Bloodline X: And Other Stories

By Umelo Ojinmah

Story telling was always part of me growing up. My mother was particularly good at telling sweet stories. Many of the seeds to the stories that I have been harvesting, especially those set in the past, came from her. Even now, I can hear her sweet voice in my head. To Nwamuka, I dedicate these stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669849223

Umelo Ojinmah

Umelo Ojinmah, an alumnus of St Augustine’s Grammar School, Nkwerre, University of Calabar, and University of Otago, New Zealand, is a Professor of English and Literary Studies. Former Dean, Students Affairs, Federal University of Technology, Owerri and former Dean, Faculty of Arts, Nasarawa State University, Keffi, he is a storyteller, poet, and literary critic. His published works include: Chinua Achebe: New Perspectives, The Writings of Witi Ihimaera, The Witches Brew and Other Stories and Aloneness (poems), which are all available on Amazon. Others are Flower Kissed by the Sun and The Pact, among others. He currently resides in Seattle, Washington State.

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BLOODLINE X

AND OTHER STORIES

Umelo Ojinmah

Copyright © 2022 by Umelo Ojinmah.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 09/26/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Once again I thank family and friends who have been faithful and supportive of my work. I however, wish to specifically thank Prof Thelma Y Obah, a friend and mentor, for her meticulous editing of all my scribblings and making them readable. You are loved and appreciated.

Engr Felix Eze is enyi ka nwanne. 

He is one of the factors for my recent productivity.

I thank Pastor Ndukwe Chinaka, my dear friend, for his fidelity and love. 

To a wonderful friend, Dr Andy Brockenbrough, who has been a pillar of support to me and my family, I am deeply grateful. 

To the members of my family: Dr John Nduweze Ojinmah, Charles Chukwuma Ojinmah, Engr Jasper and Dr Ihuoma Ofoma, and others not mentioned in this limited space, God bless you all.

To my crew: Obum Chinyere Umelo, Arnold Umelo and Praise Ebube Ojinmah, I love you all.

To God, who made it possible, thank you Lord.

Umelo Ojinmah

Seattle, WA

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

1   Flower Kissed By The Sun

2   Return Of The Lost Son

3   Betrothed

4   Bloodline X

5   Gen Y–Z: Social Demands And Keeping House

FLOWER KISSED BY THE SUN

1

OBED

The slow speed of the train suited Karen. The dilemma of what to tell her parents was overwhelming.

How could I have been so stupid? she mused. It was not the pregnancy, I am sure it was not that, she told herself for the umpteenth time.

But why did I wait so long before telling him? Was it entrapment? Was I that desperate? The questions tumbled after each other in quick succession, begging for answers.

She had always prided herself on her levelheadedness. Now, try as much as she could, she could not rationalize her actions.

The service year had flown past at a dizzying pace. As customer service manager, her days were full. Sometimes, she had to tick off the calendar to be sure what day it was. Oftentimes, the twenty-four hours felt like twelve hours. What, with the demands of the job of making sure that customers were satisfied, and that the sales and maintenance people packaged the correct computers to the appropriate customer, she had no spare moments. She used to bring sandwich to work for her lunch, but most times, she would take them home because she could not break off for lunch breaks, so she stopped.

After a few complaints from customers, the managing director had also added the responsibility of ensuring that each computer was installed with the appropriate software and programs before delivery, especially for their high-end customers to Karen. She could not believe the number of responsibilities placed on her. The managing director was treating her like a full staff, not a temporary NYSC member, and was paying her as such. She couldn’t really complain because some people would kill to be in her shoes.

Her evenings were equally active. Obed made sure of that. His job as actuary manager of one of the leading insurance companies entailed a heavy social life. Most days of the week, he was either entertaining or invited out to functions, and he insisted that Karen play host or accompany him.

Memories flooded as she reminisced on their relationship. At thirty-two, Obed was five years older than she was. They had attended the same university, but he was in his final year when she came in as a fresher. There, paths did not cross until two years after he had graduated. She had gone to a friend’s birthday party organized in the lush PAMOl rubber estate. Invitation to the party had been deliberately limited because Pat, Sandra’s boyfriend, had told her that he was not throwing an all-comers party. He knew from experience that during weekends, boys would drive slowly around the suburbs with their windows down listening for sounds of loud music, which was a tell-tale sign of party. They would then gate-crash for free food and drinks. So he asked Sandra to invite only girls and a very few of her close male friends. To ensure that only such invited persons attended, strict instructions were given to the security personnel at the first gate not to allow anyone without an invitation into the estate unless they were residents, and they were few. At the second gate, the invitations were crosschecked against a list for male invitees.

