By Chukwuemerie Udekwe

“I am Davis, from Malaysia, I am 26, and I have come to marry a wife.”

“Hello, I am Davis from Malaysia, I am twenty-six, and I have come to marry a wife,” I will be silent, watch her reactions, then I continue, “I stay in Malaysia, but my mum keeps presurring me to marry. She says she’s restless to see her grandchildren.” Then I will smile, and say, “can I know you? You look so beautiful. And I think I like you.”

With this, I will shoot my shot, and I will be sure of catching the prey.

If she persists, Longer than she should – the routine pretence, I will then add, “my friends call me, Afu dimkpa,” then I will chuckle, wave it off, and feign meekness by adding, “it’s not like am extravagant, no, I know the value of hard earned money. But I hate to see people suffer. It stabs my soul. So, I always like to make those around me happy.”

I am certain, she would have fallen, but if she’s one of those ‘hardest to get,’ the simply prudent that money barely moves, or a member of these days, woke feminism, then I will jingle my Rolls Royce wrist watch and make little steps to my Toyota Venza, like I wanted to do some checks, then humbly smile at her again. I did not want to come back with my Benz.

A friend of mine said it now scares girls away.

I will also say a little of prayer in my mind, in case my village people are against me in the hunt, then I will bring my right hand across my face, and make sure she sees the gold finger rosary on one of my fingers. It could be that she also wants a Godfearing man too.

After this, and I don’t get whatever prey in front of me, then I am sure of going back with a dry gin and a cock. My ancestors may be waiting for my sacrifice.

But in truth, I am Chinedu, I live in Malaysia, I am thirty-four, and I have not come to marry a wife. In truth, I have a wife, forty-one years older than I am. Or forty-two, if I am to bring to mind that will be celebrating her seventy-sixth birthday, next week. Don’t blame me, don’t call me a fool, I was at the verge of being deported. No one came to my rescue. I had to do whatever I could. And now, I can’t leave. Unless, she strips me of all my privileges, and takes me back to nothing, and might even get me deported. I am trapped. But I also have three children with another lady I met in Kuala Lumpur, four years ago. I keep praying my boss never gets to find out. Yes, my wife is also my boss. I had lied to be back in Nigeria. I told her that my mother was dead, and according to our culture, she could not be buried unless I returned. She had given me my transport fares, and allowed me only a week and a day. That is why I am actually in a haste to go back. I have no business appointment like I had lied to Susan before going all the way with her. Two days ago, when I lured Olachi to the bed with my killer phrase, I had seen her eyes beam with vision. The kind of vision similar to those who currently wish, Obi becomes the president, and Osinbajo the vice.

About the car, yes, the car is one of the items I took in Lagos, under the terms of lease. It was from the little money I had saved, and the one my wife gave me. The watch belongs to my wife. She didn’t really know I took it. I have to impress my family, my relatives, and my friends.

Life has been so difficult for me. It has never been easy, but with my forte:

“Hello, I am Davis from Malaysia, I am twenty-six, and I have come to marry a wife,” I’m sure to conquer. At least for now.

That is my final straw, and with it, I shall break every camel’s back. These girls must fall.