In diverse ways, his wayward deeds stood between him and his desires for a settled life. Though born of an Islamic cleric, Usman Kaoje, was boorish, choleric, and manipulative. Somehow, our paths crossed in the university as members of the Muslim Students Society. Being the son of an imam, Usman was given an executive position in the Society notwithstanding his obvious shortcomings. Quite expectedly, his tenure was marred by fraud, s3-xval harassment, and high-handedness. That was the Usman I knew.
Five years after graduation, Usman and I reconnected on Facebook. We discovered that we were both residing in Lokoja. While I was working as a cost accountant in a construction company, Usman had become a full-time missioner and diviner. He took over from his father as the Chief Imam of New Light Central Mosque, Lokoja. I read some reviews and testimonies about his gift of divination, power of intercession, and ability to proffer solutions; all based on Islamic prayers.
Unfortunately, that was a period that I was facing a major challenge in my life. Five years after leaving the University, I wasn’t married. Though I had a good job, decent accommodation, and a sleek car, I have been unlucky with men. I was becoming apprehensive, jittery, and living in the illusion of being jinxed.
The most promising relationship I had was with Habib, who I met at the Ramadan Lecture In City Hall, two years ago. Though based in Abuja, he visited Lokoja almost every week. He was handling a real estate project in GRA. While the project was on, he was practically living with me. The more we stayed together, the more I discovered that he was a p3-rvert. He had such an abnormal c3-x drive. At first, I was enjoying his maniacal thrusts. He would pound me for close to one hour without org-@sm. Later, I started enduring bruises in my pv-$sy. Not just that. Habib would make love to me five times before daybreak. Most times, I would be useless in the office. I didn’t mind anyway. I wanted the relationship to work. Then, one night, after the usual muscular thrusting that left me gr0-@ning, Habib left the bedroom and went to the balcony to take fresh air. When he didn’t return on time, I decided to check him out. Alas, I saw him with a huge wrap of cannabis, puffing out smoke and sipping from a small bottle of Scotch whiskey! ” Auhusubillai ” I screamed.
I raced back to bed, weeping profusely. He ran after, and pounced on me, wiping my tears with his hemp-infested palms. I choked, gr0-@ned under his vigorous grip. He covered my mouth with a k!-$s and simultaneously inserted his hard d!-cck into my pv-$sy, lunging with gusto. By the time he let go of me, I was too weak to whimper. I slept off. Habib left the following day. He never came back. He was just one of the many nightmares I had trying to find a man to marry me.
It occurred to me that I needed divine intervention in my life at this juncture. That was how I went to look for Usman, the celebrated diviner who also doubled as the Chief Imam of New Light Central Mosque. At least he was a familiar face.
I got to his house on Saturday afternoon. He was reeking in liquor as he ushered me to his living room. I was disappointed. ” So Usman hasn’t changed despite his fame and name in the Islamic community?” I mulled as I sat on his tattered sofa in the scantily decorated lounge. Notwithstanding the air of impurities, I poured out my heart to the clergyman. Starkly, he said he would marry me. “Kafilat, you don’t need any divination or special devotions, I will marry you. I have always admired you from our school days” he said as he drew close to me. Initially, I thought he was joking until he began to car3-$s me and told me how one of his two wives left him. Unusual anger welled up in me as I rained curses on him. “You are a disgrace to Islam…so you have not changed? You? Charlatan, nincompoop, and an imbecile dressed in a clerical robe. Shame on you!” I stormed out of his cursed abode.
The following day was a Sunday. I woke up longing for Usman. It was strange but true. My body was literally on fire. My cl!-t0ris throbbed, and my n!-pp|es hardened in a pulsating desire for Usman’s touch.