Cruel Passion

By Dayo Oladele-Ilori

CRUEL PASSION, a 184-page novel reiterates the long age-old order of sins and consequences in life events. This contemporary fiction exhibit two extreme paradoxes of life continuum “What you sow, you will reap.” and “Bad things do happen to good people.” It is an engaging piece that lends its voice to the consequences of choice, lust, ill-charted passion and obsessive vengeance. It however places premium on the divinity of forgiveness as a noble end to events orchestrated by cruelty and revenge. This enthralling story relates to the everyday character of unguided boys who become monstrous men and fathers who reap sorrowful futures. It emphasizes the price of ignorance and naivety paid by young women who become victims of circumstances because they were shielded from the reality of life. It brings to bare the importance of parenting and the ripple effects of it negligence.

It is an interwoven experience of fate, friendship, naivety, sincerity, deception, love, revenge and abomination. The novel is set in three major cities: Lagos, Sicily and Port-of-Spain. It spans through childhood and adult life of characters, making its target audience inclusive of both teenage and adult readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781939389152

Book preview

Oladele-Ilori

Prologue

The myriads of stars formed several clusters, twinkling away on the endless bosom of the sky, obviously detached from the dark, lonely and cold night. Their halogen lamps shone far to a distance with full intensity, dimming only as it extended towards the sea. It was very quiet and calm, except for the rippling sound of the sea as its waves gradually built up. It re-echoed continuously, accentuating their busy movement and activities.

The consignments were loaded in cartons and sacks in about a hundred piles. They began the evacuation work at exactly midnight after the stage was set and the lieutenant bellowed his smoke, a pattern he had adopted to keep the guys working and expectant. They had taken their first dose of marijuana for the strength required for the job, and it would soon be their turn again, as pleasure comes after business. At about 2:30am, the goods had been transferred to the new ship.

They reloaded the sacks and cartons of worthless factory rejects into the doomed ship – Judith – as there must be evidence of burnt goods. They finished the job perfectly and exactly to time; they had been trained to meet deadlines, otherwise they were killed. The second-in-command (2IC) to the lieutenant of the first squad raised the red flag, and he moved towards the squad to pat each on the back as had been his culture over the twelve years since he began to lead the group. It was like an organised military group; and like the termites they were builders as well as destroyers. The long scar on his face twitched, as he moved his six feet eleven inch stature in long strides across the panels of the wooden floor.

After inspecting all goods transferred into the overseas ship, he took stock and beckoned to the sailor to take his leave. The engine of the ship roared to life and left with the consignment to a new warehouse. He inspected Judith for the last time as a corporal took its photograph from three different angles and could not but notice the delicate beauty of the ship. The sergeants in care of corpses cut the bodies of the four sea guards into pieces to avoid recognition and threw them into the sea for the fishes to feed on. He beckoned to the second-in-command to the lieutenant of the second squad—‘Killer’ and ordered him to commence the last part of the operations.

Killer shouted an order to Fire sub-squad 2, and each member marched to their assigned explosives; activating and switching on the timer while Fire sub-squad 1 filed into their own sea vessel – ‘Red Quartz 3’. The last man on Fire sub-squad 2 collected all of the operational gloves and threw them into Judith which had been made ready for the flames. They all got on board and sailed a good distance; and just about five minutes after they left, they slowed down waiting strategically, in order to catch a glimpse of their job, and within a split second, they heard the usual resounding and deafening explosion. Judith came out all red as the fire raged on, the flames engulfing and swallowing it hungrily. Her pieces shattered in all directions and the sight could easily have been mistaken for fireworks. They shouted ‘Hurray’ and gave a thunderous clap in victory. Photographs of the burning ship were taken again; this would form an integral part of their report. The server began sharing the second dose of ‘weed’ and dry gin. They watched the whole of the ‘sea beast’ gulped by flames; the fire rode on the water, and continued to burn as the ship collapsed.

The lieutenant picked up the phone and placed a call.

‘Work done – a hundred percent – the Fire 788 mission is completed. The only resistance was from the sea guards who have been fed to the whales for an early breakfast. The ship with the consignment left earlier at 2:45am and Judith has been swallowed by the raging flames. All traces of evidence have been wiped away.’

‘Thanks for a job well done.’

And with that the line went dead.

Before now...