PAMOl was a government-owned rubber plantation eight miles outside Calabar, the state capital. Within the plantation, an exclusive estate was built for the topmost managers with twenty-four-hour security, light, and water. On normal days, visitors were only admitted into the estate on appointments.

Mfon, Pat’s childhood friend, had recently been appointed the managing director of the plantation. The position came with a massive seven-bedroom, extravagantly furnished, house, and two cars among other perks. The house had a tennis court at the back and a swimming pool on the left side. The lush green grass that covers the front and right side of the house were well maintained. When Pat was discussing the logistics for the party with Mfon, he said that only a foolhardy person would attempt to gate-crash the party, so Pat should provide enough foods and drinks to last all night and into the wee hours of the morning.

Sandra had been effervescent all week. She had literally dragged Karen along to Aba to purchase the clothes and matching accessories that she wanted to wear for her birthday party. The trip had been uneventful but tiring, as they had to move from one stall to another in the massive Ariara market. She had used the opportunity to get a pair of shoes for herself and a few little things that were either not easily available or expensive in Calabar. The girls had then spent most of Friday doing manicure, pedicure, and their hair.

Saturday, Pat and his friends drove from Eket straight to the campus in a convoy of five cars. They arrived at 6:00 p.m. as agreed. Within minutes, their cars were filled with girls eager to party, and they drove to the venue. It was not until they got to the second gate that they began to hear the music. By the time they got to the house, the whole place was vibrating. DJ XBone had been rated the best DJ in the state for four years in a row. He worked in the radio house by day and was a disc jockey by night. He was always the first person to get his hands on top of the chart tracks and new good artists. People were already dancing and having fun, but the real business started at 9:00 p.m., when the chief celebrant was ushered in. DJ XBone had selected the best dancing tunes in vogue and strung them into a thirty-minute nonstop play. From that point, everybody was dancing and drinking. On the balcony, assorted foods were on display. An announcement had been made that anybody that was hungry should go to the balcony and get as much food as they wanted. Food and drinks were unlimited, they said.

At about 11:00 p.m., Obed and a couple of his friends strolled into the party. He exchanged pleasantries with Pat and Mfon and then went to sit on a stool by the improvised bar, surveying the scene. Everyone wanted to get a dance with Sandra, the celebrant, and she graciously obliged. When she saw Obed, she left the man she was dancing with and walked over to him.

Cousin, come and meet my friends, and without waiting for a response dragged Obed to where her close friends were clustered. Ladies, meet my cousin Obed. Obed dutifully shook hands with each girl and turned to go back, but Sandra would not allow him.

No, no, no, cousin, this is a party, my party, and you have to dance with us. Come, I will dance with you first, and she began to dance, forcing Obed to join her. As soon as another track began, she handed Obed over to another girl, and they kept dancing with Obed in turns.

The atmosphere was convivial, and everyone was having fun. Those that came with their girlfriends did not mind people dancing with them. Pat had watched, amused as Sandra danced with everybody, trying to inject life and fun in the party, and it worked.

Up till that moment, Obed was humoring his niece; but when he held Karen to dance, something changed. As Karen stood up and locked eyes with him, bolts of electricity shot through his entire body. Time stood still. They danced three straight tracks, oblivious of time and others in the room. Only Pat and a few other people came to the party with their girlfriends; most of the men were meeting the ladies for the first time. So people were exchanging dancing partners and enjoying themselves. Somehow, nobody attempted to separate Obed and Karen from the time they began dancing as if by agreement. Obed would have rebuffed any intrusion anyway. They danced for what seemed like hours; it was the rumbling of Obed’s stomach that reminded him that he had not had supper. Inclining his head toward Karen so as to be heard over the din of the music, he asked if she wanted something to eat.

They held hands as they went to the veranda. They selected the food they wanted and went out to enjoy the food under open skies. Some adventurous people were swimming in the pool, and Obed wondered if they had come with change of underwear as he led Karen to sit at one of the lounge chairs by the poolside. Obed went to the bar and got some drinks for both, and they ate and drank in silence. Nothing needed to be said. They were out so long that Sandra came looking for them. She looked at their faces and without saying a word went back inside. It was about 4:00 a.m. that Obed dropped Karen at the hostel, promising to see her within a fortnight. Karen didn’t have to wait a fortnight. When the porter came four days later to tell her that she had a gentleman visitor, she knew it was Obed. And she was right.

