Thrilling Tales of a Nigerian

By Utieyin Sholuwa

The thrilling tales of a Nigerian is a collection of true-life experiences of an average Nigerian. It is a blend of motivational and storytelling, which highlights the travails of rape, allegations, domestic violence, electoral malpractices, internet fraud, and corruption that has ravaged our society over the past decades and the various efforts that can be taken to curb such societal challenges.
Each chapter tries to deal with a particular societal issue at a time and points out both the dangers it possesses to the individual and society as well as how to put a stop to it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716761393

Book preview

Title Page

THRILLING TALES OF A NIGERIAN

Dedication

To you Adesola my inspiration

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

ALLEGATIONS AND INTERVENTIONS

The wind blew softly, brushing through my skin and creating a beautiful flow that enabled the mind to wander into the Metaphysical world. Shuttling back and forth as the occasional melody of birds filled the air, indeed it was almost a Hollywood created scene except for the occasional bleep of goat from the next compound and blasts of horn from vehicles plying the road not too distant from the compound.

I laid down on a bench thinking of all that has happened to me in the past years. However, I tried to shelve aside the flashes of horrible events but my mind disagreed, as it seemed to have magnetized every detail of the ordeal I went through before my University admission was gotten. One by each every scene of the ordeal played before me like a cinema.

***The day had started quite bright and fast. The entire members of the family gathered for the morning devotion as was customary. Father dished out the tasks for the days' prayer session. As soon as Ayo finished the opening prayers, it was my turn for the praises and worship which I have been known for in the entire community. Once through, Remi would handle the first prayers and then it was mums' turn to pray before daddy would preach the word and give the benediction.

Mine was a typical family of five: My daddy, an engineer, Mum, a trader and my two siblings. Together we made a very happy pack and that for various obvious reasons: I have over the year grown to become one of the foremost lead vocalists in our church which is the biggest in the community, my sister gained her popularity from her dashing looks and hourglass figure which made her the crowd favourite especially to the male folks. Lastly, Ayo was known for his great and sleek football skills, in fact, he was nicknamed Messi of ejigbo

"Anike the model as my sister was often called by her fans and friends was the talk of the town. Both young and old would whistle as she wiggles her almost perfect body with a gait only attributed to royalties around as she walks along the street. Although very cool-headed and well mannered, she easily attracted envy from her female folks due to the seeming monopoly of influence and attention she gets from guys and this antagonism often spilt over to us and occasionally caused troubled for us and this would eventually lead to the most pitiable ordeal of my life while growing up.

As I said earlier, the day had started brightly. My parents soon left for their various places of vocation, while my sister had to follow my mum to the shop to assist with the days' sales, my brother left for his SSCE holiday coaching class. Leaving me alone in the house and having just written my University entrance examinations and awaiting admission, I had given my time to watching movies. Hardly had I finished my chores and tried putting on the television set when my attention was caught by a series of heavy uncoordinated bangs on the compound gate outside. At first, I was less concerned having in mind that all my siblings were out and since I wasn’t expecting anyone I just decided to hold back, but the banging continued and this time louder and with more aggression.

So, I went outside bearing in mind the possibility of our neighbours from the other flats having visitors.

***Our compound is a four flat bungalow building owned by an ijebu man who now resides in Sokoto. He had made his money at a rather very young age as a businessman dealing in foodstuff and no sooner had he completed the house than he travelled to Sokoto base on intel on a new business opportunity in the state and has since relocated there with his family. Our flat is the closest to the gate as such; we most often bear the burden of the lack of consensus to hire a gateman by the occupants. A situation which has caused no small amount of fracas between my family and other tenants, especially the younger bachelor who specialized in keeping late night and coming to disturb others at night in the name of returning home very late.

As I opened the gate, a man likely in his mid-forties almost knocked me down as he pushed the gate wide open. Why did it take you this long?  He shouted at me and before I could answer, he asked if I knew the flat of Mr and Mrs. Smith? That he got a distress call from his brother’s wife and that is the reason for the rush and heavy banging on the gate. I pointed the last flat to him but he insisted that I follow him in case he needs my help. Reluctantly, I followed him. As we approached the flat, he asked if I heard any noise or observed anything, I said no and we continued our walk in silence. As we entered the living room, we saw Mrs. Smith, a beautiful bride whose wedding ceremony was conducted about eight months ago. The wedding was a glorious one as both families were well to do so there was enough merriment and jubilation. In fact, rumours had it that their wedding was the best so far in the community since its inception. Everyone practically ate until he or she could not eat anymore.

***She was rolling on the floor, holding the lower part of her stomach as she cried at the top of her voice: a situation, which tends to have been fueled by our presence. At this point, the speed of the man (whom I later found out to be her brother in law) increased