The Point Of No Return



I have decided to talk to somebody to save my veins from bursting. In spite of the countless times my church pastor pestered me to confess and expose my secret heartthrob, I could not reveal this. Even to Joe, my innocent, charming and kind husband, whose concern was a mixture of doubt and fear.

I could not muster the courage to tell him that the three kids, male in all, whom he has been proud of, whom he so much loves and had struggled all round the season, under the rain, sunshine and harmatan to keep, and is ready to sacrifice everything to see that they have the best life can offer, are not his.

How would I begin this sordid story that would bring shame upon me? How would I look into his eyes to tell him all that has happened. No way! Yet, I have to tell somebody the ordeal I have been stuck with for the past years, the secret love that has possessed and now torments my wretched soul with less pride and no end.

I have chosen your medium to make this great confession. After reading your online magazine, I came to the conclusion that you will provide me my needed route for escape because my church Pastor, a dedicated reverend Christian addicted to his pulpit and my husband, his fanatic flock, do not read your magazine. Those I envisaged that read your magazine are contemporary hearts who have nothing in common with the duo. Secondly, I wish to ease out the burden of guild which has piled heavily on me and is crowding up my spine. That is not to say I have any regret nor feeling of remorse whatsoever living the way I am now.

You may wish to condemn me when you have finished this story. You may ask for my head if you like or call me all sorts of abusive names. You may wonder what kind of woman I am or choose to be passive. Whatever your reaction or judgement is, the fact remains that I have crossed the rubicon. I have reached a point of no return without any apology to make.

Do not express any pity. After all, I am not the only one living who’d cheated. Do not pray for me to repent rather, pray that my church Pastor does not succeed in the great expose which is imminent, because if he does, it will bring ruins and destruction of the peace and love which seems to exist in our family. Instead, sympathise with Joe who has been enjoying a false ego in a fantasy Island. Again, do not conclude I am wicked or heartless, or that no love exists between Joe and me, it’s a lie, I still love Joe and I’m prepared to do anything for him but I cannot denounce Zeb. I am a victim of circumstance.

I married Joe in 1976. Joseph Zebulum was then a 28-year old sailor who used to travel round the whole world in a ship. My marriage to him was swift. I was doing my Youth Service in the same shipping line that Joe worked. He had seen me one day on his return from one of his merry go round trips and had come to declare his documents. That was our first meeting.

Joe was tall, powerfully built and sexually irresistible. I had seen many men, I had tested some. I always held my grounds and dictated my rhyme, so these qualities gave me strength and confidence in dealing with men. In spite of my academic standard, I was beautiful in every sense of the word and I knew it. That endeared men to me. Many of them who set their eyes on my ebony black face would want me. Their lust and selfishness made me become very difficult and indifferent to them.

So, when Joe came on board, I tried my formular but this time, I failed. He was too much for me. His approach was direct, firm and calculative. His charming smile was disarming and was a great weapon when he combined it with his soft spoken humour. I had melted like butter touched with a hot knife. Before I could remember my name, Joe, like a ship-captain, had taken over control of me, dictating and directing my affairs.

I started going to his house at Ikoyi, the more I stayed with him, the more I wanted him more than anything else. He was like a virus in my blood. I began to worship and adore him. So, when he came back one day with a marriage proposal, I had no appropriate word to answer him than to sing a favourite tune. “Have your own way Lord, You are the porter and I am the clay, mould me as thy will.” That concluded it.

Needless to bother you with the details of our romance, it was ‘fantastic’. I lack the ability to describe how Joe destroyed permanently my strength, confidence and resistance and replaced it with pride, hope, new life and new world. He gave me heaven on earth. It was as if he had prepared everything for me. Everything I needed was there for me. He pampered me, showered me with so much love and affection, practical love was the best word to describe it.


…to be continued