Prince Soyinka 676k5w

Eduard Meinema

Prince Soyinka

Copyright © 2021 by Eduard Meinema

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

First edition

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

About the Author

Chapter 1

“Well, that’s nice,” said Yara. She quickly read the headlines of the emails in her inbox. Although there was little to read. Disappointed she concluded with a sigh: “Only spam.” She moved the cursor down the list of topics without clicking on the posts. If there was anything she had learned by experience, it was an unwanted email that she accidentally clicked upon and then, at best, found an unstoppable series of new spam messages in her mailbox. Unfortunately, she also had far worse experiences, with serious, sometimes almost disastrous consequences. More than once she had to call a tech-student to ‘reboot’ her computer because due to her clumsy action, unintentional and often ignorant, she had once again been surprised with a ‘Trojan Horse’; a ‘Worm’ or other fucking annoying virus. She only wasn’t taken hostage yet. Hadn’t found any ransomware on her computer, yet, that would shut down the system and only show the message ‘Pay first, otherwise we’ll delete your files’. Apparently, she was not interesting enough for this type of cybercrime. “Let’s see,” she muttered to herself as she read the headlines of the spam messages. “Sure… that’s really something for me… penis enlargement…” She laughed. “What else? Bitcoins, of course. Man, I don’t have a penny to spend, so if I have some money, I’ll invest it in some currency that I can at least hold in my hands. Not invisible cyber money… Anything else? Oh yes, ‘Meet nice men in Nowherecity’; of course, that shouldn’t be missing… Hmmm… Where-izzit…? It’s not there this time? Ah! Yup, there it is… Respond now, immediately, to collect…” She could hardly believe her eyes; those guys were getting crazier every day. “My, oh my, have you ever… Respond now to receive 850 million dollars… Wimpers! You don’t think I will fall for that, do you?” Yara wanted to check and click everything at once. Delete it all at once, stupid shit. At the last moment, she saw something striking in the almost endless list of phishing and other unwanted emails. Something interesting. ‘Sender Prince Soyinka,” she read aloud to herself. She doubted. “Will I…?” Then she shook her long bleached dreadlocks violently in denial. “No. Don’t

Yara. Otherwise, you’ll have to arrange another student to save all the files on your computer. Not that there are so many…” She resolutely clicked on all spam messages. Her cursor had already moved to the Delete button. Again; the doubt. She took the prince out of the selection anyway and then rigorously deleted the other messages from her mailbox. Her finger danced nervously above the mouse of her computer. “Shall I…?” She closed her eyes. Got a laugh on her face and opened the message. Carefully, one eye open, she checked if everything was still working. No virus seemed to enter her computer. There was a short message on her screen. Sender Prince Soyinka. She read what it said with increasing amazement. “How the hell…? Jesus, how does he know that?” she cursed at the blurry reflection, the reflection of herself, on the screen. “And what do you want, honey?” she said as she read the message again. “Wow,” she said after reading the message a second time; almost letter by letter. “How on earth…” She grabbed her cell phone that lay faithfully on the table next to her. Pressed a speed dial button. And waited. The phone seemed to ring endlessly until finally a trembling voice said, “Hello?” “Mom? Are you okay?” Yara asked concerned. “Ah, child. That stupid thing. These cell phones are so small these days. I was just a bit, um, thinking about things. I hear the telephone ringing, vaguely, somewhere in the distance…” “Uhhuh, you were just sleeping mom.” “Well now, Yara! I was just… Anyway. I try to get that thing; it falls under the sofa…”

Yara had to hold back her laughter. “So, you did some acrobatics to get it back?” “I did my dear. I did… But. How are you? Why do you call?” Concerned and above all to the point. That was what her mother was like. Her adoptive mother. “First of all, I’m fine. And second, I have an email. From Nigeria.” “Oh no. Another begging note?” her mother said. “No mom. This one is different.” “Oh, come on Yara. All those letters from Nigeria are the same. A picture of a nice guy they just stole from the internet somewhere. Small talk and oh… can you transfer a thousand dollars for my sick mother…?” “No-oh mom…” “Sick brother then. Or father. Oh fuck, of course the entire family is sick, weak and nauseous…” “Mom, this one is different. I tell you. And by the way, what’s wrong with Nigeria?” Her mother was silent. “You brought me from Nigeria, right? Adopted me?” “Uhhuh,” her adoptive mother confirmed. “But that’s different.” “This too, Mom. Listen…” “Honey, didn’t you see that show about scammers? Over there in Nigeria men and women just sit in a factory working on Facebook, e-mail and telephone. That’s their job, honey. They get paid for that. To send you a sweet message. Make you feel good. Or to arouse pity. As long as you transfer money to their .” “Mom. This one comes from Prince Soyinka…” There was a moment’s silence. Then came the shrill reaction: “Oh my. The royal

family… do they need money too?” “Could you just shut up for a few seconds and listen mom?” “I’m just trying to warn you.” A deep sigh followed. “I’m listening…” “Good. Thank you. Hear me mom. That prince is writing to me… or actually his lawyer is writing to me…” “A lawyer, please. So, the prince did not have time to write to you himself…” “Mom…,” Yara said menacingly. “Sorry dear. Go on.” “His lawyer writes to me that his client, the prince, is seriously ill. His life is nearing the end, he does not have much time left.” From the panting and snorting on the other end of the line, Yara understood her mother was eager to respond. She moved on quickly. “Now he is looking for his children. In order to get to know his children in this last phase of his life and to leave them his fortune…” She stopped. Gave her mother an opportunity to respond. “Ho-neyyyy… That’s nothing new, is it?” her mother said concerned. “And now what? You’ll have to buy your own ticket first? Or, no… The question is of course whether you can already transfer a few thousand dollars for his funeral and some money for a ticket, which they will buy overthere, because that is much cheaper in Nigeria than here, and then they will send you…” “Mom!” Yara reacted fiercely. “There is a ticket with the email!” “Sorry?” “He already sent me a ticket, Mom. I can fly, just need to print it.” “Sweetie. You’re not crazy, are you? You don’t just go to… to a, um… complete stranger in Nigeria?”

