JUDAS.

I looked intently at the woman as she made her way towards the Master. My eyes lit up in recognition. The prostitute! The prostitute He saved from being stoned to death by the Pharisees! I could still picture them throwing down their stones and leaving, frustrated.

We had visited Bethany and Simon the leper had invited us to his house. Seated around the dinner table, there was plenty to eat and drink. The atmosphere was boisterous, until the woman entered. There was sudden quiet. All eyes were riveted on her slender frame as she walked, an alabaster jar in hand, straight to where the Master reclined.

The perfume from the jar filled the room. Genuine spikegard! I knew the price by heart. Three hundred denarii! That will enough to build a modest house. Or buy some arms to fund the revolution if the Master wishes. I was the apostle in charge of the purse. The Master, Jesus the Nazarene, must have seen my financial acumen when he asked me to follow him. 

There was something in His eyes that compelled you to do His bidding. I said a brief goodbye to my parents Simon and Cyborea and followed my destiny. I have always known I was destined for great things. His choosing me was the first sign that He was from God. He was the Messias, the one to free us from Roman oppression and He has chosen me to be in His cabinet. There were eleven others, who like me, are very close to the Master. I have followed Him everywhere for three years. Caesarea Phillipi. Galilee. Judea. Carpanaum. Bethany. 

The revolution was not forthcoming. But the Master dazzles with His miracles and that made me stay. Some of His female disciples brought food regularly and there was always money in the purse. Sometimes, I lent out the money for profit. Discreetly, of course. I made some friends within the Sanhendrin. We know they have been looking for ways to get hold of the Master. But the Master keeps eluding their grasp. On one occasion, they wanted to push him off a hill. He simply slipped through their hands and walked away. I was amazed.

The woman stood for some time gazing into the Master's eyes. Her next action almost made me choke with the bread in my mouth. She broke the jar, pouring the oil on Master's head. I protested in anger.

"What a waste of this perfumed oil! It could have been sold for three hundred denarii, more than three hundred days' wages and the money given to the poor."

The Master shot me a disapproving look. 

"Let her alone. Why do you make trouble for her? She has done a good thing for me. The poor you will always have with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them, but you will not always have me. She has done what she could. She has anticipated anointing my body for burial."

This public rebuke was the last straw. I no longer understand the Master. How can He be talking of His burial when the revolution was yet to take place? He once sent us out to preach, saying,"Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand." Where is the kingdom?

I ate the rest of my meal in silence, determined to set the Master right on His glorious path. I would make the revolution happen. Perhaps, if the Scribes, the Pharisees and the  Chief priests came to believe in Him, they would form a formidable team to defeat the Romans. But to believe in Him, they needed a compelling sign. An outstanding miracle.

On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, we gathered in an upper room for the Passover meal. John was in his usual place, on the right of the Master. Simon Peter was his usual jovial self. Matthew was writing reading a scroll, which he put away when the meals arrived. The bread smelled fresh. We ate happily, Peter regaling us with a tale of a stormy night at sea.

"One of you will betray me, one who is eating with me." 

The Master's voice had a tinge of sadness. I looked at Him in confusion, trying to make sense of His words. Peter motioned John to ask Him something. I did not hear what He said to John. Just then, the Master dipped a piece of bread in the dish, leaned across the table and handed it to me. It took it gladly. As I took the first bite, a fit of rage engulfed me. I tried to supress it but I could not. I stood up to leave.

"What you are going to do, do quickly." The voice of the Master trailed my exit.

Finally. The revolution.

I headed straight to the palace of the high priest, Caiphas. He was in a meeting with some chief priests. I had told his maidservant seven words. "I will hand Jesus over to you." He came out to the court immediately and looked at me from head to toe. 

"How?" he finally asked.

"I am one if His apostles. I know where He is at the moment. I know all His teachings..."

His voice cut me off. "For how much?"

I scratched my head. "Thirty pieces of silver."

He laughed and went inside. He soon emerged with a bag which he threw at me. I caught it mid-air and proceeded to count. There were thirty pieces, alright. He called the guards and told me to lead them.

We went back to the upper room but it was deserted. The guards gave me an angry stare but I reassured them. I knew where the Master would be. Mount of Olives, beyond Kidron valley. He teaches His disciples there often.

"The one I would kiss, He is the one. Seize Him."

