Virile

I really can’t explain how I got to this point, the rhythms of my heart can’t seem to stop singing, I have never imagined myself so afraid of being alone, and thoughts of ken can’t seem to disappear. It was easier for me when all I had to do was to put on my pants and shirt, make myself some coffee and step into the streets of Abuja, looking out for sweaty, muscular being that appealed to my senses.

during my days of training in the art of painting, I was told that, what you capture and present has to speak louder words that words itself, I painted pictures of animals, plants, trees etc. but nothing was as intriguing as the angles that sweat lines graphically constructs on the muscles of a man. That, inspired the name of my art which I call “MACHO” it represents bravery, fearless and courage. Capturing this images gives me victory over the being called MAN.

I had people, especially ladies come all over the world just to stare and lust over my work of art at exhibitions, some, ready to buy my art at any cost, all I had to do was name my price. My work of art not only gives pleasure to those that come in contact with, it also makes me rich and satisfies me both emotionally and sexually.

The last few months threw too many surprises at me. 9 months ago, I went for an exhibition in Korea, and came across this lady,“Amina!” she screamed my name from afar. I was startled because I knew that anyone who knew my birth name, definitely knows me from my home of birth. She walked to me. She was wearing a purple hijab which matched perfectly with her lilac stoned long dress. She seemed very sophisticated and rich. She said to me” inauni” and I was quiet. She continued,” don’t you remember me, the orphan that lived next to your home in Kano, your mum usually made my hair for free, and gave me shelter whenever my uncle locked me out. Can’t you remember me? Aisha. The Aisha that saved you from falling into the pit latrine that had broken” at this point, I remembered, she was this little girl that lived with her uncle next to my family house in kano, my mum was very fond of her. My mum would say “ if little Aisha can cook well, you ought to learn to cook too” I smiled at her and said, you have really changed” and she said, “ have you looked at yourself, I wouldn’t have known it was you if not for your face that remained the same, you look different, not in a bad way though. I responded “thank you dear, you look amazing”. She then laughed and told me that she was married to a prince in Dubai whom Allah sent to rescue her from the hardship her uncle put her through. At this point it was getting a bit personal and I had the urge to excuse myself, I said to her,” it is nice seeing you again Aisha, I need to concentrate right now” and she responded,” Amina why are you cold, we are family, wouldn’t you want us to see again and catch up, I have a lot to tell you” I then asked for her number and promised to give her a call.

After the exhibition, I returned to my lodge, made myself some lemonade, sipped on it as I rested. I began thinking about what Aisha would have thought, seeing me on my gold braids, shorts and crop sweatshirt. She will say in her head, “is it that Amina has no more respect for the culture of Islam. Well am not Amina anymore, I am Rita Macho, the best artist the world has ever had. Amina is dead and buried. I glanced at that the drawing in front of me, I remembered how I had to practically beg a young man, offering him 300 dollars just to draw his chest with milk dripping on it. I laughed so hard and kept staring at the drawing. I then created a graphical picture in my head of the man in the drawing coming at me with his chest dripping with milk and making me lick it off while he fondled with my breast. Quivers ran through my body, I placed my fingers between my thighs, into my clits and played with “my little girl” till I climaxed. I slept off almost immediately and woke up late the following morning to realize that I had missed my flight.

Aisha kept calling me, I tried not to pick up but she wouldn’t stop so I had to pick up to hear what she had to say this time. She asked if she could take me somewhere later in the day so we could catch up. I wanted to refuse but then I just felt that being a nice lady this once won’t hurt. So I agreed to go out with her. Aisha seems to be nice but the issue is she is from my past and I have thrown my past away. I try to stay away from anything that links me to the past. I believed that this outing with Aisha will be the first and last.

