My Rich Nigerian Boo – Chapter 11

“If you want to know what a man is like, take a look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals” – J.K. Rowling

 

 

In most African cultures, women are not allowed to question men’s decisions. A man says jump and you must ask how high because you have a pussy between your thighs. I think Ifechi was used to that tendency. I could tell in his eyes that he was pissed at the way I was questioning him. There is no normal person who would ignore the fact that they saw a human finger marinated in blood. There was a possibility that someone was killed in the very same roof I was under. “Young woman, we are just visitors in this house. Why do you go around looking for things that have nothing to do with you? I don’t know where the finger comes from. Go to the owner of this house and ask him. I still have 10 fingers and same with you. Why are you stressing over things that have nothing to do with you. I told you to stop behaving like an average South African girl,” Ifechi said with anger written all over his face.

 

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His defensiveness told me one thing, he knew very well how the finger landed in the bathtub. I grabbed my handbag and told him I was leaving. As I was about to head to the door he grabbed my hand and threw me to the bed. He pointed his big finger at me and threatened to kill me if I left. I screamed as loud as I could. Within a minute about three men came running to the bedroom. They asked what was going on, and I told them Ifechi was trying to kill me. One of the guys pulled Ifechi out of the room. Another one sat on the bed next to me and asked if I was okay. I told him I wanted to leave and he offered to drive me home. There was no way I was going to trust another Nigerian, I told him I preferred using Uber because I didn’t trust them anymore.

 

 

He handed me some money and told me to request Uber. He was acting all sweet and understanding. I felt safe with him but at the same time I suspected his sweetness had a motive behind it. I requested an Uber and it arrived within five minutes. I didn’t even see Ifechi before leaving. The Uber driver tried to make small talk but I ignored him. As soon as I got to my place I called Marcia to tell her what happened. She asked if I slept with Ifechi and I lied. When I told her about the R30k Ifechi gave me she immediately started singing Nigerian songs. She begged me to forgive the guy because he was just human, and not immune from making mistakes. I told her I wanted nothing to do with Ifechi because he took advantage of my trust. After talking to Marcia I took a nap. I wanted to rest my mind after all the drama I went thru.

 

 

I was woken up by my phone ringing. When I noticed it was Ifechi I ignored the call. It rang again with a different number. I knew it was Ifechi, so I ignored it. I spent the rest of the day at my place studying and watching TV. The following morning I decided to go shopping in Sandton. I was R30K richer after all. I didn’t even give a damn I didn’t perform the duties I was paid for, sleeping with Ifechi deserved a payment. I thought of asking Marcia to accompany me to Sandton but decided against it because I knew she would want me to buy her something. Some girls think they are smart, we have equal number of holes but they expect you to work for them. I bought three expensive handbags and lots and lots of clothes and shoes. By 15:00 P.M. I was left with only R4000. I planned to use it to throw my little brother a birthday party.

 

 

After shopping I requested Uber and headed back to Braamfontein. Nothing makes a girl smile like carrying bags from top shops. I could see other girls looking at me and wishing to be in my shoes. I put the bags on the bed and took more than fifty pictures. I uploaded them on Instagram to remind bana ba baloi that ‘Palesa is a chiefkazi’. Marcia called to ask why I didn’t invite when I went shopping. I told her my battery was dead. Donny sent me a WhatsApp text. It read: ‘YOU GONNA PAY FOR THE MONEY THOSE NAIJAS ARE SPENDING ON YOU. DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YOU WHEN THEY COME TO COLLECT WHAT BELONGS TO THEM. YOU ARE MESSING WITH WRONG PEOPLE. I KNOW YOU THINK I AM SAYING THIS OUT OF BITTERNESS. ANYWAY, LET ME SIP MY JACOBS COFFEE AND MIND MY OWN BUSINESS.’

 

 

I knew it was jealousy talking. Stingy exes are the first to make nasty comment when your life nourishes after enduring months of financially dry relationship. I didn’t reply to his text. I had no time for bitter people. Another WhatsApp text came in from an unfamiliar number. It read: ‘Since you won’t be doing the Durban assignment, it would be fair to return the money I paid you, R30k. I am waiting downstairs right now. Please bring it. Don’t take time, I have to drive to Durban. By the way, I know you are looking forward to celebrating your little brother’s birthday. He was in high spirits when I saw him this morning. You have three minutes to come downstairs.’ The mention of my little brother sent waves of fear to my heart.

 

 

As I was planning what to do next I received a video from the same number. I opened the video and ….HOLY SH!t…..

 

 

THE END

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