ASO EBI

 

Fisayo Talabi.

We were a clique of four; Me, Ijeoma, Tolani and Doris, since our days of glory at the Obafemi Awolowo University. We were the kind of girls that every guy on campus wanted to try his luck on. Not that I mean to brag or rub it in your faces, but we are four hot looking feminine species, well created by the graceful and benevolent hands of the Almighty.

All four of us graduated and served in Lagos, thanks to the strings Doris’ dad pulled on our behalf. Nevertheless, take it or leave it, life after NYSC opens your eyes to reality, and puts you on your toes because you realise all of a sudden that it has come to a state of each man for himself, God for us all. Doris’ dad could not get us all jobs of course. Barely two months after our passing out parade, had Doris travelled to the United Kingdom for her Master’s degree. It came to me especially, as a huge shock, when she announced that she was pregnant and getting married after her master’s programme. She had met a British citizen there, who she claimed was so much in love with her and wanted to marry her. Of course we gossiped about it. Ijeoma said there was more to it and that Doris was using the guy to get settled in the UK. Yes, we all knew our friend had the habit of using guys and dumping them after leeching on them for a while, and even if these guys knew that she was just a greedy glutton devoid of any true feelings of love towards them, they still longed to be with her. Tolani laughed and said Doris was probably not pregnant, and was just scheming things to work for her good. I really did not have anything to say. Of my friends, I am nick named the mother Theresa. I honestly believe in focusing on a person’s good attributes rather than enhancing their vices. They jeered at me as usual when I said we should be happy for her and support her all the way. You know, sometimes, I still find girl to girl relationships very funny and amusing. The way we girls backbite and gossip about our friends, and even hate, envy, or quarrel over little things is so surprising, because guys could absolutely not give a hoot about the things we take serious. Would you believe that Doris came back to Nigeria with her Boo and these girls; Ijeoma and Tolani, were the first to go visit her. They planned the aso-ebi for the wedding, picked the colours with Doris, and got into a fight over who would be her Chief Bridesmaid! Doris’ wedding was a big success. We did not mind that the aso-ebi cost twenty five thousand naira. We were all out to support our bestie. Apparently, her husband was one top shot Nigerian government pikin based in the UK. They always say the bad girls are the luckiest because they have the most fun and get the best guys. *Shake my head*. Everybody had fun, no doubt. It was so classy with government officials, oil magnates, business moguls, and multinational executives in attendance. If there was anything I learnt from Doris’ wedding, it was that Money is the spice of love.

I had been seeing this guy I met at Silverbird for nine months now, and he seemed a very nice guy. He worked as a contract staff in Chevron, and whenever he was off shore for two weeks, he made me feel his presence in every way. He lavished gifts on me, and my Gtbank account. I felt like the whole shine was on me because my friends never stopped hailing me. They were so ready to drop their busy schedules, no matter how demanding, to hang out with me when Hassan was around. Of course those eye service friends of mine were also recipients of my Boo’s philanthropies. Like I said earlier, it had been nine months, and Hassan had still not said anything about taking me down the aisle. He was a muslim, but had the heart of a born again Christian. The same pastor that told me not be unequally yoked with unbelievers was still the one who said God loves a cheerful giver, so I figured I was doing right either way. This life is not hard.

This Sunday evening, I had just gotten off the phone with Hassan when Tolani called me and with her gist, I knew the shine was off me. “Babes, Deji proposed to me tonight!”

Here we are, three months after, in Tolani’s living room, deciding what colour her aso-ebi should be, and Hassan has still not said a word. He is still taking me to see movies at Genesis Deluxe, and even when I thought he was going to propose to me on our one-year anniversary, the guy just took me to Silverbird to watch The Lucky One because “this is where we first met, babe”. Honestly it felt as though he was telling me to my face that Tolani was the lucky one.  Even Doris was there with us, on Skype though. She had a baby now, and was not working. Her husband said he did not want her to stress herself in anyway. All she did was shop and shop and shop! She had ordered Tolani’s wedding dress and was showing it to us. Tolani had met Deji just five months ago, and now they were getting married. He was based in Canada, and that meant Tolani was one more bride leaving the shores of Nigeria.