Aisha came with a taxi to my lodge to pick me up. She took me to a clubhouse underground a certain shelter. It was obviously a private place that only few people knew. Before we stepped out of the taxi she took off her hijab and the long black gown she had on. I asked her why she had to do that, and she said she wanted to blend in. she had a blue short dress on with her hair packed in a low pony bun. As we walked into the club house we drew the attention of many to ourselves. There were few ladies and many men sitting and dancing around, drinking and having fun. Coming out with aisha, showed me another side to her, I felt she was judging me in her head at the exhibition but now I could clearly see she never did and that I might have judged her too quickly

We both ordered a cocktail with some lemon and ice and sipped slowly as we stared at one another. Aisha then broke the silence by asking me, what had been happening with me since my mum died. I told her that I didn’t want to go back that memory lane but then, I am a trained artist who specializes in figure drawing. She then said that she googled me out and could see that I was doing well for myself but also made reference to the fact that she could only find me when she googled MACHO. She asked why I had to change my name to Rita macho, I told her it was a personal decision for my own personal reasons. She then asked” what do I call you now? Amina or Rita macho”, I told her Rita macho was perfect. With the look on Aisha’s face, she obviously felt unsatisfied with my response and changed the subject. She asked me what I like to do for fun. As I was about to respond, a fat middle-aged looking man walked to our table and asked if he could share the table with us. Aisha replied in the affirmative. At this point I got very uncomfortable, I couldn’t even speak anymore. Aisha asked if I was ok, and I said I was. She then excused herself to use the rest room. The man sited began talking to me, he said, “you are beautiful” I said thank you and he came closer and put his arms across my shoulder. I got uncomfortable and asked him to take off his arms immediately. He refused and asked me not to be shy. I then got up immediately and told him to find another table. He got up and yelled” why are you acting so damn apprehensive, are you a virgin?” I was mad at this point and responded” if you don’t get out of my sight this moment I will show you what Rita macho does when she is apprehensive” at this time people in the club noticed what was going on. Aisha came out and asked what happened? I yelled at Aisha and asked her to tell the man to leave our table. Aisha spoke softly to the man “please sir, my friend is really uncomfortable, could you please sit someplace else? The man looked at me and said” eat your table for dinner psycho bitch” I got mad, reached for my shoe and slammed it across his face, People screamed and some ran to his aid. The man held his left eye with blood dripping. Aisha rushed me out quickly as she attempted to call a taxi.

When we finally got back to my lodge that night, I wept like a baby. Aisha was totally confused and asked me what was wrong. I was shaking and was muttering words she couldn’t hear. She hugged me tight and cosoled me till I was stable.

That night as I laid in my bed, all I could see was my mums face. I remembered how my father lied to everyone that she had mental issues and had her beaten every other day right in front of me. She was so helpless and nobody ever trusted or belived in the words she said cause she was termed crazy. He called her all sorts of names and she couldn’t fight for herself and had no one to fight for her. I remember when I tried to defend her, my father took me into his room and cut my back with a razor blade warning me that if he ever saw me get in-between his fight with my mother he will use the razor blade to silt my throat. When my mum saw my back covered in blood she wept. She cried quietly as she treated my wounds. she muttered in a tearful voice “your father loves me, he loves you too. He just gets angry sometimes” my mum tried severally to send me to her sister in markurdi but I refused to go because I didn’t want her to be alone.

Looking at the face of that man at the club and how he spoke to me, sent me back to my past, I refuse to sit in the shoes of my mum who couldn’t fight for herself and threw my shoe at him. I wept because I remembered my mum’s pains and the pain I felt when I looked at her. I feel the man at the club got what he deserved.

Early the next morning Aisha came banging on my door. She said I had to leave the lodge that some people are coming for me as a result of what happened the previous night. My flight was for 10 pm. Where would I have gone to? Aisha took me to where she was lodging and said I could stay there till it was time for my flight

Aisha was extremely helpful and I didn’t even know how to thank her. Since my mum died, I haven’t felt care from another person. I sat next to her and told her thank you. She smiled and said” we are sisters” I felt happy but afraid that I might be letting my past back in. I really didn’t want to have anything to do with anything or anyone that reminded me of where I came from but there I was…I found myself a sister.