“There is more mom… In the email it says that the prince has kept accurate records of where his children have gone. The prince’s lawyer writes that there are still a few children. All adopted. Do you understand what that means, Mom? I can meet my own family! Prince Soyinka is family. He thinks he is my father. Well, in the worst case, he might be my grandfather…” “Ho-neyyyy, according to the adoption papers your father was a carpenter…” “Yes, and my biological mother was called Maria. Come on mom. He describes exactly the things you’ve always told me.” She looked at the email that was still on her screen. “He even mentions my real name ‘Sorina’, that means sun he writes here. Did you know…? Oh, and he also gives the name of the home where you picked me up.” “Yara, those are all… Don’t get me wrong, but it’s all data that any fool can pick from the internet these days. I just told you. That’s what those guys do, and the women, for that matter. It’s their job. They are adept at that. They are specially trained to make you crazy and swindle your money…” “He’s not talking about money mom. He even sends me a plane ticket. You don’t do that if you want money from me, do you?” There was a deep breath on the other end of the line. “But Yara, what do you want? You don’t want to travel to Nigeria on spec, do you? You’ve never been there and…” “I was born there mom.” “Yes, damn it, that was more than thirty years ago. After we, your father and I, picked you up there, you never went back to Nigeria. Neither did we…” Her mother was silent. She got no response and felt the tension. “Yara? Am I fucking talking to absolutely no one? You have already made your decision, haven’t you?” “Yes mom. I’ve already decided. I am going to Nigeria. I’m going to meet my family. My biological family.” “Didn’t I take good care of you? All these years?” her mother said with a sob in her voice.

“Well, don’t get all sensitive on me now, Mom. Then you are even worse than those criminals you have been so negative about.” “Child, I warned you. Then you should know for yourself. And feel…” “Then why don’t you come along? You’ll be able to look over me somehow…,” Yara said with a grin on her face. “Not me. I will not go back to that country ever in my life. And now that your father is gone…” “Okay mom. I offered it to you, that’s all I can do. I’m going to end now. I have to pack my suitcase…” Three days later, Yara landed at Lagos International Airport.

Chapter 2

In the reception hall of Murtala Muhammed International Airport, one of the largest airports in Africa still better known to many engers by its old name Lagos Airport, a slender man with a pockmarked face in a dingy three-piece suit awaited Yara. He held up a piece of cardboard with her name written on it in felt-tip pen and in ornate letters. “Mr. Akitoyo?” Yara asked. “Yes,” the man confirmed in an accent that looked an awful lot like British English. He saw the surprised look on her face. “I studied and worked in London,” he stated. He pointed to the exit. “If you give me your suitcase, I’ll take you to my car. Or, um, that of the um… prince…” The doubt in his voice immediately caused alarms going off with Yara. “What do you mean? Is the car yours or the prince’s? Or both of you?” she added with a laugh. The man looked around shyly. “Come on. Let’s go.” He took the suitcase from her and started walking through the bustling crowd. Yara ran after him. Afraid of losing him, and her luggage, in the crowd and not happy with what happened. But she didn’t do anything about it. Her hand reached in her pocket, searching for her phone. Without looking at the device, her fingers slid over the keys; searched and found the speed dial button. She called her mother. “What are you doing?” Akitoyo asked when he noticed that Yara was calling someone. “Just give my mom a call that I have landed safely,” Yara said. She felt her heart beat faster. “Ah yes. Your… mother,” he said with a veiled smile and kept walking. The car turned out to be an impressive Mercedes from the sixties of the last century. Well

maintained, but the test of time had nevertheless taken hold of the coachwork. A man in uniform was waiting for them next to the dark blue car. Lawyer Akitoyo handed him the suitcase and then gallantly held the door open for Yara. She held up her phone. “She’s not answering,” she said without knowing why she said that to him. And actually, she regretted it immediately. As if her last resort was now out of reach and the lawyer in his dingy suit was now sure he had no one to worry about. “What did I get myself into?” she sighed. “Sorry?” Akitoyo asked. She licked the sweat from her upper lip. The uniformed man, about the same age as Yara, looked at her inquisitively and at Yara’s idea a little too greedy. “No, nothing…,” she said nervously. “It’s quite, um, hot here…” “Ah. Yakubu,” Akitoyo said to the driver. “The air conditioning!” Yakubu turned the old knobs. When nothing happened, he slapped the dashboard so hard that it shocked both Yara and Akitoyo. “You don’t need to break it Yakubu,” Akitoyo said irritably. “The car has to last a little longer.” “I don’t think it will work that much longer… sir,” said Yakubu. “This car has really had its day. Just like…” He stopped abruptly. Yara had to swallow before daring to ask her question. “Is… there is no money to buy a new car?” she asked hesitantly. “Ah money… What is money still worth?” Akitoyo said. “Just drive. To the little prince!” he said to Yakubu. “Little prince?” Yara said. “You mean…? An um… or one of um… my brothers?” Akitoyo unbuttoned his tie. “I don’t know where your brothers are.” Now Yara was getting all nervous. “But… but you found me, didn’t you?” “Yes. But you are the only one who responded. So…” “So… no one else will come?” Yara said, her voice cracking. Fear hit her heart.

She was fucked. Her mother was right. She was really fucked. How could she have been so stupid as to accept this absurd proposal? She was really, really fucked. Alone, all alone with some unknown men, in a rattling car somewhere in a country she didn’t know. Except that her cradle had been here… Once. As if she knew anything about that. She was really, just really, really fucked. And there was no escape. “You’ll have to do it with us,” said Akitoyo. “Excuse me?” Yara said, shocked. “What am I supposed to do with you?” Akitoyo shook his head unknowingly. “Um… Shall we discuss that later? At the little prince?” Yara didn’t know where or who to look at. The scary lawyer with the pockmarked face, right next to her on the sofa, or the sneaky driver who had been watching her through the rearview mirror all this time? “Um… the little prince?” “Ah. Excuse me,” said Akitoyo. “Prince Soyinka. I usually call him the little prince. A pet name…”

