bless your heart, Tenny. You look amazing! Your skin is glowing and I love that dress you are wearing."

I laughed as I playfully did a little spin. "Oh, this old thing? It is one of the adire, tie and dye dresses I wear around the house. So, how about—"

"Wait a minute, Tenny. Who's that behind you?" Maxine asked.

Damn, I thought. It couldn't have been Adeoye or Adeshile, my half brothers. They spent a lot of time with me, but both of them were at school. It was probably Niyi.

"No one is here. Maybe you just saw a shadow when I was turning around," I said. I did not realise that he was already peeking over my shoulder.

"I am certainly not a shadow! Who are you talking to?" he asked, as he placed his hand on my waist.

"Well, hello there!" Maxine exclaimed with a cheeky grin. "You definitely are not a shadow. I'm Maxine, Teniola's bestie. Do you have a brother? Damn!"

Niyi chuckled, and I could feel the gentle rumbling of his chest on my back. He slipped into cool, calm, corporate lawyer mode and purred. "It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Niyi Faleke, I'm Teniola's—"

"Boyfriend!" Maxine quipped happily.

"Both of you should hold your horses, and stop talking about me as if I'm not here," I retorted. "Niyi is the legal consultant of the Continental Herald. We met during a staff meeting, had a small chat and discovered that we are both from Obashola. Simple."

Niyi cleared his throat loudly and Maxine raised an eyebrow in disbelief. She batted her long eyelashes and giggled. "I'm sure you two have been having plenty of staff meetings."

Niyi laughed out loud. "Teniola and I are very hardworking."

Maxine squealed. "I can not wait until you send me the invitation to your lavish Wakandan wedding."

Niyi smiled, "We will keep you posted," he said. I whacked his arm playfully and he smirked and went to the sitting room.

Shortly after Niyi left, Maxine snapped. "I can not believe you are doing the tango with Mr Tall, dark and handsome and you did not tell me!" Her big hazel brown eyes formed slits and her creamy skin flushed.

"I am not doing the ta—" I burst out laughing before I could finish my statement. I really could not help myself from giggling like a little child. I applied for a job, and was hired by the Continental Herald after a series of interviews. Niyi got on my nerves during one of them and we fought like cats and dogs. He asked me out shortly afterwards. It was an unbelievable enemies to lovers story, and our previous arguments seemed rather comical.

"That smile is the trademark of a satisfied woman," Maxine said knowingly.

I looked back to check if Niyi was eavesdropping and responded quietly. "Look, it is complicated alright. I like him but it is nothing serious. I am under a lot of pressure at the Continental Herald, and my primary focus is my career right now."

For some strange reason, I had a feeling I should keep my relationship private. Especially from Maxine. She was nice, but could be pedantic at times.

"What kind of pressure? I thought you said it was a dream come true to work there?" she asked.

I sighed as I walked into my bedroom and closed the door behind me. I did not want Niyi to hear our discussion. "At the Continental Herald, the pay is great and the additional benefits are unbelievable. Our headquarters is at Ibadan, but since I am allowed to work from home I usually stay in my house in Obashola. I have a political science column that is featured on page ten every Wednesday—"

Maxine shrugged. "Sounds great to me."

"Let me finish, Max. My medical bills are paid and I get travel and communication allowances, but our jobs are constantly on the line. People get fired quicker than you can say—"

"What the f—"

"Yeah, you get my drift. All the columnists are under even more scrutiny than the other journalists. Our editor-in-chief told us that he needs a sensational, scandalous story from us regularly or we are done for."

Maxine frowned and rested her hand on her chin. "If it's too tough why don't you just resign before you get fired?"

"Max, look around," I said as I gave her the view of my well furnished, nature themed bedroom. "Look at the king sized poster bed, the large sofa and the different shades of green." I walked around the room and showed her the entertainment system, plush carpet and en suite bathroom. "How many people fresh outta college do you know who live like this—with their own money?"

Maxine sighed. "Do you remember the times that we used to attend kiddies Bible study lessons at Washington Memorial?"

I deadpanned. "Yeah, of course. What is your point?"

Maxine gave me a stern look and pursed her lips. "Pastor George used to quote one bible verse he felt was so relevant to youths. It resonated with all of us in different ways. I remember how I used to feel the pressure to be this or that growing up bi-racial. People would tease me about my black mom and white dad. I recall that you had your struggles too, growing up with a single mom."

I felt tears in my eyes as I thought of those days. They seemed so long ago. The emptiness and longing for my father stirred up pain that I thought was dead and buried.

"Pastor used to quote a lot of bible verses, Tenny," she said, "but he knew the struggle of peer pressure for youths, so during youth meetings he would often quote Mark chapter eight verse thirty six."

I shook my head and became defensive. "Maxine, I am sorry but I have to go."

"Tenny, I know you are upset but please think about it and don't do anything that you will regret. If you unleash the dragon, there is no going back."

"Good bye, Maxine."

I ended the call and slid to the floor with my back rested against the door. I was living in a nice house inherited from my father and doing fine on my own. I proved all the community naysayers wrong. Many of them thought I would not cope in Nigeria, and would flee when I could not handle day to day challenges.

To be candid, most people welcomed me with open arms, but I was not deaf to the spiteful and judgemental comments either. An unmarried, female graduate living by herself, also known as 'obirin ti ko ni ade ori'. A woman who did not have a crown or Americana to n gbe ibon rin. The American who was constantly with her gun. Surprisingly, I did not even have a weapon.

In retrospect, I had nothing to prove to anyone and did not owe anyone anything. I should have just stayed true to myself. If I had held fast to the admonition of the vanity of gaining the whole world and losing my soul, perhaps I would not have resorted to treachery in order to keep my job.

A ruthless, billionaire politician walked into my life shortly afterwards. He dangled an apple in front of me. My response was shocking.