The aso-ebi we decided on was thirty thousand naira. (Tolani just wanted to prove she could do better than Doris). I work as an admin staff in a secondary school in Lekki phase 1. My job is not stressful, but my pay is not exactly what I envisaged I would be earning. Well, she was my best friend. Even if paying thirty thousand for her aso-ebi would leave me with twenty five thousand naira for that month, not to mention that I would be making souvenirs for her wedding, it was alright by me. Ijeoma and I made sure our friend had a nice and awesome party. That was the least we could do as friends.

It was another Sunday morning in November, and I was picking out which native to wear to church. It was then it dawned on me that the bulk of my traditional attires were aso-ebi. I looked at the other side of my closet and there hung so many chief brides maids and bridal train dresses. I have graced so many weddings, giving it all my power and might, and then it suddenly made sense to me that my mother was ridiculing me, and not complimenting me, when she called me “wedding planner.” In fact, I was the one who hooked Ijeoma up with Hassan’s cousin, Qudus, and as weird as it seemed; igbo catholic girl, and Yoruba muslim boy, my friend was getting having her introduction in December!

It is November and I remember one of my resolutions for the year was to get married. Jibola my younger brother, was discussing with my mom the other day about his introduction, and my mom told him to tell me because I am the perfect wedding planner. If this is a curse I begin to bind it right now. Maybe Pastor was right when he said Hassan was not the man for me. I have decided to break it off with him after he pays the sixty thousand naira and Louis Vuitton tote bag that he promised me for Christmas.

Today, Pastor Wale said we should decree a thing and it shall be established. He said we should launch out in faith and take big and giant strides. I don’t really have a word…I know people in church say it a lot that God gave them a word. I have picked my word too. The scripture of where Jesus turned water to wine. By faith I have chosen my aso-ebi, and I don’t care what anyone says. It’s burnt orange Ankara. I believe by faith that my Ankara shall turn into an Elie Saab or Vera Wang wedding dress in this coming year. The years that the canker worms like Hassan have eaten, shall be restored to me!

 

HEARTS AND ARROWS

Hearts and Arrows!

ADETUTU
She turned away from him, to the other side of their matrimonial bed, thinking and wondering why she ever got married to this man. Whatever she tried to do, to please him, never seemed to work. It seemed the more she tried, the more turned off he got. She had just started a conversation, to break the awkward, but fast ever-occurring silence in the bed room. She asked him how work went and fine was all he said in response. She asked how his meeting went. At least even if she was a house wife, she knew he had been talking about an Annual General Meeting over the phone for the past few weeks. Good was his retort.
The idea flashed through her mind in the night, and despite the strength of the volume of his snoring, she did not get distracted. She had even tried getting up to pray and cast out every evil thought on her mind, from the devil, but the idea just would not leave her head.
She woke up very early the next morning, and prepared his breakfast, even if she knew he would not eat it. She wanted to be the virtuous woman, and wanted to trust her husband, exercising faith, like Pastor Bimbo’s book said…but that idea still would not leave her mind. While He was having a bath, Adetutu grabbed his Blackberry and scrolled through his contacts. She checked his status and his display picture, and his text messages. He deleted her from his BBM some weeks ago. She searched for recent chats…maybe from his girlfriends, but she found nothing. His status read the same message that had been there before he deleted her.
EXPECTANT.
…

ONYINYE
They had been married two years now, and she recently had twin adorable daughters; Kachi and Kenechi. She felt so blessed to have a happy home; a loving husband, and the most beautiful children any woman could ask for. Nnamdi had told her to quit her job with the bank, and he promised to start a boutique business for her, after the babies were old enough to be weaned. The love was all over, until Nnamdi’s Nne came into the picture. She came for omuguo. The first few weeks were beautiful. The older woman did all the chores, and treated Onyinye like a princess, never allowing her to lift a finger, except when she had to nurse the twins.
Then, that week that Nnamdi went to Abuja for an exhibition, Onyinye decided to do some grocery shopping. She left the babies with her mother-in-law, being that the distance from Lekki Phase 1 to Shoprite, was barely thirty minutes. She returned home, after some time, with her trunk full, honking, for Ndidi, the house help, to come unload the groceries into the kitchen. After waiting a while, she walked into the living room. She did not hear Kachi and Kenechi’s voices. She walked into the guest room, where Nne slept. Nne was breastfeeding Kenechi, and Ndidi was putting Kachi to sleep.
“What the….!” Onyinye yelled, grabbing her daughter.
“haaa but why are you….”
“Mama why are you breastfeeding her? I pumped breast milk in the bottles that I put in the fridge. You should have asked Ndidi. She knows how to warm it up and feed the children!”
“hmmmmm….. These western ideas are just not right, biko. I don’t want these children having problems when they are older.”
Onyinye hissed out of anger, trying to contain her fury, and walked out of the bedroom. She picked her Blackberry, dialling her husband asap.
…

