TITO

It seemed my whole life had been laid out for me. I mean you could predict it like one of those early 2000s Nollywood movies where a rich prince will fall in love with the girl hawking plantain and they’ll live happily ever after. My mum despite us being a Roman Catholic family found a way to attend Vision Prophetic Assembly after every mass, so she believed everything about my life had already been written in my “file". According to her, I was ordained to sing in the choir because my name Otitodilichukwu means “Praise the Almighty God", She also said I was destined to be a lawyer because her prophet had seen a wig on my head and I kept asking myself what if it had been a bone-straight.

My father on the other hand was a very principled and astute man. He was the kind of father to drive off to church alone if we had not sandwiched ourselves in his beige Volvo 240 Turbo by 5:45 a.m. He was a lecturer at Nnamdi Azikiwe University, he taught English and often I would wonder if he mistook us for his students because there was always an assignment to do at home, if we weren’t writing an essay on a strange topic, he would call I and my three brothers, Obinna, Ozoemenam, and Oluchukwu to watch the Network News with him and give our opinion on the current state of the nation. In his words, “Life is a test and this is part of the assessment".

When I was done with secondary school, I already knew what my first choice of a university would be or should I say my parents’ first choice — The University of Ibadan was a no-brainer really, my father had a sticker on his car reading “UIte to the Bone" and he was very vocal in their alumni forum, my eldest brother, Obinna had graduated with a First Class in Mechanical Engineering and my other older brother, Ozoemenam was currently studying Dentistry in the school so it was only apt that I sustain the family tradition.

My life in the university was black and white literally and figuratively, I was that law student who existed on a beeline that started in Queen Idia Hall and ended at the Faculty of Law Complex, however every Sunday the line would bend a bit to Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Chapel for mass. My roommates repulsed every fiber of my being, they were just so intolerable, my white bed sheet turned to a color I still don’t know how to describe, I got a full daily download of happenings on campus against my will and I had to buy earplugs because every night Adele performed for free in Room 206, I couldn’t even say Hello anymore.

Despite the torture I faced from the miscreants who lived with me, my pursuit of academic excellence was not deterred. I didn’t miss a class and I kept up with my schedule of reading for 6 hours a day, after the midnight oil had been burnt, I refilled it. I didn’t desire a first class, I needed it.

Olanma was one of the reasons I stayed sane in school, she always knew the right thing to say to get the everlasting grimace off my face. I had met her whilst we were battling our fellow students to do our GST registration at the New Admin Block, and after hours of pushing, stepping on toes, and struggling to diffuse oxygen from body odour, we bonded instantly and she became my person. We had similar views about everything except amala and God.

“NIFES is non-denominational" she would always echo to my hackneyed response of “I am a Catholic" to her incessant invitations. To be honest, my Catholicism had nothing to do with it, I didn’t just fancy the idea of attending any fellowship or gathering, going to mass every Sunday was a hassle for me and I was only consistent with it because my father knew half of the catechists in the parish. I was a Christian by birth, not by choice and even Olanma’s appeals couldn’t change that.

Months turned to years and I rounded up my degree as the 2nd Best Graduating Student with a CGPA of 4.51 — at least, everything was worth it in the end. Yenegoa called and I answered for my compulsory legal training at the Nigerian Law School. I remember the disappointment I felt when I saw I was heading to Bayelsa — “ah Bayelsa, is it not canoes they use in that side" I mumbled to my mother. Unknown to me, The river gods were determined to have their revenge on me for belittling their kingdom and I paid the price, I had a Second Class (Lower) from law school!. I had hoped for a first class, I even prayed occasionally about it. I did everything right, I covered my course outline multiple times, I practiced my drafts, I solved the past questions, and I… did everything. I checked my result every day for the next week with the firm belief that it was a mistake but nothing changed, na when e clear me for eye.

