To Where the Wind Blew

By Sinmisola Ogunyinka

Kola Eiba--

Rich, handsome and self-made, only one thing plagued him--
his past. He could understand why
several women would want him, but the one woman he desired most, eluded
him. That, he could not understand.

style='font-size:11.0pt;font-family:Arial'>Ronkestyle='font-size:11.0pt;font-family:Arial'> Gade--

Lonely child of career-driven parents, all she wanted in
life was to be happy, until she met a challenge, the last man she ever desired
to know, her own plague.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 26, 2004
• ISBN: 9781414061863

Book preview

© 2004 by SINMISOLA OGÚNYINKA. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrievalsystem, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4140-6186-3 (e-book)

ISBN: 978-1-4140-6187-0 (Paperback)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2004090312

1stBooks-rev. 01/13/04

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

BOOK 1

THE CONFESSION

BOOK 2

THE CONFLICT

BOOK 3

THE COMPROMISE

EPILOGUE

AUTHOR’S NOTE

CHARACTER EVALUATION

ARE YOU SAVED?

GLOSSARY

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

My Lord and Saviour, Lover of my soul and the Provider of all the financing: God Almighty.

My husband, my love, my friend and my mentor: Afolarin Ogúnyinka.

My very good friend and editor, now and always: Onose Adeleye.

My friends, editors, and literary critics: Dodeye Williams, Nta Etim, Ubong Nta, Abiola Okere, Aniefiok Victor Ekim and Dodeye Ikpi.

My publishers and ever-understanding, patient and devoted author services officers: 1stbooks team and Timothy Murphy, Anne Clemmer.

THANK YOU

DEDICATION

To my daughter: Ifeoluwapo

My inspiration, my joy, my sunshine

To my son: Iyinoluwa

My miracle, my sensation, my original

PROLOGUE

JANUARY, 1970

Kola Eiba dropped from the motorcycle and went to knock on the small gate of the Eiba estate. The residues of the harmattan morning were just clearing and the sun was already up, threatening to manifest in its full glory. A uniformed guard peeped through the peephole and half-opened the steel door-gate. Who do you want to see?

Ayinla

Ayinla no dey. Hin dey expect you?

He told me to come today

Wetin be your name?

Kola. The guard looked at the young man with scrutiny.

Come and wait for him. He opened the gate and Kola strolled in. Ayinla did not come back till over an hour later. He took Kola with him into the main house and asked him to wait in the front lobby. Kola stared in shock at the extent of wealth displayed in the visitors’ waiting room. He stood with his mouth opened. He looked like he was doing ‘rag day’ in his worn-outshirt and trousers; the only pair he had, and black rubber sandals.

O boy, don’t tell the old man I brought you in, you hear me? Ayinla warned, looking at Kola with amusement.

"I won’t. De man rich o!" Kola exclaimed.

You never see riches! Settle me before you go o

I’ll see you at the gate before I go Kola said and sat down gingerly. As time passed, more people joined him in the waiting room for the philanthropist. Chief Kola Eiba was not what Kola expected to see. Ayinla had told him he resembled the old man but Kola had not expected it to be this much. Though the chief looked more like eighty rather than his seventy years, he was still erect, and he reeked of wealth. As he entered the waiting room, everyone stood up and followed him into his guest parlor. Kola sat at one corner of the parlor, flabbergasted by the beauty and extravagance of the room. One by one, the visitors, mostly the less privileged like him, stooped in front of the philanthropist and made requests. A middle-aged man stood by the old man’s right hand, while an armedpoliceman stood to the left. As the masses made their requests, the old man answered them and the middle-aged man brought out money from his pocket as directed by his boss. Ayinla had told him this was the only way he could see Chief Eiba. The old man did a weekly ritual called ‘sara’ where he sat for hours, listening to poor people and doling out money. As generous as this sounded, very few people benefited as the old man would not go out while access to his house required a chain of protocol. Kola strongly believed this was how his mother had first come in contact with this man, though she had never told him anything about it. Kola waited patiently as the last man finished with Chief Eiba before going in. What do you want? the old man’s baritone voice rasped. Kola could envision himself sounding exactly like this when he becomes as old as the septuagenarian.

Sir, my name is Kolawole Eiba. Your son. Born to you by Toyin Kola said rapidly, keeping his face down.

