I was madly in love with her, not because she was the Ambassador’s daughter, but because she was just too down-to-earth
The Ambassador’s Daughter: A True Love Story in Tarabulous – Living In Libya Series | By Femi Omidiji
In the 90s, I took a trip across the Sahara to Libya. It was more of an adventure than seeking greener pastures. I’m going to cut the story short. After spending a few years in Libya, I met with Nigeria’s Ambassador’s daughter to Libya at the time through a diplomat who was posted to Tripoli in Libya.
The diplomat happened to be a family friend from way back. I went to visit them and met this dark, tall, Fulani beauty. I lost my composure immediately, and I sensed the feeling was mutual because she also couldn’t keep her eyes off me. As a fine young man at the time, I was just in my early 20s.
To cut a long story short, we got acquainted and started seeing each other. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life. Things got so deep between us, but there was this problem of tribe and religion. To me, I was ready to become anything for her sake because I was madly in love with her, not because she was the Ambassador’s daughter, but because she was just too down-to-earth, not caught up in material possessions, which perhaps could be because of her age.
At the time, tribe or even religion wasn’t an issue to her, but her folks were the issue, her mum especially. We thought of running away and getting married somewhere far away from her family, you know that youthful exuberance thing.
Her mum got to know about us, and that’s when my whole world came crashing before my eyes. A lot had happened before then, but I’m taking you somewhere. She was barred from going out alone. I got agitated, worried, and heartbroken. She felt the same way and had to confide in her uncle. She told him how she felt about me, that she just had to see me by all means.
So, her uncle would sometimes come with her so that we could quickly see each other for a few minutes, which was never enough. She came up with a plan, a very dicey one.
The Ambassador’s house is built by the seaside, the mansion facing the Mediterranean Sea in Tripoli, a three-storey building. The family lives on the last floor, while the other two floors are just furnished but not in use.
So, she sent her uncle to deliver a letter. In the letter, she asked that I come to the house late at night and wait around the park close to the house. When it gets dark, her uncle will bring me into the house and keep me in the second flat until midnight, so that we can spend the night together.
A dangerous plan, but Femi saw nothing wrong with it. I did as instructed. The Libyan guards stationed by the gate thought I was a member of the family when I was escorted into the building by her uncle. When it was around 12 am, my angel stepped into the room with her nightie, looking so yummy. Just imagine what happened because I’m not sharing the details.
We were together for hours until ‘kasala’ busted. Her younger sister woke up in the middle of the night to discover that her elder sister was not in bed. She alerted her mum, and the mum alerted the security.
My girl said, ‘Femi, we are in trouble.’ I quickly grabbed my jeans and t-shirt, put on my winter jacket, and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll escape.’ She asked how, and I said not to worry. Her uncle was worried, knowing the consequences of what would happen if I was caught. The mum didn’t know I was around. They were just worried about her whereabouts. Remember, I was on the second floor. No burglary. I spotted her uncle beckoning that I should jump, that he would catch me. He diverted the guards to the other side of the building. I dived, hung onto something before touching the floor unscathed. The next thing was to scale the fence. I did the same and took a plunge into the sea. I escaped without notice.
Just so you know, she’ll be reading this story…if you like, be looking for her, you will never be able to identify her. Yes, she is Fulani, and she was the love of my life.
I deliberately didn’t want to give you the precise year of this event so that you won’t go and Google the name of the Nigerian Ambassador to Libya at the time
…it was in the 90s though. Read More