In my life, I had never been this lost, I felt like a failure, and my days were characterized by tears, loss of appetite, solitude , and Radiohead’s "OK Computer" album. “Not even a 2.1" I kept saying to myself, I questioned everything, my ability to get a job with that result, my future, everything. The Bar was missing, the Bench was broken. My life was a mess and I was drowning in it but everything changed when I met Orobosa — he, was my lifeguard.

“If soldier marry corper, dem go born mumu, dem go burn mumu, dem go burn mumu (X2)”. We sang that song during parades at the NYSC Orientation Camp in Essien Udim, Akwa-Ibom State. One day, my eyes caught that of one short ugly boy and….

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BECCA

“Shhhhhh…who is the short ugly boy because it can never be me". My uncle, Orobosa interjected. His wife, Tito, and I were very close and on this day, she had deemed it fit to narrate the story of her life to me but Uncle Orobosa just had to ruin it. “Oya, continue the story na since you can tell it better. Let me go and rest my back". Aunty Tito replied and stood up to leave, He chased after her, planted a kiss on her protruding belly, and helped her up the stairs. These two were nothing short of perfection, they were walking poetry. Anytime, I envisioned my future I knew I wanted to get married to a man like Uncle Bosa and I wanted to be a wife like Aunty Tito. This baby was God’s answer to their prayers. I was so happy for them, it was long overdue.

“Now let me tell you the full story, not that pirated version that my wife was telling you". We both chuckled.

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OROBOSA

When I was in UNIBEN, I was the Papa of my fellowship, if you’ve ever heard of CFi, you would know it’s kind of a big deal over there. Running the biggest fellowship on campus meant that every day I had to interact with a lot of people, especially women. I didn’t know if it was my anointing, my brains, or my diastema that made a lot of ladies flock around me but I knew that I had to put on the breastplate of righteousness and self-control, also I didn’t want to end up like one Papa Abraham who knocked up two members of his choir in my first year, I guess he really loved his name.

To be honest, I had always placed the opposite gender at an arm’s length, this was not only due to my mum’s never-ending pep talks on how impregnating a lady would derail the course of my life or the fact that most relationships I saw were strictly sexually or financially motivated. I didn’t just know how to speak to a lady in that manner, I didn’t have “rizz”. Anytime I wanted to “toast" a babe, I ended up talking about her ears, her wristwatch, or the book of Ecclesiastes. I often went on my knees and prayed to God for the gift of a good wife and the courage to approach her whenever we met, this was becoming a serious problem.

I remember my pastor always saying “If there is a man to pray, there is a God to answer" only that this time, the remedy to the secret yearnings of my heart was amber-eyed with a skin that radiated like a thousand suns and perfectly glossed lips that made me want to kiss her there and then, She wore the khaki, white polo and orange boots like she was on the runway of the Milan Fashion Week and in that moment, I forsook every teaching I had heard about “inner beauty". This was my wife. She was my answered prayer.

After we exchanged glances at the parade, I trailed her to the Mami market and noticed that she entered Riestina Foods, on a normal day, nothing could have made me step foot in that place because the price of a meal there was my budget for breakfast, dinner, and breakfast — do not ask me why I skipped lunch. I ordered a bottle of Fanta and I remember taking one sip every two minutes so the bottle won’t be empty. She finally finished eating and I quickly gulped my drink and made my way to the counter to pay my bill, she came to the counter as well and I summoned the boldness to speak to her. “How’s their famous Afang soup?” I asked, she looked at me, smiled, and responded “10 over 10, it’s really good, I’ve been eating here for the past 3 days". She was even more beautiful up close, I said “I’ll probably try it some day, my name is Orobosa Osahon Omorodion, and it’s my pleasure to meet you", she smirked and asked “Do you always mention your three names?” — “Old habits die hard, I guess” I said whilst collecting my change from the attendant. “Since we are on a three-name basis, my name is Otitodilichukwu Cornelia Omekannaya, and the pleasure is mine" She shook my already stretched-out hand. We parted ways with the promise that we’ll bump into each other again, bump ke?, babe wey I dey stalk already.

