The relationship between Baba Fape and Biola started as an infatuation. She had gone to him for minor accounting issues. She was daring. The moment he set his eyes on he; he was infatuated. Madly! Biola was a young married woman. Baba Fape had been married for 12 years when the meeting took place. The roaring London scene of the 80s was a bit permissible. Emotional and sexual inhibitions were unknown. Free love was the idol everybody worshipped. Caught in this time warp, both followed their hearts. It was wild. It was erotic. It was full of fun and laughter.
By Taju Tijani
Mr Solomon Fape was driving along the roundabout in Old Street. He spotted a petite dark lady that looked familiar. He hurriedly stopped to look carefully through his roof mirror. What!!! He shouted. He spotted a gem. He smiled and mumbled a few prayers. Could it be her? Was I dreaming? He rubbed his two hands for confidence and came out of his black Mercedes Benz parked on the kerb.
“Abiola,” he called out. Abiola…Abiola…Abiola he raised his voice further. The petite lady froze. She looked back to where the voice came from. She saw the caller but could not recognise the lone figure waving at her from the distance. As she inched her way closer, her hairs stood up. Could this be Solomon? Not Solomon. I was told he was dead. Not him. Her mind was giving out past information about Solomon. Then, reality dawned. It was Solomon Fape!!! Baba Fape! In flesh and blood. “Solo…Solo…Solo…iwo ke ni London yi, nibo lohasi lati ojoyi,” she beamed with outstretched arms to embrace Solo. “Ha Biola oju e re. Moti wa e kakiri ilu yi…O ma ga o, haba, she beyan she ma disappear ni London niyi enhnnn….Oto ojo meta,” Solo reacted back locking up Biola in his arms.
Baba Fape was an accountant. He had a small office in Shoreditch, a few meters away from Old Street station. He was famous among Nigerians for tax purposes and immigration documentations. He had contacts through his business dealings. He made money. He bought houses and became a landlord who later lived on tenants’ rent. He was a warm, proud, loud, intelligent Ekiti Kete patriot.
It was a warm summer day. The cool air of North London bathed Baba Fape in his buba and sokoto. Baba Fape was returning from Fresh and Hot restaurant in Old Kent Road. As he was driving, he marvelled at the estate development that had changed the landscape of London to give it a Manhattan look in less than thirty years. He came to the UK from Belgium in 1978. He had been living in Belgium as a French student. The memory of Belgium was sour and bitter. He faced on-your-face-racism of that dark period. The bitter memory of his time in Belgium would not dampen his boisterous and happy-go-lucky life. Baba Fape was an old warhorse. Energetic, proudly Ekiti, loud, intelligent, smart with money, shrewd, able administrator, visionary, accommodating, helpful, playful and a man about town.
Ms. Abiola Adeniyi is a beautiful black ebony lady. Petite, dutiful, religious, fashionable and a fixer in the Celestial church of God in Stoke Newington. She loves the good life. Her attires are mostly designers. She could not care less. She loves her job as a Customer Services Officer in one of the banks in the City of London. In her 60s but too youthful for that age group. She has a puffy chin that hides her true age. She attributes her beauty to good gene, love of fruits and vegetable and her love of Christ. She has three grown up children.
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The relationship between Baba Fape and Biola started as an infatuation. Biola had gone to Baba Fape for minor accounting issues. She was daring. The moment Baba Fape set his eyes on Biola; he was infatuated. Madly! Biola was a young married woman. Baba Fape had been married for 12 years when the meeting took place. The roaring London scene of the 80s was a bit permissible. Emotional and sexual inhibitions were unknown. Free love was the idol everybody worshipped. Caught in this time warp, both Baba Fape and Biola followed their hearts. It was wild. It was erotic. It was full of fun and laughter. Then…..
