The Sweet Law of Karma!

Dear God,

My grandmother used to say: “When a goat decides to wander into the lion’s den, it must have made peace with death.”

It started simply enough. I had agreed to meet my dear friend Suzzie, a woman whose heart is big but whose senses often takes a stroll without her. We were supposed to talk—important things, mind you. But two whole hours had crawled past and no Suzzie.

That evening, I should have known. I sat at the Ikoyi club lounge— my patience peeling away one thin layer at a time — waiting for Suzzie, my ever-scatterbrained, well-meaning friend. I had glanced at my watch so many times I half expected it to tap me back in protest.

When Suzzie finally rushed in, dragging another lady by the hand, I blinked, trying to decide whether to hug her or hurl my bag at her head. Instead, I slapped on my best “Oh-welcome-dear” smile at the stranger and shifted my bombastic side-eye toward Suzzie. She caught it, raised her hands in surrender, nodding like a schoolgirl caught stealing meat from the pot. I knew that nod. That nod meant “You’re right, I’m wrong, but please don’t kill me just yet.”

The lady-stranger was all glitter, and gold. Shiny clothes, brand names screaming from every corner of her outfit, yet the aura around her smelled faintly of counterfeit — not her appearance though, but something deeper, some sort of off. Her gold bracelets clinked like guilty conscience, her eyes darted left, right, up, down—everywhere except straight. My spirit, the one that smells trouble from a million miles, was recoiling like a snake before fire. I wasn’t happy having her with us, but I let it slide.

However, when Suzzie turned, all sweetness, and started ordering lunch for our glittering companion without so much as a proper introduction or explanation as to why she kept me for hours, my blood began to simmer. (“Lord, if you don’t hold me now, I may kill someone today,” I muttered silently).

As I sat there, one leg flapping steadily, Suzzie (totally oblivious to my rising-storm temper) turned to Nancy and said, “Don’t worry, Nancy. They’ll get him, nothing will happen to you. You are safe here. Everything will be okay.”

Get who?

Happen to who?

I gave Suzzie the eye again. She shook her head, pleading with her gaze, but offering no explanations. If my mother were alive, she would have said, “When you see a chicken dancing in the middle of the road, know the drummers are in the nearby bush.” Something was drumming, and I didn’t like the sound of it.

Then Suzzie’s phone rang. It was her brother—the Assistant Commissioner of Police.

Now, when a Nigerian policeman calls you, you don’t need a prophet to tell you that wahala has entered the building.

From Suzzie’s hushed whispers, I caught enough to know the truth: Nancy was in deep trouble. Without ceremony, I picked my bag, flung some cash on the table, and made to leave. This wasn’t my idea of a hang-out. Let them fight their secret demons alone.

But Suzzie, that annoying angel, blocked my path with pleading eyes. Something in her eyes held me down — a desperate, silent plea. If there’s anything life and experience have taught me, it’s this: “Sometimes you don’t save the person, you save your friendship.” So, I stayed. Grudgingly.

I sighed, leaned back, and said, “Give me one reason why I should still be here, Aunty, and make it sound good”, I said meaningfully.

And so, the tale unravelled, spilling across the table like a cracked egg.

Nancy, it turned out, was married. Not the cute newlywed kind, no, married to an old, rich man who could barely walk without holding three rails and a helper. Despite this, she had everything. Oversaw all the man’s numerous businesses and had wealth at her beck and call. But greed, my dear, is a fire that eats everything in its path.

Instead of being grateful for a good life, Nancy went and found herself a “lover”: a sweet-talking Romeo with devil horns tucked under his cap. So, this Romeo promised her the world. “My wife has died; I love you; marry me,” he sang, and like a thirsty traveller stumbling onto a mirage, Nancy believed.

(If she has stopped at having a secret lover, maybe I could understand a bit. (No, Dad, I am not supporting adultery, please hear me out). All animals have needs and sometimes, the tingles in our body does not respect boundaries. So, if she had stopped at getting tingled, I may turn the other cheek (After all, we are all imperfect humans, right Dad?). But no, she went for the whole nine yards. She wanted to eat her cake and still have it).

And she started “preparing” for their future.

