Chimamanda… Greece… Hotel by the beach, ten tequila shots later. Its 2am, day after the wedding.

When I’m lost and confused, I try searching for my essence in a bottle. I keep drinking until I find it. I never do but that hasn’t stopped anybody before so… Someday I’ll find what I’m looking for. But till then, we drink!

My phone rings.

Who is that unfortunate fellow! Urgh!

Wait, what’s Emeka doing calling me with this number. How did he get this number? Nobody has this number?!

I let the phone ring. I’ll block him again in a bit. I pick up my phone to do some investigation.

Wait. Who sent a text from my phone at 12am. Another one at 1am. And then the last one at 2am. All to Emeka.

12am: so you di it. Didi it. Idiot. I know you wer foolish and power drun but I din think ud do it. Mess her up tho. Nice. She deserves it. Imgine the rattt says she wants to drag me. I don’t blame her. You shared our firrrre with an insolent infant. So ofcourse shiz tripping. Trip Trop.

1am: I just want to knor why yu did it though. With all we’ve shared, all the times you disappointed me, you do disssss. You. You that I picked from the guttr when you fell from grace. You that I completed your tuition after you spent it on your pipe dreams. I’m nor surprised tho. You disappointed me at 15 and u bin disappointing me ever since so… The tequila is wearing off. Should have taken the whole goddam bottle.

2am: oh by the way. You know your Dad and I are still close. So I know why you did it. And I’ll tell everybooooooodddddddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Shit! Don’t drink and text. Don’t drink and text!!!!!

So much for letting go and staying out of it. Well I guess that’s it. It done. I’ve let off some steam. He ought to know how it hurts. I think. My head hurts.

Well have a happy married life Mr & Mrs Shitface Amobi


Emeka; day after the wedding

So this is how it ends. Marriage to a Nwokocha, no. Access to a wealthy empire, no. Millions in the account, no. Heiress’ trust fund to finance my dreams, none.

I, Emeka Amobi, son of three-time Senator, two-time Governor and all-time corrupt (and now broke) politician, is finished. Everything I worked for (well sort of) is finished. How do I wake up one morning, the soon-to-be Husband of the Nedu Nwokocha (aka bullion van money), and go to bed broke and utterly finished.

This life. Just a pot of hot agoyin beans. Without the sauce. And dead two days agege bread. Shit.

All for love. And guilt. And my foolishness.

And these texts from Chimamanda. When did she start drinking? She has changed. Again. Is this all my fault? She was right about everything. I broke her heart too many times. And of all the people I picked, it had to be her sister. Sighs.

It was the last text that floored me. She knows. Everything. How do I redeem myself in her eyes? How do I explain all I did? How do I convince her that I only ever loved her? The only thing I loved more than her was my reckless ambition. My ambition to be a greater and better man than my father. My ambition to be the man that Chimamanda deserves. Finally get my life together and be free. Free of my father’s past. Free to embrace my future.

That’s all gone now though. I drew the last straw with her. No one in their right minds would take me back after that. Or can she?



The first time I saw Chimamanda, I was confused. Her beauty confused me. There was something not quite right about it. It took me a while to figure out what it was. She was shy and afraid, so it didn’t fit. I always wondered how someone so beautiful could be so fragile.

Her first day was clearly difficult. Cassandra found her to be easy prey. The pretty girl clearly intimidated her. Chimamanda intimidated everyone. Only she didn’t know this though.

I had to help her. I was drawn to her of course, but she felt like my little sister. I had to protect her.

I took her under my wing, introduced her to all my friends. We became quite close, going everywhere together. Library, lunch, football games, excursions, all of it. There were rumours going around that we were dating, but I never paid any mind to it. She was so fragile to me. I never embraced the possibility of being with her. Deep down, I never felt good enough. But of course, there was Cassandra.

. ******************************************************

Chimamanda; 2009- Prom day

It was our prom. I was ready. In my mind, Emeka and I would steal the show. We would typify the new age Bella and her Prince Charming.

I was so excited that day, I forgot to call Emeka to confirm what time he’d pick me up. I was confident that he would be on time anyway. He was always on time. We had spoken a lot about prom, what clothes we would wear, who would drop us off at school, the whole works.

So, imagine my surprise when by 6pm on the D day, I was in my room, waiting for Emeka. Prom was to start at 5pm, so the only reason I would be in a green pleated chiffon gown, on my bed and by myself, was because I was waiting for him.

As I wasn’t allowed a phone at the time, my older sister, reluctant and irritated, had to do the calling. At the 50th try with no response, my sister tossed the phone and looked at me.

“I’ve been where you are and I am going to help you”, she said.

Now, I must state that this was probably one of the pivotal moments of my life. If I had better counsel, I would have stayed in bed, sulked and spoken to Emeka the next day. With a clear head. Just simply move on. No one is ever that important. Really, no one.

But no. I (well my sister and I) did this instead.

“Take off that dress, you are going to wear something else”, my sister said. Off goes the green dress and on comes a skin tight, red mermaid-cut dress. It felt like I was wearing rubber, but I didn’t care. I looked hot. But my sister wasn’t done.

“You’ll wear one of my wigs, hang on.” She leaves the room and comes back with one of her Diana Ross fros. She puts makeup on me. It was at this point I realised what she was trying to do. She was trying to change me. From the outside.

“He got you all dressed up and stood you up?! He didn’t think you were good enough to take to the prom, right? Well, we’ll show him!” She looked really upset. I was a fool to have thought that her anger was about me. “He abandoned you and took someone else! Let that register in your head, Amanda!”.

I looked in the mirror and took solace in what I saw. I was beautiful. Too beautiful to be rejected. And now I’ll make him pay!

My disappointment morphed into anger. I was livid. First at Emeka, for leading me on, but mostly, at myself. Why was I so fragile, so vulnerable? I needed to be stronger. Meaner. Mean girls don’t get hurt and they always get what they want.

All of this registered in my head as we drove into the school. As I got out of the car, I knew my plan had worked. From the ushers at the door, to the servers in the hall, I had them. When schoolmates saw me, they were stunned. They all had consistent shocked expressions on their faces. “Oh wow!” “Amanda, you look so different”, “Is that Amanda?”, “Ok, she just stole prom!”, “I wish I wore something like that”, they went on and on.

I wished I was in the mood to acknowledge them, but I had other things on my mind.

I picked a seat in the corner, far from the crowd and their attention. There was only one person I wanted to be seen by.