HALIMA
She had just completed her JAMB exams, though she had been pestering her father that she did not want to study in Nigeria. She wanted to study medicine in the U.S. He always laughed it off and told her that she should pray to Allah to give him better luck with his business, so he could send her abroad. The very night Alhaji Shettima brought home the money he had made from one business deal, robbers came to their house, as though they had followed his every step. It was barely ten minutes he got home, than they attacked.
Halima, the young girl, at age fifteen, watched as the ruthless masked robbers, shot her father in the head. She saw blood all over their brown rug. His white shirt was now a deep red. Hajia screamed and it took Allah’s mercies, not to have had her shot dead too. Like it was not enough, they took everything she ever cherished; her father, her education, and her virginity.
Two months passed, and a lot had happened, as though it was a dream. They lost properties, Alhaji’s older wives and children tormented and took things from them, and there was little Halima, or her uneducated mother, could do about it…until the day the saviour came.
Yes, his name was saviour. Every one called him that. He was a very wealthy business man. Alhaji Shettima had done business with him sometime in the past. Halima remembered her father had mentioned the name sometime in the past. However, Saviour came to visit, gave his words of condolence, designed with wads of cash for Halima, and a cheque for her mother, and then, told her mother some things in private.
“No Hajia!” Halima said stubbornly, throwing the money on the bed. she burst into tears, blocking her ears, so she would not hear any thing her mother was saying.
Saviour wanted to marry her. Saviour had a son who was even older than her, for Pete’s sake! Had she not been humiliated enough? Had she not suffered enough? All she wanted was to take a fresh breath of clean air, and move on with her life. Even if she could not go abroad anymore, she just wanted to resume in the University, and forget about her past. Hajia made her see all the right reasons in getting married to Saviour. He would take care of her, and could even send her abroad for her studies…She was even fortunate to find a rich man who would marry her without her innocence.
The wedding was a fast arrangement. The ceremony was swift. A couple of rites and songs and dresses, with beautiful lali and pictures, she was married right away.
…

Adetutu could not believe her ears, as she listened to Onyinye speak. Her bestie was saying so many things, and all she could pick from the conversation, was that her mother in law had breastfed her babies, and that her husband was taking sides with the mother. How stupid could men be? Sometimes she was happy that her husband lost his mother many years ago. She did not have to go through the mother-in-law palava. She parked her KIA SOUL in the parking lot, her friend still lamenting, sitting beside her. They came out of the vehicle, and walked into the salon. She felt perhaps, if she made herself look good, her husband would begin to remember the real reasons he fell in love with her some years ago.
Onyinye was short tempered, and she was not one who could hide her feelings. It was not even twenty minutes yet, and she was already taking her frustration out on the hair dresser. Apparently the lady had started making another woman’s hair, because Onyinye was not ready yet. The other woman whose hair was being made, apologized, and told the hair dresser to go ahead and make Onyinye’s hair. Adetutu felt touched by her gentleness. She was a pretty woman; frail framed, and had beautiful eyes. She looked at her fingers and saw a wedding ring on one of them.
Sooner than later, the three ladies got talking about their homes and lives, and families. Onyinye, as usual, told the new lady, her mother-in-law’s outrageous act. The lady smiled faintly, and then told them her own story. She was married to a business man who never had time for her, and practically raped her, whenever he wanted sex. In her heart, Adetutu began to thank God that her situation was not as bad as the other two ladies. After a long time chatting and laughing, and being beauty treated and nicely made, they exchanged contacts, hoping to do this again very soon. The ladies went their separate ways, back to their realities…
Adetutu walked in, feeling beautiful, within and without. She saw her husband’s car so she knew he was home. Jibike her house help, was vomiting in the sink downstairs. She had noticed that the girl had been acting different of late, but just felt it was malaria, and had given her some drugs to use. She dropped her purse on the dining table, and pulled the girl by her arm.
“You are pregnant Jibike? Abi?!”
The frightened girl shook her head and ran into the kitchen, crying. Her husband had heard the noise and walked into the living room. Adetutu narrated the whole story, panting in anger, and raising her voice. She sought for some support from her husband, but he changed the topic already. She was even more shocked that he was talking to her about how his work went! That night, she pretended to be asleep. She saw her husband sneak out, and after some time, she followed him. He went to Jibike’s room, and she heard him comforting the helpless girl who was crying. He was stroking her hair, and touching her stomach.
Onyinye picked her phone, to dial Adetutu. The tension had built up so much, and Nnamdi was taking sides with his mother. That night, her mother in law had said that if care was not taken, she would have her replaced with a new girl from the village. She expected Nnamdi to oppose, but he also agreed with his mother.
Halima dialled Onyinye‘s number, because Adetutu was not picking up. Those were her new friends and she felt very confident and free, talking to them about everything she was going through. That night, her husband had come home before her and he got angry and insinuated that she had started hanging out with small boys. He hit her, not for the first time, and as usual, had forceful sex with her.
…
Is Love in Africa a different kind?
Is Love in Africa, a cage, where you can’t escape because you will be viewed by the public eye as irresponsible?
Does the African woman have to digest all the hurt and ruthlessness of the men she is committed to?
There is so much strength in the Nigerian woman. She considers her children, her family, the public, and chooses to endure the dirt thrown in her face…but is this Love?
Love covers a multitude of sins*