My son? the old man sounded amused stand up, let me look at you. Kola stood tall and handsome. He was young but hardened by years of pain, struggles and suffering. His confidence knew no bounds. He says he’s my son the old man laughed out and his mascots joined, stopping abruptly as their master stopped. How old are you, boy? the old man looked at him.

Sixteen, sir so my mother told me Kola replied trembling.

Your mother is Toyin?! Hmn! he sighed. Give him N1000. He looked at the middle-aged man Don’t ever come here again, boy He said softly. It’s not your money I want. I want to belong, I want to have a father like all normal children But you are a bastard the man said slowly. Your mother was a prostitute he looked at the younger man and a nerve twitched visibly in the boy’s jaw.

I should not suffer for my mother’s sins

Neither should I... I warned your mother about getting pregnant. And when she did I paid her to get rid of you. How else should a man cater for a one-nightprostitute? The weight of his words brought a heavy burden on Kola. He looked down in shame at the old man’s wicked vocal. Take the money and don’t come back. For all I know, you could belong to any of a long list of customers the old man did not mince words. Please, I beg of you. All I need to know is that you are my father, and I am your son. I look so much like you. Please, accept me tears burned at the back of Kola’s eyes, he went on his knees before the old man, trying hard to hold back tears.

Go away. I have enough sons to bear my name, and many more bastards like you, seeking recognition! Your mother has given you my name. She has done well. Carry it about. Present it wherever you want but I will never accept responsibility for you. You could be any man’s son the old man stood up to go. Kola stood up also.

Take this money, son. Even if it means you giving it to your mother the middle-aged man said kindly. Kola took the money from the man and thanked him for his kindness. As Chief Kola Eiba reached the exit, Kola took a deep breath.

Chief Eiba, you haven’t seen the last of this Kola Eiba he said boldly and waited to be shown the way out of the house. Chief Eiba looked at him and shook his head, an amusing look on his face. People like the boy came every week, looking for a gold-well! At the gate, Kola handed N200 to Ayinla and kept the rest. Though proud, hunger had not allowed him to reject the money from his father. A bastard. That was the nick-name his mother had given him since he was a child.

* * *

Thirteen years later, Chief Kola Eiba suffered from a heart failure and died at the ripe old age of eighty-six. It had all started when he entered a meeting to negotiate with his rival company, Decoy Holdings, seeking to buy him out. Decoy had been giving him stiff competition lately, and some smaller companies had also had the opportunity of penetrating. The adage ‘when a big problem knocks you down, smaller ones will come climbing over’, was beginning to come true for the family fortune. He was not, in the least satisfiedwith the look of things. Though his wealth was established, buy-outs were not one of his plans in retirement. Decoy had earlier discussed a merger, but recently, they had opted for outright purchase. They wanted to rid him of one of his greatest assets. He had heard the rival company had a new GM that was putting them through the fit. In every business he knew there was always a price for everything and even though his eldest son had taken over from him, he had wanted to see the brave man behind his downfall and had hoped to be able to pay the man’s price. When he entered the room, at first he didn’t understand. The Decoy GM looked just like Kola Jr., his first son. When the Decoy GM introduced himself; Sir, I want to introduce myself to you. My name is Kolawole Eiba. Your son. Born to you by Toyin, and believe me, it is so good to see you again; Chief Eiba fainted. That had marked the end of the meeting. The old man was rushed to the hospital. He had a stroke. When he got revived, he never recovered. He died a few weeks later from a heart failure, when news got to him that Decoy had bought over his company.

JUNE, 1986

Ronke got home and picked the house keys from the usual place, somewhat with the old feelings she’d always had-relief mixed with sadness. She was going to be home alone again; probably for a week or more this time. She still couldn’t understand the rationale behind her parents’ refusal to allow her have a pet. At least, something to keep her company at all times. She had wanted rabbits but her mother had driven the thought far from her. At her age, seventeen, it was incredible that her parents had such an intense and rigid control over her life. They would not allow friends, extracurricular activities, not even sports, yet they were never there for her. To make it worse, her mother complained she was too secretive. How wouldn’t she be? She had to carve out a life for herself, and her Art ended up being her only succor.

She found some food in the cooler in the kitchen, and anote from her aunt Ranti, telling her she would be alittle late coming home. Aunt Ranti was always coming back late from wherever she went, Ronke smiled at herself. She ate, took her afternoon bath, and left the house also. She felt like drawing and Uncle Ladi’s house, her inspirational hideout, was most appealing.