Ticket, madam, your ticket, please! The train attendant’s voice roused her from her reverie. She rummaged inside her bag and produced the ticket, which the attendant punched mechanically. As she extended her hand to collect the ticket, the man let it drop and walked away. Wondering what she might have done to offend the man, Karen stooped and retrieved her ticket from the floor. She got up to watch the scenery as the train sped past forests and villages. Because of the leisurely speed of the train, the countryside was pleasant to the eyes. Villages came and passed at almost regular intervals with mostly half-clad children waving at the passengers who were watching from the train windows. At the infrequent stops, some passengers would alight as some others boarded. The second-class coaches were filled to overflowing. Many of the passengers were standing as all available seats were occupied. Even some pregnant women were standing, while those that were too tired to stand just sat about anywhere they could squeeze out a space. The usual courtesy extended to women at such moments was lacking. No one wanted to play the gentleman and then have to stand for two days. Karen knew that the only way to endure such a journey was to cough out the money for a first-class ticket, which was three times the cost of a second-class ticket. She had been conflicted on whether to pay so much more for the same destination, but, ultimately, comfort and peace of mind won. Now, she congratulated herself for not penny-pinching. Watching some people hanging precariously at the railings made her uncomfortable; she turned once again to admire the landscape.

Her final year in the university had been the best year she had spent in the school. Obed had made sure she had everything she needed and more. He came every fortnight to take her and her friends out. The weekends they spent on each visit had been pure bliss. The week following his visit, she would sail through her lectures and schoolwork on cupid’s wings. She told Obed a hundred times that he gave her enough love to satiate her longings yet not too much that she wouldn’t be anticipating their next rendezvous. She confided to Sandra that Obed made her come alive. Sandra did not doubt her because Karen literally bloomed before her eyes. Sandra congratulated herself for having brought them together. She loved her cousin Obed very much and wanted him to have the best life possible.

Two months to Karen’s graduation, Obed was transferred to Kano. He pulled strings to ensure that Karen was posted to Kano for her compulsory one-year national service termed National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). When Karen arrived Kano, while she was still on orientation, Obed arranged for her to work, for her primary assignment, in a company that would remunerate her so she wouldn’t depend solely on her allowance. Sandra teased Karen that she was sure the wedding bells for their wedding would toll before the end of the service year.

When they got their letters of posting for NYSC, Sandra had been upset that she was posted to Kaduna instead of Lagos, which she wanted. The promise had been firm that she would be posted to Lagos. She had put all her heart and hope on going to Lagos, so she was dispirited to be posted to Kaduna. She could not bring herself to share in her friend’s joy. Her consolation only came when she was informed that Kano and Kaduna were close, so they promised to visit each other frequently during the service year.

They boarded the same bus going to Kaduna, Kano, and Maiduguri. When Sandra dropped at Kaduna, Karen felt so lonely. Sandra trudged along, following other youth corps members. They boarded a bus that would take them to the orientation camp. Luckily, the camp was not far from the point that they were dropped. They were not even allowed to wash up after their long journey before the bugle sounded for assembly. Soldiers marshalled them to the parade ground.

It was not until the end of the fourth month of their service year that Karen was able to visit Sandra at the secondary school where she was posted for her primary assignment. The two friends were pleased to see each other and had a splendid weekend together. Beneath the raging hullabaloo of sharia compliance and the vociferous preaching of a few religious extremists, Kaduna was a delightful city and enjoyed its fair share of fun. With so many young and rich men around town, and the notoriety of young army officers for hosting frenzied parties, the girls had no dull moment.

Karen had gotten to the school at about one o’clock. She inquired about Sandra from the mai gadi, the gateman, in pidgin English and hand gesticulations. After a few tries, the man pointed her to Sandra’s class.

Dat carassi we de for corner. If you de go for right, you go see am for carassi we de for corner so, the man said, demonstrating as he directed Karen.

His direction was spot-on, and Karen just walked into the class as her friend was explaining some points to the students. The students exploded in laughter as they watched the shouting and hugging by the two friends.

Thinking that her students were about to embark on a demonstration, something that had happened before with another youth corps member, the principal rushed to the class wielding a cane, followed closely by the vice principal. They were relieved when they saw the reason for the uproar. Sandra quickly introduced her friend to them. The principal gave her permission to leave with her friend. It’s almost closing time anyway, he told her.

Walking to the corper’s lodge assigned to Sandra and two other youth corps members, the girls chattered on, trying to catch up on four months in four minutes. While Karen wanted to know how Pat was and what was going on in their relationship, Sandra was anxious to find out if Obed had proposed and when the wedding was going to be. She told her friend that at the breakneck speed that their relationship was going, if they didn’t wed soon, they were bound to have a child out of wedlock. Maybe twins, Sandra teased and chuckled. Sandra quickly made lunch, which both girls wolfed down. Now, tell me everything, Sandra said, sitting down comfortably on the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her.

Well, Karen began, I know that what I am having is probably what they mean by the expression ‘heaven on earth’ experience. Obed has been more than wonderful. He is every girl’s dream of an ideal boyfriend or husband. Ever since you brought us together, he has been a perfect gentleman and lover. Sometimes, I pinch myself to be sure that I was not dreaming. Even the love stories you and I used to read in Mills and Boon novels and laugh at don’t compare to my experience with Obed. And to think that I never believed in such love stories. I thought they were all fiction and made up. Sandra, I am so happy, Karen narrated, hugging Sandra for bringing Obed into her life.

