The Pregnant Corper

By Temitayo Otun

The Pregnant Corper chronicles the lives of two different individuals experiencing the thrills, challenges and effects of what could happen when you get carried away with the passion associated with the life of a corps member. Otun takes us this piece with his unique story telling that keeps you on the edge and wanting more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Temitayo Otun
• Release date: Oct 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005571481

Temitayo Otun

I am Nigerian author, poet and screenwriter who grew up in Lagos. I draw inspiration from my day dreams and the bustling life of Lagos as well as events around me. I write fiction, romance, children stories, teen and erotica. I love to cook and make food Art in my spare time. I am the author of The Pregnant Corper, I live and work in Dubai.

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Copyright 2015 by Otun Al-hazeem Temitayo

08034146757

Email:[e-mail]

The Pregnant Corper

Moonlight Publishing

3, Akanni Bashua Street,

Bajulaiye Palmgroove Shomolu,

Lagos.

ISBN:978-978-949-783-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in photocopying, recording, or otherwise-without prior permission in writing from the copyright holder.

Published in the Federal Republic of Nigeria

THE PREGNANT CORPER

* This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To the glory of Almighty God.

The beginning and the end,

the first and the last.

And to my parents,

Thanks for being mine.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

My sincere thanks to:

The entire families of Otun, Yinusa, Erinosho, and Okedina-Maja. The Managing Director and Chief Executive Officer of Commstrat Associates Limited; Hakeem Adenekan and the Michael Williams of Commstrat Associates Limited.

To Ojo Samuel for his creativity on the cover design, Jibola Balogun who inspired this story accidentally and Abdulazeez Omobolaji Sofiyah for her belief in my work, moral support, and endless prayers.

I must not fail to mention my counsel, Kikelomo Ajanaku, nee Bashua, for her advice and wise opinions.

The entire academic and non-academic staff of History and Diplomatic Studies, Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ago-Iwoye, Ogun State.

The coordinator, National Youth Service Corps, Osun State, Mrs. Regina Emimmie lluebbey, Ede South Local Government Inspector Mr. Kayode Peters, and assistant Local Government Inspector, Mr.Olatuji Adeniyi Olusegun.

All prospective, serving, and ex-corps members of the National Youth Service Corps.

The entire team at Moonlight Publishers for their enthusiasm for and effort on my book.

Lastly, my editor, Mr. Femi Onileagbon, chairman of the Lagos Branch of the Association of Nigerian Authors, for his guidance, advice, and dedicated talent. There are many people I could thank but time and space oblige me to stop here but have it at the back of your mind that you are special and remembered.

We We We

Under the sun

Or in the rain

We we we

Wa wa wa

Obey the call

May you not fall

We we we

Wa wa wa

Teach if you wish

Marry if you wish

We we we

Wa wa wa

Obey the clarion call

Obey Nigeria’s call

We we we

wa wa wa

CHAPTER ONE

Ifeoma

Will you judge me after I’ve narrated my story? I hope you won’t! As an undergraduate in the university, I’d judged girls who got laid during the three-week orientation camp of the NYSC I pride myself in self-dignity and believed I couldn’t give myself out cheaply to any man, especially after I had learnt the hard way.

I was deceived in my first year in the university by a final year student who capitalised on my naïvety and ignorance on matters of love and relationship. He used his honey-coated tongue, whispered countless promises into my ears and coaxed me into believing that he loved and would marry me. I thought I had found the love of my life the way mum met dad in her first year in school. Before I could say ‘Jack Robinson’, he’d snuck under my panties, stolen my virginity, and disappeared immediately he received his NYSC call-up letter. I didn’t even know the state he was posted to. He blocked me from all his social media accounts. I learnt the hard way and put on an iron pant after that bitter experience. Sadly, my iron pants didn’t last long.

I became a born-again Christian and a worker in my church. I did the Lord’s work under the oversight of Pastor Lere, a young, smart, and brilliant student pastor who was at the helm of affairs of the campus chapter of the church. He helped students overcome their challenges by assisting them financially, morally and spiritually. He advised students like me, who had been deceived, jilted and heartbroken, on relationships and our lives in general. Before long, I fell in love with Lere. By the second semester of our sophomore year, we had started dating. We dated till my final year even though we barely had sex. I was not a sex freak like majority of the students in my school- Olabisi Onabanjo University.

One fateful black Saturday, after a house fellowship in Lere’s house, I got an urgent call from my mum that my dad was ill and I had to leave early rather than linger for a couple of hours or more as usual. I travelled to my family at Ibadan, which was less than forty-five 45 minutes by road from Ago-Iwoye. I got to my hostel and threw a few belongings into one of my bags and set out for the garage to take a bus home.

Pain welled up in my heart when I got home to find that my dad had suffered a heart attack. I tried my best in assisting my dad with prayers as the doctors battled to save his life. The attack proved stronger and tougher than my prayers because it took my dad’s life two days later. Exams were around the corner so I had to return to school while dad’s corpse was kept at the morgue pending the time his relatives in the village would plan the burial. His body had to be taken to our hometown, Igbo Ukwu in Anambra, for burial. On returning to school, I went straight to Lere’s house hoping for some soothing words.

I had tried to reach him via his mobile phone several times while at home to break the news of my dad’s death to him but his number was not reachable. I met his door locked and was about to leave for the church because he was always at home or at the church. I met a church member who reluctantly told me Lere was ill and had been admitted in a nearby hospital. As we were trekking to the hospital, I was surprised to hear the boy offer his condolence on my father’s death. I wasn’t even aware that he or any other person could have heard about my father’s death.

Many of my church members were in the hospital reception and they all came close to me to pay their condolences and offer advice, soothing words and prayers. The senior pastor pulled me aside and we had a short prayer session. He advised me to go to my hostel to rest for the day then come back to see Lere the following day but I