/unFAITHful/

Lagos State. Centre of Excellence. House 14, Adams Akingbola Crescent, Lekki Phase 1, Lagos State More like Centre of emotional Torture.

They lived quite well; above average. Femi had a good paying job as a mechanical engineer with a multinational company in Victoria Island. He made seven figures annually, and with two high ranking cars, employment allowances, and vast connections, life was good. They spent their summer and Christmas vacations from Dubai, to Germany, France, England and Canada, as the list went on.
Tega was a beautiful woman without a doubt. The perfect wife for a man of Femi’s corporate standing. She used to be a caterer until her husband requested that she became a housewife, to take adequate care of their two children. She depended totally on her husband for as little as subscriptions for her Blackberry Internet Service.

It was becoming a ritual, how she ran home to her mother almost every day, to report Femi’s intolerable adultery. She knew so well that he was cheating seriously on the marriage. He kept late nights and travelled for business weekends with his ‘secretary’. Femi had a new secretary on every business trip. She had complained over and over again, but he always shut her up with expensive gifts and cash. He’d recently bought her a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes and bag.

“Tega, if only you knew how lucky you are, you would appreciate the man you have!” Her mother ranted, pointing her serving spoon at her daughter. Tega hissed arms folded across her chest, shaking her head.
“Just because my husband is rich doesn’t make him a god! Roli’s husband is rich too, but he adores her! Is it too much to ask for a faithful man?!” She cried.
“Then divorce him and marry Roli’s husband.” Her mother said sarcastically. Again, she began to narrate the story of how Tega’s father had cheated on her, constantly. To make matters worse, he came home drunk almost every night, and beat her mercilessly. He stole her money, gave her expensive perfumes to his girlfriends, and impregnated almost every house help they’d ever had.
“Men will keep being men, my child.” She said. “A word is sufficient for the wise.”

Tega could not accept this. She did not understand why it was okay for a man to cheat and get away with it, but then, for a woman to cheat, and be labelled adulterous.

As the driver took her home, returning from the children’s elementary school, she fought back the tears welling in her eyes; those eyes which Femi had once adored. Those days when they courted, he had said her eyes were the most beautiful he’d seen. He could not just stop looking into them. She remembered the night he proposed to her. He held her gaze and kissed her like his life depended on it. Now Femi could hardly look in her eyes no matter how beautiful she painted them. She did not know if he avoided her because of guilt, or an increasing displeasure.

Displeasure?
She was thirty-three years old. She was slim and had a perfect body. Her skin still glowed with lustre, and she had the right curves in the right places, despite childbearing. Men still stopped to admire her twice, or drop one or two compliments, which she ached to hear from her own husband. These days, he just seemed as neutral as water, towards her.