I chuckled as I gave them the tip. Two things may happen. The Master could slip from the hands and disappear as usual. Or He could call down angelic soldiers to fight for Him and the revolution will start. Either way, I go home with thirty pieces of silver. Good deal!

We met them at the mount, in a garden called Gethsamane. His three favourites were with Him. I went up to Him and kissed Him.

"Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?"

I wanted to say,"I am doing this for your own good." But no words came out. I looked at the floor away from the disturbing eyes of the three apostles with Him.

The guards seized Him immediately. Peter cut off a servant's ear but the Master rebuked him and miraculously fixed the ear. I watched on in chagrin. The apostles ran away. I followed from a distance hoping He would escape from their grip. He did not.

Things happened so fast. He was swiftly condemned to death. I felt my heart break into a thousand pieces. My Lord cannot die! The revolution was yet to come. Events soon spiralled out of hand. Perhaps, if I returned the money, the Chief Priests will have a change of heart. I met them at the courtyard and gave the money back. They refused to accept it. I threw the money at their feet and ran out in anguish.

I walked on a lonely road, deserted because everyone had gone to witness the crucifixion. I felt my world caving in on me. I had blood on my hands. I had murdered the Son of God! I heard voices. They laughed and they taunted me. I broke into a run. I stumbled upon something and fell. As I raise my dusty head, I realize it was a dead mule. I unfastened the rope tied to its head. The tree close by beckoned. I climbed the branch and tied the rope on my neck, the other end anchored on a branch. 

"This is a silly idea,"I told my self and tried to untie the rope on my neck. 

I could not. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a breaking branch and I fell. As I dangled, struggling to breath, the excruciating pain in my neck sent a flurry of sharp arrows to my head. The voices grew louder as I descended into the darkness. Unsung.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

TRAPPED...Part 20.

I banged repeatedly on my door. Nkechi opened the door, alarmed. I quickly entered the living room, bolting the door behind me.

"Stella, wetin happen?"

I walked straight into the bedroom. Vicky was sleeping on the bed. I stood in front of the mirror and sighed deeply. My lipstick was gone and my hair, dishevelled. I closed my eyes in a bid to shut out the memories of that afternoon. Nkechi's voice startled me.

"Stella, what is wrong?"

She was standing at the door, arms akimbo with a worried look on her face.

I looked persistently at her trying to find my voice. Tears welled up in my eyes. She came and hugged me. I sobbed freely on her shoulders.

"AK is a bloody rapist!" It came from somewhere deep and dark, with so much venom.

"What?!" Nkechi pulled away in shock, looking at me disbelievingly.

I merely shook my head. 

"He almost raped me today. I was lucky to have escaped." By the time I finished narrating to her what transpired, she was fuming.

"You would have grabbed his testicles with your hands and crushed them! Bloody idiot!" I sank into the bed, lost in thoughts.

"The way he went about it, he must have done it to many unsuspecting girls before."

"Why are no girls coming forward to make reports? Eh? Why is he still leading the choir every Sunday with a heart as black as the Devil's?"she asked, looking at me.

I gave her a blank stare. 

I finally spoke up. "Fear and shame. His victims would be too afraid and too ashamed to come forward. As he held me down, I felt powerless and subhuman. The society sees the rape victim as weak. As if she brought it upon herself. Yet, her only 'crime' was to trust an animal. Most rapists are people we trust. Boyfriends. Uncles. Fathers. Some stranger we helped. And to think this was someone I was already falling in love with..." My voice trailed off. My eyes were moist again. Nkechi hugged me.

"Nkay, I am tired," I said, amidst tears. "I am tired of loving and getting my heart broken. I am tired of men and their wahala."

"Babe, don't worry, inugo? Don't allow your bad experiences discourage you from loving again. God will send you a good man. The man of your dreams."

"When?" I asked her. "When I am old with grey hairs?"

She smiled. "Relax joor! You will meet your man soon. Very soon."

I tried to smile. She quickly changed the topic.

"You said Dan's wedding is on Saturday. Will you be going?"

I let out a sigh. "I have not made up my mind yet."

She looked at me suspiciously. "Do you still have feelings for him?"

"I think so," I said, looking away. Vicky stirred in her sleep. "But it does not matter anymore. He will be getting married in six days." I stared blankly into space.

"Did you let him know of your feelings for him?"

"There was no need. He already had a girl he was planning to marry. I even encouraged him to  go ahead with the engagement."

