Love in the Mirror: The Worries of a Woman

By Lanre Badmus

As you read this book, a lady is either being raped and molested or being put through a forced labor. I am a victim, and here is my story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504940801

Lanre Badmus

Lanre Badmus is a lawyer and a poet. He is the proud author of two books, namely Gorgeous Murder and Green White Green. He was once a columnist with Sun Newspaper in Nigeria, and now he writes for Symbol magazine. He is married and has two daughters.

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© 2015 Lanre Badmus. All rights reserved.

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No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/20/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-4079-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-4078-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-4080-1 (e)

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Author’s Note

Acknowledgement

Prologue In The Dock

Chapter One Growing Up

Chapter Two Life After Death

Chapter Three I Lost My Sole Sister

Chapter Four The Diary Of A Dead Sister

Chapter Five What A Step Dad

Chapter Six Court Trials

Chapter Seven Picking Up The Pieces

Chapter Eight When Poets Are In Love

Chapter Nine The Bitter Truth

Epilogue Back In The Dock

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to victims of child labor, child trafficking and prostitution. #BringBackOurGirls

AUTHOR’S NOTE

L ike a vine gives out wine, let me let loose these lines. Lucid letters from a heart, hit by poetry’s precise dart. Wise words from a mind that liberates even the blind. The emancipation of emotions that are drowned in a romantic ocean. None can explain better than my pen through this letter.

For those that bother to hear – my mind I really want to bare. This I will do with a candid courage, spiced with profound poetic rage. It is a fact that stands strong and like the truth, it can never be wrong. Definitely I am making more sense than a perfectly written sentence. Thus, appreciate these lines of poetry from a poet as creative as a cemetery.

Love in the Mirror is a damaged and totally destroyed door. It is an obstinate deceit that pushes you into a bottomless pit. It is as weak as lust; it will soon disappear like the dust. To the world, it seems so perfect; a closer look exposes her defects. Sternly stare at it in the mirror – it is obviously an enormous error.

Love in the Mirror. My laughter has become a ghost. Only of terrible tears I can boast. I cannot afford a smile but my tears seem like the Nile’s. I did not look at it properly in the Mirror; I would have envisaged the horrid horror. The mirror’s vision was not clear, thus I never entertained any fear. But now it is obstinately obvious that love in the Mirror is desperately dubious.

LANRE BADMUS

15/12/2010

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I want to appreciate God for the success of this book. He is my divine source of inspiration. I want to appreciate my wife, Funto Badmus and my two daughters – Dara and Tiwa Badmus. Lastly my editor, Mr. Femi Afariogun – a reporter with the Nigerian Television Authority. Thanks for your creativity.

PROLOGUE

IN THE DOCK

T he Kwara State High Court premises had not really changed. But for the dilapidating buildings, it would have been just what it was some years back. It was not that bad those days. ‘It is now a total shadow of itself.’ I thought as I sternly stared.

The flowers seemed totally withered, the paint on the buildings had fallen off, abandoned cars at every corner of the premises, judgment property heaped awkwardly at one side. ‘This is not how a court of law should look like" I thought as I looked around with acute curiosity.

I could see ‘Mama Book’ at a corner as she advertised to an intending buyer. She looked really changed. ‘She has really added weight’ I whispered, as I turned around to observe other visible changes around the court. She used to be very slim – just like a straw down the bottle of coca-cola. She was a very funny woman and all the times I sat down with her, I had laughed like a cricket in the dead of the night.

Move or I will move you a prison warden snapped.

You mean me? I humbly asked

No, it’s your father! he angrily mocked. Will you move?

I had no choice but to obey. I marched along with other prisoners. We were up to fourteen in number; all in chains, all well –shackled. We were chained in twos. That was how they treated us every time they brought us to court to face our trials. We were led to a tree and from there we were taken to different court rooms.

The court room seemed filled to the brim like bees within a hive. Obviously there were a lot of cases fixed for that day and I concluded that I could spend the whole day there. ‘That is still better than going back early to my prison cell’. I muttered.

The Nigerian Prison is apparently not a place to be. Bad infrastructures and poor amenities. Most prisoners end up getting infected with strange diseases.

I had been there for the past six months and I had been moved to three different cells. The worst of them all was what we called ‘THE DEN’. A place that could hardly contain a whole human body. I was isolated at ‘THE DEN’ when I had a terrible fight with one of the female prison inmates.

Ajoke was a beautiful lady. Tall, slim and fair in complexion. She was a lesbian – a notorious one to be precise. She was always making seductive passes at me and at times, she had the effrontery to tap my buttocks. I detested her so much. On this fateful day, she grabbed me from behind and she buried a kiss on my neck. I was outraged and equally mad at her. I shoved her off and vehemently warned her not to repeat such an action but she was all smiles.

If I touch you one more time, what will you do? she asked

Just don’t try it again I warned

You are such a beautiful lady she blew the bubble gum in her mouth.

Thank you

Wait a minute she grabbed my hands You care for a kiss?

I don’t do women. I’m straight

You look so angry but you look more beautiful. She winked.

I have to go I insisted.

As I turned around to go, she touched my buttocks again and out of annoyance, I turned and gave her a slap on her face. Simultaneously, I picked up a wooden chair and I crashed it on her. As she fell to the ground, I jumped on her and buried several blows into her face. She tried fighting back but it was too late; I’d caught her unawares. But for the intervention of the wardens, I would have killed her.

My punishment was ‘THE DEN’. I spent a whole week in isolation. No friend, no company, little or no food – it was a miserable experience. I learnt my lesson in a hard way.

As we patiently awaited the arrival of the learned judge, I went down the memory lane once again. My first time in court was when my uncle was charged with the offence of cruelty to animals. It was a very funny case and every time I reminded my uncle of the incident he would laugh his head off.

Uncle Bidemi was a mischievous man. He should be in his early forties now. He had laid ambush for a black goat that was fond of coming into our compound to constitute nuisance. When the goat was very much inside on this fateful day, he banged the gate behind it and chased it till he caught up with it. He tied up the goat and gave it the beating of its life after which he broke its four legs and dumped it outside.

The goat belonged to one of our neighbors and when they got to know of uncle Bidemi’s action, they reported at a police station after which he was charged to court. As time went by at the speed of a lightning, the case got buried and till date, we’ve heard nothing about it.

The judge finally came in and we rose until he sat down after a slight bow.

How many cases do we have today? Justice Temidayo asked

Eight cases in all, my Lord his clerk answered.

Eight cases! He exclaimed.

Yes sir!

But I have warned you not to fix more than five cases in a day. I am not a machine. I spent the whole night writing a judgment that I must deliver today and here I am again. I have to attend to eight cases

Three of the cases are for motions the clerk persuaded.

It doesn’t matter. Eight cases are too much for a day

Yes sir!

The court clerk called the first case which was slated for judgment. It was a criminal case. A murder case to be more particular. The judge read the judgment from a bulky file for over two hours and at the end, he sentenced the accused person to life imprisonment.

My heart skipped a beat. "Am I