BJ left London broken, brutalised, and defeated. Bristol would be a place of new beginning.
By Taju Tijani
Banji hated Bristol. He hated it with passion, but he had to devise ways and means to love the city somehow. That was where he was forced to flee after years of family quarrel with his wife and mother-in-law. Bristol was a place of forced loneliness, despair and mental torture. It was a place of forced bachelorhood all over again. Something he thought could never happen again. It was a place of irritation compared to London where he had lived for 20 years. Bristol, to BJ, was damp, lifeless, staid, and quiet.
After years of wintering in London, Banji made a maiden trip to Lagos in 2006. London was a culture shock to him – the ordered lifestyle, the beautiful cobbled streets, the lights, the perfection of their social, economic and human affairs. He had vowed not to return to Nigeria after the morning after of Nigerian life. He lived at Ebute Metta all his life. He struggled to make ends meet. Father was a retired rail worker. Mum was a petty trader in Lagos Island. He had three siblings. Hope was high in the family when Banji mooted the idea of japa. Mum immediately went to prayer mountains and started night vigils.
In 2002, the prayers were heard. He made it to London. Lonely, young, optimistic he had all options for a great future in front of him. He caught the London work culture and paid his dues. He worked the greasy pole of mini cabbing, dish washing, delivery driving and care shifts, and once moonlighted as a club DJ. BJ met many beautiful women in club halls but hated them all. Their cockiness, feistiness, and challenging attitude toward marital hierarchy and authority. He wanted a woman who was a devout Christian, beautiful, respectful, dutiful, educated, and submissive.
He took a wife searching trip to Lagos in 2007. Bimpe was waiting in the wings. He plucked her from the same axis of Ebute Metta and later arrived in London in the winter month of October 2009. BJ now had a regular and stable job as a Scheme Manager in uptown district of Borehamwood in Hertfordshire. Bimpe got a job and years later became a manager for a delivery company in their local haven of Borehamwood. Years of blissful living followed. BJ took Bimpe to various European destinations including the Arabian melting pot of Dubai.
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Until. Yes, until Bimpe’s mum began to encroach on the relationship. Vigorously. Unrelentingly. Aggressively. Mercilessly. The tug of war between BJ and his in-law began to take its unbearable toll on his work, health, and social life. In 2011, Bimpe gave birth to their first child. Friends from all over UK came to feast on jollof rice, shawarma and abula. It was a feast of feasts. BJ danced like David danced. He lost his timidity on the night. The dream of fatherhood was more than an intoxication. He could not wait to change his son’s first pampers. He was a dad. A great dad by any stretch.
BJ’s mum was getting ready to travel to the UK. The maternal instinct to nurture BJ’s children was her priority. Then the tussle started. With a deft manoeuvre, Bimpe too got a visa for her mum. That was the beginning of a grudging atmosphere at their household. The London curse on relationship was about to rear its ugly head. Relationships had floundered on this rock of in-law tussles. BJ must pass this first test. He did. He allowed Bimpe’s mum to visit and do the grandmotherly for his son. But BJ’s mum was unforgiving. She was rooting for a prolonged fight with Bimpe’s mum. She was fighting for a crowning glory – something all mums covet jealously.
In 2014, Bimpe gave birth to another baby girl. Again, BJ mum got ready to travel. It was her turn to visit UK and behold her second grandchildren. Bimpe will have none of it. Fuelled by her mum’s desire to maintain a stranglehold in Bimpe’s matrimonial home, she made a vow to be a regular fixture after every childbirth. This time BJ was like a cut snake – ready to strike Bimpe and her mum with copious venom.
BJ’s mum lost out. Bimpe’s mum returned to the UK. She not only stayed to look after BJ’s daughter but also started out as a child minder for busy working Nigerian families living in the neighbourhood. The peace in BJ’s home was shattered. It was now a haven for crying babies from dusk to dawn. Bimpe’s mum was making money. Bimpe was happy for her mum. They were together in a sinister plot to evict BJ from home. BJ was slow in reading the plot and grand larceny being planned.
The brutality of London was about to unfurl. Unenviably, London has always remained the cradle of family feud centring on ambition, greed, selfishness and money. The greed, ambition, and love of money of Bimpe’s mum will soon have casualties across Borehamwood. Bimpe was making good money. Her mum was making good money as a child minder.
Memory of both Bimpe and her mum began to fail. No remembrance of BJ’s investment of money, time and resources in facilitating Bimpe’s trip to London existed anymore. The world to them was not fair and he who dared must win!!! BJ was no match for the ambition of his mother-in-law. She has struck gold in London and she wanted this commodity in lorry loads. A female Daniel has now come to judgement. The drama thickened.
BJ’s ass was on the PHCN line. It will be roasted anytime soon. Shunted, side-lined, and ignored almost daily, BJ felt the power of feminine sisterhood. Mum and daughter at war against the man of the house was more than a fairytale to BJ. Bimpe was bewitched by her mum. Maternal bond was deciding her action against the good of her husband. She could not see that her mum was a divisive home wrecker bent on material accumulation than the peace and happiness of the home where she was a lodger.
BJ left London broken, brutalised, and defeated. Bristol would be a place of new beginning. A place to block out the memorials and memory of a dubious and scheming collaboration of mum and daughter who were out to steal, kill and destroy. The two bedroom apartment in Bristol overlooked the high street. BJ was flipping through the family photo album. He saw Bimpe’s scrawny picture as a new arrival to London in 2009. She saw marital history of the good, the bad and the ugly as he sipped on his brandy and coke over roasted plantain and groundnut.
“Ah, London is a nasty place. A place of dark delusion where semi-savage ambition, greed and selfishness still separate and destroy friends, families, and dreams,” BJ moaned, almost crying.