The Wedded Whore (Completed)

chapter 3

With a deep unconscious sigh that not even the new trend of her life could prevent her from uttering, Adamma tried to review the tragic history of her life that lay before her. She was thinking about her parents and her dead sister, her mind dredging up the memories that were a source of unbearable pain to her, but which she resolutely clung to, afraid that she would forget about the people that formed the foundation of her existence if she didn't consciously try to remember them.

It must have been fifteen years ago that her parents had died_ she wasn't quite sure about it. But what she could remember with vivid clarity was the fact that her parents had been so wonderfully in love with each other, though there had seemed to be a cloud that hung over them in the time of their lives together. There had been something not quite right between them and some persons, of that Adamma was very sure. Then one day they had kissed she and her elder sister goodbye and had driven away, never to return because they'd been crushed to death by a tanker which had lost control over itself on the highway and that had been the end of their lives.

Then it had been she and her sister who had remained. Gloria had tried what she could for the both of them and had even gone to one of their father's best friends when he was still alive, but the man had wanted something in return; he'd wanted Gloria in bed because of her beauty. Gloria had told Adamma about it and they'd sworn to keep away from the bastard and never seek for the help of an outsider with their lives. That was when Gloria had taken up street-walking because she couldn't bear for her sister to get put into the streets. And then Gloria herself had been killed one night when she'd gone out for her twice-weekly forays into the night life of the Lagos mainland. She had been knocked down by a drunk-driver who'd fled the scene immediately, never to be seen again.

And Adamma had been left all by herself to care for her life and see to it that she stayed alive for the sake of her family. She had to be alive for the sake of herself and see to it that she lived and became something with her life.

But it had been grueling. She had nobody, had no family, no relations she knew who could have helped her get along in her life. So, against all that she and her sister had fought against, she'd gone back to the man who'd asked for her sister's body in bed, and she'd accepted to be his mistress, though she'd given him conditions for her services.

'I need a room where I can live, and I need books too, plus an education_'

'You will marry me and then you shall forget everything about education,' Alhaji Danjuma interrupted her speech. 'A woman's place is beside her husband in the home and to look after the children Allah has blessed them with. That is what you will do.'

Adamma had looked at him for a very long moment before she'd answered his question. She'd thought long and hard about the proposal and she knew that she'd rather die than be married to a middle-aged Hausa man with two wives so she could waste her beauty and bear his children; her name would never be heard in the world. She'd rather die and join her family than succumb to this lecherous man.

'I will be your mistress and only your mistress,' she'd replied coldly, her eyes boring into him relentlessly. 'I want to have my education too.'

'Then you can go, my child, and may Allah be with you,' the man had replied obstinately.

'What if I took away the education part?' she'd bargained, her voice still cold, toneless, as if she was bargaining for a side cut of beef at the market instead for her future. 'What if I asked you to buy me all the books I need? Would you still take care of me?'

'You are a stubborn girl, but a very beautiful one, and one must not let such beauty suffer. Your father was my friend, and I really want to take care of you. I want you to be my wife.'