Chapter 3

The post-colonial house where they stopped half an hour later was impressively large but on closer inspection in an even worse condition than the rattling Mercedes. Thank God there was still daylight. But if the night would fall… This old villa would turn into a first-class haunted house. Perhaps Dracula was not from Transylvania at all; he might have originated right here. Despite the heat, she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Here we are,” said Akitoyo. “Will you go and follow Yakubu? He will take you to your room. In the meantime, I will pick up the little prince.” “Isn’t the prince here then?” Yara asked breathlessly. She didn’t like the idea of going to her bedroom all alone with Yakubu. He was at least a foot taller; exceptionally well trained and muscled and he looked at her more than she liked. “Yes. In his own room. I’ll see you in a minute.” Akitoyo did not wait for an answer. He walked straight to a smaller house next to the main building. “Come on,” said Yakubu in such a stern tone that Yara was afraid to say anything in return. She tried again, inconspicuously, to call her mother. As if she would be able to do anything for her thousands of miles from here. Again, there was no answer. Her heart beating in fear, Yara followed the driver to her bedroom. Yakubu threw Yara’s suitcase on the bed. Pointed her to the closet and said, “Change!” Yara’s eyes darted back and forth. Get changed? In his presence? No way. “Don’t think so,” she protested boldly. Yakubu just pointed to the closet. “Now! I’ll come and get you in ten minutes.” He walked threateningly close to her. She could feel the warmth of his body and, naturally intimidated by the big man, took a step back. He looked at her with his dark eyes. “Ten minutes,” he repeated in his dark voice and left the room.

In a panic, Yara ran to the window. Tried to rip it open. Closed. Locked. Damn! She mustered all her courage. Very gently and carefully opened the door of her room. The hallway was long, empty, and half-dark. She saw small red lights flashing on the ceiling. Shit! Cameras! She was really, really, really terribly fucked… Desperate, she looked in the closet. Strikingly colorful, somewhat… well somewhat, let’s say very slutty clothes. She only had a few minutes left. Quickly put on a dress that covered at least some of her body. To immediately open all cabinets and drawers. Hoping that, for God’s sake, there was something in there that she could use as a weapon. Before she even had the chance to look at it all, she heard Yakubu’s heavy footsteps in the hallway. She ransacked the wardrobe like crazy. Over there! Something made of metal… A shoehorn… Disappointed, she looked at the thing from all sides. She had no idea what to do with it, but nevertheless put the shoehorn in her bag. Yakubu knocked hard on her door. “Follow me!” he said urgently. His crotch, went through her mind. Her mother, her adoptive mother, used to say, “When boys bother you, you just kick them in the balls. Grab them where they are most vulnerable. Their cross. And then you put your finger in their eyes…” Her mother was sweet. And very concerned. Protective as she herself called it. But sometimes a bit scary. Yakubu felt watched, and a little uncomfortable as he thought he was seeing Yara looking very intently at his crotch. “Follow me,” he commanded again, as usual. He didn’t wait for her, but walked ahead of her to the end of the hall. Went down the stairs in front of her. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned and held up his hand invitingly, as if feared she might stumble down on the last step. Her hand in his, he led Yara into the dining room. ‘Room’ was absolutely inadequate for this impressive space. He pushed back a chair. Beckoned her to sit and neatly pushed the chair back, then stood behind her. Yara remained huddled in her chair. Afraid of what was in store for her.

Chapter 4

“There she is!” the old man shouted as he was wheeled inside in a wheelchair. Scaryface Akitoyo pushed him forward. “My daughter!” exclaimed the lopsided old man enthusiastically. Yara didn’t know what to do. Rise? Greet him? Or get up and run now that she still could. She looked back shyly. No. An escape was not possible. Not anymore. The muscular Yakubu was so close, she wouldn’t stand a chance against him. She could handle those two creeps, the one in and the one behind the wheelchair. But Yakubu…? Forget it, she thought. “Daddy…?” Yara stammered. Akitoyo made her choice whether or not to get up a bit easier by placing the prince in his wheelchair next to her. Prince Soyinka immediately took her hands. “You are so beautiful…,” he said drooling. “Don’t you think so too, Yakubu?” “Sure,” said Yakubu. Yara could feel his eyes sliding over her tiny dress, as if he was trying to strip the little thing off her body. “My dear, I am so glad you are here. After all these years…” The old man actually got tears in his eyes. Akitoyo used the pocket square from his jacket and gently dabbed the tears on the prince’s face; finally, he took the drool from the corners of the prince’s mouth. “All these years…” The prince sat trembling in his wheelchair. “I didn’t know where you were. Couldn’t find you…” He constantly rubbed Yara’s hands. She couldn’t give herself an attitude. He seemed genuinely happy to see her. But the whole situation. Yakubu behind her… “What do you think? What an old fool?” Prince Soyinka said with a concerned smile. “I, um… I was wondering… You sent me a letter. An e-mail…”

Suddenly Prince Soyinka dropped back, unexpectedly hard. Yara was startled, in a reflex she tried to grab him. Yakubu stood behind her like a statue, did not move. Akitoyo motioned for her to stay calm. “He’s excited,” he said, looking lovingly at the prince, who was now reclining uncomfortably and looking the lawyer straight in the eye. “Akitoyo sent the letter,” said Soyinka. “For me,” he said, laughing out loud. Yara was startled by the roaring, uncontrolled laugh that seemed to come from the catacombs of Soyinka’s rotten intestines. Her eyes widened with shock. Now Akitoyo leaned toward Yara. “The little prince is… How can I say this neatly… Mentally ill? His body is gone. His mind almost. But he still has some bright moments…,” he added as a kind of reassurance. “Ah… Right,” said Yara. She looked pityingly at the man who, according to Akitoyo’s email, would be her father. “So, you have…” “I have found you. And approached you. As a surprise for the little prince…” “What is it, all this little prince stuff?” Yara asked, somewhat annoyed. “This man is a head taller than I am and much bigger than you are…” Akitoyo looked at the man in the wheelchair. Didn’t know what to say. “Shhh! He is my great love,” said Prince Soyinka to Yara’s surprise. She looked at Akitoyo. “Are you? His great love? You are… my father’s… friend?” Akitoyo nodded politely. “For almost forty years.” Yara let this new fact sink in for a moment. “Forty years? Wow.” She thought for a moment, startled by her own thoughts. “Wait a second. Forty? But… But, I’m thirty-seven…” “Yes. So what?” said Akitoyo. “But… But… What about my mother? My biological mother?”