Getting back home after all the drama in Korea was a great relief, now I knew I was totally safe. I slept like a baby and woke up to a fever. My body was steaming hot and my head felt like a rock had been dropped on it. I managed to get myself to a clinic not too far from my house. At the clinic, I was given a card to fill and pay for, after which I had to sit and wait for the doctor’s arrival, who according to the nurse was on his way. I was directed into his office to wait for him.in a few minutes a dark skinned tall looking man walked through the door, winked at me and apologized for coming late. He asked me how I was feeling which I explained to him. afterwards he sent me to the lab for a malaria test which was positive. I then returned to the doctor for prescription and as he wrote it down, he asked” what do you do”? I responded, “am a professional artist” and then he continued” how much would it cost to make a picture of me and have it delivered to me by tomorrow” I was quite surprised and asked “ don’t you want to look at my works to be sure am the artist u really need?” and he looked at me and said “ what if I trust you can deliver without seeing your work?” and I replied “800 dollars and you will get it by tomorrow” he looked at me and smiled. He said” madam you need to rest, if possible take some few days off work, you don’t need any form of stress right now, for my portrait, when you get well, I will be your first client” I smiled. Took the prescription and left.

As I drove back home, I couldn’t take the image of the doctors cheek bone when he smiled out of my head. I knew at that moment that I wanted to draw his face on my board, which will be the first face I will ever draw in my history as an artist.

The following week I returned to the clinic to find the doctor. I was asked if I was a patient or I had an appointment to see the doctor. I lied that I had an appointment and that he was expecting me. I told the nurse to inform him that the artist was here to see him. The nurse went into his office and came back to say that I have been invited in.

I walked in through his doors, and sat. he welcomed me and asked how I was doing, I told him I was alright and went straight to the point asking him if he still wanted a painting of himself and if not, how much he will be willing to collect so I can make a painting of his face. he looked at me with surprise in his eyes, smiled and said” I am not for sale” I said to him,”am not buying you , am buying your time” he said he will think about it and get back to me. He then asked me for my number so he could contact me to inform me of his decision. I gave him my number and told him that I will be expecting his call. I left his office praying and hoping that he will call saying yes.

On one very cold evening 3 weeks later, he called and asked where he had to come to, to get the painting done. I screamed in excitement and invited him over to my house.

When he arrived, I offered him a sit while I got my board and start drawing. I asked him why he agreed and he said he wanted the Rita macho experience he further added that he had googled me and found out I was the best at my art. I thanked him for the recognition and continued concentrating on my work. He then asked” why do you enjoy painting masculine features, do you like men a lot” I laughed in amazement and asked “I hope you aren’t thinking this is a booty call” he smiled and said “nope” then I told him that I was fascinated by the makeup of macho men and painting them being posits a strong energy towards me. I added that I didn’t like men at all, that I have never been with a man. He looked at me with amazement and asked“so you are a virgin?” I said “I think so” he looked amazed and then asked why I wouldn’t give a straight answer. I told him, “because the answer isnt straight” he then asked “are u a lesbian then?” I replied quickly “no!” I then added,” am into men, but only in pictures. He said” that’s very interesting”. After painting I offered him a drink and some biscuits and then asked him what his price was. He said dinner with him and an extra copy of the painting for him. I had never being out with a man before so I was quite uncomfortable with the dinner part. But then again if that’s all it takes to show appreciation, why not. At least there will be a table between us and he wouldn’t have to come that close, I agreed and told him to let he know when he was ready. He left that night leaving an unusual aura around me.

Two days later, he called me and told me to get ready that he was coming to pick me up for dinner. I wore an easy Ankara dress and a pair of sandals. He came to pick me up and took me to an Indian restaurant. Hmmm….that was new to me, I have never had Indian food and couldn’t wait to see what their meals were like. He drew out a sit for me to sit down and said to me” how did you save my name on your phone when you have never asked of my name” I apologized immediately and asked him what his name was. He smiled and said “Kenneth okoro” he assisted with selecting a meal for me which turned out absolutely delicious. as we ate, he asked” why paint me when am not macho” I thought deeply about the question and realized I didn’t have a perfect answer. I smiled and said” you have a beautiful smile” he blushed. I knew that wasn’t the reason, the real reason wouldn’t have made sense. We spoke at length about many other things. Ken was witty and good with words just like most men and then give them sometime and they turn into a beast just like my father. As we sat and talked a song came on and ken asked if we could dance, I said to him” no one is dancing, I don’t think people dance in these sort of places” he smiled at me and said “ we can begin the culture” he reached for my hands, I instantly had goosebumps..i wanted to say no but was finding it difficult to mutter the words. He held me close to his chest and I began to gasp for breath, I felt like I was losing my mind but I tried to keep it together for a little while. Ken looked deep into my eyes as he held me softly. Our eyes locked and I felt my heartbeats pounding so hard. At this point I couldn’t hold up anymore, so I whispered into his ears” I think it’s time to stop, I need to go home now” he smiled, took me by the hand as we walked back to our seats, he then held my bag in his hands and led me to the car. Ken noticed I was no longer comfortable and kept asking if I was ok. I told him I was fine over and over again but he wouldn’t have it. He asked if there is something he had done wrong, I said he did nothing wrong and that the problem was me not him. Ken dropped me home that night and promised to call before going to bed, which he did but I failed to pick.

