ZIK ZULU OKAFOR’S “THE MARRIAGE AND DEATH OF SAINT OBI”
Read Time:6 Minute, 23 Second
By Adeniyi Onaara
His social life has been hampered. Perhaps because of his reserved demeanor.His persona is only two dimensional. To a faraway audience, he appeared posh and cool. His macho demeanor spoke volumes. His movie persona ironically accentuated some eccentricities; heroics, romantic adventures, and traits that clashed with the mortal privacy that hauntingly defined his silent and lonely life.
Obinna Nwafor, the real name of Saint Obi, was shy, verging on timidity and insecurity. He appreciated the peaceful interactions amongst a few friends. He would disappear at any outburst that could destabilize such small gatherings. He only wanted to live a cool, quiet, and contented life, as he often informed me.
But has he lived the cool, contented life he imagined? I have my reservations.
I narrate Saint’s story with painful tears in my eyes because he was a celebrity, a super star whose life ended out ironic.
However, it was his celebrity that brought him his ostensibly wealthy and powerful wife. And their wedding, that solemn ceremony of love, would significantly alter the course of his life, fatally removing him from the creative community that had thrown him up for the wife to catch and conquer.
At best, their marriage was a dramatization of love. It happened quickly. He barely mentioned that he had found a wife. Then there was the wedding. It had a certain magic to it, Only those involved were aware of the histrionics that took place. None of his closest friends, who traveled with him through the crucible to the pinnacle of his Nollywood career, were invited.
The separation between us and the man I aptly dubbed Saint of the Storm had begun. This chasm would grow wider with each passing year. We saw him maybe once a year after the marriage.
And life seemed to have dealt him a fair shake of the dice. He dressed nicely, drove big automobiles, and even his skin spelled wellness in literal terms.
Three lovely offspring would be bestowed onto the Saint. But not once were his Nollywood pals invited to his christening or birthday.
We were told that his wife was at the top of the MTN hierarchy. Even if their celebrations were intended to be a gathering of the elites of the technocracies to which his wife primarily belonged, you expected Saint to reach out to a few of his fellow creatives, because even if they heralded his humble beginnings, there could be no sense of shame in it because we all have our own journeys and stories.
Even so, the actor or cineaste in Nollywood is far from poor.
But, more tragically, Obinna’s marriage separated him not just from his friends, but also from Nollywood. Saint has ceased acting, walked away from his profession and possibly his calling. It now appears prognostic. Yes, since I recall leaving my Lagos Mainland home for his enormous office in Lekki, Victoria Island, Lagos. It had been roughly six years. I sought to know why my friend had left our industry. With his customary bashful demeanor, he told me that he intended to focus on other enterprises as well as work behind the camera.
Because his face did not convince me, I informed him flatly that despite his new vision and aspirations, he could not quit the trade that made him who he was.
Saint returned to his homies after another three years. But once he did, Some of the dejected people sniggered behind him. This was because rumors of fissures in his marriage had reached him.
And, despite his penchant for secrecy, he felt it was time to let his guard down. And he did it. “I’m not sure why my wife’s siblings regard me as a gold digger. In my own marriage, they confront, harass, and fight me. My wife did nothing to prevent them. I work hard for my money. “I’ve never relied on my wife,” he moaned, his eyes glazed with sorrow.
You could see he was in a lot of agony. The Saint returned the following time with a serious knife wound on his left eye. He claimed that his wife’s brothers, attacked him by scaling their house’s wall barrier. He revealed that they were filmed by covert closed-circuit television, or CCTV, which was installed for surveillance and security.
He reported them to the police station and then bought a rifle to defend himself.
This effectively signalled the beginning of the end of his marriage and, possibly, the conclusion of Saint Obi’s lengthy journey to a sad end. He relocated from his marital home to a new residence to begin the reconstruction of his future, alone without his wife and, worse, without his three lovely children.
Meanwhile, Saint declared firmly that his wife went to the police to defend her siblings, using her financial position to corrupt the cause of justice. The wife also filed for divorce outside of Lagos, but in the state of Ogun. “It was to make the journey difficult for me,” Saint explained.
But I’m not going to bend or break. I will fight to the death for custody of my children. They adore me and understand how difficult it will be for me to live without them.The divorce is unimportant. “My marriage has long been over,” he remarked with courage and a trembling heart that revealed his pain.
Obinna, on the other hand, fell ill towards the middle of last year. But he didn’t tell anyone. He simply disappeared. We would subsequently find that he was in and out of the hospital. He sold two of his three large SUVs to take care of his health and to buy six Camry vehicles for Uber. However, his deteriorating condition persisted unabated. As he sobbed for not seeing his children, he seemed to have a premonition of his own death.
He was malnourished. Life painted a bleak image. When I happened to see him in January 2023, he looked 15 years older than his age. His manly cut was getting smaller. His large wallet had vanished. Only his strong will remained. His eyes appeared to be stuck in their sockets. This would be my last encounter with him.
Saint slipped out of Lagos to visit his sister in Jos. He didn’t tell anyone.
However, a month ago, in April, the once charming actor who brought joy to many a home broke his icy silence. He called a mutual buddy in the United States to deliver a dreadful message. He said he was dying and asked our friend to pray for him. “It’s not looking good,” he pleaded, “pray, pray for me.”
His next phone contact was on May 1, 2023. This time to his mentor, Zeb Ejiro, OON, who made him a star with his productions. He told him, hesitantly, that he had three procedures but was still in the hospital in Jos. He declared once more that his situation was dire, that he is also in great sorrow because he was unable to visit his children. Nonetheless, he urged him not to inform anyone about his illness.
Such was the lonely trouper’s life as a creative recluse.
I was the first to learn of his death, which occurred late on Sunday, May 7. I called Zeb Ejiro after I confirmed it. “I have some very bad news for you, my brother, Zeb,” I said. “What is it, what is it?” he inquired, his voice trembling. “A big star in Nollywood has fallen.” Zeb burst into tears. I hadn’t mentioned who it was. But now, helplessly sobbing, he replied, “Don’t tell me it’s Saint Obi.” Regrettably, he was correct. May his soul rest in peace.
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