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BN Prose: For The Love Of a Woman by Feyisayo Anjorin



dreamstime_l_57928972She was everything I thought a woman should be. She had everything in my approved proportion. The right attitude, the right complexion, a well-toned body and an admired part that would make me think about two big oranges. She was dark and tall. She was the kind the Yorubas would call adumaradan, and there was something about her smile.

On a few occasions when it all started in Ibadan we would walk hand-in-hand on the sidewalks in the evening, we would laugh about the fact that we seem to have the same height. She could walk for long without complaining, she was not like the lazy ones who would get down from a car and would stop an okada for a destination of less than a hundred metres.

She was unlike most black women; she loved her hair, she actually had hair. Real hair.

We were close like lovers in our UI days. Sometimes we would have dinner at U&I, that restaurant beside Abdulsalam Abubakar Hall. After the dinners we would walk slowly, leisurely, to Awo Hall; we would stop beside the entrance of the hall and talk for hours, until our silences become unspoken intimate words.

“You have to go now Shola,” she would say. “It’s getting too late.” and then I would walk all the way to Tedder, hugging myself like a girl poorly dressed for a sudden cold-front on a summer day.

I wanted to take us – whatever was between us then – to the next level; but she was not that kind of girl. She wanted things done by the book, she had certain principles. Who would have thought such a nubile twenty first century-savvy girl would hold too tightly to that antiquated talk about keeping the honey-pot sealed until the wedding night?

“Look Titi, I am a Christian too.”

I was a Christian. If I mention the name of my church, you would know how serious I was. Our senior pastor would have this quarterly gathering of millions, and I was always there. Your life could change forever if you just say a ‘louder’ amen to whatever Papa says.

Titi was a member of one of these churches where the congregation would read prayers from books, so I was sure we – as members of Papa’s church – had this spiritual thing up there above the rest of them.

Our leader didn’t call God, ‘gahd’ –  like those TV evangelists with their fake American accent and curly hair; our senior pastor would call God, ‘daddy.’

I really wanted to do something sweet and secret with Titi. I had been thinking in pleasant pictures. I tried again and again with persuasive words, she seemed fully persuaded that the Lord would be pissed.

One rainy evening when we were alone in my room and I knew she could not leave, I decided to act. I moved to kiss her.

I did kiss her. She responded to the kiss, it was a brief kiss; okay, maybe not so brief. She wanted to know how many women I have kissed like that.

“None.” I lied. “You are the first.”

I had thought we would move forward from there; I thought the kiss was a new beginning, I thought I would finally get to do the things I had been thinking about doing.

I was wrong. From that time, she started avoiding me as if I was a friend with a communicable terminal disease. She didn’t take my calls, no response for my text messages. She even blocked me on Facebook.

I kept hoping. I kept trying.

When I saw her after my NYSC year, she was more beautiful than I had remembered.

“Wow! Someone has been taking care of you!”

“Shola, I thank God o.”

“Where were you posted?”

“Akure. You?”


She had a glittering ring on her finger; she was engaged to a medical doctor who just came back from Australia.

“We had our introduction last week,” she said with the smile I had known for years, “We are getting married in April.”

“That is three months from now! Wow!”

My excitement was like a well-fixed weave-on. She would never know what I didn’t want her to know.

I never got to meet the guy but I hated him already. I hoped he would do something stupid that would end the relationship. I hoped he would be seduced by some pretty nurse who would get pregnant and make the whole love-thing go up in flames. I wished he would just die, so that this girl I wanted so much would come back to me.

He died six months after the wedding.

I read it in centrespread of a newspaper. The Toyota ran into a truck and the car ended up like a piece of metal crumpled into a ball by the palm of a giant. I saw the wreck by the roadside near the junction a few metres from their house.

I decided to visit her, to comfort her, I wanted to be a shoulder to cry on. Pastor Onyeachonam was there when I got there. I never knew Titi’s husband was a member of Onyeachonam’s church. All the seats had been occupied by sober-looking men and women, and a few people were on their feet behind the seats. Titi looked up when I came in, even though I couldn’t be sure if she had seen me. Tears flowed from her puffy eyes and she didn’t touch the box of Kleenex on the stool beside her.

“Sister Titi, I’m disappointed!” Pastor Onyeachonam said. “Why are you mourning like an unbeliever? I was told you’ve not eaten for the past two days. Why are you crying like a hopeless woman? The Bible says, ‘in everything give thanks’. Not ‘for everything’, but ‘in everything’. As hard as it is, this is the Lord’s command!”

The look in her eyes said she was not listening to the man of God.

“Your husband has gone to be with the Lord. He is at the right hand of the father. You will see him on the resurrection morning.”

I saw her husband on the wall, smiling with Titi beside him, I took in all the pictures on the wall, I saw the pair on their wedding day; I couldn’t help but feel guilty for wishing him dead, for the love of a woman.

He was a good man; I heard it again and again. He was in the choir, in fact, he was the keyboardist. He never missed Bible studies…his spiritual life was an inspiration. He paid a sister’s school fees; he helped a brother with some hospital bills. If all the Christians were like him the world would be a better place.

Pastor Onyeachonam seemed to have a problem with the fact that Titi would not stop crying, so he spoke about that once again.

Suddenly Titi was on her feet as if she wanted to slap someone. “No! My husband is not at the right hand of any father! We had a nasty fight before he left the house in anger, saying he would never forgive me! He crashed the car because he was too mad! The last word he said to me before speeding off like a stuntman was ‘you are a disobedient woman, just like your mother’. He is not in heaven! Pastor. He can’t be in heaven, that is why I’m crying!”