Preparing, you ask? Yep, she began siphoning her husband’s fortune—selling jewels, businesses, even some properties that wasn’t hers to sell. Together, Nancy and her Romeo opened a joint account. (Yes, you can imagine? Joint account with a fraudster? My mum would freely tell you that, “The grasshopper that Ogboko-the-bird killed was definitely deaf”).

As Nancy dreamed of maple trees in Canada, Romeo had other plans. He installed his real wife and children in Canada first, at the same house they had bought using Nancy’s stolen fortune. He told Nancy that, “That’s my sister stranded there,” and the poor girl nodded like an agama lizard.

Meanwhile, as the lies piled higher and higher, Nancy started noticing little things: unexplained withdrawals, shady moves, random payments, midnight secret calls.

When she asked questions, Romeo spun more lies until even he got dizzy with his lies. Eventually, seeing that Nancy was now pregnant, and growing restless with demands, he decided it was time to end it.

“When your secret starts growing teeth, you either tame it or it eats you,” my grandmother would have said. Romeo chose to tame his secret with murder.

He hired assassins. They botched the job. One was caught—and sang like Kenari the bird. Now Nancy was not just broke, pregnant, and betrayed; she was also a walking target.

I sat there, staring at her, my mouth tighter than a drum.

Empathy? (Nahin! Even the usual softness of my heart packed its bags and left). I couldn’t feel a moist of compassion for her. Because what was she looking for, if not her own downfall? What she had planned for her innocent old husband, was done to her.

Nancy sobbed relentlessly about losing her businesses, her home, her reputation (Does she really have one?). She wailed bitterly that her “prophet” had said God “blessed” her relationship with Romeo. I shook my head.

Which prophet? Which God? Dad, You? The same You she lied to and was sneaking around to betray her husband? (I can bet my life that the Prophet and the Romeo are related. If they can’t find Romeo, they should go for the Prophet. Ehen now!)

Dad, the truth is; when we abandon the road of truth and integrity and start following the crooked shortcuts, we will eventually meet the holy karma on that path.

As Suzzie’s brother arranged for Romeo’s arrest at the airport—trying to flee to Canada with another man’s sweat—I sat back and watched the glitter peel off Nancy’s face, revealing the raw, pitiful lost soul beneath. Poor Nancy, fuelled by lust, greed, and good old-fashioned foolishness, had planned to milk her husband dry, run away with the fraudster, and live happily ever after, but there was no happily ever after in her story.

I tried so hard to feel sorry for her. Maybe just a little as my heart nudged me that she could be purely a victim too. But all I saw was the wreckage of arrogance, greed, and moral decay.

That day, as I walked out of the club into the dying sunset, (of course, I left them there, before a stray bullet pick my ear) I reflected on the story: In Nancy’s world, the first fraud was her heart — believing she could betray loyalty without consequences. The second was her mind — thinking she could outsmart a crook when she herself had become crooked.

In this life, character is our only sustainable currency. No brand, no glitter, no smooth talk can replace good old integrity. Nancy wore labels but carried nothing of true value inside. Again, Nancy thought she was in control. She wasn’t. Her predator had been circling from the first ‘I love you.’

The worst part for me was the assassination attempt. (You see why I sometimes don’t understand you, Dad. So, you can afford to still save a fool like Nancy, but allow a good young girl (from the last story) die in a careless accident, right? I rest my case). So here we are, Aunty Nancy, broke, pregnant, hunted, and ranking high in the celestial court of foolish women.

As for my poor Suzzy? My dear scatterbrain. Her heart always leads her into trying to solve other people’s mess even when her brain struggles to process it. She thought that hiding Nancy in the club until the Romeo was apprehended would keep her save from her hunters…Maybe (she begged me to stay with them until they apprehend Romeo, but hell, No). I loved her more for it — but even she needed to learn: Some people need to carry the full weight of their shenanigans.

And my Lord? If Suzzie ever invites you to “just a quick catch-up,” Pray. Fast. And carry holy water. (You never know what kind of misplaced human she will drag along to join you).

This is your daughter, Lord, yes, no e

mpathy this time, and I am checking in.