She could not bear it anymore when Femi stopped eating her meals. He could hardly resist her cooking, but now, he kept saying he already had dinner. The final straw was when she caught him red handed with secretary number 8, right on their matrimonial bed.
Tega was lost for words. This was the height of it. Femi had done his worst. She reached for her Louis Vuitton travel bag, and stuffed her clothes into it. She was leaving him for good. She would make it on her own. Thank God she had taken Roli’s advice. Since Femi would not allow her keep a bank account, she decided she would sell some of those atonement gifts he gave her. She had gathered enough money to re-establish her catering business and to take care of herself and her children.
Of course, he tried to stop her. He begged and pleaded with her, not to go. In her presence, he made a call placing an order for flowers and chocolates to be delivered to her.
“Tegs! Please don’t leave me! I am so sorry!” He held her waist. The feelings came rushing back. He had not called her Tegs in a long time. That was what he called her in their early marriage days.
Since he would not let her go, she decided to wait and forgive him, as usual. However, the following week, Femi returned from work and met the welcome of an empty house. He could not find either his wife or children. She was gone. He called her mother, his parents, Roli, her friends, everyone he could think of, but Tega was nowhere around. He slumped into the sofa, and burst into tears. Tega was a good woman. She had taken his nonsense all these years, and still tried her best to be the good wife.

It was two months and four days since he last saw his wife and children. His mobile phone rang and he could hear Roli’s wail. He couldn’t make sense out of her words so he drove down to her place. She was rolling on the floor, crying, with her husband comforting her.
“Jos ooooooo!” She kept crying.
“What is happening in Jos?” Femi shook her. He was getting tense.

He drove back home, and he could not stop the tears welling in his eyes. He did not have the strength Tega had, to take bad news.
His wife and children were dead. She had run to Jos with them, and started a new life, supporting them with the catering business. They had been caught up in the crisis, and had been killed.

January 29, 2010.
Tega had just left church. The morning mass just made her feel worse about leaving her husband. The Reverend Father had preached about marriage being a God sealed union, and for couples to cleave to each other, irrespective. She felt perhaps it was high time she went back to Femi. The children definitely missed their father, and were used to a better life than she was giving them. She made up her mind that by the next week, she would return to Lagos. She would return to her husband. She called Roli to tell her she would be leaving Jos and coming home, the following week. Besides, the crisis was becoming unbearable. Femi’s torture was way better than physical torture.

As the cab they had boarded approached Farin gada, her heart leaped in fear. The children started crying. Cars were being burnt and people were stabbed. She immediately dialled Roli’s number. She could hardly think straight.
“Roli oo! They will kill us too!” She screamed.

The Malos got to their cab, pulled her out, as she begged for the life of her little children.
They killed the driver, and Tega knew there was trouble. One of them grabbed her three year old son and before she could say a word, he was stabbed. Her little girl clung to her bosom as the men reached out to either burn or stab her. All Tega could picture was the look in her husband’s eyes when she had caught him cheating in their bed. It was that look of repentance and shame.

© Fisayo Talabi March 2011

HE LOVES ME, I LOVE HIM NOT.

Fisayo Talabi

It’s August. Taiye is coming to Lagos tomorrow. I have just graduated, and awaiting my call up letter for NYSC. I could not say for certain, which particular emotion engulfed my heart. I just recall that I felt so much of a mixture of Love, anxiety, fear, and a certain uncertainty.

The last time I had seen Taiye, was on Skype, four nights ago. My Taiye was a handsome young man, quite alright, and  he worked as a Senior Internal Auditor in an Audit Firm in Luton, England. He had been in the UK for many years, though he studied for his first degree in Accounting in Nigeria. We met for the first time, three years ago, and our relationship was above a year now. When he comes home, it will be two years.

I had been online, replying Gloria’s message on my Facebook wall, when I saw a friend request pending. Taiye Beyioku. I clicked on the request. It was probably one of the many guys that had nothing better to do, than browse for pretty girls online. I was about deleting his friend request when his picture caught my eye. Now this was a Hunk! He had this smile that was worth billions, and the first thing I fell in love with was his blue bow tie, gently holding the collar of his John Fracombe shirt. Trust me, I know designers by merely looking at what you wear (though he later told me it was actually a John Fracombe when we started chatting.)  I accepted his request, and then, my life just got happier. We started chatting, and commenting on each other’s pictures, chatting on yahoo messenger, and when I got my Blackberry, it just made things a lot easier for us. We talked on Skype too, and every day, by 10PM, I turned on my Laptop religiously, to see his face on the screen.