Biola had been widowed for many years. Mr Kola Adeniyi, her husband, died on the Lagos-Ibadan express road on his trip to Nigeria. Saddled with three kids, she overcame all the odds stacked against a single parent in London. Stoke Newington was a rough and tumble pocket of Hackney. Her faith, church network and consistent prayer life kept her on. There were many suitors, but she rebuffed them all. She nurtured a rock-hard belief that someday she will meet Baba Fape through coincidence or happenstance. Her “Olusho”, the shepherd, in the Celestial fold, had predicted the return of Baba Fape.
Three years after the “Olusho” prediction, she met her long-lost lover. The Old Street meeting was God-sent. They became companion – inseparable companion. Ms Biola Adeniyi got hooked to her old flame, Baba Fape. He had separated from his wife. They have missed each other for thirty years. Now in their 60s love blossomed all over again. Baba Fape lived in Waltham Cross and Biola in Stoke Newington. The dread of living alone at old age forced Baba Fape to move in with Biola. The flame of the love was like a rocket on a moon mission – running on all cylinders! But there was one thing……
“Ah baba, mind the steps. Don’t fall over,” Mr Hanish Patel cautioned Baba Fape as he walked into his corner shop. Baba Fape stretched out his neck, gave a long cough and scanned the rows of alcohol on the shelf.
“Can I have that small bottle of Famous Grouse Scotch whiskey?” “Yes, sure, it is £9.50,” Mr Patel answered. Baba Fape paid with his debit card, wrapped it with a disused newspaper and returned home. At home, he sat calmly with his Daily Mirror newspaper and sipped his whiskey. Baba Fape loves watching old comedies on the television to make him unwind, laugh and ruminate on the passing of time. His inner core friends called him Mr Whiskey. His addiction had been a common topic of hot debate among friends and families.
Biola returned from work and went straight for the wardrobe. There, she found a half-drunk bottle of whiskey. She woke up her husband from sleep and began to exchange words with him. Baba Fape looked defeated, down and helpless. He had been suffering from alcohol addiction for the last 20 years. He used to be a hardcore, stubborn, Ekiti Kete stock. He kept on saying: Rubbish! Rubbish! Rubbish! Now gaunt looking. Alcohol addiction had taken a toll on him.
“So tun fe pada losi hospital ni”, Biola queried. “Do you want to return to the hospital? Biola queried again in English language. She had been in and out of hospitals with Baba Fape. Routine visits. Emergency ones. Biola had been very caring, supportive and understanding towards Baba Fape’s alcoholic addiction. She fasted. She prayed. She had called intercessors on her husband. Nothing happened. He was addicted to the bottle and took delight in its intoxication. Biola had been warning Baba Fape that drinking too much alcohol can damage the liver and increase the risk of a number of other health conditions, such as heart disease and stroke. Rubbish…rubbish, he would say and look away. She took Baba Fape on as her own cross. Her undying love was rekindled for her husband daily. Baba could not survive without his wife, bottle of spirit, pounded yam and egusi stew daily.
One Saturday morning, just after the family bedside prayer Baba Fape began to vomit blood. More blood. Quickly Biola called the ambulance. He was given a CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation) on the spot. He was placed on the stretcher and whisked away in an ambulance. Twenty minutes later he was pronounced dead. Years of alcoholic abuse and assault on the liver had taken its revenge.
On the 16th of June 2023 we buried Mr Solomon Fape in the West Ham cemetery. He was 74. Once in three months, Biola would be found in the cemetery premises redecorating flowers, pruning weeds, and removing dirt from her husband’s graveside. “God has written it that he would die in my hands,” Biola told me proudly.
My thought raced back to man’s foundational struggle with addiction. Could it be generational? Why would anybody be addicted to whiskey that could cause the chronic dysfunction of liver, kidney and other essential pathways in our body? Why would anybody be looking for the momentary euphoria, forgetfulness and reward of a black out memory? Why would our body be craving madly for substances that could lead to compulsive or obsessive pursuit without thinking of the consequences?
Biola nudged me on the shoulder. “Abi ki leso, Mr T.” “Well, a mu wa olorun na ni.” She dabbed her teary face with her handkerchief. “That was the love of my life, may his soul rest in peace.” I said a quiet amen and walked away.
