Waves Aligning

by Adaora O

  “Miss Chinny, Miss Chinny! Why am I always the last one to get home?” the little girl asked. Chinny rolled her eyes in exaggerated exasperation and dug into her reserves for an acceptable answer.

  “Well Eni, it is because I like to stay with you the longest.”

  “Why?” Eni pressed. Chinny laughed because she expected the ‘why’ question. The little princess on her afternoon cruise seemed quite pleased when she learnt that she always got home last because she was not just beautiful but also special, and Chinny liked to show her off to many more people. The rest of the trip went on in relaxed silence with Chinny lost in thought and Eni, who now tired of sightseeing, nestled to her side and fast asleep. As soon as Mrs Badmus sighted the truck, she put away the eggs she had just collected from the cage, rinsed her hands under the tap beside her poultry cage and carried the sleeping child into the house, all at whirlwind speed. While Chinny waited for Mrs Badmus to come back out, she dusted off the sand and grass that had accumulated in her truck or ‘cart’ as she liked to call it. Eniola’s mother thanked Chinny as she handed her the due fare. Chinny bade the woman goodbye and hurried home. Peppered fish soup for dinner hung in the balance.

  On wheeling into the compound, Chinny spotted her father washing the Volkswagen car he called his ‘jewel’. After his wife, his children and four-bedroom bungalow, in that order, it was the fourth-best thing to happen to him. While still in the middle of furnishing the bungalow to taste and negotiating to share a plot of land in the city with a friend, where he would build another bungalow, Dede suffered redundancy from work. He vacated the official apartment he previously occupied with his family in the city and returned to an unfinished bungalow in Abotiti village. Her husband’s redundancy meant an automatic halt of Ama’s contract of supplying lunch at the railway company. Dede’s head of department never forgave her for beating his wife in the ‘taste and bid’ exercise, which delivered the contract into her hands in the first place. She admired her husband’s strength through that period and supported him while they made the best of what life dumped on them – an unfinished bungalow could not be compared to Dede’s father’s dilapidated house.

  Chinny greeted her father and parked her cart beside the house. She moved gingerly to avoid the water running down the concrete floor as her father scrubbed away at the wheels of his car. “How are the famous four?” Dede asked, wanting to know how his daughter’s day went. He once referred to Chinny’s current student-passengers as the ‘famous four’ and the alias had stuck since then. Chinny liked the sound of the name. She let out a soft chuckle and told him her passengers were doing great. In one quick move, Chinny removed the duvet from the cart to reveal the wooden structure. She got a big bowl from the back of the house and fetched some water with the hose her father was using. The hose easily became his makeshift pressure washer by pressing his thumb over half of the pipe’s opening. Adding some detergent from the pack lying beside the tap into the bowl of water, Chinny submerged the duvet, all the while humming a happy tune. After pulling the now heavy bowl to the side of the house, right beside the cart, she went into the kitchen through the back door to prepare dinner. She was done cutting the fish into thin slices when she remembered something. She washed her hands and cleaned them on the back of her denim trousers. From the chest freezer, Chinny took out six sachets of drinkable water, popularly called ‘pure water’. For those who considered bottled drinkable water to be on the unreachable side of the living standards divide, ‘pure water’ presented a more affordable alternative.

  She often questioned the purity of ‘pure water’ and wondered if they would become cheaper if the word ‘pure’ did not appear on the sachets and they were just called ‘water’. They were all frozen rock-hard. She rinsed off a bowl and dropped all six sachets into it, hoping they thawed out before dinner.

  They still did not own a refrigerator which, truth be told, currently sat pretty near the bottom of their priority list of things to buy. Eternally grateful for the chest freezer they got as their tenth-year wedding anniversary gift from Mr and Mrs Clarke, the Onas had come to accept freezing and thawing water in sachets as a fixture in preparation for meal times in their home. Chinny went back to cleaning the fish with some salt. She spiced it and put it on the stove to cook.

  Not one to leave a meal lonely, she peeled the pineapple fruit sitting in the improvised pantry which Dubem and her father had carved out of the passageway leading from the kitchen to the backyard. Since it was a wide enough passage, they fixed some wooden shelves to the wall where fruits, onions, yams, potatoes and bottles of cooking oil were stored.

