My husband, my slave ! Short Story

by: Segun Durowaiye

I want my husband to be my slave and do whatever I want. That’s my heart’s desire. Men should be slaves to their wives. I’m sure Orilola is dating another woman; I can’t share my husband with anyone. He must do my wish and dance to my tune any day and any time. I’ll go and see Baba Ifagbemi at his shrine this weekend for a charm that’ll make Orilola become my slave so that I can toss him around and use him anyhow I like.”

For about 10 minutes, Mrs. Orilola talked to herself absent-mindedly. Her two children had gone to London for summer holidays, and they would arrive that afternoon with their dad, Mr. Orilola. Talking about money, you could never underrate Mr. Orilola. He was a very rich man. He was the chairman of many companies, home and abroad. He was a nice man, as attested by many people. He was love and simplicity incarnate. He took special care of his family and the needy. He touched the lives of many people who were not even related to him. He was a rich man who didn’t believe in garnering titles. He had been given chieftaincy titles, but he always turned them down and maintained just ‘Mr. Orilola.’ He was a philanthropist who doled out millions of naira in the service of humanity and wouldn’t want his name mentioned like some egoistic rich men.

Mrs. Orilola was the only wife of the tall, handsome and ebullient multi-millionaire businessman. They had been married for the past 10 years; so far, it has been a sweet, wonderful and lovely married life. Mrs. Orilola had everything she wished. Their beautifully-furnished mansion in highbrow Victoria Island, Lagos, was simply breathtaking and out-of-this-world! It was paradise on earth! She had everything at the tip of her finger. There were cooks that took care of the family meal; drivers and housemaids that made sure the Orilolas did not labour at all. They had close to 30 exotic cars in their garage; and Mr. Orilola showed unlimited love and passion to his beautiful wife the way kings treat their queens.

He would travel to America and Europe to shop for his family, particularly his beautiful wife. She wore the most expensive clothes and jewellery befitting a queen. Her skin was smooth and velvety, like the softest flower. The fact was that the Orilolas were living in super-abundance.

That early morning, Mrs. Orilola was at the shrine of Baba Ifagbemi, the old geomancer, who was skilled in the occult art of divination. Her mission was to get a potent love potion that would make her loving husband become her slave totally. In the whole of Idugan, a town on the outskirts of Lagos, no one could compete with the bald old man in the uncommon art of geomancy.

He was feared by all and sundry simply because of his spiritual and metaphysical powers. “Now Baba Ifagbemi,” she said, “I need the most powerful love potion that would turn my husband into my slave, to act like my houseboy and do whatever I order him. Just name your price, I’ll pay it. I have to be at home before 3:00p.m. because he would be arriving home from London with my kids today.” She adjusted her headgear and knelt in front of the diviner.

“Irunmole, the spirits of evil and good have heard all you wanted,” the old geomancer replied in a guttural voice; “but this kind of love potion will cost you N300,000. The gods will take care of your heart’s desire. If you pay me the money, I’ll bring the love potion from my magical bag of power now and hand it to you.” He spat thrice inside a ram horn containing black soap.

“Money is not the problem, baba, as you well know I’m always loaded,” she gestured, then delicately opened her handbag and brought out three crisp bales of N1,000 notes, totalling N300,000. She handed the three bales to the old herbalist. The diviner gave a toothy smile and giggled too. He reached for a bag hanging on the blood-stained wall of his shrine. He opened it instantly and dipped his hand inside it.

“Now, take this black powder,” he said, nodding his head confidently.

“You’ll put it inside his food; once he eats it, he must turn into your slave and do your wishes. He’ll take orders from you forever. This is the most potent love potion that the gods handed to my forefathers from generation to generation. Human mustn’t play with the gods. There are powers beyond the reasoning and senses of mere mortals! You can take your leave!”

