Entangled: A Little Too Many, A Little Too Close

by Kenneth Igiri

  “… I don’t know how long Philip will stop staring at me from behind. Your eyes will not push me down o …”. All the ladies in the room had laughed. How could she have known he was looking at her when she had her back to him? Well she knew and now, Zainab knew. She knew he did not want her to leave the house. He wanted more of her even though his Christian Personality said it was sinful. Someone spiritual may put it another way: he didn’t want this unhealthy relationship, but his Carnal Personality could not help it.

  Zainab moved closer and stared in his eyes. She pushed him hard on his torso with her left hand, taking him by surprise. “Why did you throw away my red wine?” she enquired. He almost tripped but steadied himself with his left foot. She pushed him again. “Why?”

  “Zainab, behave yourself! Are you OK?”

  “Am I getting to you? Holy man of God?”

  “You are very confusing. Or should I say very confused. Are you a Christian or not? What are you up to”

  Zainab laughed out loud, clapping her hands twice. She put down the bottle of left over red wine on the kitchen sink right by Philip. She had her left hand softly on Philip’s chest while she stretched her right hand to drop the bottle. Philip attempted to leave the kitchen, but she quickly grabbed him from behind with both arms, laughing loudly. Philip freaked out.

  “What is wrong with you? Leave me alone!”

  Their voices could be heard outside. Someone was listening. Zainab held on. He pulled her hands apart and she let go but before he could make another move she jumped and put both legs around him crossing them behind him. Her arms where around his neck and their heavy breaths touched each other’s face. Philip hit her hard by the side pushed her legs down. “Stop it! Stop it!”

  “Aawwww…”, Zainab cried out and they stretched into a laughter. The play fight stretched for fifteen minutes and Philip’s call for a halt got weaker and weaker till the encounter escalated into intense passion. All over the kitchen, into the living room till they ended up in bed around eleven thirty completely ignoring the TV which was still on and the bottle of half full red wine which was now being invaded by tiny red ants. Philip wasn’t even sure whether he had locked the door or whether Zainab was an agent of the devil or whether he himself was still a Christian. In those moments of ecstasy, nothing seemed to matter. In the midst of it all he managed to keep his penis away from her vagina. The beads he felt around her lower waist line had scared him stiff. What was he dealing with here? Then in a few hours it was morning and they were lying beside each other.

  “I am sorry…”, Zainab said. Silence.

  “I am sorry. I was drunk!” She kept talking.

  Philip sat up on the bed and put both hands on the back of his head, hiding his face between his knees. “Father I’m sorry. Father please help me,” he whispered. Even Zainab didn’t hear him.

  “Why are you unable to make love to me?

  “What?” gasped Philip. He stood up and walked out of Zainab’s room.

  “I find then a law, that, when I would do good, evil is present with me. For I delight in the law of God after the inward man: But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members.”

  (Rom 7:21-23)

  Guilt and Shame

  “For godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted; but the sorrow of the world produces death.” II Corinthians 7:10

  Philip was very regular at church. He had made good friends at The Accra Temple. It was a great church and he had been a member since the first week of his arrival in Accra. He wasn’t in the work force though he had gone far with membership classes. Most of his friends were from membership class. Bishop Alfred Owusu was an excellent teacher. He held the entire congregation spellbound whenever he mounted the pulpit. The quality of his sermon delivery was consistently flawless; full of spiritual substance and very articulate. On this particular Sunday, however, Philip could not pay attention. His mind was fuzzy, ruffled by the events of the week. It had happened and was now part of his personal history. It could not be taken away.

  After the service he and Zainab made their way to his vehicle outside the walls of the church premises. It was uncomfortable sitting by her in church. It was even more unsavory having to walk side by side with her in church. Everyone who looked at them seemed to be asking him “Who is this?”. It was not Zainab’s first time in church but today it seemed they had exchanged something that made this enquiry accentuated in the minds of those he had to say hello to. Zainab seemed to withdraw behind him each time he stopped to say hello to someone. She felt the rejection he was exuding towards her. She felt unwanted, like some kind of taint on his holy garments.

