“Would she survive this New Year?” Prince Tunde soliloquized while stepping down from the staircase of Mobat Maternity Home in Surulere. “Will Ronke live?” he asked himself again, as he moved towards his automatic chauffeur-driven V-Boot Mercedes Benz car parked outside the maternity home.

He was repeating all this words when he unknowingly collided with a young man. “Sorry please,” he said and shook his head dejectedly. By now he had reached the spot where his car was parked, his chauffeur was standing beside the back door. Quickly, he opened the door for him.

“This way, sir,” said the chauffeur. Prince turned and entered the car, with sweat streaming down his smooth, plump face.

“Is she okay, sir?” demanded the chauffeur.

“I still can’t say, John. The doctor said I should come back tomorrow afternoon, I pray she comes out successfully,” the prince replied and turned away, looking pensively through the window as if searching for somebody among the pedestrians. His chin was resting on his right palm. He was totally lost in a wild, deep and sad thought about his unfortunate fate.

Most people believe that one can buy happiness with money. But with Prince Tunde Peters, it wasn’t so. Talk about money, Tunde had it. He has a chain of companies spread all over the country. He was a shareholder and chairman of many manufacturing companies. He even has shipping and airline concerns. He was a billionaire and very popular. Most people regarded him as a very happy and contented man.
But that was not the case. In spite of all these monetary achievements, one thing greatly troubled him. One thing that made him feel unaccomplished and unhappy was childlessness. Prince Tunde has no issue. And he was already 56 years. There were some painful and agonizing questions that always tormented him.

Questions like: “Who will inherit my properties when I die? Who will head my business empire when I’m finally gone? Would my heartless relatives, who treated me so hatefully and neglected me when I was poor, inherit my business empire? Why has God given me money instead of a child?” These turbulent questions worry his mind everyday and echo in his head over and over again till he would burst into tears and weep silently over his hopeless situation.

Tunde’s marital life has been bedevilled by tales of woes. His first wife, Kemi, died during childbirth. He could recollect how he so loved the young lady. He knew Kemi loved him also. She was a beautiful lady and very respectful. They met when Tunde was 29 years old. By then he was already a millionaire because he began trading business early in life. He was a fortunate man, money-wise. When Kemi died, he thought his world had ended. His thought about life was more of gloom and doom. He least expected such could happen to him. But about four years later, he met another lady, Tinuke, who was in her late 20s.

Tinuke was a light-skinned woman, slightly plump, gorgeous and full of life. He met her at a friend’s party in Victoria Island, Lagos. They soon fell in love. Tunde then married her and they spent up to eight years together before Tinuke finally took in. Most people had thought the lady would never be pregnant. But unfortunately, she fainted and later died during labour. Tunde almost cried his heart out that day. He wept like a baby.

These gory and nasty experiences filled Tunde’s mind with fear and horror that he swore never to marry again. For some years, he kept this vow, but the more he thought about his many assets and investments, the more he strongly felt he should have a kid to inherit them, even if one. The urge to have a child put him on the look out for another woman.

This time around she was a lady called Risi. She was a six-footer. When the prince met her at the airport on his way to a business appointment in Paris, he didn’t know she was to be his third wife. She was 25 years old and he was 50 then. He was moving along the departure lounge when his briefcase suddenly slipped from his hand and fell. Risi was just behind him and she quickly bent down and helped him with it. Prince was glad. And that was how it began. They both exchanged addresses. When Prince came back from Paris, Risi called at his place. Then another romantic saga began. An informal marriage took place and she moved in. For the first two years of their relationship Tunde thought she would conceive, but she didn’t. He started feeling rather disturbed and confused because he was getting older.

“Is it a curse from somebody or an act of God? Who did I offend? Why are all this happening to me?” he asked himself everyday, but he got no answer. In the past, he had spent a fortune consulting diviners and medicine men with no positive result. When the third year came and she still couldn’t take in, Risi started getting uncomfortable living with Tunde. She became very suspicious of him and started making life unbearable for him. She called him all sorts of names. She accused him of being the cause of her woes and barrenness. She described him as an impotent man, and a foolish, rich man who worshipped mammon.

“When will you have a baby, you weak, old man?” she roared one day, “I’ve heard stories about you. It’s all money and wealth you know; you’re 53 and you have no child. It’s a pity I can’t spend my last years with you like a nun or witch, my parents love children and they’ll curse and disown me if I continue this relationship! When will this end ‘okobo okunrin?’, she mocked.

When prince heard these humiliating utterances, he walked into his bedroom and wept silently, muttering: “It’s not your fault, hu…hu…hu…It’s not your fault.” That was how she always taunted him everyday when he came back from his business trips. One day when he couldn’t bear her mockery and acerbities anymore, he drove her away. She was damn too saucy and impatient for his gentle and amiable disposition. Risi was a fiery and hot-tempered lady.

Would Ronke Bear Him A Child?

It was January 1, and Prince Tunde was back at the Mobat Maternity Home in Surulere. His chauffeur-driven V-Boot Mercedes zoomed sleekly and packed just at the entrance gate. Prince Tunde stepped down and moved hastily towards the hospital building. It was a three-storey magnificent building. His mind was in a tumultuous state. Never had he been so worried. Never had he been so eager to know his fate. That very morning he didn’t take his breakfast. He couldn’t even sleep till daybreak. He was just full of prayers. He prayed fervently as he had never done before. He prayed to God to spare Ronke’s life and take his, instead.

“Ronke is my last hope,” he murmured sorrowfully, “if she dies that means I’m done for, I’d rather poison myself than live.”

He had reached the second floor where the labour room was. He moved closer to the reception. The receptionist, a tall, brown looking young lady, greeted him with courtesy.

