Lost Truth

By Patrick Ofili

Having made a promise to his dying friend, Sekibo Suku was determined to see it to the very end. But he had not anticipated the full extent of some other differing interests and the obstacle race that lay ahead … This is a compelling story of the interplay of the supernatural, intrigues and Machiavellian manipulations within a family, spanning several generations and three continents. A rivetting plot of twists and the unexpected!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781528963466

Patrick Ofili

Patrick Ofili ventured into the realm of the longer version after some unpublished short stories. Lost Truth is his second novel. A surgeon by training, he resides in Asaba, Delta State, Nigeria.

Book preview

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About the Author

Patrick Ofili ventured into the realm of the longer version after some unpublished short stories. Lost Truth is his second novel. A surgeon by training, he resides in Asaba, Delta State, Nigeria.

About the Book

Having made a promise to his dying friend, Sekibo Suku was determined to see it to the very end. But he had not anticipated the full extent of some other differing interests and the obstacle race that lay ahead … This is a compelling story of the interplay of the supernatural, intrigues and Machiavellian manipulations within a family, spanning several generations and three continents. A rivetting plot of twists and the unexpected!

Dedication

To My Wife

Copyright Information

Copyright © Patrick Ofili (2019)

The right of Patrick Ofili to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528921527 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528963466 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

To my wife, Irene, for her wonderful support and encouragement

Synopsis

Not one person among the Skinners, a Nigerian family seemingly blessed with privileges, was aware that some strange happenings in the family were as a result of an ancestral curse that had plagued the family for generations on end. It was only after a prominent member, Femi Skinner, stumbled upon a chronicle of the family’s past, as compiled by a departed aunt, that this was brought to the fore.

Femi’s attempt to unravel the mystery behind the curse, with a view to abolishing its effects, led him on an arduous journey that took him to different locations within and outside the country without the knowledge of his kin. But just when he appeared to be making some headway, he came down with a terminal illness. Alone and frustrated, and resigned to death putting an end to his misery, Providence stepped in and brought to his consciousness an old friend, Sekibo Suku, with whom there had been no contact for several years and who, to all intents and purposes, was out of range. In desperation, he reached out to Sekibo Suku, who not only defied all the odds to be at his bedside but also accepted to continue the quest from where Femi had stopped.

In the face of mounting opposition from key members of the Skinner family, Sekibo Suku was able to travel backwards in time to unearth some dark secrets after Femi’s death. His projection into the future, however, left him in a dilemma as to whether to expose the truth to the family or keep it buried forever.

Chapter 1

On the morning of 11 November 2005, Sekibo Suku was alone and lost in thought in the antechamber leading to his bedroom. Surprises of this world are so often hybrids of the pleasant and unpleasant, he concluded, shaking his head. It was his sixty-second birthday and happened to be a day off-work for him. He had been in semi-retirement following two mild attacks of stroke within the space of a year – from both of which he made full recoveries – after which he went to work only twice a week. The firm of estate surveyors and valuers he had singlehandedly established in his home town, Port Harcourt, did not require his presence to function optimally; but he could not bring himself to remain at home day in day out, all week long, at that stage of his life.

In between the attacks of stroke, Suku became widowed when his wife of more than three decades succumbed to a heart attack. After the second episode of stroke, his daughter Boma, a lawyer, and her four-year-old son had moved in with him a week after Boma’s husband – a physics lecturer at the University of Port Harcourt – left to pursue a post-doctoral programme in Australia.

Suku had been watching his favourite morning television programme earlier on before his grandson Seliye rushed in. This is for you, Grandad, Seliye yelled, holding out a white manila envelope.

Close on Seliye’s heels was Idah, a young male domestic help. I’m sorry, sir, he said. After I collected the envelope from the dispatch rider, Seliye snatched it from me and fled.

Suku had smiled. Idah, don’t mind the little devil, he said. I jolly well know what he’s capable of. You may go.

Seliye had stayed behind because he was convinced the envelope contained a birthday card. He and his mother had already presented Suku with one. Grandad, let’s see your birthday card, please, he had pleaded.

The handwriting on the envelope was unfamiliar to Suku, but not the sender’s name. Femi Skinner was an old friend of Suku’s, but they had not set eyes on each other for several years. He calmly tore open the envelope, and Seliye was right: there was a large beautiful birthday card inside. What a pleasant surprise, Suku thought. He handed the card to Seliye who cooed his admiration as he scrutinized it. Suku smiled. The last birthday card from Femi was when he turned fifty, twelve years earlier. But Suku’s elation was short-lived. He noticed a sealed postcard-sized envelope within the manila envelope with the bold imprint ‘FOR YOUR EYES ONLY’ on it. After reading through its content, Suku’s jaw dropped. The message on the sheet was crisp and urgent: Femi was on admission for a terminal illness at New Era Clinic in Ibadan and wanted Suku to see him as soon as possible before it was too late.