“I don’t understand your question,” said Akitoyo. “Well, if you’ve been a couple for forty years,” she replied piquantly. “And I was born three years later, who is my mother? How did my father get my mother…?” Prince Soyinka lovingly put his hand on Akitoyo’s arm. “Tell her,” he muttered with a satisfied smile on his face. “Homosexuality is a sensitive issue. Especially here. Certainly at that time…,” Akitoyo said contemptuously. “So just for appearance… Well, I don’t have to explain all that to you, do I?” “Oh yeah, yes you do” said Yara. “If he, sorry, if the prince is really my father, I would also like to know who my real mother is. So how about it? Was he living with a woman? And were you his, um, how should I call it, his concubine?” “Something like that…” Yara stared at Akitoyo. “Something like that? You either live together or you don’t live together. Come on now. What do you mean?” “Okay. Your father lived with a woman every now and then.” Yara looked at her father. “Do you have anything to say yourself?” She almost snapped. After reading his email, or actually Akitoyo’s email as she’d just heard, she’d been curious. Almost excited about the idea of meeting her real dad. But after arriving in Nigeria, she was immediately taken by surprise by the idea that she had been lured here for other reasons. And now she was sitting here. In this old haunted villa. Right next to an old sick man who knew she was his daughter, or at least assumed that he was her father, but that was all there was to it. Soyinka looked back again. “It’s going fast,” said Akitoyo. “I’m glad I was able to get you here on time.” Yara was tortured deep down. She had found her father. Perhaps. But then again, she hadn’t found him. “Do you even know who my mother is? Whether she’s still alive?” “That… we are not sure…” Yara wanted to respond, but Akitoyo immediately

went on: “Your father lived with different women at the time. Always a few months and, um… always a few at the same time.” “What?” Yara called. “My God. Did he have a harem or something like that?” “No, different houses.” “Sorry?” “The women lived separately. In the prince’s houses. But they did not know that he had several women.” Yara thought for a moment. “Because he’s… royal? Has a title of nobility?” Yakubu, who had been quiet all this time, started to laugh. “Oh, did I say something funny?” Yara sneered. “My little prince is not a real prince,” said Akitoyo. “I told you before that it’s just a nickname I use for my love.” “So, I am not a princess…?” She didn’t know if the fact that she was not a princess was really a disappointment; or that this hassle, this failed play, this whole show was disappointing to her. “Ha, ha, no not really,” laughed Akitoyo. His teeth were yellowed. As such, his laugh made him even scarier. “No, he has appropriated the title of prince. When he still wrote letters himself.” Yara threw back her long bleached dreadlocks. “When he wrote letters?” Akitoyo nodded to her as he stroked his prince’s thin gray hair lovingly. “Soyinka has amassed capital by writing letters. Nowadays they do it all via emails and stuff…” “No… You mean he …” She felt her heart going right through her feet. “Did he write those, those… begging letters?” “It was work,” Akitoyo responded fiercely. “And it made money. Lots of money. And interesting s. You see. The women he corresponded with wanted

more than just letters. They wanted to come by, you understand? And he asked them to come.” “Wait a second. You mean? No way! Were those the women he lived with?” “Exactly. Mostly older, lonely ladies who were willing to um… let themselves be ‘indulged’ by a handsome dark man for a lot of money.” He looked at Yakubu. Yara sat down. “My father. A charlatan…” “Not quite Yara. Those ladies wanted to come here themselves. Some also wanted him to come to their country. But he always stood his ground. Stayed here, built his empire here.” “An empire of writing beggars. Scammers!” She could beat herself in the head. How could she ever fell for this? “No! As I said, the ladies chose to come here themselves. He invested the money he earned with it.” “Invested in what? Drugs?” she remarked spitefully. “Don’t be so negative Yara… He invested in the film industry.” “Movies? Here? In Nigeria?” Akitoyo looked back at the man behind Yara’s chair. “Yes. Never heard of Nollywood?” Yara’s wide eyes answered before her lips moved. “No. I’ve heard about a lot of shady business, but movies? In Nigeria? No.” “After Hollywood and Bollywood, you know in India,” Akitoyo stated, “Nollywood is the third largest film industry in the world. The third Yara! Nollywood is the market leader in Africa. Hollywood hardly matters here.” She felt a sense of relief now. “So, no more begging letters?” Akitoyo looked aside.

“Alright, tell me, why do you keep looking at him?” Yara said, looking at the beefcake behind her. “Because he’s having a hard time with you being here.” “Really? I thought he had something very, very different in mind…,” said Yara. She pulled the plunging neckline of her short dress up even further. ‘Completely different thoughts…” “What?” said Akitoyo. “Did you think he… with you? No. Absolutely not!” “Oh,” said Yara, looking hard at the big man behind her. “Are you one of those…? You too?” “A what?” said Yakubu. “Yeah. What do you think? I mean if you are gay of course!” Akitoyo laughed. “No way. He’s as straight as a man can be.” Yara was shocked. So, she was right! She really had seen his intentions; the way he looked at her. The filthy, dirty, horny… “But… There’s another reason he won’t do anything to you or start anything with you.” Yara looked at him quizzically. “Why? Do tell…” “He is your brother. Half-brother…” Yara’s jaw dropped. “Wh-what? He?” She had another look at him. “You? My brother?” Yakubu started his roaring laugh again. “You have no idea how many brothers, okay half-brothers, you have.” “Hmm. Yeah, yeah.” She looked away. Looked at her father. The old man sat next to her in his wheelchair, grinning. Again, a trail of drool ran from the corner of his mouth and Akitoyo wiped it away carefully. “So, you are… kind of a gigolo.” She suddenly realized what was going on.” And, so, you have…

