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    “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Munachi moaned loudly as our bare bodies locked in passionate ecstasy. I felt the gritty sand of the beach press against my skin as I reached for a ‘gregarious’ c----x. “Don’t stop!” Munachi pleaded, her body quivering like an old British steam engine. This is it! I thought to myself. I had been right to return home after all those years. Naija love was the antidote I needed to heal my pains. One more t----t, and I hit the finish line. I moaned loudly as the moon peeked gently down at us. I fell off Munachi’s succulent and voluptuous body. Her bosom peered intently at me as she breathed heavily. Her eyes were tightly shut, but with the help of the glowing moon, I could see specks of tears…tears of joy and sexual satisfaction streaming down her face. Finally, I had found love; Naija love. I had never known any girl to be that expressive, sexually. Munachi was re…smoking re. “Did you have fun?” she asked me. “Fun? I had more than fun, Muna!” I answered. “I have never felt this way before.” She smiled and placed her head on my chest as I lay on my back. The skimpy cloth we had brought with us was hardly enough for the two of us to lie on. I could not care less. Muna had brought a whole new definition of love into my life. “So, what kept you in the USA for fifteen years without returning to Nigeria?” she asked. “Long story. Actually, I always missed home. Nigeria will always be home for me, but I can’t deny that Naija has brought me a lot of pains too. When I was twelve, my parents won the US visa lottery. We were all excited…thrilled. My father quit his job with the Nigerian customs while my mom ditched her teaching job. We all relocated to Houston, Texas. “Life was great at first. Then, six years in, my parents visited Nigeria….” I paused. The memories I had buried in me for long came flooding back. “Muna could tell. She propped herself up and began to kiss me. Her touch was magical. It made everything feel right. Before I knew it, my tongue was wading through her mouth and her hands ran amok all over my bare skin. Like stallions in heat, we were at it again. My hands wandered all over her bosom, caressed her thighs and soon I was on top of her again. “Make love to me like never before,” Munachi instructed me. She was like the orchestra director. I did exactly as she said. “Harder!” she shouted, sending me into a wild frenzy. I obliged her, ring like a sharpshooter. “My goodness, I am losing my mind. I love you…I love you Muna!” I declared. “I love you too, Eloka!” she shouted. Then, she pulled me to the side, sending me down on my back. She got on top of me and went wild. Truly, Naija love was miles from anything else I had ever experienced. “I will make love to you like never before,” she said thrusting on me with intense passion. I dug my fingers into the sand, wanting to c----x, yet wanting to stay in the same state and position forever. “This is incredible,” I muttered. “Don’t stop, Muna. Please don’t stop!” I shouted. “Who told you I am stopping? I will rock your world, Eloka.” “Yes, rock my world, all of it!” After we both came, I held her tightly to my body, running my finger all over her. “You are sensational, Munachi!” I whispered in her ear. “I will do anything to please you,” she replied. I could not doubt her Munachi was sensationally beautiful I had met her at a First Bank branch in Ilupeju where she worked as a teller She had I could not doubt her. Munachi was sensationally beautiful. I had met her at a First Bank branch in Ilupeju, where she worked as a teller. She had served me a number of times. For a smart girl like her, it was not long before she figured I was new in the country, well after a long time. I dealt with foreign currency, and spoke with a foreign accent. She was quick to send signals my way. One afternoon, I walked into the banking hall, waiting for my turn to be attended to. She quickly got rid of a customer and waived specifically at me to step over, even though it was no my turn. “Mr. Eloka, your cheque is ready. You can come over here now,” she said, fooling the customers ahead of me. Well, I took my chance. I had other things to do, so I jumped the queue. As she attended to me, she made sure to leave her top hanging loose. Her bosom was unmistakably inviting. Each time she took a breath, I could hear a quaking noise in my heart as her chest rose and dropped rhythmically. Then, she stared me in the eye, rose to her feet and whispered in my ear as she handed me the receipt for my transaction. “I see the way you are looking at me. You can have me if you want.” Chei! Kedu ife I na ewku? (My goodness, what are you saying? Suddenly, I