Ken called me a couple of times after the dinner date but I didn’t want to pick his calls. Ken made me feel vulnerable and not in control of myself. I hated the feeling... it placed me in the shoes of my mother I thought. But then kens portrait on work table with that smile continued to torment me. When I look at the portrait my heart begins to pace. The presence of his portrait made me unable to give pleasure to myself the way I like it because I felt he was right there the whole time. But then I hoped that the distance I had created will help me conquer my mixed feelings.

I was invited for a seminar about a month later in Lagos. Before I left I trashed kens portrait in the bin outside the house, hoping that by the time I get back the trash guys would have emptied it all out.

I got back two days later, the first thing I did was to check the trash and kens portrait was gone, I thought “finally am free” I got in took off my shoes and went straight to the fridge to get some lemonade. As I poured out the lemonade in the glass the doorbell rang.. I reached for the door and voila it was Kenneth okoro again. I asked him” what do you want?’’’ he replied at least an apology for not keeping to your own end of the deal” I yelled out “what deal? Didn’t I have dinner with you what else do you want?” ken looked me in the eye and responded “you”. I said to him” am not available, like I said before I only like men in pictures” and he smiled and said” it means you like me, am the man in this picture you trashed in your bin’’ he lifted up his portrait and showed it to me. He asked me “what did I do wrong, where did I go wrong, why do you hate me so much. You don’t even know me” he yelled. I yelled right back “ ken I don’t want to know you more than I already have, you are a great guy but I hate the way you make me feel” he replied “ how do I make you feel” I walked back into the house swiftly and he followed.. I looked away and said” you make me vulnerable and weak” he walked towards me and said” what can I do, that will make you at ease with me” I looked at him and said “don’t come to close, be as far away as you can be” he asked me if that is what I truly wanted? I was quiet. Truth is, I wasn’t sure myself. He took his portrait and headed towards the door and I went after him and held the portrait in his hands. I said to him” that is mine, I will keep it” our eyes locked again and he drew nearer to me I said” Rita Macho am helpless and lost without you, you might be the weirdest lady I have ever met but I know that if you give me the chance I will try my best in this world to be the best I can be to you” tears rolled down my cheeks.. I found some strength to say to him” then you begin to feed on my weakness and become a beast, my mum died in the hands of my father, who claimed to have loved her in the beginning, I will not be fooled. Its better I stick to my pictures that can hurt or bite. My portraits give me the best orgasm ever” ken looked at me in shock and said “what?” I replied “yes, my portraits give me all the satisfaction I need”. Ken said’’’ what kind of sick thing is that? Rita, you need help. Let me help you” I replied swiftly “no! You need help for wanting to be with a messed up woman like me, go! Ken and don’t come back. I don’t need you or anyone else” I slammed the door at kens face and busted into tears.

I have been a complete shadow of myself since then. I can’t stop thinking about ken, and about the fact that he was willing stay regardless. But the images of my mum killed in cold blood by the man he claimed loved her right before my eyes can’t seem to go away. I do feel something strong for ken but letting him in might destroy the persona Rita Macho and bring back Amina.

I got a call from Aisha saying she was in Nigeria and that she wanted to see me. I invited her over to the house.