Nkechi shook her head in disbelief. "You mean you literarily pushed your man into the arms of another woman? Eh? Now, he is about marrying her and here you are, roasting with your feelings. Babe, you don fall my hand finish." She gave a prolonged hiss.

"It was not exactly like that. He was already dating Bola before we reunited. And there were other issues..." I stopped myself. I was yet to tell Nkechi my HIV status.

"Whatever!" she dismissed me with a wave of the hand. "It is not compulsory to go for the wedding. If you don't feel up to it, don't go."

"Dan has been a wonderful friend. He gave me the invitation personally. I think I owe it to him to attend." I heard my phone ring.

I gazed at the screen for some time, trying to decide whether to pick the call or not. The ringing stopped. Seconds later, it started ringing again.

"Who is it?"Nkechi asked.

"Bola. Dan's fiancee."I said, still undecided.

"Why is she calling?"

"There is only one way to find out." I picked the call.

"Hello, Stella. How are you?" I sensed anxiety in her voice.

"I am good." I was in no mood for chit chat.

"I was calling to know if Dan slept over at your place."

I did not know what to make of the question. I sat up straight and swallowed hard. Nkechi gave me a queried look.

"No. He has not visited me in weeks. Why were you asking?"

I could hear her sigh at her end. 

"He did not come home yesterday. And his line has not been going through. He was on call at the hospital on Friday night and one of his colleague saw him leave for home on Saturday morning. I have not seen him since and we had many places to go that yesterday..."

"Have you called Old Major? Maybe he went home to see his father..." I scratched my head in deep thought.

"Hmmm. He was the first person I called. He said he has not seen him. He said Dan promised to come by later that evening to see him."

"That is quite unlike Dan. He usually calls if there were change of plans..."

She cut in quickly. "Do you know anywhere else he might be? Old friends? Colleagues?" She sounded jittery.

I thought hard. Only Ugo, Tolu's husband came to mind. But Dan has not talked about him in ages. And I did not have his contact.

"No,"I said. She gave another deflated sigh. 

"Bola, Dan is a responsible man. I am sure he will come back home." I tried to sound reassuring.

"Ok, ok. Bye." The was a click from her end as the line went dead.

"What was that about?" Nkechi asked. 

Vicky had opened her eyes and taken her right thumb into her mouth, sucking noisily. I gave her a soft slap on the back and she quickly removed it. She stopped short of crying. I stroked her braids with my left hand and quickly scrolled my phone's address book for Dan's number. I dialed. Not reachable.

"Dan. He did not return home yesterday. His line has not been going through. He is not at his father's. She was calling to know if he was here."

Nkechi shook her head. "Men!" she said. "Maybe he went somewhere to clear his head. Wedding preparations can be so stressful. Or maybe he went to have 'the last supper' with any of his girlfriends." She laughed mischievously. 

"Dan is not like that, joor!" I said, smiling. "If he had any girlfriend, that would be me." I rolled my eyes. Nkechi rocked back and forth in laughter.

"Little wonder Bola called you. Madam girlfriend!" I glared at her in feigned annoyance.

For the next one hour, I sat patiently on the bed, dialing Dan's number repeatedly. Same response. Not reachable. I later rose and went to the kitchen to prepare lunch, taking my phone with me. As I set Vicky's food on the dining table, I dialed the number again. Surprisingly, it rang. "Nkechi, it is ringing!" I shouted. Nkechi ran into the living room, Vicky in tow. I listened with bated breath as it continued ringing. At the end, it stopped. No one picked. 

I dialed again and put the phone on loudspeaker. It rang and rang. No one picked. I dialed for the third time and was shocked. The line has been switched off. I dialed again. Same response. Switched off.

"Something is wrong," I said, worried.

"Maybe someone stole his phone," Nkechi said.

"What if something has happened to him? What if he had an accident?" I was pacing the room trying to rid myself of the negative 'what if' scenarios playing out in my head. I called Bola to inform her of the recent development. We agreed to meet at Old Major's place in an hour.

I took the longer route to Old Major's house. I went through Lagos State University Teaching Hospital, where Dan worked. I searched the road for any car wreckage and scrutinised any black Toyota Corolla I saw. I asked the bus driver if he knew of any accident that happened on that road. He shook his head and gave me a strange look. At the gate, Abdul noticed my worried expression.

"Have you seen Dan?" I asked him, as he opened the gate.

"No Mah," he replied. "Oga Major has been worried. Walahi!"