Goddammit, you have… My adoptive mother… Damn you, you have… Jesus! She is my real mother…” Akitoyo put his hand on her shoulder. “Your mother came here of her own free will, Yara. If I correctly her husband even came along with her, but I’m not quite sure anymore.” “Yes. Yeah, he was there and… Ah poor man,” said Yara, thinking of her father. Her adoptive father, because whatever it was, he remained her adoptive father. Her mother, on the other hand… “She always said she travelled down here with him to pick me up from the home. But in fact, she came here… she got herself impregnated here!” She sat back in her chair. “Goddamn!” She glared at her father. “All these years I wondered who I am. Who I really am. Who my father is. But especially who my real mother is. Now it turns out that my father is little more than a full-time sperm donor and that all the years that I was looking for my mother I just… I just lived with her.” “Yes… Life is surprising, isn’t it?” said Akitoyo. Yara looked at him. “So… What does that make you? Some kind of foster father?” She looked behind her again. “And he my half-brother. Who would have thought… Wait a minute.” She looked at Akitoyo. “You just said he’s having a bit of a hard time with me coming here? Why is that? Afraid that he will have to share the capital of his… of our father with me?” Yara stared at the empty plate on the set table in front of her. “And this, this announcement, was the starter? My god, I don’t know if I still want the main course!” Akitoyo snapped his fingers and Yakubu called a servant. A tiny woman, Asian as far as Yara could tell, timidly entered and filled the glasses on the table. Narrow, tall glasses were filled with sparkling champagne. “Before we eat, we have to toast. Toast to the reunion,” said Akitoyo. “Reunification? I just heard that I was reunited with my mother years ago,” said Yara. ‘What did I just say? I have never even been separated from her!” She pushed her chair back rigorously. Got up and left the table. “Hey!” Yakubu growled. “Where are you going?”

“To a place where I can think for a moment. All alone!” said Yara. Yakubu wanted to go after her, but Akitoyo stopped him. “Let her go, give her some time.”

Chapter 5

In her room, knowing no place else to go so quickly to spend some time alone, Yara sat on the edge of her bed, staring ahead. Actually, she thought, her father, ‘the little prince’, was a kind of sperm donor. That was all he was. And her mother… was her mother. It was that simple. She played with her phone, grabbing it from one hand to the other without knowing what she wanted to do. Would she call? Or not? There was a knock on the door. “Yara?” came Akitoyo’s voice. “Are you okay?” She didn’t answer. Swiped her thumb across the screen of her phone until she saw her mother’s number. “I understand it’s a lot, but isolating yourself and locking yourself in has no use,” Akitoyo continued. “Let’s talk about it. Yara?” Her thumb hung, shaking slightly, over her mother’s pictogram. “Go away!” she snapped at the door. She waited to hear his footsteps disappear down the hall. Pressed her thumb on the icon. Seconds later her mother answered. “Mom…,” she said partly angrily and partly crying. “We have to talk.” “Yes,” was all her mother replied.

An hour later, Yara returned to the dining room. The great room was now empty and deserted, the table cleared. On hearing her footsteps, a small Asian woman opened the door. She bowed briefly. “Eat?” she asked. Yara nodded. “Actually, I would like something. Yes. Please.” The woman didn’t seem to understand. So Yara nodded her head exaggeratedly and affirmatively. The woman disappeared into the kitchen. For a moment, Yara didn’t know what to do. She eventually decided to sit at the table and waited there, on the corner of the long table, for her food to be brought.

She looked around. The outside of the house seemed to be postcolonial to her; the inside looked… like nothing. A mixture of old and new furniture. And cameras. Cameras everywhere… Akitoyo entered along with her food. “Enjoy your meal,” he said gently and sat in the chair opposite her. “Sorry for leaving you alone for a while. I had to put your father to bed.” Yara eagerly attacked the chicken and rice that the Asian woman had just brought in. “Aren’t there, um, helpers for that? You know? Like those Philippines or something?” she said, nodding to the kitchen. Akitoyo grinned. “Yes. But bringing him to bed is our moment.” While chewing, Yara looked at him. Picked up the empty glass and the carafe, filled with water and ice cubes, and asked him, “Did you always know what he was doing? My father?” Akitoyo got up, carefully took the carafe from her hands. Due to the large temperature difference, there was a lot of condensation on the carafe. “No wine?” he asked. She nodded ‘No’ and he filled her glass. As he sat down again, he said, “I’ve known your father most of my life. We went to the same school. We soon knew what we felt for each other, but you know…” “It couldn’t be,” said Yara. “Let’s just stop there,” said the pockmarked lawyer. “After high school, I left for England for a few years, to study. When I returned the little prince, your father, had started his business. It went so well and all so quickly that he asked for my help. One thing led to another.” “Despite all those women, because you knew about that, right?” He raised his shoulders. “Yes, what shall I say? It was his job, like others… Anyway, you know that. Like others are sending letters, calling, emailing a lot these days… we are a creative people,” he laughed. “Yes, well, you can put it that way,” said Yara. She looked straight into his eyes. “So, besides me, were there any more children?”

“Yes. You, Yakubu and er… a few more.” “How much?” Yara asked, leaning across the table towards Akitoyo. “A few.” Yara’s dark brown eyes widened and glared at him. “How much?” she hissed. Akitoyo gave her a faint smile. “A few dozen. I don’t know exactly.” She looked at him haughtily. She snorted loudly and clearly; the airflow from her nose made Akitoyo blink. “You know very well how many children my… my father fathered.” Akitoyo’s smile turned to a mean grin. “And then again? What would you do with that knowledge?” They were both distracted by Yakubu, who had stepped in inaudibly. He looked at them both with frowns. “I have the right to know exactly how many brothers and sisters I have…,” Yara snorted without saying anything to Yakubu. The pockmarked lawyer looked timidly at the big man in the doorway. “What?” Yara said gruffly. “Shouldn’t he know? Or rather, don’t even know?” “Oh…,” Akitoyo said, turning back slowly and looking back at Yara. “He already knows…” “Well, why don’t you tell me too? Or should I ask him?” Akitoyo looked back at the big man. He gave the lawyer a short, barely visible nod. “Four hundred and thirty-seven,” Akitoyo finally answered briefly. “What? Fou… Four hundred…?” “…And thirty-seven,” Akitoyo confirmed. “How… how is that possible?” Yara stammered, dismayed by the announcement.

