Bachelor’s Sojourn – Part 7

The adventures of Omo Otunba started from Part 1. Click here to see how the journey started.
When your girl says: “We need to talk”, as a guy, it freaks you out! Therefore, for the hours I was waiting to get out of class and for JD to get out of work, I almost ran mad wondering what exactly it was.
Thankfully, it ended up being one of those talks that talk every guy hate: “What are we doing?” “Where is this relationship headed?” and the likes… I knew it was going to happen soon. I just wasn’t ready to face it. She was working and doing pretty good for herself. On the other hand is me, in Europe, making fairly okay, but if translated into the current exchange rate, is a good sum, in my country. I was totally okay with life here, although it’s way better in Nigeria, in some aspects. JD kept emphasizing that I would do well for myself if I come back to Nigeria and she was doing good enough, and so we could start a family. 
This conversation kept going for a while, and guess what? I gave in. I decided to return to Nigeria and I did this for JD. Why? I had a number of reasons.
But the few that top the list are:
1) I’ve come a long way with this girl. Why would I throw it all away?
2) She had been a real definition of a backbone / soul mate.
3) I can leave JD at home, and come back and meet her at the same spot, intact. No boy, 3rd party or unwarranted behavior. In this our generation, the watchword is: if you can leave her at home, and know nothing would go wrong, marry her!  
Telling my mum, Popo and Sophie this was quite devastating. I didn’t add JD to the reason. I just summarized and said I wanted to be back home, and do business and the likes, that although Netherlands was good, I assessed Nigeria to be better. You can be sure they cajoled, convinced, fought, begged and did all sorts, but I politely declined. At approximately 11 months after getting to Europe, I was on my way back to Nigeria, with my fresh skin and a few thousand Euros to make some noise and paint town red. As I got off the plane and walked into the airport, the hot air that hit me was so bad, I wanted to go back. I thought all those “I just got back” kids used to form oh but man that heat was like someone left hell’s door open at the entrance facing Nigeria.
“When would this country change?” I said to myself. I found my way out of immigration and switched to my Nigerian phone sim-card. Since I’d been using it for Whatsapp, it’s been functional. Behold, Otunba’s call came through. Jixox!
I’d been dreading conversation with him. I can count the number of times we spoke while I was away. According to mum, he’d been a little bit upset at my leaving but didn’t want to be a hindrance between my ‘father’ and me. The guilt didn’t allow me make communication frequent. Mum must have told him I was returning, and he was being the same old father I knew, who would call to find out if we’d arrived in school or airport or something. 
‘Hello sir’ I said. 
‘Oladeji, how are you. I see you have landed. I’m at Gate B. Where are you? Said Otunba. 
‘I’m walking out of immigration. I would see you in a minute or two, sir’. 
Wait Otunba is picking me up himself? This has to be important to him and the level of relief that washed over me was insane! The phone went dead. Otunba isn’t a man of long phone calls. I saw him. He hadn’t changed. Still huge, but he was looking a little bit tired. His kaftan looked neat, as usual, and his chain could still blind anybody! As I walked up to him, and bowed my head to greet him, he gave me a big hug! 
No! No!! No!!! Bring my father back. Otunba has never hugged anyone other than his wife, and that when it’s either’s birthday and they are posing for the camera or crowd. The hug seemed to last forever. I cried a bit. And all the emotions came pouring in my mind. 
How could I have been so selfish?
This is the man who brought me up since I was a child. 
I left without looking back because of the feeling of being in “obodo oyinbo”. 
Someone who gave or made me all I am today. 
The pangs of guilt ate me up while in that hug. 
When we broke the hug, he slapped my head in a funny way and said ‘Ah! You’ve started wearing chain too? omo babe e’ . We laughed and he called the driver up, loaded my luggage in his Mercedes SUV. Now that’s what I’m talking about!! Not the bicycle I was riding in Netherlands. 
When I got to the house, I had everyone looking at me with hype and excitement. I wasn’t sure if my skin had turned white because I couldn’t fathom all the royal treatment. They had bought bottled water as they assumed my system would be too “bougie” for normal dispenser water. My semo and ogbono soup was also served with fork and knife. Something must be doing these people. But I liked the sentiments attached to my return, so I didn’t try to make it look weird. I wanted it to continue.
Edited by: Felicia Akanmu
Click here to read part 8.

4 thoughts on “Bachelor’s Sojourn – Part 7

Add yours

  1. Omo obodo Oyinbo….. shame on u, u come back Naija because of woman and Otunba dey there dey cry for u, smh…..
    part 8 anticipating gidi gan


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