In diverse ways, his wayward deeds stood between him and his desires for a settled life. Though born of an Islamic cleric, Usman Kaoje, was boorish, choleric, and manipulative. Somehow, our paths crossed in the university as members of the Muslim Students Society. Being the son of an imam, Usman was given an executive position in the Society notwithstanding his obvious shortcomings. Quite expectedly, his tenure was marred by fraud, sexual harassment, and high-handedness. That was the Usman I knew.
Five years after graduation, Usman and I reconnected on Facebook. We discovered that we were both residing in Lokoja. While I was working as a cost accountant in a construction company, Usman had become a full-time missioner and diviner. He took over from his father as the Chief Imam of New Light Central Mosque, Lokoja. I read some reviews and testimonies about his gift of divination, power of intercession, and ability to proffer solutions; all based on Islamic prayers.
Unfortunately, that was a period that I was facing a major challenge in my life. Five years after leaving the University, I wasn’t married. Though I had a good job, decent accommodation, and a sleek car, I have been unlucky with men. I was becoming apprehensive, jittery, and living in the illusion of being jinxed.
The most promising relationship I had was with Habib, who I met at the Ramadan Lecture In City Hall, two years ago. Though based in Abuja, he visited Lokoja almost every week. He was handling a real estate project in GRA. While the project was on, he was practically living with me. The more we stayed together, the more I discovered that he was a pervert. He had such an abnormal sex drive. At first, I was enjoying his maniacal thrusts. He would pound me for close to one hour without orgasm. Later, I started enduring bruises in my pussy. Not just that. Habib would make love to me five times before daybreak. Most times, I would be useless in the office. I didn’t mind anyway. I wanted the relationship to work. Then, one night, after the usual muscular thrusting that left me groaning, Habib left the bedroom and went to the balcony to take fresh air. When he didn’t return on time, I decided to check him out. Alas, I saw him with a huge wrap of cannabis, puffing out smoke and sipping from a small bottle of Scotch whiskey! ” Auhusubillai ” I screamed.
I raced back to bed, weeping profusely. He ran after, and pounced on me, wiping my tears with his hemp-infested palms. I choked, groaned under his vigorous grip. He covered my mouth with a kiss and simultaneously inserted his hard dick into my pussy, lunging with gusto. By the time he let go of me, I was too weak to whimper. I slept off. Habib left the following day. He never came back. He was just one of the many nightmares I had trying to find a man to marry me.
It occurred to me that I needed divine intervention in my life at this juncture. That was how I went to look for Usman, the celebrated diviner who also doubled as the Chief Imam of New Light Central Mosque. At least he was a familiar face.
I got to his house on Saturday afternoon. He was reeking in liquor as he ushered me to his living room. I was disappointed. ” So Usman hasn’t changed despite his fame and name in the Islamic community?” I mulled as I sat on his tattered sofa in the scantily decorated lounge. Notwithstanding the air of impurities, I poured out my heart to the clergyman. Starkly, he said he would marry me. “Kafilat, you don’t need any divination or special devotions, I will marry you. I have always admired you from our school days” he said as he drew close to me. Initially, I thought he was joking until began to caress me and told me how one of his two wives left him. Unusual anger welled up in me as I rained curses on him. “You are a disgrace to Islam…so you have not changed? You? Charlatan, nincompoop, and an imbecile dressed in a clerical robe. Shame on you!” I stormed out of his cursed abode.
The following day was a Sunday. I woke up longing for Usman. It was strange but true. My body was literally on fire. My clitoris throbbed, and my nipples hardened in a pulsating desire for Usman’s touch. I was crazy. I knew it. But I couldn’t help myself. I was twitching and stuttering. I picked up my phone and called Usman that I wanted to see him. He told me he was busy. He hung up on me. I cried. I kept phoning him. After about twenty attempts, he finally picked up the call. I begged him to let me see him urgently. He grudgingly agreed. Some minutes later, he showed up in my house. “Usman, I’m ready now. I have agreed to marry you” I announced. He hugged me. I felt his dick nuzzling my navel. I quickly stepped out of my panties. He made love to me on the settee. I begged him for more. He spent the whole day with me. We ate lunch and dinner before he left. I felt like seeing him every day. I missed him every moment. I was completely out of my senses.
Three months into the weird relationship, I got pregnant. He introduced me to his first wife. He also met my parents. He insisted that I should stay in my accommodation pending when he would be able to get me a bigger apartment. Two years later, I got pregnant again. Usman didn’t give me a penny throughout the first and the second pregnancies. All he did was to come, eat and have sex with me. Yet I longed for him. Meanwhile, some of my friends who sensed that I was hypnotised stayed away from me, except Hafsat Subair, head of the HR department in my office.
Hafsat was worried about my loss of concentration in the office. As the company’s head of accounts, my role was too sensitive. Yet I was becoming flippant, resulting in serial book keeping blunders. Hafsat and I knew something was wrong but neither of us could really say what exactly. She took me to one elderly Islamic cleric for consultations and prayers.
The following morning, I regained my ruptured senses. It was as if I just woke up from a trance. Hafsat helped me with some recollection of events. Usman hypnotised and kept me in darkness for three years!
I rushed to his house! Hell was let loose. I screamed at him and tore his dress. In a jiffy, onlookers and neighbours gathered as I continued yelling. In the end, I was led out of the scene, back to my house.
Now, it has been six months since my recovery from Usman’s diabolical captivity. I don’t wish to set my eyes on the fraudster for the rest of my life. But he is the father of my two children, a boy, and a girl. I really can’t figure out a way out of this horrible conundrum