Bola was seated in the living room when I entered. Old Major was on the long sofa and smiled weakly on seeing me.

"Bola said you told her the phone rang." He sounded worried.

I hugged him and sat beside him. "Papa relax. Dan will come home. Maybe his phone was stolen." I tried to sound positive. 

I chatted with Bola briefly about the wedding preparations and took the opportunity to ask Old Major about Dan's mother.

"Ah, Olamma." He closed his eyes for a moment, scratching his head.

"She was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. We got married two months before the war broke out. She was a good woman. Very good." 

He continued. "But she usually had these terrible mood swings. At some points, she will be withdrawn, losing interest in everything. She would occasionally lash out at me in anger. I understood it was her moods. Most of the time, however, she was kind and very caring. She had a very good sense of humor." Bola and I listened intently.

"Some people said she was possessed by the Ogbanje spirit. I never believed any of those rubbish stories. One day, I think Dan was five years old at that time, I came back from the shop and met the whole house locked. My children were outside at the verandah, still in their school uniforms. They had not seen their mother. I opened the door to behold the shock of my life. Olamma's body was hanging lifeless from the ceiling fan. On the table was a piece of paper with one word on it. Goodbye. Till today, I cannot understand why she did it."

The room was silent. I shook my head sadly and wondered what could make someone take her own life. We listened to the chiming of the clock, our anxiety rising with each passing minute. We waited for our phones to ring. No calls came. We listened for the swinging of the gates and Dan's car driving in. We heard nothing. I dialed Dan's number from time to time, but it was still switched off. By 10.15pm, my phone rang. Everyone sat up. I looked at the screen and gave a disappointed sigh. It was Nkechi asking me if Dan had returned and if I was coming back that night. I answered in the negative. 

By midnight, we were pacing the living room, worried sick. Our anxiety had given way to worry. Our worries had matured into fear. Our eyes confirmed what our minds have been struggling to accept. Dan was missing.

© Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.

TRAPPED...Part 19.

"Stella, when are you calling us?"

For a moment, I wondered what she meant. "Calling you for what, Mama?"

"Your wedding, of course." The seriousness in her voice was unmistakeable. This was no joke. I let out a laugh at my end of the line.

"So, you want me to go to the street, catch a man, tie his neck with a rope and bring him to you, abi?"

It was her turn to laugh.

"Mama, I don't know what you want again o! I have given you a grandchild..."

"Out of wedlock?" Her question stung. The ensuing silence was interrupted by the occasional cough at her end.

"Stella nwa m, I did not mean to insult or offend you. But you are not getting any younger. The bible said that it is not good for a woman to be alone..."

I cut in quickly. "That's not what the bible said. It said 'man' not 'woman'."

"Are they not the same thing? What I mean is that marriage will make you more respected."

"Really? Hmmm, Mama. Some men are devils o! They will just cut your life short."

The memories came flooding back. Jide almost ruined my life. If I was married to him and he was still alive, maybe I would have been dead. If only Mama knew.

But she was partly right. The loneliness could be depressing sometimes. Seeing happy couples holding hands and playing love worsens the pain. I have begun to ask myself series of questions. Am I not equally entitled to happiness? Is it a crime to wish to be loved? What is wrong with me? My love adventure has been bitter-sweet. Bitter more than sweet. I have never housed a man all my life. So, why did I let Jide in? Why was I serenaded by his charm that I let go of common sense? He came, he saw and he destroyed. The pain and hurt of the moment could not equate with the brief stints of pleasure with him. Dan, the sweetness I knew was getting married. The completeness I felt whenever he was around was enough proof that I needed a man. Vicky needed a father figure in her life.

I had two major challenges, though. My daughter was just five and at a critical period of her development. She needed every parental attention she could get. She had been that silver lining in my cloud, my wellspring of hope. Then, the issue of my HIV status. I dialed Nkechi.

"Mama is mounting unnecessary pressure on me o!" I said, as soon as she picked. She started laughing.

"You think it is funny, abi?"

"No oh!" She was still laughing. "Whenever she starts her marriage preaching, I remind her that you are the elder sister and that you ought to get married first."

"Oh! So na you dey cause all this wahala?" I felt like giving her a knock on the head.

"But come o! Why are you not searching sef? Eh? You don't go out. Fine babe like you. Every time you dey carry baby up and down."

I didn't know whether to take her statement as an insult or mere talk.

"How can I go out when I have Vicky to take care of? You know I can't bring a man to the house."

