Travesty (1)

      Lara DaSilva stood on the balcony of her penthouse, munching on an apple and looking out at the Lagos skyline. The deep orange sun was only just rising out of the clear blue skies above her but the world below her was already bustling with activity. Lagos was her city in a way no other city in the world was. The new moneyed people flocking in from Nigeria's capital, Abuja often irked her and poor non- Lagosians that arrived every day from all over the country made her skin crawl upon sight but all of them played a part in why she loved it so much and she knew that.

 

Every morning at the break of dawn, she slid out of bed, picked an apple from the pile her maid always set out for her on the dining table and stepped unto her balcony to watch everything around her come alive. It was that routine that she missed whenever she went away to other parts of the world for holidays. The soft breeze blew through her Brazilian weave and she wrapped her slender arms around her purple silk bathrobe. The wind brought with it faint noises from the crowds beneath as the traffic on Adeola Odeku formed. Lara exhaled, closed and opened her eyes, threw her half eaten apple in the bin by the sliding door and walked into her room.

 

She sat in one of the cream velvet arm chairs opposite her bed and stared at the painting above her headboard. Her father bought it from Lisbon for her twenty first birthday present six years ago. It was a colourful painting of a woman carrying a baby on her back leading three small children by a river. The woman looked sad to her, but everyone else that saw it thought the woman was smiling. Lara tilted her head to the right to see why they thought she was smiling, maybe it was the bright yellow and red streaks that deceived them. Her phone buzzed on the small circular table beside her and in between the identical cream velvet arm chair and she picked it up immediately. To her slight disappointment, it was only a reminder that one of the girls she went to boarding school in England with, Susan Babalola, was getting married in three hours. She sighed and returned the phone to it's position on the table beside countless unopened invitations to weddings, birthday parties, dinner parties and even children parties.

 

She folded her arms and thought of Ade, her reluctant betrothed. They had returned from a romantic holiday at his summer house in Côte d'azur two weeks ago and the question they both knew she desperately wanted to hear him ask, had somehow evaded him again. True to the way they were both raised to avoid "unpleasant or uncomfortable" matters, the discussion about where the relationship was headed remained the white elephant in the room. Everybody in Lagos knew themselves, nobody was new. They all attended the same schools from kindergarten to the same boarding schools in England and to the same universities in America. She couldn't even remember where exactly she first met Ade, if it was at her house or at pre-school, but everybody knew they were going to get married. It was settled. The girls were groomed for the boys and the boys married the girls that suited them best like they were choosing expensive suits. She knew her marriage to Ade was inevitable but two things scared her. The first was, why was he taking so long to propose? She turned twenty seven years old last month and had now entered the last batch of people her age waiting to get married. Getting married wasn't going to change much about their relationship except that she would now be called Mrs Danteta and move into the mansion in Old Ikoyi that had been built for them after marriage by Ade's father. Ade was still going to be the elusive partner and she was still going to be the ever faithful and waiting girlfriend.

 

The second thing that bothered her and perhaps more than the first one was, since they returned from France, she found herself in a perpetual state of boredom. Everything about the Lagos glamour filled life bored her. Her parents dinner parties every Sunday suddenly bored her to death, the different weddings she attended every Saturday all seemed to become one endless dreadful party with the same people at different venues eating manageable food and drinking tepid Verve Cliqout or Moet and Chandon. Even her favourite sport, polo was beginning to loose its appeal. When she told her mother her predicament at the last dinner party hosted at the family mansion in Victoria Island, her mother advised her to pressure Ade to marry her quickly and Lara shuddered. Despite the fact that she wanted Ade to propose to her, she didn't think she could marry him in her present state of mind. Surely, there must be more to life. Her life was like a novel she had read at school, she already knew the end. And all of a sudden, it unsettled her. Once she married Ade, that was it. She was going to become the lady of their manor, see Ade about three times a year, have about four children, travel to their summer houses abroad every year, employ nannies to follow them everywhere, send all her children to boarding school in England or Switzerland at age ten then host or attend countless, pointless parties to entertain herself every week. That was going to be her story. That was what happened to all the girls in her social circle. Their grandmothers and mothers had lived that life and now it was their turn to live it and for the first time ever, the thought of playing the main character in a story that she already knew the ending to, repulsed her.

 

"Good morning, madam."

 

Lara turned to face her pretty petite Singaporean maid standing in her doorway, "Hello Lucy, how are you this morning?"

 

"I'm fine madam," She replied and looked down at the newspaper in her hand, "I have today's newspaper and you have a package from Mr Danteta,"

 

"Alright," Lara said and stretched her perfectly manicured hand out for the newspaper. Lucy hurried forward and curtsied as she handed it over to her. "Bring the package from Ade here and don't worry about breakfast today, I'm not hungry."

