The many tragedies of love 1

Love“Deola,” Mr. Arowolo called, “whether you like it or not, you must marry Taju. That is the decision of your mother and I.”

“But dad…” Deola protested, “how can I marry a man I don’t have the least feeling of love for?”

“That is what we have decided,” Mr. Arowolo stressed further, “Taju comes from a good home…and that is that. Period!”

Deola, a beautiful and charming young lady, was in her early 20s when her parents decided against her wish that she must marry Taju, who came from a rich home and had always pampered Deola’s parents with gifts and cash whenever he visited their home.

Deola’s parents had reached a conclusion that there was nobody that could be so good as Taju. Not even Kola, who was Deola’s boyfriend.

Kola worked with a private firm in Lagos as a clerk, while studying for a professional diploma in marketing.

His relationship with Deola was almost five years when her parents told him never to come looking for her again. That day, he was shocked and couldn’t believe his ears. For many days, he couldn’t sleep and had to use sleep-inducing drugs.

Everybody knew that all was not well with him. The same thing happened to Deola, there was nothing she could do. She respected her parents and would not want to disobey them. But she wondered how she was going to cope with Taju, whom she didn’t love at all.

Before long, Deola’s parents, with the financial assistance of Taju, organised a wedding for Deola and Taju on May 2, 2004.

The wedding was grand, with all the pomp and pageantry of affluence. Taju was a drug baron and was so rich and well-connected in society. But no one knew his actual business. Everybody just knew him to be rich.

Taju was a good pretender. For the first four months of their marriage, Deola did not know his real character. It was in the seventh month that he started showing his true colours.

He would come home late in the night drunk and smelling of tobacco. At times, he would leave home and come back three of four days later without explanation.

If Deola made the slightest mistake of asking him where he had been all these days, she would get the beating of her life. One particular day, Deola ran back to her parents.

“I can’t bear it anymore,” she begged, “Taju is not a good husband,” she further lamented to her parents. But all these entreaties fell on deaf ears.

“Be patient, Deola,” her father said persuasively, “you would soon understand him.”

“Oh, and Taju is such a lovely gentleman,” her mother chipped in.

“But mummy…” Deola said, “look at the scars on my body, he always beat me…I’m fed up. If he doesn’t change I’ll file a divorce suit,” she left that day sobbing uncontrollably, regretting the kind of life her parents had subjected her.

It was in the ninth month. Taju went out as usual.

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