After the End stands as a fine blend of real-life dilemmas and the daily struggles of love, trust, and betrayal; Olukorede Yishau has done an excellent job bringing these themes to life.
By Precious Nzeakor
I have been informed of the media’s propensity to victimise women and villainise their male counterparts. We have seen this in the pages, scenes, and lyrics that call men out on their brutality, infidelity, and sometimes their mere disconnect from humanising women. On one side is always the egocentric, dictatorial male, and on the other side is a female phoenix ready to rise in all her glory and power.
I read the blurb of After the End by Olukorede Yishau and thought, “Again?” But no. Not again. This time, we are taken on a journey of betrayal, trauma, forgiveness, and rebuilding. After the End’s cover immediately confronts readers with its raw content.
For most book covers that prioritise quality and vibrancy over meaning and storytelling, this cover sets the stage for what is to come. The woman illustrated on the cover occupies a significant space, signifying her potential role as the lead character of the book.
Judging by her facial features, she appears to be middle-aged, likely of African descent. What captures my attention is her pensive side profile, and with the page torn into illusory pieces by jagged lines, I become aware of the probable chaos that awaits me.
The title written in red only further solidifies this assumption. I discovered that the character on the book cover is Idera. Idera has just lost her husband, Demola, to the sudden grip of death. This new life she must embark on sits rather unpalatable in her throat and mind. An even more difficult reality she must confront is the truth of her husband’s infidelity and double life.
Fondly calling him “Google”, she had discovered he was keeping a second family—a wife he had married in Nigeria traditionally, long before he met her. Does this make her the other woman? Had he ever truly loved her, or had he just married her for spousal aid to secure UK citizenship? Idera cannot decide what hurts more—never getting answers to these questions or the venomous sting of what those answers might reveal.
A recurring theme in After the End, as previously mentioned, is the incorrigible, irresponsible husbands and the scorned wives who struggle to survive for the sake of their children or die trying. However, perhaps a more socially alarming issue is that these families often end up being managed by single parents, particularly by mothers.
This opens up children from such homes to uncertain and most times imbalanced upbringings. Olukorede Yishau tries his best to paint a vivid picture of this dilemma to his readers. The boy who stabs Tunmi, Idera and Demola’s first son, is raised by an only mother.
Although he has father figures in uncles, a grandfather, and teachers, his sole role model is his older cousin. Although it is not explicitly stated in the novel, his motivation for the attack may be linked to his desire to impress this cousin.
When Idera realises she needs a positive male role model to help raise her son, she enlists her ex-lover, Justus, to support Tunmi. Suliat, Idera’s best friend, who is raising her son alone, works hard to ensure he stays connected with his father. Even Demola finds a father figure in the dad of his first wife Lydia early on in his life.
After the End finds itself balanced on the precipice of hetero-setting but never once tips over. There is a slithering smoothness with which Olukorede Yishau moves from Lagos to the United Kingdom and back to Lagos, all the while juggling different time frames and perspectives.
A rather popular topic that is addressed is one of cultural discrimination and bullying. When Idare finds out that her son is being bullied by his classmates, of the same cultural background as his, no less, she handles the situation with grace and the fervour of a mother willing to do anything to protect her child.
Yet, this is a topic that we continue to have over and over. Whether it is interracial or intraracial, bullying is a painfully sad act that shouldn’t occur, and the author makes his stance clear on the topic.
Demola’s character is the most complex in After the End. The immediate reaction from readers may be to despise him for his lies, deceit, and the unsettling ease with which he maintains a double life for ten years. However, as the narrative delves into the reasons behind his actions, while these insights may not lessen our dislike for him, they do help us to understand him better.
Demola, too, comes from a dysfunctional family, having watched his father choose another family over him and his mother. His conscious effort to avoid becoming like his father ironically pulls him deeper into the same cycle, ultimately leading him to repeat his father’s exact mistakes.
A mirror look into Demola’s thoughts also allows us for the first time to explore the concept of infidelity from the perpetrator’s point of view. The uncertainty of his decisions and the struggles between right and wrong are palpable.
While most of his motives are clearly coming from a displaced place, he shows that there are no good or bad people in this story, only people who make bad decisions, and that after the end comes wonderful beginnings.
A rather interesting parallel drawn in After the End is how, despite how much Idera claimed to have loved Demola and her marriage with him, she had kept the letters from Justus from decades ago.
This raises the question of whether there is a fine line between where love ends and infidelity begins, further reinforcing my view that these matters are more complex than they appear.
In the end, everything unfolds for a reason. The events following Demola’s sudden death and the revelation of his infidelity do not shatter those involved. Instead, each moment blends into the next, creating a symphony of resilient characters, budding romance, and a new, hopeful beginning. Idera recognises this in her letter to Demola in the final chapter.
Olukorede Yishau is loud with his writing. Despite being a relatively short book, so many important topics are covered. Yet, they don’t feel rushed or forced, and all the characters experience dainty character spurts.
Yishau might have told a rather common story, but he does so with a unique mastery and touch. After the End stands as a fine blend of real-life dilemmas and the daily struggles of love, trust, and betrayal; the author has done an excellent job bringing his perspectives to life.
Precious Nzeakor might be a medical student, but her career path has not taken away her strong passion for the arts, whatever form it may take.