found myself thinking in Igbo. “Can I get your number?” I asked. “Sure thing,” she replied sliding her card across the table. I picked it up and left, promising to ring her soon. Soon was the next day. By Friday, Munachi and I were making love in my hotel room in Ikoyi. From the get go, I was hooked to this Naija love called Munachi. She took me to realms I never knew existed. I would wait for her to get off work almost every evening to drive her home – to my hotel room, of course. “So, what happened to your parents?” she asked. “They were killed. Someone entered their house in the village and murdered them in cold blood,” I muttered, holding back tears. “My God!” Munachi exclaimed. “I am very sorry.” “It is okay.” “No, it is not. That is the problem with Naija. I am sure someone in your extended family was involved, somehow.” “I believe so. They took my father’s landed property and threatened to kill us. My younger sister and I remained in the US. “I hated Nigeria for years. I swore never to have anything to do with Nigerians. I avoided them like leprosy in the USA. That was the reason I made sure to marry an American.” I paused again. “I am sorry,” Muna said. I had told her of my late wife, Sharon who died in ghastly motor accident. “Thank you.” ‘I wish I could make your pains go away. You are a good man, Eloka…that is why I love you with every breath that I draw!” I saw a smile on her face against the glare of the moon. A cold breeze swept in from the Atlantic. I could hear a ship honking at a distance as it neared Lagos. “I love you with everything in me,” I replied. She began to caress me again. “I am glad I met you. I missed you all these years because I was mad at Naija; at my relatives for killing my parents. I am very thankful that I finally returned home to mourn my parents properly and my late wife.” “I am glad you did, Eloka.” We made love over and over again that night before finally retiring to my hotel room. Two months later, I went to see Munachi’s family in Awka. They were elated. They treated me very well. I rushed everything, rushing through the marriage rites. I was willing to do anything…I mean, anything to marry Munachi. She was the perfect antidote to my pains. I was all in. Finally, something about Nigeria that I could rave about – Naija love. Munachi’s adventurous spirit was a real turn on for me. One night, we were at Escape Nightlife, an exotic night club on Adeola Odeku Street, Victoria Island. Music was blasting through the wall and ceiling. I could feel my heart jangling. We danced wildly on the floor before retiring to the back of the VIP area. We had a cubicle reserved. It was partially secluded, but not completely. The lights were dim. As soon as we sat down, Munachi began to yank at my jeans. She stared me in the eye as she unbuckled my belt. She worked her way through like an expert. Her sexual aptitude excited and scared me at the same time. There was no doubt that she had been with a lot of men. That did not matter any longer though…she was mine now; mine to keep for life. People were walking along the aisle, but she did not care. She tossed my jean aside and climbed on top of me. The music drowned out our moaning as she drove me to death and brought me back to life. I yanked her bra off as she rocked away on top of me. “I like this!” I confessed. “Don’t stop honey.” “I am going nowhere, darling. It is you and I all night long, right here!” “Now I know why my Nigerian friends used to rave about Nigerian girls when we were at University. Naija love is like no other!” I declared. “I take thee, Munachi Ezenna as my lawful wedded wife,” I said after the pastor. Our wedding was splendid. Munachi had organized everything to the letter. Soon after our wedding, I had to return to the USA. I quickly led requisite documentation to bring Munachi over to the USA when I returned to Chicago where I live. I raved about her to friends and a few relatives that I was close to. “Naija girls are the best,” I would whisper to my friends. “Now you know what we meant, when we said Naija love was miles ahead of the chasing pack, right?” Asked Chukwuemeka, who was married to a girl from Anambra state too. About a year later, Munachi was granted visa to join me in the US. I was thrilled in that period; I had been to Nigeria multiple times. The night I picked her up at the airport, I had adorned our marriage bed with red roses. The minute we entered the house, Munachi and I began to rip our clothes off. We hardly had dinner. It was marathon love making till early morning. Soon, she was settling into life in Chicago. I was happy, but I could not help but notice that she clung to her phone a lot. She seemed to be texting someone or talking to someone all the time.