“Well. For a virile man like Soyinka, it is, or at least was, a piece of cake.” “Yes. You slimy creep. I understand that perfectly well. But, I mean… To have more than four hundred children? Were there so many women who could not have children? Well, it must have been; I want to believe that. But… why did they all come to him? There are all kinds of techniques and sperm donors can be found all over the world.” Akitoyo did not respond. Looked at Yakubu again, almost submissively. “Alright, what is it? What’s going on between the two of you?” Yara asked in irritation. “Why do you keep looking at him? You’ve already told me he didn’t agree with me coming here, but I’m not asking him a question, I’m asking you!” Yakubu stepped forward. Snapped his fingers at Akitoyo, followed by a gesture in which he made it clear with a clenched fist and outstretched thumb that the lawyer had to go. “The prince needs you,” he said in his dark voice to the slender lawyer. Yara watched what was happening with wide eyes. As soon as Akitoyo left the room, Yakubu took his place opposite Yara. “Girl, girl… Why did you have to respond to this message?” His question sounded very menacing, just because of the tone alone. His impressive body and gruff look made the situation downright impressive. Yara sat up. “I was wondering. Wanted to know who my real parents were. How could I know that… that my adoptive mother is my real mother?” Yakubu nodded his head slowly and in agreement. “I understand that,” he said. “But why did your mother let you go?” Yara blinked. “Sorry? I’m a grown woman. I decide what I do for myself. By the way, there was a ticket with the email I received from Soyinka, er… from my father.” It was still hot in the villa. Yakubu dabbed the sweat from his forehead with a napkin, then snapped his fingers in the air. “Aileen!” he cried. Within seconds, the little Filipino woman was standing next to him. “Beer,” he said gruffly. He looked at Yara. “You want some?”

“No thanks… Aileen,” she said consciously. Yakubu said nothing until his beer was brought. Yara was silent with him. As soon as Aileen left the room, she said sneeringly, “Well? What did you mean by that comment?” Yakubu took a long sip of his cold beer. Then held the glass against his face for a moment. “Nice,” he said with a slight moan. “You know… We weren’t expecting… Well, no, you weren’t supposed to come.” Yara looked at him in surprise. “Um… sorry? But… But what about that ticket? That email? My father wanted to see me. Before he… Wait a minute, wait a minute… Isn’t he dying?” “Yes, he does” said Yakubu. “His health is deteriorating rapidly. He doesn’t have much time left. That part of the story is correct.” “Oh? Owwh! Well, that’s just great!” Yara began to chatter. “So, the rest of the story isn’t true?” “Calm down sister,” said Yakubu, laughing. “You’re the only one… Or rather, your mother is the only one who let you go.” Two big brown eyes looked at him questioningly. Yakubu took another sip, rolled the beer through his mouth before swallowing it, and put his glass on the table. “I just don’t know what to do with this situation… sister.” “How so? You don’t know? I’m here for my father, not for you!” Yakubu emptied the rest of his glass in one gulp. Put it back on the table so hard that it shocked Yara. “We go!” Yara hardly dared to speak. She asked carefully. “Where to?” “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said sternly. “Come!”

Chapter 6

She was sitting next to him, in the front of the old Mercedes; wiped the drops from her sweaty forehead. “God it is hot,” she sighed. “We’ll be there in a minute,” he said. He skillfully steered the old wagon past the deep potholes in the sandy road. “There it is.” He pointed to a modern building complex. “What a terrible road this is,” Yara said without paying much attention to the buildings. Yakubu grinned. “We will be back on the asphalt in a minute. This is shorter. And we avoid the busy city.” “I don’t understand why you just can’t tell. Why is it necessary for us to go to this remote place?” What she was afraid to tell him was that this ride with the man, who was apparently her brother, scared her. Akitoyo may have looked scary, but he wasn’t that big. She could handle him with ease, if necessary. The little prince, the frail old man in his wheelchair, was no match for her at all. But she didn’t stand a chance against Yakubu. “Whoever tells me that you really are my brother?” “Half-brother,” said Yakubu. “If you don’t believe it, you can always take a DNA test.” They reached the end of the bumpy dirt road. He steered the Mercedes to the right, onto the deserted asphalt road. On the flat road, the ride was far more pleasant. Yara began to relax a little. “Look,” said Yakubu, “the gate over there? That’s the entrance to the studios.” Yara saw two six-foot-high concrete columns with a rusted metal sign in between that read ‘Soyinka Studio’. “Is this from, um, our father?” They drove through the columns into the deserted area. “Not very busy here, is it?” Yara remarked.

Yakubu parked the old wagon in front of a small building; the lowest of the three main halls. He got out, gallantly holding the car door open. “This is the office,” he said. “From, uh, daddy, shall I say…?” Yara asked. “Not anymore,” he grinned as he unlocked the office door. “Entrez, ma cherie,” he said very kindly. She didn’t know what to make of it. The whole complex wasn’t even that old. But it seemed deserted. Badly maintained and abandoned. She walked thoughtfully into the dark building. Suddenly she felt the same insecurity she had also felt at the airport. When she was welcomed by Akitoyo upon arrival. “What a musty smell,” she said. When she got no answer, she quickly looked back. The hallway was dark and empty. Yakubu was gone. “What the fuck! Yakubu? Where are you?” She could feel her heart pounding. Goddamn, she thought. Stupid bitch! Why did you go with him? All alone? Suddenly the light in the building went on. From a small side room, Yakubu emerged like a boogeyman from stories. “Sorry,” he grumbled. “Had to flip the main switch.” “How so? Is this building no longer in use then?” she asked anxiously. Her voice cracked. “Not for a while, no,” said Yakubu. He beckoned her to follow him. “But it all went so well, didn’t it? That Nollywood adventure? The great investment?” she said, shaking her dreadlocks cockily. “Yes. It did. But in recent years, things have gone downhill.” “Okay. Now I’m fed up,” said Yara uncertain and annoyed. “Tell! What is going on here? Why did I have to come here and yet not? I don’t understand anything at all!”