Well, he started getting jealous first when I put up an old friend as my display picture on BBM. He said words like “i really did not know you had a boyfriend.”, “Maybe I should leave you to chat with your boyfriend.” You know how it goes. The feelings were already in the air, and it was obvious he was already deep with me. He asked me out, and yea, I know it seemed like a crazy idea, but I said yes. I had never seen my boyfriend face to face, but I knew he would be home soon, and we would make up physically for what we were limited to electronically.

I turned twenty four in July, and my mother was already breathing down my neck on bringing home a man. I really did not think telling her that I had a boyfriend whom I had never seen, was such a good idea. Even Gloria thought so too. She was the only friend I told about my internet boyfriend; because she was the only one I trusted as good enough, from all my other ‘eye-service’ friends. She was in London, for her Master’s Degree, and I thought it would not be a bad idea if she hooked up with Taiye, on one of her free days. However, she never had the time to. He had been bugging me already that he wanted to meet my friends. I remember that there was this huge fight we had last December. He had wanted to speak with my mother, but I did not let him. He had said I was ashamed of him, and I did not love him enough to introduce him to my family, and that I was probably thinking he was not serious with me. I have spoken with his twin brother, Kehinde, on different occasions. Kehinde worked in Abuja as an Events Planner so he was always busy, and we could not exactly see as often as Taiye wanted, due to circumstance.

Kehinde called just as I finished my last examination. I had not even seen his missed calls, because all my classmates were shouting, and screaming at the top of their lungs, in the Faculty basement. It was our tradition. Great Ife. We customised t shirts, and danced round the whole school, in celebration of the Genesis and Revelation of our five years as Civil Engineering students! The blast of D’banj’s “mo bo lowo won” overpowered my ring tone so I couldn’t hear my phone ring. He said he was coming to Ife to see me.

My heart pounded stubbornly, despite how I tried to make it cool down. It seemed it was going to jump right out of my chest! I was looking at this guy who was my boyfriend’s twin brother. My God, they were so identical! He had the same smile I saw on Taiye. For a minute I wished this was Taiye, so I could hug and kiss him as much as I longed to. I sat in his car seat, my mouth wide open but no words could make headway. Kehinde Beyioku just proposed to me on behalf of his brother. Where was this ever done?!

I have been wearing that beautiful ring on my finger, and Kehinde has been calling me over the phone very often. Lucky me; I had a very nice brother in law already.

At 4.30PM yesterday, Kehinde called me that he was on his way to the airport to wait for Taiye’s flight to land, so he could pick him up. They would come together to see me tomorrow, on the next flight to Lagos. I knew that my mother was suspecting something. She had seen my ring and had asked me who the lucky rich man was. I only laughed and told her that he would be coming soon.

Tomorrow has become today.

I’m sitting in a Red cab. I can’t hear what is on radio, even if it is on that funny Station where they speak Pidgin English. My heart is screaming so loud that my ears are blocked. I’m anxious. What will it be like finally seeing him? Just then, it occurred to me that I would be seeing both twin brothers——both identical twin brothers. Differentiating them would definitely not be a problem. If I couldn’t, at least Taiye would identify me.

There is a smile on my face as I stare at both Beyioku men. I can recognise Kehinde; after all, what woman would forget the face of the man that proposed to her? Taiye is standing tall, smiling at me, but I can’t really hug him as I thought I would, because he is standing with the support of his crutches. I was searching for his left leg but I could not find it. It just occurred to my brain to tell my eyes to shift gaze from his trousers, because it was rude. My boyfriend had just one leg. He was still smiling, and it seemed the plastic smile on my face just would not change. I eventually told my mother that my boyfriend was coming to see her from UK, and she had started preparing Lunch. What would I say to her now? I could not possibly take Taiye home. As we walked to the cab, I watched as he tried to walk. This was way too much for me.

“Don’t you think my Fiancée is looking smashing today?” he said in a British accent, to the cab man. Oh yea, he was proud of me, but I was proud of him NOT. Couldn’t I exchange Taiye for Kehinde? At least, it had been Kehinde who proposed to me.

Fisayo Talabi.

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