 

"Okay madam," Lucy said and turned to carry out the orders.

 

Lara hated it when her staff called her "madam" but she didn't stop them. In Lagos, some battles where better left un won. She unfolded the newspaper and groaned at the bold headline at the top of the page, Femi DaSilva declares ambition to run for presidency again. She shook her head and picked up her phone immediately to dial her mother's phone number. She answered on the first ring.

 

"Hello sweetheart, has Ade proposed?" Her mother asked in one breath.

 

"What?" Lara asked and furrowed her eyebrows, "No mother, he hasn't. I just got today's newspaper. Daddy didn't tell me he was going to run for presidency again."

 

"Oh," her mother's voice went flat. "Is that why you called me? You know your father, sweetheart, he does as he pleases, when he pleases and however he pleases. That one is not my business," She paused. "Anyway, how is Ade? He should have landed in London by now."

 

Lara blinked rapidly, she had forgotten he travelled last night. "Yes mother. He should have, I need to call him," She said. "Oh and today is Susan Babalola's wedding."

 

"I see." She said. "Where are they having it?"

 

"I think it's at the Oriental hotel, the security detail have the address," Lara said absentmindedly. She couldn't believe she had forgotten Ade had travelled.

 

"Those people are so classless." Her mother said with her usual air of superiority. "Who has their child's wedding in a hotel run by Chinese people? Ah, on your wedding day, the whole of Lagos will see how a wedding should-"

 

"Yes mother, you have been saying that since I was born," Lara said and closed her eyes, "I just called you to find out why daddy didn't tell me about his presidential ambition and like I should have known, you don't have a clue either." She opened her eyes.

 

"Lara sweetheart, your problem is that you are too concerned with the mens affairs" Her mother said and sighed. "That has been your problem since you were a little girl but I managed to chase it away. Don't concern yourself with the politics of this country. That is for the men, I don't want you to go worrying your pretty little head."

 

Lucy entered the room and dropped a small brown box on the table. Lara nodded at her and she disappeared. "Alright mother darling, I love you but I really must go now. I think my make up artist just arrived and you know how long it takes to get ready for a wedding."

 

"Oh dear," She said, "I'm sorry for keeping you. Go and get ready and send my regards to Susan's mother, Sola."

 

"Okay mother, bye," Lara said quickly and hung up before her mother could say anything else.

 

She placed her phone on the table and exhaled. Looking at the little brown box Ade sent her, she crossed her arms. What was driving her father's ambition? Surely he wasn't interested in running the country at age sixty five and after he had been in power for eight years nearly seven years ago. She remembered the years her father was president and shivered. She had just turned twelve years old when he won his first term, and after four years in the Presidential Villa, she hoped, no prayed he wouldn't win a second term but somehow he did. Once his terms ended, the villa was moved from Lagos to Abuja and she was overjoyed they had left before that happened. She couldn't have imagined living in that Abuja that was over run with Northerners. Still, those eight years her father was president were the worst years of her life.

 

"Madam, Kemi is here," Lucy said as she re-appeared in the doorway. "She wants to know if you are going out in the morning or evening today"

 

"Tell her to wait," Lara said with slight annoyance at her maid for interrupting her thoughts. "The wedding is this morning," She glanced at the little clock on the table, "The church service has already started, so I'll miss that and go straight to the reception," She said more to herself than Lucy.

 

"Okay madam." Lucy said and walked away.

 

Lara watched her leave and suddenly really felt like screaming at the top of her lungs. She picked up Ade's package and studied it closely. "I should call him," She said quietly but instead, she put it back on the table, picked up the newspaper again and flipped straight to page seven. That was the photo news and gossip column page. She scanned the page quickly and was grateful there was no picture of her on it today and no mention of her name in the article. She smiled at a picture of Ade embarking on his private plane last night. The paparazzi always irritated him and his irritation showed in the pictures. She studied his beautiful face and well built body in one of his custom made suits and smiled again.

 

Ade's father, Ade Sr was her father's best friend and he was the next president after her father. Unfortunately for him, he was so unpopular with the Nigerian public that even though he rigged the elections, they rejected him after his first term. He did everything her father did so after twelve years of basically the same dishonest and wicked government, Nigerians were fed up and took the seat from him. Before he was president, he was the Governor of Lagos State for eight years. Growing up, Ade often told her that he hated politics and wasn't interested in any part of it. But on his twenty third birthday, his father gave him a birthday present that changed her relationship with him forever. He made him the permanent commander-in-chief of Nigeria's State Security Service. It was so secret that no one else but her knew what he did. Everyone else thought he was an idle rich boy and he milked that image, travelling to the most exotic places at every chance he got. Lara couldn't turn to any of her friends for advice when he disappeared for three weeks straight without a word for 'work'. She knew he wasn't lying about what he was doing but as they got older and he drew further away from her, she began to doubt that. There was a time she was madly in love with Ade. Before that birthday, they were inseparable and she was so optimistic that their story was going to be different. Now, all she knew was that she loved him. Not like a lover anymore, but like a friend that she's been tied to for life.