"Ok. See the deal. I will come over and stay with you to help look after Vicky. You will start dating again. Agreed?"

I paused for a moment. I had mixed feelings about dating.

"You are not even serious." She gave a long hiss.

"Ok. Agreed." I said, reluctantly. "Thank you."

True to her word, she came over with her bags the next day. Vicky was ecstatic. She soon noticed the empty cot.

"How is Uche doing?"

"Very fine. He has started walking small small."

"Ehe!" she said in amazement, clapping her hands.

Moments later, she brought up the topic. "So, this dating thing. What is your game plan?"

"Game plan, kwa?" I asked, surprised. My dating game was obsolete.

"You need a plan. A formidable one." She thought for a moment. "You need to start making yourself visible in circles where you meet men. Weddings. Ceremonies. Church. Which group do you belong to in church?"

"None," I said.

"The church is a place where you can meet good, God-fearing men. Do you still sing?"

"Only to myself," I said, smiling. I was the lead chorister in our village choir many years back.

"You should join the choir. But first, we need to change this your hair. In fact, you need a total makeover."

"Na your department o! Abeg, do am free of charge." She burst into laughter.

She was a burgeoning make-up artist. By the next day, I was looking different. I could feel the stares from men trailing me as I passed them on the road. My self-esteem climbed new heights. I found out the day for choir practice and went. I sat with the sopranos in front and sang unabashedly. The choir master, a tall, well-built fellow, kept looking in my direction. He was very talented and could sing all the parts. Towards the end of the practice, he asked that I introduce myself. I did and they welcomed me with a song. It felt like family. 

As I made to leave after the practice, he walked up to me.

"You have an amazing voice." I was blushing.

"Thank you. And you are so talented." He smiled.

"I am Akinola. Everyone calls me AK."

"AK-47!" I said, jokingly. "I like that." He raised his hands in mock protest.

We chatted gleefully as he walked me home.

We soon became very good friends. He was in his mid-thirties and was admired by all the young girls in the church. A good number joined the choir just to get his attention. He invited me to house severally. I refused, citing several excuses. One Sunday afternoon, after much prodding from Nkechi, I obliged him. He was living in a one-bedroom apartment, tastefully furnished. There were murals on the walls with framed paintings. A keyboard was on a stand at one end of the room.

"Your place is nice."

"Thanks,"he said, smiling. "Finally, you are here." He grinned mischievously. "Make yourself comfortable." He disappeared into the kitchen. 

I went to the piano and ran my fingers through the keys repeatedly. I loved the sound. Suddenly, I felt someone hold me from behind. It felt wierd. 

"Stella." It was his voice. But there was something strange about him. I struggled to break free and moved towards the bed.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked, furious. "I have not even gotten here."

He looked remorseful and quickly apologised. He offered me some drinks which I promptly refused.

"Stella, why nau?" He looked hurt.

"I am fasting," I said. It was a convenient lie.

Halfway, into our discussion, he edged closer to where I was sitting.

"You wan start again, abi?" I said, but it was too late.

In an instant, he grabbed me ferociously like a possesed animal. We struggled as he rolled me over, his hands pinning my arms to the bed.

"AK, what is this madness?" I said, exasperated. "I will shout o!"

"No one will hear you. The door is sound-proof." He sounded determined. I could feel his left leg pushing apart my thighs. He has managed to lift my skirt.

"AK, stop! I beg you in the name of God." He merely laughed.

His turgid bulge was pressing upon my crotch.

"AK, I am HIV positive. Please stop!"

"Na lie." His voice was cold. I felt my body going limp under him.

"Ok. Relax. I agree. We will do it. But let us go slowly, please." I kissed his lips reassuringly. He smiled and released my arms. I caressed his head.

"Do you have protection?" I asked, smiling naughtily. He responded with a wink.

"Let me bring it. I will be back shortly."

"Take your time," I said. "I want to undress." 

He rose and went into the bathroom.

In a split second, I jumped up from the bed, grabbed my purse and ran. As I bounded down the stairs, I could hear him shouting my name. In a moment, I was on the street. I ran barefoot on the tarred road, as fast as my leg could carry me. Out of breath, I stopped at a kiosk, doubled over, panting. The people on the street looked at me strangely, some shaking their heads, others laughing. I stopped a motorcycle and reeled off the directions to my house.

The search was over.

© Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

Follow on Twitter @dr_alams.