Story By: Emiene Odaudu
First I have to share this with you, how I tired myself out trying to get my national ID card, I did the registration at PRTVC.
I had managed to get into the organization which was owned by the government because one of my husband’s friends had put in a word to the general manager who was also his friend.
Did I roam Jos town? You bet. I started at the media House and was told to go to a nearby street which turned out to be not so nearby, and annoyingly I did not find my card there. I ended up checking four other registration points without any results, to worsen matters, I had parked my car and was trekking round all these registration points. If you were in Jos during the distribution of national ID cards you will understand what I’m talking about, these points were quite far apart.
While I was struggling to get my card I got a call from one of those men who never say die. I saved his name as anonymous on my phone.
Let me provide a little background. I was on my way back from work one day when I received a call from a number I did not have saved on my phone, I picked said “hello” and waited for the person at the other end to respond, no response.
At first I thought the line was bad and continued saying “hello” then discovered that the person at the other end had a different agenda because he refused to say anything.
That was my first meeting with anonymous. He called back another day and this time he talked and has been calling me ever since.
I have never called him back but that has not stopped him in anyway.
According to him he got my number from a friend of mine who lives at Angwan Rogo, I don’t have any friend in that part of town, I do have an Aunty though but she does not have my number. So the person who actually gave him my number remains a mystery to me.
While I was speaking to Mr Anonymous my husband called my line and my heart skipped a bit, not out of affection but fear. I just hoped he was in a good mood because I was not ready for a fight and I knew his first question would be “who are you talking to?”
I found that I had got used to Mr Anonymous so much that I came to expect his calls every day. He made me laugh. Laughter was something that was almost going into extinction at home these days. I did not start my marriage wanting to keep a man that makes me laugh by the side but the need to unburden myself grew steadfastly every time I quarreled with Peter.
I did not seem to know who he was these days and so my calls to Anonymous became my bright spots in days that could be compared to dark storm clouds at home, I was just not sure what to expect from any situation these days.
The thought of Anonymous had distracted me for a while from the task I had at hand to find my National ID card.
After all the stress of tramping the streets of Jos I arrived home tired and without my card.
I arrived home to find my friend Nanklin waiting for me. As is usual with her, she was in a dilemma with a capital D. She told me that she had hit the jackpot (jackpot here translates into a rich man) who was loaded, a politician and speaker in one of the state houses of assembly. There was only one snag, he was married. She said he treated her very well though.
Don’t get me wrong I’m no saint, I just prefer that folks get into the married men trap with their eyes wide open and their feet firmly on the ground. Anyway from what she said bobo had no child from his wife and was desperately scouting for around for someone to provide him with an heir apparent. Therein lay the dilemma, Nanklin seemed to be the chosen one. The guy knew what he wanted and how to go about getting it. My dear Nanklin on the other hand was getting all dewy eyed and sounding very dreamy, “whenever he is travelling I go with him, and when he’s not feeling fine I’m the first person his aides call”. Nanklin said. The man had already bought her a car and plans were seriously in motion to finance her post graduate studies in the UK.
Infact she was just returning from the UK and she bought me plenty tsaraba. What advice would yours sincerely offer; all I could murmur was for her to be careful and not to get pregnant. Nanklin looks all sophisticated and streetwise but inside she is easily bullied. She would not be able to cope in a polygamous setting.
After all said she offered to take me out and trust me I’m not someone to miss out on an opportunity to have a good time especially after a hard day’s work and with my husband Peter absent.
And so out we went, we were having such a good time catching up on old time that I lost track of time. By the time I checked my wristwatch it was a few minutes to 7pm. We finished out drinks and parted ways.
I got home to find my husband’s car parked outside and walked into the house not knowing what to expect.
“Welcome” Peter said as I came through the door.
I was shocked, welcome was the last thing I expected my husband to say to me considering our recent history.
“I have dinner served,” he said. Now I was afraid what was going on?
EDITORS NOTE: What happens to our protagonist and her husband, would he find out about Mr anonymous? Stick out for the next chapter.