SO, I tried to write a short story based on my parent’s love story because why not?! Lol. Tomorrow is their wedding anniversary, 20 something odd years together is no easy feat in this world of (apparently) increasing divorce rates. I really enjoyed writing it and got lost along the way…suffice to say the story got SERIOUSLY embellished! Lol. Like I just got carried away from enjoying myself! Ha! Kiete is strongly reminiscent of my mother but Bank is a mix of a little of my dad’s goodness and I think a lot of my ideal bad boy’s badness. Haha! I have provided some excerpts from the much longer story, below. :)…I have no name for the story just yet though! Lol. Anyways, Happy anniversary mummy & daddy! Your love for each other, your dedication, friendship and partnership inspires me. Mummy, you teach me everyday how to be a good woman. Daddy, you show me everyday what to expect from a good man. I love you both and to come back again as your daughter would be a privilege.

Bankole ‘Bank’ Alako was a notorious rake in Lagos’ elite social circle. He was particularly notorious in the female hostels of the University of Lagos as a big spender. Luxury personified, Bankole threw the most lavish parties and spoilt his many lovers. He had a voracious appetite for life. Before sugar daddies took over the university-dating scene, there was Bank. He provided, treated, spoilt…and was quite far from your daddy’s age. The girls loved him. He was the crush of at least 82.5% of the women on campus (the 17.5% remainder representing the lesbians, the blind, the happily married and the females headed to the nunnery). Resultantly, Bank simultaneously occupied the position of Public Enemy No.1 for 100% of the men on campus.

Bank, an intelligent and hard working fellow was born into opportunity, topped with a pedigree of institutionalized privilege. He had made money early by taking huge risks in emerging financial markets. His gambles had paid off handsomely and allowed him return from his studies abroad confidently situated at the helm of the Information Technology boom on the African continent. Bank was an apt moniker; at 30, he was comfortably seated in the Billionaire Boys Club. The unfortunate thing was that Bankole hardly needed the money. As heir to the Alako’s financial empire, the world was his oyster. And not just any ordinary oyster, but that rare breed with more than one pearl at its centre! Bank, as he was often called by friends and foes alike, was really that lucky or if you’re particularly religious, blessed. His friends often joked that Shalamar’s ‘Midas Touch’ was clearly written about him; everything the young man touched turned to gold. Which explained why so many girls wanted him to touch their lives. He was quite the life changer.

However, Bankole Alako was successful in everything but women. In that dimension his failures were epic. He never took anything to heart because he was not too keen on settling down despite his mother’s best efforts. At 33, he still referred to himself as a diligent worker by day and a veteran member of the League of Extraordinary Rakes by night. His arrogance was renown. What was less known was his insecurity.

Growing up in a house where money, not love, covered a multitude of sins, Bank did not understand the value of investing anything but money into people or relationships. In a materialistic country, this often served him well but quickly made him disillusioned with women and despite his mother’s insistence, he knew he would never settle down.

Until Kiete.

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“Kay, let’s go now! Bank is here!” Fela’s voice already sounded like money. The girl was clearly schooling herself as echoes of Bank’s perceived pound coins were trilling in her already high-pitched voice to create an excited din cacophonous to Kiete’s ear drums.

“Maybe I’m just jealous” Kiete thought and called out “…coming!” She hurriedly wore her hoops and straightened her Peter Pan collar. Giggling gaily as she jumped from bed to bed, she almost fell unto a grinning handsome man as she landed on a smile at the foot of the last bed in room 6, Modele hall.

A flustered Kiete took in all six foot five man, slim built, dar…

“Hey” he said in his smooth voice.

She almost groaned aloud, this man looked good enough to eat. TROUBLE. “Oh hell, did those goose bumps appear on my arms from his voice?!?!” Keite thought as she tried to stop staring and focused on comporting herself in what she hoped was a ladylike manner. “Stopstaringstopstaringstopstaring!” She thought as she begged her brain to give reason to her lips.

“Bank! There you are honey, I didn’t think you were going to come into the dorms, you ought to wait outside!” Fela stroked the stranger’s biceps coyly as she breezed into the room, her moneyed voice glittering behind her as she pulled Bank away from the edge of the bed -and Kiete- towards the door. At the doorway she turned as though suddenly remembering Kiete’s presence. “Who can blame her?!” Kiete thought. Masculinity condensed into a 6’5 frame of solid chocolate would make her forget third parties too.

“Bank, my friend would like us to drop her off on the way? Do you mind?” the glittery voiced, brassiere stuffed, puppy eyed, Kardashian-lashed, feminine beast that had replaced Fela asked. He looked at Fela a little strangely and asked “Introduce us please?”

Annoyance replaced puppy eyes for a moment when she turned to Kiete and quickly said “Kiete, Mr. Alako. Bank, meet Kiete.” If Bank thought the introduction weird, the only indication was a raised right eyebrow. He smiled brightly at Kiete, took her hand and simply said “Enchanted”.

Clearly too much for Fela who snatched Bank’s hand and marched him to the car. Kiete followed slowly behind.

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The next few weeks were not unusual ones considering something big was around the corner. But Life is funny like that, it hardly provides us with preambles. Kiete continued shelling periwinkles at night, selling in the market or serving at her mother’s bukka during the day. Coupled with her schoolwork, her life’s timetable was challenging. She often fell asleep with a Physics textbook in hand, drove flies away with her Further Mathematics notebook, and forgot her Chemistry formulas on the chopping board at the bukka. Sometimes she thought of her father and how different life had been for the family at Ikeja G.R.A.

“My kite! Dance for daddy!” She saw herself zig-zagging to the floor as she copied her father’s movements to the entertainment of her clapping mother and giggling siblings. Good times. Better times.

Her best times?

Now her sisters had married husbands who moved them away, sending money when they could. Her brothers were pursuing a livelihood for, as they insisted, they were not women who should marry for wealth. This was an unveiled barb to their sisters who had married for love rather than the wealth their family so deeply needed.

Kiete, her mother had always said was not born to suffer. Despite the change in surroundings before she was 8, in her mind Kiete still lived a lifestyle far above her reach. Oh she was too principled to prostitute herself to men for promises of provision like many of her mates, she lived within her means physically but mentally she reached above her means. She was quality. She would go to the market with her sisters and return with two exquisite items for the twelve cheap pieces her sisters had each bought. Two items that she had to borrow money from her loving sisters, to add to hers to buy mind you.

Though her sisters were voluptuous and petite, Kiete had taken the grace of the Kokoma males, tall and proud. She wore her clothes with the elegance of the ancient deities of the Niger-Delta rivers that the house of Kokoma was named after. Her poise belied her 20 years. She was not like her siblings, yet not truly unlike any of them. They were all Kokomas but Kiete was the hard copy of her father. Wonodi Kokoma’s stamp and seal revealed itself in every plane of her mind, in the sharp edges of her heart and the stretch of her spirit. All that deftness was mellowed by her mother Fabia’s laughing eyes, kind heart and lips given to jokes.

Of all her attributes, Kiete’s intellect and resolve gave her mother the most peace. Despite advice from friends, she would never force her beautiful Kiete into marriage; this one would create her own wealth.