  “Hi Philip…” it was Christopher, a gentle brother who had met him during the early days of his participation in the Church’s membership classes. Christopher was one of those friends of Philip’s who had married early. He was always intrigued by such brave men. He often wished he did get married on time. It seemed to be the Christian thing to do for a young man to get married in his early thirties. Anyone who failed to do so was bound to fall into some kind of sexual sin; mental or physical, open or secret, heterosexual or homosexual.

  “Hello Chris. How are you doing,” Philip replied, reaching out to give a handshake. “How was service?”. He had to ask first, having hardly heard anything the Bishop said. It would have been dishonest of him to have answered “Fine”.

  “Church was great. Bishop simply cut through my heart with his explanation of Philippians 1:20. It’s so challenging. Thank God for a man of God like him”

  “Yes. Thank God”

  That seemed a rather brief response from Philip on the day’s sermon, but Christopher let it go. He took a glance at Zainab who was all but hiding behind Philip and decided to carry on.

  “Alright Philip. Have to go… have a great week. One of these days you have to come over and eat some home cooked meal at my place”

  Philip simply laughed. How could he tell his dear friend that meals were also being cooked in his home? One did not have to be married to get home cooked meals made by the delicate hands of a woman in his own home. And it was becoming more and more apparent that one did not need to be married to also get in bed with a young lady. But Philip could not say a thing like that, could he? It was completely unacceptable in this particular circle.

  “Thank you” Philip concluded. He and Zainab went on.

  “Your friend is nice. Christopher,” Zainab started as soon as they sat in the Toureg.

  “Yes. Very nice guy”

  She looked at him. “You are ashamed of me. You didn’t even introduce me to him”

  “As what?” Philip asked himself.

  “Sorry about that,” he responded to her without looking. He accelerated.

  Lunch was quiet. A home cooked meal. Philip was struggling with his thoughts, Struggling with his integrity, his identity.

  An hour later, Zainab had the pleasure of watching him iron his clothes for the week. She just stared, wishing he would say something. He could feel the stare but held back for a significant period of time. Then spoke, just as he was ironing the last of five shirts.

  “What are the beads for?”

  “Beads?”

  “The beads around your waist.”

  “Oh. Ha ha”. Zainab gave him a long stare. “To charm you. I planned it from the moment I left Lagos. It is a Mamy Water bead!”

  Philip thought some of Zainab’s jokes were very revealing, very suspicious. Sometimes he thought she was saying something to him that he should know but saying it in such a way that he would not know it.

  “I am serious,” he continued, “What are the beads on your waist for?”

  Philip could not have known that many young African women wore waist beads given to them by their mothers for reasons that were not always explained to them. They kept wearing them even when they became Christians. How would he know? He had nev
er undressed a lady before. It scared him stiff. Was she in some kind of cult? Had he exposed himself to demons with his sin? Could he ever get back to God?

  “I don’t know! My Mom gave it to me. But I hear it makes sex more exciting!” she laughed.

  “I see. So, have you always worn it or did plan to wear it that night along with the wine you bought?”

  “Do you actually think I am trying to seduce you or something? Well, I am not. I didn’t know what would happen. Can’t you just be free and spontaneous? Why are you punishing yourself? Be free!”

  “I cannot be spontaneously doing things that are clearly against God’s will. I am not punishing myself. I am working on my …”

  “Can I ask my own questions?” Zainab interrupted. Pause.

  “I am listening”

  “Why could you not have sex with me?”

  “Huh? As a Christian shouldn’t you be glad I did not? Could not! Why do you assume it is a could not rather than a would not?”