Seliye had noticed the change that had come over Suku. Grandad, are you not well? he said.

Oh, I’m very well, Suku responded, putting on a brave smile for the boy’s sake, but he was downhearted inside. Images of his earlier years with Femi began to flood Suku’s mind.

Suku and Femi had met on their very first day at State High School in Ibadan. The school was an all-male boarding school and was rated among the top three in the country. Admission was very competitive and new entrants came from across the country. Suku had journeyed 700 kilometers from his home in Port Harcourt.

As the old students renewed acquaintanceships with verve after the long holidays, the new students were also building up relationships with their peers on that first day. Suku was initially embroiled in the frenzy, but his mood had plummeted inexplicably and he soon became low-spirited. He was sitting dejectedly on his bed when the school bell rang for dinner. The room had quickly emptied and he found himself all alone. After a few minutes, a boy rushed back into the room and made straight for his own corner. The boy yelped with delight as he picked up an object from the top of his locker, then turning to leave, he saw Suku. What are you still doing here? Aren’t you going for dinner? the boy said self-assuredly, a smile playing on his lips, as he moved towards Suku.

Suku was not intimidated because he knew the boy was new like himself; but in that moment, he lost the silent battle with his pent-up emotions and tears began to roll down his cheeks.

In an instant, the boy was beside Suku, wiping away Suku’s tears with his own handkerchief. It’s all right, he said soothingly. Is this your first time away from home?

Suku nodded. Yes.

And where is home? the boy said.

Port Harcourt, Suku responded.

Wow! That’s a long way away. No wonder you are feeling this way. This is also my first time away from home, but then my own home is right here in Ibadan. My name is Femi Skinner.

I am Sekibo Suku. They shook hands and left together for the dining hall.

Femi had been on his way to the dining hall in company of two other new boys when he suddenly realized that his watch was no longer on his wrist. The watch was a birthday present from his godfather three days earlier, and both his parents had protested that it was too expensive for a twelve-year-old. His mother had suggested she kept it until he was old enough, but Femi’s godfather would have none of that. Femi had rushed back to the dormitory in a panic only to discover that he had left the watch on top of his locker.

Suku and Femi were about the same age and had taken to each other despite their different personalities. While Femi was highly extroverted and had a maturity beyond his years, Suku was rather shy at the time. They both got on like a house on fire and their friendship blossomed through their seven-year stay at State High School. From spending the short mid-term school holidays in Femi’s home, Suku also came to develop close ties with the other members of the Skinner family.

Femi came from a privileged background and there was plenty of laughter in the home. Remi, the oldest of the Skinner children, after his secondary education at Ibadan High School, won a Commonwealth scholarship to study Economics at the University of Exeter in England. Femi was next to Remi and three years younger. Bola, the only daughter of the family, was two years younger than Femi. She left home to attend her mother’s old school – a girls’ secondary boarding school in Lagos – in Femi and Suku’s third year at State High School. There was a set of identical twins – Taiwo and Kehinde – after Bola and they both came into State High School the following year. Suku was quite protective of the twins in school. As the oldest of four siblings, the rest being girls, Suku had always yearned for younger brothers to look after.

Among the adult friends of the Skinner family, Dr. Dele Johnson, Femi’s godfather, stood out. A widower with two young daughters, Dr. Johnson seemed to perpetually wear a smile on his face. He was very warm and never short of jokes for both grown-ups and youngsters alike. Bisi, the older of his daughters, was about a year younger than Femi and Suku, while Tinu was two years her junior. Suku was fond of both girls.

In Suku and Femi’s fifth year in school, tragedy struck the Skinner family. For Femi and the twins, it all began at lunch on a Wednesday afternoon when their names were announced along with some others. Usually such boys would have committed various acts of misdemeanor and were to report at the principal’s office immediately after lunch to answer for their deeds. Suku had been surprised to hear Femi’s name announced because he rarely got into trouble, unlike the twins who loved to get into scraps every now and then.

Seeing the gloom on his face when he returned to the dormitory afterwards, Suku presumed that Femi must have received a stiff penalty. What happened? What was it the principal said? he asked anxiously.

There was a distant look in Femi’s eyes, and he let out a sigh. I think something terrible might have happened at home. The principal told the three of us that Dad wants us at home this afternoon. The driver would be here in the next hour.

Was that all what the principal said? Suku said.

Yes, Femi said, his voice slightly above a whisper.

Then why jump to such conclusion? Suku said. It’s not like you to be a prophet of doom.