Karen, you know how much I value your friendship. You are like a sister to me. If I thought for one moment that Obed would hurt you, I would not have allowed you to have anything to do with him, let alone be the one to bring you two together, Sandra responded. Yes, Obed is my cousin, and we practically grew up in the same house. He was my protector and would beat the hell out of anybody that harassed me. My mother used to tease us girls that if Obed had not been related to us, she would have encouraged him to marry one of us. He is that appreciated and respected in the family, Sandra told her friend.

Well, I don’t doubt you or your mother! He is a wonderful man! I am so lucky! Karen said.

Hey, hey, hey, stop that! Sandra interjected. You are a wonderful girl yourself.

Do you know that Obed writes me constantly, thanking me for facilitating your meeting? Sandra revealed.

Is that so? Can I see the letters, please? Karen asked.

No! That would be invasion of privacy. They are my private collection to be bequeathed to your children in your old age. It would form part of their inheritance, and should you ever betray our friendship, what better weapon for blackmail than the epistles from your lover? Sandra chortled.

Sandra, you don’t need to hold any gun to my head. You and I love each other more than blood sisters do, and, moreover, I can never hope to repay you for bringing Obed into my life. Now, what has been happening between you and Pat? The last time you wrote, you were expecting him to visit, Karen asked, curious to know.

But I wrote to you immediately after the visit chronicling all the wonderful times we had and the places we visited. I even enclosed five pictures of our romantic outings. Don’t tell me that you did not receive it? Sandra asked her friend, perplexed. I remember registering the letter at the post office, and NIPOST claimed that their services had improved, Sandra told Karen, visibly angry.

Don’t be upset, my dear friend. All those advertisements that they do are to deceive the public. How can they change without first reorienting their personnel? I suspect that one of their staff pilfered your letter, hoping that it contained money. I hope the pictures were not obscene because I pity the thief if it’s a man. They both laughed despite themselves.

Well, since you did not get the letter, let me give you the gist of it, Sandra said, opening her eyes wide in mock ecstasy. Pat arrived on a Thursday. He said that he wanted to make it an extended weekend. Of course, I could not teach well on Friday because I had not gotten any sleep. We went to a party organized by one of the young instructors at the military school, Zaria, whose father owns a palatial home in Kaduna. You know, Karen, sometimes I wonder if these army officers are soldiers at all, Sandra said and paused. She walked over to the fridge and brought two bottles of soft drinks for both. Settling comfortably again, she continued her story. Do you know that this young man practically lives in Kaduna despite being based in Zaria? I heard that twice they posted him to Liberia, but on each occasion, the orders were reversed within twenty-four hours. He parties from Friday to Sunday every week and at the slightest excuse would throw a party that would go on for all hours. May Nigeria never have to go to war with any neighbor, because they will capture all our soldiers alive. Continuing, she said, All the enemy has to do is to attack us on a Friday or Saturday night, while most of the soldiers were carousing at parties or pepper-soup joints. By morning, the war would be over, probably with our president in chains. They laughed so hard that Karen choked and started coughing.

"Anyway, Pat and I were invited to one of Major Ahmad’s parties. Even Pat told me that he had never seen anything like it before. There was no brand of exotic drinks that were not available. A bottle of some of the champagne brands could pay a civil servant’s salary for three months, and they were inexhaustible. The variety of food provided catered for every taste. And the girls! Ahh! Karen, the girls had come from all the higher institutions around and from such nearby states as Kano, Plateau, Niger, and Abuja to attend his party. Someone told me that he had ten girls called ‘cords,’ short for ‘coordinators,’ who mobilize all the girls and handle the logistics of transportation and remuneration.

"The party lasted all night, and we got home at 6:00 a.m. No one wanted to leave the party. The home was truly palatial. The main building had twenty-five bedrooms, and none of them was empty. It also had four other duplexes in the compound and an Olympic-size swimming pool. It was not unknown for guests to party in the house from Friday to Sunday. There was never a shortage of food and drinks.

Well, Sunday came too soon. I sent you a three-paged letter with all the juicy details. I am sure whoever stole the letter would have had a good laugh over it. He had invited me to spend the holidays with him, and I can’t wait for the term to end, Sandra concluded.

Lucky you! Karen responded.

You know, we don’t have holidays where I work except the statutory ones. Anyway, as a youth corps staff, I am not entitled to any leave, Karen said.

But you get paid very well. That’s compensation enough, Sandra told her.

Oh, yeah! You are right on that point, Karen agreed.

"I have been