Yakubu opened the door to the editing room. Gestured her to enter. Pushed a chair out from under a long, wall-mounted desk and said, “Sit down. Then I’ll show you what we do here.” Reluctantly, Yara sat down. Yakubu clicked a few switches and the monitors on the wall above the desk lit up. “Okay. I sit. Let’s see it.” Yakubu sat down next to her. Slightly too close for her liking. He rubbed his hand over his chin. “Akitoyo hasn’t told you everything…” “No, I already had that impression,” Yara sighed. Fortunately, he had left the door to the hall open, or she would have felt even more uncomfortable in this musty, abandoned building. She moved slowly to the edge of her seat, ready to flee. “Daddy is sick. Very sick,” Yakubu continued. “He was the driving force behind this studio for many years. Since he ended up in the wheelchair, I had to take over his job.” Yara shook her head. “You?” Yakubu did not respond immediately. He tapped the old keyboards furiously, looked up a few files on the computer. “Yes. I. Only… It’s not my thing.” “Wait a second. What kind of work are we talking about exactly?” “Same work Dad did.” Yara stared at him. “Acting? To invest? Or… that other thing?” “The other,” Yakubu grinned. He turned to her so abruptly that she slid back a bit in shock. “Being the stallion.” Uncomfortably, Yara moved further and further away from him. “Is there still a demand for this… thing then?” “Hmmm, you can also create a need,” said Yakubu. “Oh, really?”

“But that’s not the reason you’re here.” “The only one of fourhundredsomething descendants,” said Yara. “Why didn’t you expect me? Or the others, of course…” He turned to her. Looked at her piercingly, almost frighteningly. “Didn’t your mother say anything? About the email she received?” “Er?” She had imperceptibly pressed herself against the back of her chair to stay as far away from him as possible. “You’re a little confused. I have received the email.” “No, you have received another email. Your mother, like all mothers, by the way,” he said with a triumphant grin on his face, “has received an email with a video.” “What kind of movie?” Yakubu pointed to the monitors. “I’m going to show you in a sec.” Yara shrugged questioningly. “The intention was that you, like the other children Soyinka has fathered, would discuss the email you received from us with your mother. Your mother already knew about it. She had received an email herself with, um…” He looked at her smiling. “A compromising movie.” “What are you talking about?” Yara asked. That mysterious smile again. “This studio gets its biggest revenue from, what shall I call it, vintage porn.” “Vin… What do you mean exactly?” she asked nervously. “Vintage. Retro. A little outdated movie, recorded here. We’ve got… Ah, I don’t know. Maybe thousands of them made and sold. But we kept the best, the most valuable.” “What’s different about those videos? What makes those videos so valuable?”

“The protagonists,” Yakubu laughed in his dark voice. Yara was uncomfortable. She looked around. The musty air in the old building, the outdated equipment… “How, um, old are those videos? Because when I look around me, it seems to me that nothing has happened here for years.” She looked straight at Yakubu. “I don’t think these studios have been in use for years.” Yakubu spread his arms. “As you can see, it all still works fine,” he laughed with his heavy, bassing laugh. “Don’t you try to fool me Yakubu. What is going on here? And what did you mean by compromising videos? Well?” “Since Dad no longer, um, works… We don’t make new films here anymore. We do edit a lot. Cut, paste and there-you-go a new video. But we no longer record films here.” Yakubu tapped the keyboard in front of him. One of the monitors started to flash, shortly afterwards a movie was shown. Yara looked at the monitor, but kept an eye on her half-brother, too. She watched the movie “What is this? Yakubu? What is this supposed to be?” “Can’t you see it then?” he laughed. “Yes, porn, duhhuh.” She was ashamed. Felt embarrassed to watch this video here alone with him. “An old filthy movie of very poor quality. It seems to me that you will hardly get a few pennies for that stuff today. Internet has much better movies. Even if they were recorded with a mobile phone.” “My, oh my. Madam knows her way. Regular , eh?” Yara gave him a dirty look. Yakubu looked back at her with a chuckle. “Take another look. It’s not about the quality of the images. It’s about the protagonists.” Yara looked from her half-brother to the screen. Looked a little closer. “Fuck… That is… that seems to be… Is that… Daddy?” Oh no, she thought. No, please don’t let it be true. A terrible thought suddenly entered her mind, not going to disappear there anytime soon. She had to ask him. “Are… are these… snuff movies?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“Er?” Yakubu stared at her in surprise. “Snuff movies. Sex videos in which… in which… You know. At the end…’ She was uncomfortable with the idea of what kind of movies were made here and in which her father… her biological father, played the lead role. “Yes, I know what snuff is. Sex movies with a murder as the climax,” said Yakubu, half laughing and half surprised. “A… real murder…,” Yara stuttered. “Yes girl, I know.” He saw how nervous Yara was. “But we don’t do that here. It’s so messy,” he laughed exaggeratedly. “No. Take a better look. Who do you see? Except for the little prince. Well? Your mother,” said Yakubu almost proudly. “About forty years ago.” He leaned toward her. “Are you starting to understand now?”

Chapter 7

“Are you starting to understand?” he had asked her. “Um… No. Not really,” said Yara, confused. “What do you plan to do with this? With these images?” She thought for a moment. “Damn it.” It slowly began to dawn on her. The begging letters, the emails… “Does she know about this?” she suddenly asked. “Only shortly,” said Yakubu. “And… how short is short?” “Since you got our email. Then we sent her the first images, a few photos and some excerpts from these videos. She got them at the same time as you got yours.” “But? Why?” Yakubu let his index finger and thumb swipe quickly across each other. “Money.” “Money? I… Oh, fuck… You’re blackmailing her!” “Well, blackmail, blackmail… We ask her to transfer a modest amount every month. Let’s say installment payments for her sperm donor.” “Goddamn! You are just ordinary blackmailers!” “Wow, ho, wait a minute. She’s received a great service. Take a look at yourself. No shame in taking proud, sister! Thanks to Soyinka, your mother has a beautiful daughter.” Yakubu laughed. “There should be something in return, don’t you think?” Yara looked at the images on the monitor in disillusionment. “How many of these… those raunchy movies… do you have?” “Well, what did Akitoyo say again? How many half-brothers and sisters do you, or, well, do we have?”