  “Why would you not? OK. I know. Because it is a sin. Duhh”

  Philip gave her one queer look and then stepped into his room to hang his shirt in the wardrobe. He took one last look to make sure it was smooth all over. He let out a deep sigh and then sat on the bed. Tears came close to his eyelids. It felt as if he was trapped. An hour later he was fast asleep with his back on the mattress and his feet on the floor: an uncomfortable position. He stirred gently; Zainab was sitting by him, rocking him gently.

  “Get up and lie properly,” she whispered.

  “Hmm”

  Philip stared at her for a bit. He wondered what she was listening to with her earphones. She repeated herself and he pulled his legs into the bed, and stretched, feeling the slight discomfort on his lower back that came with his initial position. He would certainly miss her when she would finally leave his house. Did she have to leave? Maybe they could get married. That would certainly be awkward. How would he give the testimony of their meeting among his plethora of spiritual brothers and sisters across the globe: ‘God led her to my house and we lived together for a month and a half then He told me to marry her’? They wouldn’t buy it for a pesewa!

  Zainab sat by the bed for a little longer. One part of her wanted to lie beside him. Just to lie beside him nothing else. Nothing else intended. She stood up and went over to the wardrobes whose doors had been left ajar. She gently closed and locked them. Philip wasn’t too deep in sleep to hear her. He was impressed, even pleased. She did know how to take care of a man. Zainab left him pondering, taking one last glance at her man lying carelessly on the large bed before she shut the door.

  EXPOSED

  Philip knew he had to talk to someone about what was going on. Every sin that remained hidden only festered and grew like dough injected with yeast. He thought about calling David Osiesaga. He would be so very disappointed. Maybe Olaolu Badmus, the one-time National Coordinator of his post-secondary school fellowship. He was significantly older and may be gentler on him. At work that week he had a chat with Gregory again and came very close to telling him that he had had another encounter with Zainab. What would he say this time? Maybe he would scold him. Gregory got a call into a meeting just as Philip was about to let the words leave the edge of his lips. It was extremely difficult, this confession thing, especially when he had to do it more than once. It would seem to whoever listened to him that he was deliberately repeating the same sin over and over again. How awfully embarrassing!

  Amarachi called later that same evening. It was as if God was giving him an opportunity to deal with the issue. It was always such a pleasant experience chatting with Amara. He was so grateful Mr. Ade-Williams was the kind of easy-going person he was. Certainly, Amara must have told him he was once interested in her, but he was comfortable with her calling him every now and then.

  “Nwanne madu. How are you?” she started. Philip simply chuckled.

  “You have thrown away your sister now”

  “Ha ha. So, between you and I who threw the other away?”

  “Brother abeg don’t start. So, how are you? What have you been up to?”

  “I am fine.”

  “You haven’t answered the first question”

  Philip burst out laughing hysterically. Amara always had amazingly witty comments that made him laugh and love her more. She didn’t laugh much herself. She waited for him to stop before injecting another two or three similar comments.

  “Backup to the subject under discussion…” she finally said, “What have you been up to? When are we coming to eat rice?”

  Amara had great respect for Philip based on his past reputation, but she was also very sensitive. She had heard Ghanaian women were very aggressive and kept worrying about what Philip had been up to as a single person in a new environment. She was also extremely anxious to have him get over her completely and get someone else to marry. She felt responsible for his delay in settling down and felt it was part of her duty to push him into marriage.

  “Any sister on board?” Amara kept pushing.

  “Amarachi there is something I have to tell you.”

  She noticed the sudden tone of seriousness in his voice and her heart skipped a beat. Philip narrated his two encounters with Zainab over the phone while Amara listened intently for almost thirty minutes. She was in tears but did not let him know. Nothing changed about her voice, but she was in pain. Everyone ought to have seen it coming but everyone hopes it never comes. When a young man crosses thirty, thirty-five and keeps going it is only natural that at some point he will do something he did not plan to do sexually speaking.

  “Well, so have you repented?” She asked solemnly.