Photo Credit: Dreamstime

Feyisayo Anjorin was born in Akure; he trained as a filmmaker at AFDA Johannesburg. His writing has appeared in Litro, Brittle Paper, Flash Fiction Magazine, Fiction On the Web, and 365 Tomorrows. His has also worked on film and TV productions in Nigeria and South Africa. He is the author of novel "Kasali's Africa" and novella "The Night My Dead Girlfriend Called" @FeyisayoAnjorin on Twitter


  1. McMEFFY

    March 1, 2016 at 8:57 am

    9ce article i must say.. Even as we strive unto perfection,we must also realise that Forgiveness is important..

  2. Tutu

    March 1, 2016 at 9:32 am

    Nice read….actually feel so sorry for Titi……too young to be a widow….I do hope she can find love again….maybe in the writer this time….

  3. beebee

    March 1, 2016 at 9:36 am

    but Titi was not perfect as the writer described her in his first sentences, her husband had called her disobedient. what were they fighting about?

  4. Wow

    March 1, 2016 at 9:42 am

    I enjoyed this piece, still letting it sink in

  5. dera

    March 1, 2016 at 10:27 am

    Awwwww 9icely written,i enjoyed it.keep up d gd work

  6. billionaire in grace

    March 1, 2016 at 11:03 am

    Wow wonderful I enjoyed this guy stories

    • Feyisayo Anjorin

      March 1, 2016 at 2:59 pm


  7. MOT

    March 1, 2016 at 11:38 am

    The article is nice. It further emphasizes how forgiveness is one of the key to make Heaven. It may be hard to forgive sometimes but God will grant us the grace to forgive one another. I think i have learnt my lesson of the day from this article.

  8. ACE

    March 1, 2016 at 12:27 pm

    Wow! Well written. Lord teach me to always forgive.

  9. Chinma Eke

    March 1, 2016 at 12:28 pm


  10. house of blossom

    March 1, 2016 at 12:55 pm

    nicely written article……life isn’t always a bed of roses n to forgive is divine

  11. Chu

    March 1, 2016 at 1:12 pm

    I love this write up, forgiveness is key, she seemed rigid but wise but now I see that she was just rigid.

  12. Chu

    March 1, 2016 at 1:17 pm

    I was looking for a blog so I could go read up more exciting stories, but didn’t see any.

  13. Janey

    March 1, 2016 at 2:05 pm

    Wow! I enjoyed every bit of this story. I never comment here but i had to right now because i have to say, well written piece. Thank you Feyi.

    • Feyisayo Anjorin

      March 1, 2016 at 3:00 pm

      Thanks for reading and loving it.

  14. mo

    March 1, 2016 at 3:32 pm

    this write up passes a deeper message than the superficial one. its the very thing we take for granted… like having a ‘small’ fight with someone and going to church afterwards without a thought that we really should bear no grudges or ill thoughts against anyone… like feeling entitled even when we are wrong but justify our actions for whatever reason… like acting as if heaven is our inheritance and is assured whether or not we obey God…

    Dear God, please your direction, spirit of discernment and mercy is needed more than ever!!!

  15. oyebimpe

    March 1, 2016 at 3:40 pm

    i love it

  16. Frosh

    March 1, 2016 at 4:05 pm

    Gag! when will Nigerians get over this barbarism of saving self and god this god that, when you send articles to bn they will not post, we only want to post politically correct stories but not our every day reality, thats why HIV is highest in Africa and sexual immorality is rife because we keep forming spiri koko anyway the best place to live is in denial init, lets keep deluding ourselves… mtscheew

  17. Wale

    March 1, 2016 at 4:11 pm

    I enjoyed reading this very much and did not want it to end. Is it possible to continue so we can have a little soap opera thing going…?
    BN – please, please make the stock photos match the story’s character. It almost ruined it for me?

  18. Dear Dee

    March 1, 2016 at 6:01 pm

    yayyyyyy..My cuz in
    great one Bro..thumbs up!

  19. Mo

    March 1, 2016 at 6:52 pm

    Ha!!! Ewo ….let it sink in first

  20. Osaretin

    March 2, 2016 at 2:06 am


  21. Martinson Oluwaseun

    March 2, 2016 at 11:21 am

    nice flash. realistic too.

  22. Enemosah Favour

    March 2, 2016 at 6:27 pm

    Great piece, got thinking, i really enjoyed it

  23. Bose

    March 3, 2016 at 1:00 am

    No! That can’t be the end.. What was the pastor’s reaction? Did Shola start seeing her differently? I mean, did he doubt that the Titi he knew before wasn’t the same anymore? I really enjoyed reading it. Great piece!

  24. Tinkerbell

    March 3, 2016 at 3:58 pm

    this is nice. very interesting…so he gets a second chance. i would love to hear the entire story

  25. the dambam

    March 12, 2016 at 1:13 pm

    this is a beautiful piece. I also liked the mention of UI: U&I, Tedder, Awo etc, it was very relatable

  26. Mausi

    April 26, 2016 at 9:43 am

    Truly deep.smooth and clear.kudos!

  27. MY LIFY

    May 16, 2016 at 1:46 pm

    Wow! I nearly laughed out my teeth when she was described as the kind of gurl who will not mind walking. I’m impressed by your contemporary setting, it’s so real!!!!

  28. MY LIFY

    May 16, 2016 at 1:48 pm

    But i don’t understand why a guy will claim he loves a gurl so much, but will want to get read of her pride. Y can’t they just wait for marriage?

  29. Peter Oladeji

    January 16, 2017 at 1:14 pm

    I love this boss. Thought-provoking!

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