When I opened the door for Aisha she jumped on me and gave me a tight hug. She said” I missed you girl” not even a single call to even tell me you have arrived Nigeria, you mean girl” she giggled. I hugged her a second time and Aisha said” hmmm...That’s new, are you ok” I gave her a seat, told her to make herself comfortable and asked her what she would drink. She walked up to me and said” this is my sister’s house, I serve myself thank you” Aisha does have a way of bringing life to a dead soul with her words…I knew at that point that I missed her. She got herself a glass of vodka and sat beside me. She looked keenly at me and said”” you better start talking’’.

I told her I met a man and she leaped for joy, she couldn’t hold her excitement. I said to her” Aisha, let me finish…I sent him away” she asked why. And I told her my fears and worries and that I didn’t think I was ready to take the risk. She looked at me and smiled. She said” when you paint, do you paint because you know someone is going to buy it?’ I responded” I paint because I love to paint, hoping that someone might like it but not with the certainty that someone would” she put her hands across my shoulders and said” everyone does things hoping and believing that those things turn out good not because they are sure it would. Life is a risk, love is too. If you love this guy, take that risk, we all have different destinies. Allah knows all things before they happen. You cannot have the same destiny as your mum and this man is not your father, there are good men out there. My husband Abdul, has been kind to me all this 12 years we have been married. Do you know I no longer have a womb”? I shook in surprise, I said “does he know” she smiled and nodded her head in the affirmative. She said” he still loves me regardless and wouldn’t agree to marry another woman. He said he married me for me and not for kids” I imagined the kind of man Abdul could be, he seemed so selfless. She continued” I never thought Abdul could be so understanding and sweet like this…I married him hoping for the best. I didn’t have a pleasant childhood too. I grew up right next to you, my uncle molested me day after day till I ran away but today am a happy woman, truly happy. You can’t dwell on your past my sister. Move on and embrace all the future holds for you. Go get your man. I looked at her and she nodded her head and smiled. She said “ give it a try Amina”. I got up quickly took my car keys and zoomed out.

I drove to the clinic to find ken. On getting there, I was told ken sold it out. I begged to nurse to give me an address as to where I could find him that it was a life and death situation. She gave me his address and I drove there. I called ken over and over but he wouldn’t pick his calls. I got to the gate and knocked. The security man came out and asked who I was looking for and I told him ken. the gateman said he left 30 minutes ago to catch a flight to the uk. My heart skipped... I ran into my car and started my journey to the airport. On the way I tire went flat. I screamed in anger. Got down and began to look for a cab. No cab came forth. I got scared I didn’t want ken to leave before I got there. Finally a truck carrying chairs was passing and I stopped it and begged the driver to allow me sit at the back of the truck so he can drop me at the entrance of the airport. He refused. I begged him and told him I will give him five thousand naira. He smiled and gave me a seat beside him in the truck. I thanked him and we left. When we got to the entrance, I gave him the money and before me was still a distance to the airport lobby. I began to run as fast as I could. As I was running, a car stopped and assisted me inside. When I got to the lobby the airport security refused to let me in because I wasn’t travelling. I pushed him away with all the strength I had, ran into the airport towards the counter attending to travelers going to the uk. The airport security raised an alarm and started running after me. I didn’t sight ken, and I started screaming “doctor ken okoro” repeatedly... The airport security caught up with me and carried me out. When I got out I cried bitterly as I still tried calling ken. Suddenly I heard my name and turned around and it was ken. I ran and hugged him passionately. He asked “why did you come here” I said to him,” Kenneth okoro, I let you into my heart right from the first day I thought your face was a perfect painting. I have realized that I want to wake up every day to that smile on your face. I am totally smitten by you, don’t leave me, stay with me, and help me overcome my fears. I want to be with you” he drew nearer to me and kissed me and said” I thought this day will never come, I love you Rita, I loved you right from the day I saw you, am not going anywhere” we hugged intensely and left the airport.

At this point I realized that Amina is still the real deal, Rita macho is only an extension. Now I am ready to be Amina, accept my fears, deal with it and move on. There is no substitute for happiness what Rita macho couldn’t give me, Amina did. And am glad to say that Amina is happier than Rita ever was. Am no longer hiding behind my paintings. My name is Amina, a Muslim girl from Kano, and the best painter the world will ever know. I am no longer afraid to be who I really am.