  Right after Chinny set the plate of diced pineapple on the dining table, she went into her bedroom where her biology textbook caught her attention. Before long she became captivated by the illustration of the life cycle of the butterfly. It made sense to Chinny for the first time. After all these years, it occurred to her that the pupa, while appearing dormant, must have put a lot of effort into developing, and even more determination and hard work into cracking its hard shell before emerging as the most beautiful spectacle of creation. The sound of a door opening and closing startled Chinny out of her analytical journey.

  She came out to the sitting room to see her mother walk in, with her father following closely. Ama looked beautiful and radiant in an orange-coloured print dress, fitted at the top but flared from her waist, all the way down to play around her ankles. False buttons ran from her neck to her mid-section, which held no tell-tale signs of childbirth, and her full hair stood tamed in one bunch by a matching hair tie. She looked gorgeous. Although it suited Ama to wear her hair in its natural form, Chinny could not boast of being endowed with her mother’s hair genes. While Ama’s hair came extra soft from infancy, her daughter was not quite as fortunate and therefore, had no real reason for her refusal to take the easy way out of simply stretching her hair. She was only being a mimic. But after one year of the sheer pain of combing through tough knots, thanks to her father’s coarse creeper-plant-type hair, Chinny decided she had made her point of being proudly black and African. She would let her skin shade do the rest of the point-making.

  “Welcome Nne’m,” Chinny greeted her mother. Their cheeks touched briefly in that affectionate way. They were now about the same height. Ama handed her daughter the solid corn pudding wraps, popularly called agidi, which she had bought. Soon after, they settled down to dinner. This typified Chinny’s typical day – nothing out of the ordinary. Just the plain old daily grind, save for the mounting excitement that welled up inside her. In a couple of months, she would sit for her general certificate examination. She registered to take the examination as a private student since she was self-schooled. All through the years, Chinny schooled herself with the aid of the books and past question papers that Ejiofor handed down to her and now considered herself ready to sit the examinations.

  Easter was here again. Chinny opened the door to see Ejiofor standing on the porch with a huge grin. She squealed as they locked in a bear hug. It was twenty-five minutes after six in the evening and Dede sat relaxed on the porch, eating a plate of roasted breadfruit after he was done washing his Volkswagen Beetle. Ejiofor did not look bad for a twenty-year-old. He had become the bloke every girl wanted to associate with. It did not pose such a tough ride for him because he had evolved into a courteous and diplomatic young man. He related well with almost everyone, possessing the unique ability to compartmentalise each one. There were the social friends – the ones he exchanged birthday cards and graduation party invites with. The academic friends – he interacted with these ones on an intellectual level, but some of them managed to slide into the social friends’ section. He had his close friends’ compartment. This was for the friends who were even closer than his immediate family. With these friends, he shared his hopes, fears, dreams, joys and tears. This compartment had housed just one person for as long as he could remember. Ejiofor often referred to Chinny as his twin who lost her way at
conception.

  The friendship between Chinny and Ejiofor promoted a strong and cordial relationship between the two families, the benefits of which the Onas could not help but feel were tipped in their own favour, as they could afford to show the Clarkes no more than kindness when the occasion demanded. The only times the Onas felt any sense of accomplishment about their relationship with them were when they were able to gather fruits, plantains and fire-smoked fish for the Clarkes’ journey back to Enugu after their Christmas or Easter break in the village.

  Ejiofor and Chinny had been talking for a while when Chinny remembered the white yam she set on the stove to boil and ran off to the kitchen to check on it. Ejiofor followed her and watched as she pierced the yam with a fork to check that it was cooked. She strained the water from the pot before sprinkling a dash of salt on the boiled yam. “Is Dubem around?”

  Chinny hesitated but answered, “No. He sent word that he had school work to catch up on. I think he flunked most of his papers last term. I guess it will have to be till Christmas.” Her voice was rushed as she tried hard to hide her almost spilling emotions.

  “What will the yam go with?” Ejiofor tried to cut through the mounting tension.

  “Beef stew.” Chinny took the clue, happy to evade the beckoning arms of gloom as she opened the smaller pot sitting on the second burner to reveal the stew.