 

As she stared at the picture of her future husband, pity rose up in her not just for him but for the both of them. She rose from her chair and threw the newspaper on it and when she stepped into her oversized bathroom, her phone rang. She smiled and answered it without looking at who was calling.

 

"I am still alive, Funke" She said as she pulled off her bathrobe and stepped out of her night dress. "I'm just getting into the shower so if you don't mind, I have to go."

 

"No, Lara!" Funke exclaimed. "Have a bath please. I have juicy gossip for you."

 

Lara rolled her eyes and smiled again, "Don't you always. Tell me at Susan's wedding. You know I need to start getting ready now or I'll probably never get there."  

 

"Just have a bath," Funke said, "And you know I have never liked that Susan girl. I would be too annoyed to talk at the rubbish wedding if I was going."

 

"What? You are not going?" Lara asked as she ran her bath water and poured in her lavender bath oils. "Funksy, how on earth did you get out of it?"

 

"You're my best friend, you know me," Funke said. "I told her I'm taking the kids to Dubai for the weekend and that they have been looking forward to it since they got back to Lagos from summer."

 

"You little devil," Lara said and laughed. "I wish I had kids to use as lies."

 

"Don't worry, you will very soon but hold your horses on the kids train. The moment that train arrives, you'll wish it waited," She said. "And it's not a complete lie. The kids just left for the airport. The only difference is that I'm not the one taking them."

 

Lara smiled and slid into the bath, "Okay, what's the gist?"

 

"Can you remember Tolu Abebi?" She said. "That mixed race girl that went to primary school with us but mysteriously disappeared after year six? Well, my trusted news sources have just informed me that she landed in Lagos this morning from Los Angeles,"

 

"What?" She said. "Why is she back? What was she doing in Los Angeles?" Lara sat up in the bath and pictured the pretty little girl that was her table partner in Corona primary school, the most exclusive in Lagos. Nobody knew anything about her family, other than her mother was German and her father belonged to one of the founding families of Nigeria. Her parents never attended any school function but her maids were always decently dressed at the parent teacher meetings. All the other children laughed at her and bullied her because she was so quiet and severely dyslexic but Lara liked her.  

 

"Well, we shall find out over the next couple of days but I just thought it was interesting that she'd come back when the elections are about to start and we are all preparing to leave town for the next six months," Funke said.

 

"Yeah it is." she replied dryly.

 

Funke exhaled. "Okay, what is bothering you now Lara?"

 

"Funks, my father wants to run for presidency again," She paused. "And I am scared he is going to win."

 

Funke laughed, "Phew, thank God that's what is bothering you. I thought you were fighting with Ade again and I was already preparing a speech." She breathed in and out, "Why is your father's life affecting you? It's not like you are going to live in the Villa with him when he becomes president now. I know how terrible the last time was for you but you are older now and you have your life now. In a couple of months, you'll be married and starting your own little family."

 

Lara nodded and closed her eyes, "You're right," She said. "But it's still bothering me."

 

"Sorry sister, but Tim just walked in so I have to escape to the spa now and you have a wedding to attend. By the way, I saw that picture of Ade on page seven and he looked mighty fine," She chuckled, "Bye sweety," She added and blew a kiss.

 

Lara smiled, "Thank you for the gist and bye honey."

 

She dropped her phone on the little beige persian rug and sank back into the bath as she let her mind roam. She had forgotten that they'd all have to leave Lagos soon and even though she knew she almost didn't have a choice, she didn't want to leave this year. Funke had been her best girl friend since pre-school and she called her every other morning with the latest gossip in Lagos on her tongue. Her family was new money, her father, Emmanuel Wilson was an entrepreneur. He married an ambitious middle class woman and they started an oil services company that only grew in leaps and bounds partly because Nigeria became the biggest oil producer in Africa and partly because they made sure they were around the right circle. His father, Funke's grandfather, died dirt poor, still Funksy was the biggest snob Lara knew but she loved her. When they were together, Funksy was funny, real, honest and carefree, a true best friend.

The story continues tomorrow.

With all my love,

Dara Rhodes