I had predicted Orientation Camp would be a nightmare, I mean, wasn’t it always? but that didn’t play out in my case. Do not get me wrong, waking up by 4 a.m. was still the apex of inhumanity, the beans could have been served in a mug and not a plate and the soldiers could have been a tad bit nicer however despite all these I went to bed every night with the relucent anticipation that I’d see Tito on the breaking of a new dawn. With her, I could picture the world through a vista of endless possibilities and I knew that the three weeks in camp were just the beginning of the time we would spend together — eternity.

The weeks flew as fast as the hours we spent on phone calls every night, we could not see each other regularly as we would have loved to, She was working at the Ministry of Justice in Uyo and I was far away in Mkpat Enin teaching shorthand and bookkeeping. Our conversations were beautiful and laced with humour, she would tease me about my Bini accent and I would make fun of the “prayer house" in the compound next to hers. Tito detested not just the “noise” that came from that religious establishment but the commitment of its members, this was expected. She was always of the opinion that everyone in church was acting a script and it was all one big show. I often wondered how she had this twisted view of Christianity, I tried talking to her but she always changed the topic, I sent her YouTube videos and podcasts but it was a waste of time, Tito was unwavering in her skepticism.

It became a burden in my heart that the woman I wanted to build a future with didn’t love Jesus, I already imagined starting a ministry with her and inviting people for crusades with our pictures on billboards. How would I be called “managad" when my “mama" was not “mamaing". I prayed for God to lead her to him because I had done everything possible and I couldn’t fathom a future where our three-way relationship wouldn’t work. Anyways, God did.

I clocked 27 on the 17th of November, 2017, my birthdays are typically just another day in the year to me, nothing special, no fanfare, no panoply. However, God gave me the best birthday gift anyone could ask for on that day. I had planned for that Friday to be a normal one, I planned to teach my 11 a.m. class, come back home, and sleep but my friends insisted that we go to Uyo to celebrate. I eventually accepted after their well-canvassed arguments and persuasion, after all, it was a Friday. I called Tito to meet us up at Unity Park when we got to Uyo and she came bearing gifts but little did I know the biggest surprise of the night was coming. The six of us ordered drinks and suya, we told jokes and subbed each other, and we laughed a lot. It was a perfect evening, I didn’t think it could get any better until a pair of teenagers walked up to our table, the girl was with a maroon acoustic guitar and the boy introduced himself and his friend to us, they pleaded that we listen to them before they go for their audition the next day, we obliged and in a moment, I heard a familiar chord, it was Myron Butler & Levi’s “Unrestrained" being played on the guitar. My face lit up because this was my favourite song at the time, the duo sang it so beautifully that my friends and I turned to their backup vocalists, and we continued singing until we heard Tito sobbing, I looked at her and I saw crystal drops cascading down her cheeks. She held my hands tightly and said “I’m ready, Bosa, I’m ready for Jesus, would you help me find him?". I smiled, wiped her tears, and replied “He’s found you already, my love, he’s here."

Well, 6 years down the line, that girl who found God that evening in a bar at Unity Park is now the Head of the Follow-Up unit in church, she’s now the “Assistant Mummy G.O.", she doesn’t even have my time any longer…

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BECCA

At this time, my two ears tingled due to the length of my smile. Their love story reminded me of Allie and Noah in Nick Cassavetes’s 2004 blockbuster “The Notebook", it was perfect, it was pure.

“So, Uncle Bosa, you led your wife to Christ but now you’re the one not going to church anymore?”, I asked. I already knew what his response would be, the truth is life had dealt him some blows in the past couple of years. He got sacked from his job at KPMG due to an error he didn’t make, he had lost both his parents- my grandparents within the space of 6 months and this was the fourth year of their marriage without a child.