Before Mr. Orilola got home that day from London, his wife had already reached home. She prepared a special dish for her husband and sprinkled the love potion on the meal. She knew the favourite food of her husband and reasoned that if she prepared it for him, he would fall for the bait because it would be irresistible. Some few minutes after the food was ready, Mr. Orilola called his wife on her mobile phone informing her that he had arrived Murtala Mohammed International Airport and was on his way home.

“Gee, my plans are working out as planned” she thought.

About 30 minutes later, Mr. Orilola’s exotic Mercedes Benz jeep was at the gate of his beautiful mansion. His chauffeur honked once and the electronic gate opened instantly and he drove in smoothly. When he stepped down from his jeep, his wife was already at the door to receive him and the children.

“Hello darling!” Mrs. Orilola exclaimed. “How was your trip? Hope you had a nice time!” she giggled and smiled bewitchingly.

“I’m okay, sweetie” Mr. Orilola replied his wife, taking off his suit. “How are you mummy?” the kids asked delightedly.

“I’m fine, hope you enjoyed yourselves,” she said, hugging her children. The children scurried happily into their room the next moment.

“I bought lots of beautiful and precious things for you from this trip, darling; things that would make you happier than before!” Mr. Orilola said excitedly.

“Your food is on the dining table dear,” she replied, “It’s your favourite food! Pounded yam and egusi soup with all the condiments that would sweeten your palate.”

“Thank you my dear!” he said happily, “you’re my angel, the one that always fills my heart with joy!”

Within the next few minutes, he settled down to eat. Mr. Orilola ate the food with relish. He was almost through with the pounded yam when he developed stomach ache.

“Oops! I’m not feeling well!” he said in pains, while holding his belly.

“God, what’s happening to me?” he screamed. Mrs. Orilola who had gone into her bedroom came running towards him when she heard his screams. At this very moment, Mr. Orilola was rolling on the floor, while clutching his stomach.

“What’s the matter darling?” Mrs. Orilola asked, really terrified and afraid. But Mr. Orilola couldn’t utter a word. He was sweating profusely and shaking. The following minute, he started vomiting blood and gasping for breath.

“Yee, my God!” Mrs. Orilola screamed at the top of her voice. Before she could rush him out of the living room, Mr. Orilola foamed from his mouth and died. Their two children were already beside their dead dad; and were wondering what the hell was going on.

“Yee, help me! God, help me!” she continued to scream. This attracted the chauffeur, the security man and a couple of housemaids in the sprawling mansion.

“Ha, God! Ha! Ha!! Ha!!!” she repeated in tears, “I’ve killed my husband! I never knew it was food poison Baba Ifagbemi gave me to put inside his food! God, I killed my loving husband!” she was weeping and really shedding sorrowful tears. Before one could say ‘Ori,’ three medical doctors had arrived the scene with three plain-clothed policemen.

The doctors tested Mr. Orilola and he was certified dead. The three policemen heard the confession of Mrs. Orilola. She was arrested for murdering her husband. She was handcuffed and pushed out of her husband’s magnificent mansion and taken to the police station. She made a statement which was taken as evidence after being recorded. She was remanded in prison custody.

One month later, the case came up in the Lagos High Court. After four gruelling hours of statements, counter statements and legal innuendoes by the bespectacled, elderly judge, Mrs. Orilola was found guilty of murdering her husband through food poisoning. She was sentenced to life imprisonment with no option of fine. She wept and wept as she was being led to the waiting Black Maria van that would take her to the Kirikiri Maximum Prisons where she would spend the rest of her life.

It was later revealed that the late Mr. Orilola made a very lovely will for his two children. They were to inherit his vast estate and business empire after his demise. It was also learnt that the late business tycoon had mouth-watering naira and billions of dollars in his account before his untimely death. A lot of people who were beneficiaries of his big heart and others to whom he had always shown kindness celebrated his birthday every year as a mark of respect and gratitude to a great man who was murdered by a woman he truly loved and trusted.