    #1128381 Reply
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    “Honey, you must miss home a lot,” I pointed out one morning before leaving for work. “I really do, sweetheart. I am happy that I am here with you now, though.” I kissed her passionately before leaving. The next weekend, I took her to Disneyland in Orlando, Florida. We had so much fun, but Munachi would not get off her phone. Every time she had a few minutes, she would get on the phone to someone. One night, I was sleeping and when I stretched, I could not find Munachi. I got out of bed and turned on the light. I frantically searched for her. Finally, she was on the balcony at 2:00 Am on the phone. Again, she claimed she was talking to her mom. “I miss my family a lot, sweetheart,” she said. Of course, before I had time to think about it, she was on top of me in the bedroom, making me speak in all kinds of tongues again. My goodness, she was incredible in bed. “You know we could visit Nigeria in summer, if you want. I’d like for you to see your family,” I offered in the morning. A splendid smile appeared on her face. By summer, we spent a month in Nigeria.

    Not even that stopped Munachi from hugging her phone consistently. I decided to overlook it. She went back to school to get an MBA. She did not want to get pregnant until she was done with studying. Then she made excuses after she was through with studying. “Let me work for a year, honey. At least, a year. I need some experience before having a child. I’d like to take a year or two off after having a baby, so if I get experience now, I will be ready to get back into the job market without looking like a greenhorn afterwards,” Munachi argued. As usual, I gave in to her. … “I don’t love you anymore!” Munachi yelled. I thought it was a dream. I wanted to wake up and find out I had been having a nightmare. Sadly, it was real. Munachi was threatening me with a divorce. I yelled, begged, pleaded, cried and cried a bit more, but sadly, she was serious. Just when we were supposed to have a baby, she said she was no longer happy with our marriage. “I brought you to this country and paid for your education, Munachi. Are you really serious about walking out of our marriage like this? Is this how Naija love works?” “I just don’t love you anymore!” she insisted. It was unreal. I snapped into depression. I lost weight rapidly. Before I knew it, Munachi served me divorce papers. One night, I managed to get my hands on her phone while she was in the shower. It felt like an arrow was piercing through my heart. Munachi had been chatting with a guy, an old boyfriend in Naija. She was going to divorce me to marry her and bring him to the US. I even saw naked pictures of herself that she sent to him – Lots of them. I fainted. I could no longer bear it. All along, from the get go, Munachi had been playing me. She just wanted to use me to come to the US, leave me, marry her old boyfriend and then, bring him to the US. “You are evil!” I shouted when I finally came around. “Nigerians are evil!” I yelled. “Nigerian girls are evil!!!” I could not control myself. I even thought of killing Munachi, but I could not bring myself to do it. “I just don’t love you anymore!” She insisted callously. She got most of the things I had worked tirelessly to build following the divorce. I started life from the scratch again. “God, why have you done this to me?” I found myself asking God. The pain was excruciating. I avoided even my old Nigerian friends. They killed my parents, now they have destroyed me, I concluded. I tried to get over it, but I was never the same again…for a long, long time. Things hurt even more when I found out that Munachi flew to Nigeria and married her old boyfriend. Apparently, each time I went to Nigeria with her, she would sneak out to be with him. I felt like a fool. … It was a cold winter night. I had come to the end of the road. I could no longer take it. I decided to take my own life. I had pushed away anyone who wanted to help, most of whom were Nigerians. One of them, Iruka was particularly stubborn. She and I had been classmates at University. “If you ever want to talk, I am here for you,” Iruka would text me every week. Sometimes, she would arrive at my door unannounced. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” she’d say with a smile that angered me. Why does she have to smile all the time, I thought. “I am ne, Iruka,” I’d say to her, refusing to let her into my apartment that was degrading further by the day. I had cleaned anything. I had hit rock bottom, ravaged by depression. As I walked home from the pub where I had soaked my soul in beer, I thought of the note I’d leave for my younger sister, Ebele. She was the only one I felt anything for in the whole wide world. I dragged my alcohol-ravaged body up the stairs to my apartment. I locked the door behind me, scribbled a note for Ebele which read; Ebii girl, It has been long since I called you by that (Ebii girl). Do you remember when we used to play in our backyard in Onitsha? You would climb the tree and I would ask you to jump. “I will catch you, Ebii girl,” I’d say, and I always did. You are the most beautiful human being alive. When you get this note, please don’t cry for me. Life has beaten me so badly that I have no more left in me to live on. Please forgive me and don’t cry. Like I used to catch you then, I will be watching over you from the other side. I will always love you, even in death. Again, I can no longer live! Take care of yourself. I dropped the note on the living room table, took the poison I had obtained from the street, placed it in a glass of apple juice. I watched it for quite a while trying to rev myself up to take it. I wondered if God would forgive me; if he would understand with me. But does he really care about me? After he let me suffer all those atrocities. Go ahead, drink it, I urged myself. As I reached for the cup, my phone buzzed. I stared at it for a moment. I ignore it and reached for the glass the second time and my phone buzzed again. This time, I took it. It was a text from Iruka. It read, I am thinking of you tonight. I am led to share this with you tonight. All these years, I have been watching you…watching you from afar. I have watched you hurt. What you may not know is that I have been in love with you from university. I always had a crush on you. Somehow, I have refused to marry because I felt if it was not with you, it was not worth it unless I fell in love with someone else. So far, I have not. I am still waiting. I am outside your door knocking. I can’t bear to see you suffer any longer. Another one read; Eloka, please would you let me in… just for once? I want to clean your apartment for you. You don’t have to love me back, but just let me help you. That will fill a tiny pocket of place in my poor, waiting heart. Just once! Iruka had been in love with me? She waited all these years for me? I could not believe it. Somehow, her texts melted my heart. I looked away from the cup of juice and walked to the door. When I unbolted it, a blast of cold air rushed in, and there she stood – Iruka. She was there waiting for me. “Just this once!” she said with tears in her eyes. “Not every Naija girl, not every Nigerian is bad. I have loved you for many years now. I know I am not as pretty as the other girls you have been with. I am not as tall either, but in my heart lies a deep, tall, large ocean of love for you. I have tried to make it go away but it wouldn’t. You may not love me back, but just let me help you,” she said. I had reached the end of the road. I fell into her waiting arms. She wiped my tears, cleaned me up and cleaned my stinking, dirty apartment. Sometimes, when you have reached the end of the road, God does finally show up. I had thought that love was just good sex…how wrong I had been. I do get it with Iruka, don’t get me wrong. But there is more…so much more. I feel a deep, strong connection with her. Today, we have two wonderful children and I have my career back on track. Iruka is a strong woman. I would not trade her for anything. It happens that Naija girls or Naija love can be strong, deep and meaningful, after all. I would cross the oceans and trek through the desert for Iruka. Now I know what true love is. As for the gold digger, Munachi, she is divorced again. The guy she had brought to the US left her, just as she had left me. And, I hear he made sure to smash her heart to shreds before walking away, leaving her with a child to cater for. He is married to a white girl now, while Munachi is struggling as a single mother…with no love. I don’t gloat over her misfortune. I can only feel sorry for her. Sometimes, we don’t know what we have until we lose it. I plan on holding Iruka tightly, with everything in me!


    #1128383 Reply
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    #1128401 Reply
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    Good for munachi, kudos

    #1128420 Reply
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    am here

    #1128424 Reply
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    Nice writeup

    #1128427 Reply
    Jos Andy
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    #1128437 Reply
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    Naija love na ni

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