  “Yes.”

  “So where is the girl now?”

  “Err… her house is still being prepared so she will move there soon”

  “What do you mean by that? She is still in your house? What is she doing there? Philip this one is basic na! How can you live in the same house alone with a girl who is not your wife? It is totally unacceptable. You yourself have preached against that so why are you doing it? Because no one is watching? When is she leaving the house?”

  “Err... “

  “Philip are you telling me after two sexual encounters or whatever you call them you still do not see the need to have her leave your house immediately? The Bible says, ‘If your right eye causes you to sin cut it off and throw it away’! You know what? I think you have become emotionally entangled with her and that’s why you have not sent her away. Philip! I can’t believe this”

  “Amara slow down. I will tell her to leave. It’s just that she doesn’t have a place to go now because she is new in Ghana. She doesn’t know anyone …”

  “Philip come on, these are flimsy excuses. You are exposing yourself to sin. Do not try to give it a nice name ‘sexual experience’ or ‘sexual encounter’ or whatever. Do not let Satan get the better of you. This has happened twice, but you need to deal with it and overcome and you need to be resolute about it so that it doesn’t happen again. I hope you understand?”

  “Amara but this was not intentional,” He could tell she was really hurt by his failure.

  “I know. I am not saying it is. I am just saying you need to be strong. Forgive me if I am sounding harsh but I really want you to find a way to make her go and live somewhere else. That is the best course of action. It’s action we need now not just feeling sorry”

  “OK...”

  “Philip, I am counting on you. God is counting on you. You still have a lot of people whose lives you must impact so don’t stay on this mountain too long. I hope you are listening?”

  “Don’t I get to speak?”

  “I am listening, Sir?”

  “Well…”

  “OK. Please, don’t drag the matter. Just try and get the girl out of your house and let’s talk again. OK?”

  “Yeah”

  Philip’s last response was like the squeak of a little mouse. He seemed to have got what he wanted, or what he needed: so
me good old bluntness. Amara respected him, but she was also one of those people who could tell him the truth to his face without batting an eyelid. He felt so ashamed that he now needed some bit of comfort. Who else could he call? Emem?

  Airports. Everything about taking a trip by air was always worth looking to for Philip. The feeling of importance, the pleasure of meeting new people, the welcome part at the other end in MMA, Lagos. Everything was just ecstatic every single time. Philip had travelled to Nigeria about a week after speaking with Amara. It was a great relief to be away from everything for a while. He could actually leave the house for Zainab and was able to tell Amara that he was no longer in the same house as Zainab without telling her that he was not in Accra. He didn’t consider it a lie, just a way of not telling the whole truth! From the back seat of a Red Cab he observed the structures on Oshodi-Apapa Expressway apparently speeding past him. Nothing had changed very much, same old Lagos: the heavy crowds of both vehicular and human traffic, buildings rubbing shoulders with each other, a major dual carriage way with one-foot deep flooded potholes at regular intervals. Same old Lagos. Philip’s phone rang.

  “Hi Stranger!” It was Zainab at the other end, excited as ever. “I just wanted to check that you arrived safely.”

  Philip smiled. It felt good having someone check on him, it felt bad that that person was not his wife. But then, Zainab could not be his wife. It was so complicated.

  “Yes, I did”

  “OK. I won’t dry up your roaming credit… bye.”

  Philip smiled again and dropped the call. “I miss you,” Zainab whispered at the other end. To her it was very simple. If he loved her he should say it. She did not want to be married to him necessarily, just to know that he loved her. God didn’t matter, the neighbours or what they thought didn’t matter. All that mattered to her was to know whether someone as special as Philip actually loved her despite her flaws. How could he get so close to making love to her and not make love to her? How could he be with her like that and not love her. She just could not comprehend it all. Her thoughts were on him all day while she did her rounds trying to get her new flat in order. She really didn’t want to leave Philip’s house. How would she cope?