The medical team rushed out of the ambulance and immediately transferred her to the stretcher; she was pale. Desola followed hastily after them, as they wheeled away speedily across the hall; her eyes were filled with fear and tears rolled freely down her cheeks. She was stopped as they were about to enter the theatre and a nurse stood beside her, holding her hands to calm her down. She could not make sense of what the nurse was whispering to her as she struggled to free herself from the strong grip. Her nightgown clung to her skin, soaked with blood, and her housecoat hung loosely on her. She could feel the chill running through her spine and her skin was covered with goose pimples. She was afraid her daughter might die. She paced back and forth the corridor looking at the wall clock intermittently as she sobbed silently and prayed. Suddenly, an alarm went off, sounding faintly from the theatre. She heard noises, and medical personnel hurried past her. Doors flung open and closed in a hurry; she was almost knocked down in the chaos and confusion as more medical personnel rushed into the theatre. She stood there, staring at each of them as they hurried past her; her own blood pumping out of her heart at top speed. Nurses ran frantically as they wheeled blood bags, drips and other medications into the theatre. Their faces bore worries but they shoved her aside as she held them to ask after her daughter.

The clock continued to tick away each second of chance, and fear gripped her heart. After about twenty minutes of chaos, the alarm stopped, the panic subsided, and suddenly, a grave silence enveloped everywhere. Her heart stopped momentarily as a sharp cry filtered into her ears, piercing through the silent, cold night – it was the cry of a newborn baby.

*   *   *

1

Two hours into the long, inter-continental flight, Ifeoluwa Adeyemi-Williams saved her final assessment and closed down her laptop. The attentive steward was at her elbow offering drinks. At her fingertips was the top-range entertainment system provided for First Class passengers, the spoiled darlings of the travelling world. Instead she stared out at the skyscape, intense blue above, dazzling white below, and remembered how it had all started. She thought of herself, just 15, on the other plane, excited and nervous, coming home after five years....

She peeped from the window at a sight that became clearer as they approached landing. She could make out the roads, which stretched out like rolls of ribbon, crisscrossing in beautiful patterns. Trees, buildings, cars, hills, unidentifiable objects and fragments of things she could not guess dotted the landscape. The memories of when she left to stay in the US with her aunt flowed back. Then she was just a kid, now she was a young lady, excited to be back, especially to her mother whom she had missed so much. Yet it was so sad to leave all her friends. And what had been those unidentifiable objects and the other changes she was going to find? This is actually how life displays itself – in mysteries and uncertainties; in so many strange forms, she thought.

Her father’s sudden decision to move her back home had been a mystery. It had been unexpected, just as it was when she left for the States.

The announcement of the air hostess jolted her back to reality. ‘Please fasten your seatbelts. We will be landing in 10 minutes. Welcome to Lagos, Nigeria. Thank you for flying Amethyst Crystal Airline. We hope you had a beautiful flight. We look forward to seeing you again.’

Her hand shook as she fumbled with the seat belt. She ended by strapping it too tight, then fumbled as she loosened the belt a bit, for comfort. The nausea she had earlier on returned as the plane touched down on the runway. She was distracted from its impact by the guy sitting next to her on the other row, across the gangway. He had tried chatting her up throughout the journey. It had not been very easy though, because the air hostess and other passengers were just in the way most of the time.

‘Ife,’ he said, stretching his hand across the distance between them to drop a piece of paper on her lap. ‘I hope you will get in touch as promised.’ He gave her a wonderful smile.

‘Come on, don’t box me into a corner. I never promised to keep in touch,’ she answered. ‘And I told you that my dad won’t allow me receive visitors,’ she added as she straightened up.

On the paper was a hurriedly scribbled address which she tucked inside the seat. Her father’s strictness had trained her attitude to boys and it was safer to abide by the family’s rules than to incur her father’s wrath as soon as she came home. The plane came to a halt, and as they stood up, they bade one another goodbye.

There were the formalities of arrival on an inter-continental flight; first, Immigration where she presented her new passport, then the baggage reclaim where her matched blue and silver suitcases stood out among the dull luggage slowly circulating. Then she went to Customs where they smiled at her solemn ‘Nothing to declare’ and waved her through. She was there.

At last she was outside, feeling the October heat and humidity. Where were they? Ife raised her head to see her mother and younger brother, waving to attract her attention. This was home and she was suddenly overjoyed. She waved frantically at them as she ran towards them, bumping into other travellers. She dropped her luggage and rushed into her mother’s warm embrace.

‘Mum, it’s so good to see you! You look so dashing!’