I have a feeling something has happened to my mum, Femi said.

Suku slept poorly that night, wondering what was going on at the Skinner household and wishing he was there with them.

During break period the next day, Suku made his way to the school’s telephone exchange where Mama Funmilayo held sway. Mama Funmilayo was an imposing matronly figure. She was often indulgent of the students and sometimes allowed a few favoured ones the use of the phones in her charge. Suku and Femi were among the select few.

Where is your alter ego Femi? Mama Funmilayo said after her initial banter.

He went home yesterday afternoon, Suku said. His father wanted the three of them home.

Mama Funmilayo’s eyes narrowed. Is there something amiss in the family?

I don’t know, Suku said. As at the time they left, Femi himself had no idea what was going on.

Mama Funmilayo lowered her voice. There must be something the matter for their father to suddenly want Femi and his brothers at home. She thought for a moment. I can see you are worried. What do you intend to do?

I want to telephone Femi to ask what the problem is, Suku said.

Mama Funmilayo shook her head. No, you won’t! Rather, go and seek permission from the principal to visit Femi’s home after school today. The principal is very understanding. I believe he’ll grant your request.

Suku entered the principal’s office with trepidation. The principal was known to be a no-nonsense man who was often quick to charge students with malingering. Such accusation was invariably followed by a tongue-lashing which had left many a student in tears or close to tears.

Yes, my boy, what can I do for you? the principal said looking up from the file in front of him.

Suku took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Sir, I’m closely connected with Femi Skinner and his family. I spend all my mid-term breaks in their home and—

I know all about that! the principal interrupted. He prided himself that there was very little about his students that he did not know. He was well aware of Suku’s ties with Femi’s family. Go straight to the point. What do you want?

Sir, up till the time they left yesterday, Femi Skinner and his brothers had no inkling of what was going on in their home, Suku said. I still don’t know and I’m quite worried.

Is that all? the principal said.

Yes – no, sir, Suku said. I want to ask for permission to visit the Skinners today after school.

The principal remained silent for almost a minute. Suku was certain he had talked himself into trouble and steadied himself for the inevitable upbraiding that would follow. And when do you hope to be back?

Suku was visibly relieved. I will be back before it gets dark, sir.

Today is Thursday, the principal said. You can stay on and return with the Skinner brothers on Sunday.

Thank you sir, Suku said. But as he started to leave, he hesitated. He had asked for a couple of hours and the principal had granted him three days. The principal had never been known to be that generous when it came to exeats for students. Perhaps, Femi’s premonition may be right after all, he thought. Sir, what has gone wrong at the Skinner home?

The principal would have been surprised if Suku had left without asking the question. Mr. Skinner had told him everything over the phone the day before, but he deemed it unwise to let it out to Suku. Off you go, my boy!

Suku could perceive gloom in the air the moment he was let into the house by a teary-eyed female domestic help. A lot of questions had immediately formed in his head, but he was able to resist the urge to ask her. Taiwo soon appeared and as he led Suku upstairs to the room usually reserved for him, Suku prepared his mind for the worst. Kehinde, the other twin, joined Suku and Taiwo on the staircase and they all went up in silence.

Once the three were inside the room, Suku could no longer hold back. Can someone tell me what’s going on?

The twins exchanged glances, each expecting the other to answer. Bola is dead, Taiwo, the more outspoken of the two, finally said in a low voice and both twins began to weep quietly.

What did you say? No, it can’t be true! Suku’s tears began to flow too, but there was nothing quiet about his. Bola had been everyone’s favourite in the family, and Suku had been particularly fond of her as well. When was this? What happened?

She took ill in school in Jos and died the same day, Taiwo said. Her body has been brought back and she’ll be buried tomorrow.

One Friday evening, whilst Suku and Femi were in their second year at the University of Ibadan, Suku was waiting at the bus stop on campus on his way to Scala Cinema – the most popular movie house in Ibadan at the time. A common acquaintance of his and Femi’s soon joined Suku and struck up a conversation with him.

What house are you heading to? the man said.

What do you mean by house? Suku said.

Come off it, old boy, the man said. You sure know what I mean, don’t you? He grinned. But come to think of it, I don’t recall ever seeing you in any of the more famous houses. Which ones do you usually patronize?

Suku was flabbergasted. I still don’t know what you are talking about!

I bet you don’t! the man said. There is nothing to hide. We all need those houses to calm our nerves from time to time, our regular girlfriends notwithstanding. He chuckled. Anyhow, the saying show me your friend and I’ll tell you who you are has never been proved wrong.

Suku then understood: by house, the man meant brothel. The man obviously patronized brothels – was probably on his way to one – and he believed that Suku was in the same league. Suku barely managed to control his resentment. By the way, which friend of mine are you referring to?

