A Voodoo Priest, Fifty Thousand Euro's And A Prison of The Mind

"ADE'S JOURNAL", 6

     A single seed can yield a large crop and fill the farmland with hopes of a great harvest. Unless, it's eaten by rats, dug out by Grasscutters or devoured by soldier ants, rummaging to feed it's young. That's how it all seems, right now. When pawns, go out there, blind and brainwashed, anything can happen. And when the chaos of, no power supply, no means of furthering ones education, plagues her mind. Then she is susceptible to any and everything. The knight, disguised as a queen, comes like a thief in the night. Only, she is brandishing, topnotch, Italian leather shoes and bags. Her neck is heavy from the gold, worth a million Naira. And the lavish party she throws, feeds the hungry children. The spotlight is on her and the decorations in the hall is majestic. There are tales of victory abroad, the place, you get your money's worth in dollars. There are handouts, second hand shoes and clothing, all accepted with a grateful heart, a naive mind. Yes, she bites hard at the bait, dangling in front of her and the hook, curved and sharp, has sunk in deep, it's too late now to wriggle out of this mess. It has eaten into her brain and she is caught in a trap. The lies, sounds like the truth, right now. No education needed, nothing, all she has to do, is, say yes. The question was posed, night and day, the belief in a higher power will make this work. The devil will try to steal your victory, try to get you deported. The only way, to stay on the sides of the angels, is to do as you are told. So, in broad daylight, we are smuggled, like contraband goods, we cross deserts and rough waters. And as she arrives, the meals are fit for royalty. Prim and proper women and men, groom and tame Thier locks and wax their private corners. Only wild animals go ungroomed, the Queen announced.
  I tried to talk to the girls pampering me and heard her cry quietly, silently. She twitched and walked awkwardly, like there were thorn's between her legs. I asked her about it, and the Queen, cut her off and said she was loose and lazy. The young girl broke down and cried. She was carried away, crying and sobbing, begging us to speak out and fight the snake's lies. A tingling sensation creeped up the back of my neck. That thought, that said this offer was too good to be true. The lie the Queen sold, was that, we would be housemaids. Now, I was not so sure. Then all the dynamics changed, they entered with a large turkey. It was bejeweled and pruned, just like us. Bulky men in white, guard the door, then bring out daggers. Another warning, sipped into my gullible mind. Could we, be spare parts for these Europeans? No, the laws would protect us, I tell myself. Screams fill the room and then the men slice their own chest and start to chant. Their rituals, made us hubble and cuddle up together, both young girls and boys. The priest enters, he smelled bad, like stale blood. He grabs the adorned large turkey and Yanks off its head. The blood spilled and I started to cry. This is not the European dream, I was sold. Then the priest, opened the pouch around his body, its shape looked familiar but I refuse to think in that line of thought. Her eyes were still open and the tears still flowed. We screamed and pushed each other and I cried for my naive gullible mother that put me in this mess. For now, we were told how much we owed and shown the price for whistle blowing. A Voodoo Priest, Fifty Thousand Euro's And A Prison of The Mind.
Two thousand men later, in, under six months and I am that girl. I have accepted that death is better than this hell. I watch the fresh young Nigerian girls, twenty and two boys smile and compare jewelry. A naive girl, I dutifully, stretch her virgin hair, asks me as I try to unlock her tight curls. Why are you crying quietly? I am tired of lying and waiting and the wound between my legs burn like acid. I scream and tell them to run, I show them my neckline, where they will behead me. And tell them that the thing that looks like a turkey, is actually a well feed chicken. I begged them to end this circle and I am about to show them my unrecoverable private... When I am knocked hard in the head. Their fear is real and as the bodyguards appear, I pray to God Almighty to forgive me for been desperate and greedy. For wanting to outshine the educated, back home in Nigeria and for wanting to be the richest amongst my friends. I cannot speak, my head hurts and this time, they do not kill the chicken. Instead I am forced to the ground and the priest, who is actually a butcher by profession, swings his large Arabia dagger. The doors are broken and gun shots ring out, as armed Austrian special human trafficking police squads, race in. I still do not move my head, from the cold floor. You are fine, you are free, you will be alright, they say and echoes all around the room. I shut my eyes and open them. To my surprise, they are right, but how do I break this desperate circle of denial and lies, sold to the poor and desperate?
 
 Another gloomy weekend is here, a full weekend all booked and spent, before it even begins. I'm not happy, because of these so called people, into smuggling and selling human beings. It may seem far and distant to you, but I have an uncle who submitted himself. He paid money, he borrowed and begged for, to these horrid menacing beasts. It was a journey filled with starvation, hiding in the desert and becoming a drug mule to survive. Of course, he was caught and deported. Only because, he had a miniscule amount on him. If not, he would have been beheaded and lost to us forever. Now he is sober and content with the work he does to survive. This was like a decade ago, now, when I read about young people been cajoled abroad, I am sad.

 This has to stop.