“Jesus! Four hundred and thirty-seven? Are you serious? Are you blackmailing all those people…? For, for how much?” Yakubu beamed at her. “A thousand dollars per month.” Holy shit. Yara slumped on the old desk chair. “That’s… that’s more than four tons per month!” “Good money, sister,” Yakubu laughed. “And easily earned. We have been doing this for years. Let me say, from the very beginning.” He tapped the screen with his index finger where the old recording was still visible. “Your very beginning. Everyone who came here had a child and, um, an invoice…” “So… so all those mothers… have been paying you for years and years?” “In the beginning. But, you know, some mothers have died over the years. Our flow of money was getting less and less, so we came up with something new. We’ve put the squeeze on them, so to speak.” “By threatening them with those videos?” “Yes. Works fine, I can tell you. The kids all think, well, you know what they think. Just like you, they think they have been adopted. And the mothers like to keep that a secret. At any cost,” he laughed. “But… If I look at the house. That old villa. That piece of junk that you’re driving. That is all past glory. Where did all that money go?” “I maintain that house and this old shit for daddy.” “You? Did you say you are keeping it?” “Yes,” Yakubu confirmed. “Akitoyo already told you that daddy, the little prince, is mentally ill, didn’t he? I am in charge of all the businesses he owns. For years now. I take care of everything.” It made Yara wheeze. “And that’s why you didn’t want me to come here. Me, or whoever; any of our brothers or sisters. Because everyone can claim dad’s money. Right? Isn’t it? You are afraid that you will have to share the legacy.”

Yakubu started to laugh. “Don’t worry, sis. Everything is signed over to me for a long time and daddy did not acknowledge anyone, not a single child. So formally he has no children. Except for me…” Yakubu laughed uncontrollably. “No, we used to receive about a hundred dollars every month from every mother. With this promotion we have significantly increased that amount. Because, you said it yourself, that old villa… Surely that no longer can be, does it?” “So, you only got a hundred dollars at first… What am I saying? ‘Only’ a hundred dollars? That is still more than half a million a year.” “Yes, and now we get that amount per month.” Holy shit. What do you do with…? Where is all that money?” Yara asked curiously. “Dubai,” Yakubu replied without hesitation. “I invested everything in Dubai. This here, this old glory in Nigeria, is a nice cover up. All correspondence, all of the income, goes through a series of empty shell companies, spread over several countries. Nobody can trace the money, or me.” “Hmmm. Do you know what I don’t get? If you didn’t want me to come? Then why did you receive me?” “A small investment, sweetheart,” said Yakubu. “I have to think about the future.” She looked at him questioningly. “How do you mean?” “Didn’t I already say I took over all the work?” “Mmyeahh?” “I can’t handle all this all alone.” “Um? So? No! You don’t think that I…?” “You could find us some new customers in Europe,” he laughed. “I am in the prime of my life. I can do what Soyinka did. Easily.” Yara was totally blown away by Yakubu’s attitude and impudence. “Why do you

think I would want to do that?” “Hey, we are family and in life you help your family. Don’t you?” “If so, Yakubu,” she pronounced his name consciously, emphatically, “then why do you extort your own family?” Yakubu got up. “You got it all wrong… sister. Daddy helped all those mothers. And all those mothers thought they would have a child for next to nothing, or for free and for nothing. But it doesn’t work that way, does it? Everything comes at a price.” “All well and good Yakubu, but recording videos of intimate moments without permission and then threatening to make those videos public? That is pure criminal behavior. I have no other words for it.” “Do I have to conclude from this that you do not want to work in the family business?” Yakubu laughed. “You’re crazy,” Yara sighed. “No. No, I’m not. But I am a businessman.” Yakubu stood at the door of the editing room. Looked threateningly at his half-sister. “Listen. You wanted to come here, but tickets don’t come cheap. So, if you want to go back to your mommy, you will have to do something for it in return.” Yara couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you telling me you will not let me go?” “You’ve heard that right, sister. So, just tell me. What do you want to do? Want to make an exciting movie? Want to conceive a child?” The tension was almost too much for Yara. “A child? From… from yours? Incest?” She glanced at her smartphone. “Do you want to call someone Yara? Your mother maybe? Or someone else?” laughed Yakubu. “You’re on your own girl. I offered you a job. A wonderful job in the family business, but…” Yakubu was distracted by noises at the front door of the office. “What the hell?” he said angrily and went straight into the hall to see who was brazen to enter his office.

From the editing room, he heard Yara say, “I didn’t have to call anyone… brother. My phone was on all the time. The police have been listening in all this time with everything you said.” Yakubu was transfixed. With long strides, he strode back to the editing room. “What did you say?” he said in his dark, piercing voice. Yara felt her heart tremble. She was trapped like a rat. Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut for just a few more seconds? She heard her mother’s words in the back of her mind. She got up quickly. “Sorry,” she lisped just before giving him a fierce, rock-hard kick in the crotch. Yakubu winced, groaning in pain. Yara used that moment to slip past him into the hallway. “Here. Over here!” she yelled to let the police know where she was. A female cop caught her and escorted her outside and then ran back inside to her male colleagues and to handcuff Yakubu. Even outside, at a safe distance, Yara could hear Yakubu resisting to the end. Only after ten minutes he was brought out. Next to him two police officers, holding him tight. Both with tattered clothing; one had teeth in his lip, the other a black eye. Yakubu had nothing, he just walked a bit uncomfortable because of the pain in his crotch. The female cop came back to Yara. “Well done,” she said. “We also arrested those two men. Soyinka and Akitoyo. Unfortunately, you cannot go back there, in the villa, because of the investigation. I can take you to a hotel though. Or do you have family you can go to?” “Family?” Yes, Yara thought. Lots of family. More than four hundred halfbrothers and sisters… “No,” she said to the officer. “I’m an only child.” She reached for her smartphone and started calling. “But luckily I still have my mother!”

About the Author

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Acknowledgements Cover: Eduard Meinema Photos courtesy: Ayo Agunseinde (girl) and Joanna Kosinska (letters).