I am talking about your good friend Femi Skinner of course. We often run into each other in some of the houses, the man said moving away to board a bus that had just pulled in.

Suku was shocked. He knew there were male students – some with girlfriends on campus – who were in the habit of visiting brothels. Indeed, the man who just left him was reputed to be a campus stud. But Suku could never have associated Femi with prostitutes. There had to be a mistake even if the man making the insinuation had sounded so certain.

Suku looked everywhere for Femi when he returned from the movies, but Femi was nowhere to be found. Worse still, none of those Suku asked had any idea where he was. For all I know, he could be enjoying himself in one of those so-called houses right now, Suku thought ruefully as he gave up the search.

The next morning, being a Saturday, was lecture-free and Suku was alone in his room idling away when Femi came by.

What’s going on? I hope I’m safe? Femi said. My roommate told me you were on a frantic search for me last night, and two other persons said the same.

I don’t know about frantic, but I really wanted to see you. I tried all the possible places I thought you would be to no avail. Where were you? Suku said.

Oh, I just dashed to town, Femi responded.

Where in town was that? Doesn’t the place have a name? Suku said.

Come on, Sekibo, what’s bothering you? Femi said. You are sounding so grumpy.

Suku hesitated. I am worried. I hear you now patronize brothels.

Femi glared at Suku. You hear! I see you now have faith in the words of outsiders even before hearing from me.

Well, I’m waiting to hear from you, Suku said.

What’s the point? You seem to have formed an opinion already, Femi said. Anyway, what I choose to do with myself is entirely my business and no other person’s. Then he walked out.

Suku was outraged. He neither confirmed nor denied the allegation, but his reaction suggests he’s hiding something. I suppose he’s right nonetheless. Whatever he chooses to do with himself or to himself is very much his own business, he thought.

They got separated after they graduated: Suku was posted to Bauchi in the north and Femi to Owerri in the eastern part of the country for the mandatory one-year national service. At the end of the service, Suku returned to Port Harcourt and Femi to Ibadan. Three years later, Suku travelled to Ibadan to attend Femi’s father’s funeral. He was back in Ibadan a few years later as best man at the more joyous event of Femi’s wedding.

Over the succeeding years, contact between both men began to wane but remained exciting anytime they reconnected. One of such occasions was when Femi attended the annual conference in Port Harcourt of the Nigerian Society of Engineers, of which he was then the president. He stayed in Suku’s home for the duration of the conference and it had been just like old times. On one of the evenings, Suku’s cousin, Jombo Agodo, who was a year behind them at the university, had hosted them to a sumptuous dinner.

Chapter 2

Femi Skinner could feel his life force ebbing from his body by the day, and he knew that nothing would reverse the trend. Despite his declining energy levels, Femi’s mentation had kept intact and he was determined it should remain that way. I shall not lose my mind, he silently affirmed, as he had so often done since his first day at the hospice. I just have to keep my mind together. I must ...

Although he seemed to have accepted his fate with equanimity when he was first told that his illness was in the terminal phase, Femi had later become despondent. The close people around him, including his secretary Stella Akibo, had linked the low-spiritedness to his impending death; but their attempts to counsel him had only worsened his irritation.

Stella Akibo was badly affected by his condition. Femi, who had been an embodiment of physical and mental strength in all the years she had known him, was now looking very vulnerable on his sickbed. His body had been so ravaged by the illness that he had become a shadow of his old self. Her despair deepened as Femi became more withdrawn and irritable, and she often ended up in tears after every visit.

Two days before he was transferred to the hospice, Stella had managed to cajole him to talk about how he was feeling. For nearly five minutes Femi had talked, without giving away details, about the depressing effects of some unresolved issues in his life. The situation is complicated. But for my illness, I would have taken every step necessary to address them, he had added. Unfortunately, I am now incapacitated. It is extremely frustrating.

When Stella came back to see him that evening, she had already hatched a plan. If this doesn’t work, I will have to think of something else, she thought. My understanding this morning was that your frustration was because of your inability to address certain personal issues. I’ve been thinking about it, even though you didn’t say what the issues were. She paused. All the same, there could be a way out.

Femi’s eyes lit up momentarily. He knew Stella was quick-witted and had come up with brilliant ideas when he found himself in difficult situations in the past. But he did not think there was any room for an open sesame in his current state. I doubt it, he muttered.

Why don’t you hear me out? Stella said. You don’t even know what I have in mind.

So, what do you have in mind? Femi said.

Stella hesitated. It’s a long shot, but I think we should contact your friend Sekibo Suku. You’ve always held him in high esteem. I have a gut feeling he could prove useful.

Femi was silent for