  I am dressed and ready for our magazine shoot and interview. Celine is pacing around the room, making sure that the set match our outfits.
'Ade, stop brooding and smile's, Celine snaps at me.
'Please ooo, I ordered these new furniture, so that we look majestic. Ade don't spoil this photoshoot ooo'
 Of course, Ajoke has to remind us that she spent, way more than we did.
"Calm down Abeg, did you read about the smuggled Nigerian's in Austria?"
 I try to get my girls on the same page as I was.
'Ade, you keep forgetting that my own mother, first traveled to France illegally, then legally'
'You two, are always trying to make me the odd one out. My uncle swam to SPAIN, my mother got into France in a food cargo container...'
   Trust Ajoke to make light of a very difficult situation.
I think the fact that she had no fashion flair, or creative input into it makes her feel left out.
 I hug her and Celine too and she nudges us off and we both laugh at her.
'At least we are laughing, I want people to love my home'
'Maybe, that's your talent's, I add.
'This Ade self, Ajoke's talent is spending'
  Celine was been naughty and it got Ajoke, on the defensive side.
'I work very hard for my money, and if Bala's money is a plus, should I not spend it too?'
'Dont mind Celine, she does not leave here'
'Non, je travaille en France. Et oui, je cours aussi en France'
  Hey, my friend has started. I don't know, if Celine abused us in French or answered my naughty question.
'....And you too..', Ajoke said.
 My friend, is as clueless as I am.
'My goodness, I said.. Non...No'
'I know that one', Ajoke quickly adds.
 I rolled my eyes at her and she slaps my back.
‘I just said I work and school in France'
'Celine, teach us French naaa’, I said as childishly as I could.
‘What about you, Ajoke?’
‘All I know is non and bonjour'
  We all laugh.
‘Okay, my gift, to you two is….. Wait for it….’
‘You will teach us? You don’t have the patience..’
 I started to grumble.
‘Cool down, Ade your blood is hot'
 I raise both hands.
‘Oya, land ooooo’
 The suspense was killing me.
‘Intensive class, at Alliance de France'
‘You will pay, abi?’
  Ajoke’s question, didn’t surprise me. It’s that she agreed, that shocked me.
‘I thought you said, you won’t go to any s hook again'
‘Ade, I know you. I know you and Celine want to leave me behind, for where? I will attend the class and not miss a single day. It’s evenings, right?’
‘Exactly, great'
 The door bell rings and the camera crew and presenter, walk in with Nnoye.
‘Hey ladies hi', Nnoye announced and we all wave ad say nothing.
 The French will help us gossip in front of Nnoye, easily.
My dress is a sheath couture dress and, this pregnancy is giving me the double d, breasts I’ve always wanted. Sometimes, I forget I’m pregnant, I wonder if other people feel this way. I mean other pregnant women of course.
  The presenter Caro, was impressed we are all still friends, little does she know. Nnoye is in for the shock of her life.
 I grumble and accuse Nnoye of betrayal and say she chose to lie with the enemy and sell her friends for profit.
'Dou feel, you made her?’, the presenter asked.
 It was a question, setting me up to misyarn, to get carried away and take credit for Nnoye’s fame.
‘Nnoye will always be a drama queen, a hard-working, attention seeking woman. I can’t take credit for that'
 I have pushed her buttons far enough and she reacts.
‘As if you all don’t like attention, just look at them, all peeped up for fame and for attention. Abeg jare, this was not what we agreed’
 She realized we were not nice to her and have not Forgiven her.
'Everbody can’t be like you three, all prim and proper…
 I cut her short and add more fuel to the brewing fire.
‘What do you mean, I had a married stalker harras and cajole me into a fake engagement…’
  I turn to Celine and wait for her to speak.
‘I’m a live in girlfriend, with a man that would never marry me.. And….’
 Celine and I turn to Ajoke, who was rocking her sleeping twins.
‘I’m that money grubbing mother of twins, who wants to do it all. And pushed my husband, into having an affair that produced another set of twins'
  The presenter was smiling so much.
‘This is juicier than I thought, so Nnoye… It seems like all your stories about been friends with this crew is false. They seem to have removed you from the clique'
 Nnoye looked at her, then turned to me.
‘Ade, we talked. You said you have forgiven…’
‘I can never forget, you broke my trust. Our bond, I put my reputation on the line and stood for you. But you proved me wrong, over and over again…’
‘In fact, I rescind my invitation for you to be able to enter my home…’, Ajoke says rocking her crying twins.
‘Too bad, we have one more job together. But be sure, it’s our last'
 Celine adds.
Nnoye was watching me and I could see tears, and then she broke down.
None of us moved, but Caro told them to cut, and stop recording.
 Ajoke stands up and looks around.
‘It means, you too'
 Caro was in shock.
‘Confirm any story with me first, or you will be blacklisted from any event I’m a part of'
‘Im a journalist, I report the truth', Caro adds.
‘Your boss has the DNA, report of the so called mistress that has my husband’s twins. Say hi to him for me'
 Caro looks at Nnoye and the six security men that appeared.
‘What about Nnoye?’
‘Leave her to me', I add and sit opposite her.
‘Ade, I’m sorry’
 The room cleared out, leaving us three and Nnoye.
‘How does it feel?’
‘We agreed’
‘You agreed, I have no need with you. It’s just that, people don’t want friends all cozy and forgiving. It’s not real'
‘Ade, are you saying, you are not mad?’
'Not anymore, you can relax. Ajoke made us catfish pepper soup’
 The look of shock on her face was priceless.
‘So, I don’t have to leave?’, Nnoye asked Ajoke.
‘Oh no. My dear, that was for lights, cameras and the magazines. My dear, we need friends like you to remind us that the world is not all sweet and rosy'
‘I won’t betray you ladies again', Nnoye swore.
‘And an elephant, stopped having a trunk’, I add and laugh.

  On my way to the kitchen, I feel all moist and wet. Just like I am on my period, but the pain is a million times worse.

      I look down at my couture, sheath dress and see blood trickling down from between my legs. I’m pregnant, so have no need for a period. The pain intensifies and a grab my womb.

Oh God, please don’t let me loose my baby.





**Season 1, Episode 6**
**”ADE’S JOURNAL”, 6, COPYRIGHT 2017*
**BUSOLA ELEGBEDE, COPYRIGHT 2017**