“See, Rebecca. It’s not that I don’t love Jesus anymore or I am no longer a Christian, I am just in that phase of my life where I need to go back to the drawing board, restrategize, and rediscover purpose. I know my relationship with God is not what it used to be but I’ll work on that. Right now, my only concern is my wife and unborn child. We plan to…”

He had not completed his sentence when we heard a loud wail from upstairs, we both ran to the room and found Aunt Tito on the floor, she was gasping for breath and kept on muttering “The baby, the baby…it’s coming, my baby is coming". It was a pain to see her in that state, the pregnancy was barely 7 months. It hurt to see her hurt.

We rushed her to Dignity Medical Centre, a reputable pediatric hospital and she got admitted into the emergency ward. At this time, my uncle was pacing to and fro the lobby of the hospital. I wanted to calm him down but I didn’t think he would need my help at that time. After an hour of anxious waiting, prayers, and thoughts, the attending physician came into the waiting room we had been directed to and asked to speak to my uncle alone, my uncle responded that he could say anything in my presence. The doctor shrugged and said, “Mr. Omorodion, we had to induce the labour, we detected that your wife has a rare case of Amniotic Fluid Embolism". My uncle, whose mind was already a chaotic arena of unsettling thoughts bellowed “Doctor, speak English!”. The doctor explained that Aunt Tito had a rare and life-threatening condition that could be fatal for both the mother and baby. My heart thumped like a drum, and my uncle stood there, stunned, broken, and empty. The doctor added, “Sir, if it gets to that point where we have to save one of them, who should it be?". In pain, Uncle Bosa looked at him and said “That is not a decision I am willing to make, I want my wife and my child". The doctor assured him that he would do his best and went back to the theatre.

At that moment, I didn’t care about my phobia of hospitals, I didn’t perceive the very unsettling smell of chemicals and prescription medications. The only thing that was in the air was the tension and worry on my uncle’s face. We had been waiting for hours and not once did he take a seat, he kept folding his arms and whispering things. I felt he was praying, that was the only sensible thing to do, that was the only thing we could do.

At 3:05 a.m. or thereabout, the physician came out of the theatre and requested to speak to my uncle alone, this time he insisted that he only wanted to speak to my uncle. This is when I suspected something had gone wrong. A few minutes later, my uncle came back into the room and before I could ask, he looked at me, held my trembling hands, and said “Rebecca, my world has slipped away from hands, Tito is gone". For the first time in my life, I saw my uncle cry and he had been through a lot. I hugged him and I could feel the throes of a wounded heart struggling to beat. I held on tightly even as tears rolled down my eyes. It was then, that I thought to ask about the baby, “She made it but how do I raise her without her mother, how do I take her to a home without Tito, I haven’t even seen her yet, I can’t see her." he said sobbingly.

I could not even pretend to feel what he felt, all I could do was tell him all things would work out in our favour. “Uncle, Aunty Tito didn’t leave you, a huge part of her resides in your heart and flows through the veins of that baby. Uncle, you need to hold your child", I said. He finally agreed to go with me, I held him up and we trudged to the neonatal unit. We met the nurse and he asked “Where is Baby Omorodion”, the nurse directed us to where she was kept and I was shocked at what happened by the time we saw her. My uncle burst into laughter even though I could still see the tears roll down his cheek. He chuckled and said, “It’s just me and you, baby girl, we’ll walk and run this path together”. The nurse smiled and asked, “Sir, what are you going to name your miracle baby?". He smiled, wrapped his finger around the baby’s left hand, and stroked it gently, Greatman Takit’s “In Your Arms" started playing from the hospital’s speakers. This was our song. I smiled at him and he put his gaze on his bundle of joy and said “God has been faithful to me, God has been gracious to me. Grace, her name is Grace."

NEVER FORGET, ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT DESPITE WHAT WE FACE, NO MATTER THE CHALLENGE, WE ARE CAREFULLY WRAPPED IN GOD’S ARMS.