“Are you Prince Tunde?” she asked politely.
“Yesss,” he replied, tremblingly, “what’s the matter? Is my wife okay?” he stammered.

“Well Dr. Williams said I should tell you to stay here, work is in progress, your wife is undergoing a painful and difficult labour, but he said he’d be with you shortly,” the receptionist said.

Prince Tunde sat down gently and quietly, expecting the worst and ready to put down his life. Suddenly a gush of violent thoughts swept across his mind. He remembered how he met Ronke. She was a cousin to one of his closest friends called Tayo. He could still visualize how Tayo pleaded with him to take good care of Ronke because she was the only child of her parents, who passed away when she was just 10. He could also recall the first time he took her out in his customized Range Rover, how people stared at them in amazement. They must have thought she was his daughter. Ronke was of moderate height, about five feet, with a well-curved shape, enchanting backside, smart boobs, light-brown lips, and beautiful white eyeballs. She was excitingly charming. “Damn it!” he said. He was determined to face all odds. He made up his mind to dare the gods and kill himself! He was shaking and trembling giddily. And he was terribly sweating profusely in spite of the air-conditioned environment. His pulse was beating at an alarming rate. Seconds ticked away. Minutes ticked away. The atmosphere was cool and serene. Two hours later a young lady nurse breezed out of the labour room and approached the receptionist.
“Please, where’s Prince Tunde?” she asked.

“That’s him,” replied the receptionist, pointing.

Tunde’s attention was with the two ladies. He stood up as if called and without mincing words moved towards the young nurse.

“Are you Prince Tunde?” the nurse asked.

“Yes. Is she okay?” he stammered, “tell me quickly…tell me…is she okay?” he asked again in a shaky voice.

“Hmm, dear Prince, that your wife is something else, she died…” the nurse said gently.

“What! Oooooh my God!” Prince Tunde wailed and collapsed instantly and went into a coma. He looked every inch a dead man.

“Hey, what have I done?” cried the nurse, “I’m only joking now. My God! What’s happening?” she was utterly confused. Instantly, the receptionist came running towards the prince.

“What’s happening, Sister Yinka…what’s happening?” she inquired from the nurse, who just stood there mouth agape like a statue.

“Sister Yinka, what have you told him,” the receptionist asked. “Help! Help!! Help!!!” she cried. The nurse, who had been confused and panic-stricken, soon joined her in the shout. Prince Tunde was rushed to the emergency ward. The whole hospital building was in chaos and uproar.

“I was only joking. I was only joking,” the nurse kept repeating on the way to the emergency ward. People had gathered at the area. There were sighs, hisses and contempt for the nurse from everybody. The fact was that Ronke, Prince Tunde’s wife, had just been delivered of triplets – two bouncing baby boys and one girl. And Ronke was hale and hearty. But the young nurse was merely joking and not knowing the grave implication and enormity of her joke.

At the labour room, Dr. Williams, the man in charge of Ronke’s welfare, got wind of all that had happened to Prince Tunde. Ronke, too, had heard about the whole sordid episode, but she was still in labour pains and not fit to strain herself much.

“Everything will be okay, Ronke,” Dr. Williams said. “Prince Tunde will not die, Ronke, please don’t worry yourself too much,” he pleaded.

“Please, doc,” she begged, “let me go and see him…please, let me know his condition.”

“Relax yourself, he’ll be okay, Ronke.” Dr. Williams replied and went out after informing the nurse to keep watch over her.

Back at the emergency ward, Prince Tunde was still in a critical state. There were about five highly-skilled doctors attending to him. Drips were passed to his body. He was given injections at regular intervals; still he was in a coma. He was just lying motionless on the sick bed like a lifeless body. The day passed on until night came. Still Prince Tunde’s condition did not improve.

The time was 12p.m. Ronke could not sleep, her anxiety kept mounting every minute. She called Dr. Williams and tried to persuade him to let her see Prince Tunde, but her request was turned down on health ground. When she persisted, she was sedated and she dozed off almost instantly.

It was around 6a.m. and the harmattan haze was thick in the sky. The atmosphere was extremely chilly. Ronke woke up. The first thing that came to her mind was Prince Tunde. She stood up from her bed and sneaked off silently to the emergency ward. On reaching the ward she opened the door gently. There was nobody in sight. She moved towards Prince Tunde’s bed, she delicately sat beside him. She looked at his closed eyes and tears welled up in her eyes. She loved him too much. She could not help it, then she called softly and tenderly: “Prince…Prince…I’m here, Prince, please wake up, don’t die this way…Prince…” She took his hand and caressed it gently, fondling it with the greatest sympathy and love. Surprisingly, as she continued crying and muttering those thought-provoking emotional words, Prince Tunde moved his leg and coughed thrice. Then he kept quiet for a moment and the next thing his eyes opened for the first time. Ronke was so happy that Prince Tunde had regained consciousness. He hugged her lovingly and divinely. He felt every part of her body in ecstatic outburst.

“Oh, oh, it’s Ronke…It’s real…My Ronke…It’s real…She’s around and alive…” he said.

“Yes, my dear, I’m the one,” she said, “and you’re now the father of triplets, two boys and one girl.”

As the highly romantic sensation continued and joy enveloped both of them, they did not know when the emergency ward was filled with people – sympathizers and well-wishers. They were not even aware.

“Thank God!” exclaimed Prince Tunde, “Me, a father of triplets at my age…Oh, thank God! Oh, I love you, Ronke!” He stood up from his bed and was instantly fit and okay. Arm in arm they both went out, smiling and hugging like long lost lovers. When Prince Tunde reached where his three babies were neatly placed and set eyes on them for the first time, his eyes glowed with immeasurable joy and happiness. He shouted to high heavens: “This is the year the good Lord has done wonders for me and I’ll show my appreciation! Oya, Ronke, let the celebration begin!”