‘Oh yes, my dear, I’m still as sweet as ever. I can’t afford to let your father take a second wife,’ her mother joked.

She admired her mother’s short curled hair. It was a cut she had worn for as long as Ife could remember. She felt as if it had been five years since she last saw them, forgetting she had come home the year before, on vacation. It was a boisterous and joyful reunion. She hugged her brother and felt his thick muscles over her small slim arm.

‘Mum, what are you feeding to this son of yours?’ she asked, pointing to his well-built arm. ‘He has grown so tall and his muscles are like those of a boxer.’

‘Oh! he has been feeding well on all my food as usual; he’s never just hungry, he’s always very ravenous,’ his mother answered, invoking laughter from them. They chattered all through the drive home. Ife later learnt that her dad had travelled to Ghana for some business deals. That was nothing new.

‘Mum, I wonder how you cope with this ever-travelling husband of yours?’

‘Well, dear, he is also your ever-travelling father. I wish I could have him at home with me always, but no one can have everything they want. In Yorubaland, children are said to be the benefits of a woman in her husband’s house. Thank God I have both of you. So I’m lucky,’ she declared. ‘I’m more than pleased.’

‘Hmm, mum, I don’t hope to be like that when I grow up. Ife, what do you think?’ her brother said, pulling his sister’s hair from behind.

‘Demola, wait till you are grown up. Then we’ll know if you’ll keep your word,’ Ife answered. ‘I expect you’ll be like all the other men.’

The rest of their journey home was full of chat and gossip, trying to catch up on new developments here and there. Ife took a deep breath of the scented air. Late roses were in bloom all along the wall as they pulled up at the gate, waiting to drive in. She looked at their beautiful house—The Marble Mansion—the lush lawn spread out like a wide blanket and the well trimmed flowers adorning the walkways.

She smiled and whispered to herself, ‘Ife, welcome home.’

Ifeoluwa was the first child of the business mogul, Chief Adeyemi Williams, and his wife, Desola. She was a replica of her mother, with a slim, firm, straight body, with accentuated hip curves. Her own jet-black hair cascaded beyond the nape of her neck – a very uncommon hair length in the tropics. Her long strides earned her the name Antelope in her neighbourhood in California, and her height gave her the look of a model.

She had a somewhat pointed nose like a Fulani’s and a smooth fair skin. Well-shaped eyebrows adorned her dark, twinkling eyes. Her lips, a well-formed sensuous curve, gave her a heart-melting and bewitching smile. Her exquisite features were faultless and the euphoric good cheer she wore around her endearing personality was infectious. She had enjoyed favour from childhood even among her extended family. And it was on account of this that her aunt, who had been married for ten years without a child, appealed to her brother to allow her take his daughter with her when she was returning to America.

The next morning, she got up to find the sun smiling at her with all its intensity, and she impulsively drew the drapes to cover her face from its blinding rays. She smiled to herself, wondering at the weather. She looked around her room, noticing for the first time the changes that had been made to it. She had been worn out from the long journey the previous day. That had taken away the desire to dwell on such mundane things as beauty. She got off her bed and walked around, feeling the softness of the new green rug as her feet sank into its rich thickness. She studied the yellow patterns at the edges and nodded with approval. Her drapes had been changed to a green and yellow checked material against an ivory chiffon underlay. She still had her old mazonia-wood reading table, which she had considered oversized when she was younger. She walked to the wall and ran her fingers over the flower patterned borders in admiration. The rows of shelves, which held the electronics and the portable bedside fridge were still intact but they obviously wore a new polish. She got into the bathtub and ran a cold shower over her body, driving out the tropical heat, which was now getting the better of her.

Basking in the comfort of her own home, she still thought about all the fun she was missing; she would have resumed school today, if she had not left California. She remembered her holidays in San Francisco with her aunt and her husband, the beautiful waves slapping the shore in joy as they launched forward in creamy layers. Summer was always fun, but those were the trade-offs. Vacation in Nigeria had proved to be very wonderful the last time she came. She hoped it would also be fun going to the beaches in Lagos. She was still deep in her daydreams when she heard a tap on her door.

‘Come in. The door is open,’ she replied smoothening powder on her face.

‘Hello, love,’ her mother said, walking towards her dressing mirror in her own usual elegant strides. ‘I hope you like the new look of your room?’ she asked, cocking her head to one side like an excited schoolgirl.

‘Sure, mum, I love it. I’m really impressed,’ Ife said, swinging around to face her mother. ‘And that portrait –’