  In the mood for some friendly banter, Ejiofor asked, “Who made this stew? And no lies.”

  With her right hand on her hip, a slight tilt of the head and a smirk, Chinny retorted, “What exactly are you playing at?” She pulled him to her father for a testimony of her culinary mastery.

  Dede, who since doing justice to his snacks now sat in the living room, listening to the evening news, could not help his amusement at their banter but was quick to inform Ejiofor that contrary to his assertion that Chinny could only boil eggs and yams, she knew her onions when it came to cooking skills. Pleased at the testament, even though Ejiofor said he still needed another witness before he could change his opinion, Chinny curtsied and took her leave with the gait of a peacock. The smile on Dede’s face stayed on, long after the duo bantered back to the kitchen. He admired their long-standing friendship and wondered if it was the forever kind. His old head did not allow him the comfort of the delusion that their class gap would not ultimately widen beyond scope if he was not able to give his daughter the fighting chance she deserved. Amidst talk about Ejiofor’s upcoming admission to the university, Chinny washed while Ejiofor rinsed the used pots and utensils.

  Ama walked in and Ejiofor genuflected with a slight bend of his head and back. “Good evening ma.”

  “Eji, welcome. When did you return?” Ama’s voice exuded fondness as she patted him gently on his lowered back.

  Ejiofor beamed. “Late this afternoon ma.” They barely sat down in the sitting room when the doorbell chimed. It was Ejiofor’s younger sister, Zara, who had come with news of their Uncle Iyke’s arrival.

  As a project engineer, Iyke, Ejiofor’s maternal uncle, worked with Drendon Petroleum. He specialised in building off-shore oil facilities for the world-class indigenous upstream and downstream company. With operations in various parts of Africa, North America and Europe, Iyke suffered countless transfers within and outside Africa.

  Ejiofor promised to see Chinny the following day. He bade the Onas goodnight and skipped off to see his uncle. The last time they shook hands was two Easters ago.

  A brand-new sports utility vehicle parked behind his father’s car stood in impenitent splendour. Ejiofor wondered if his uncle had sold his old sports car before he acquired the impressive piece of work now on his father’s patio. There is no stopping Uncle Iyke and his machines, he thought. In the house, the two men exchanged a firm handshake before locking in a hug. After dinner, everyone sat back to chat. Iyke talked about the new project keeping him busy at work. It was the construction of a compressed natural gas plant and a lot of work was involved. The project required his physical presence, especially at the preliminary stages where concrete thickness, pipe diameters and strict adherence to general structural designs needed tight supervision. Zara hung onto Iyke’s every word while he talked about work. This did not come as a surprise to anyone since she intended to follow her uncle’s professional path.

  “Wow! It sounds like a lot of work, but fun all the same,” she gushed, her eyes glassy with excitement.

  “Yes,” Iyke affirmed and continued. “It also means I must leave my base in Lagos for Bayelsa at least two times every month. I hope the project’s life cycle is not stretched.” But setbacks and undue hitches in Iyke’s project were welcome to Chiaka Clarke, his sister. She hoped that they made her brother stay in Nigeria for as long as possible. She believed his closeness to home would end his ‘single and actively searching’ status. Iyke was thirty-two years old and Chiaka thought her younger brother was long overdue for marriage.

  Later at night, after everyone else lay fast asleep in their beds, Iyke and Ejiofor settled down with a bowl of peanuts to watch Indecent Proposal. For no palpable reason other than perhaps in the spirit of ‘movie-night’ comradeship, Iyke confided in his nephew that he looked forward to shuttling between Lagos and Bayelsa. “I know that feeling! Exploring unfamiliar places, food, cultures… You know I should pay you a visit sometime and experience Bayelsa too. Never been there.” Ejiofor’s excitement shone through his rushed words and high-pitched whisper. Iyke nodded in agreement and added that shuttling between the two states also meant he could ‘live free’ in Bayelsa. The younger Mr Clarke shifted in his chair, gave his uncle a piece of advice and resumed giving the movie on the screen his full attention.

  Iyke experienced a failed relationship four years ago, which slowly turned his once soft and naïve heart into an ugly chunk of ice. Even as Ejiofor told his uncle again that living free mapped out a dark slippery road to destruction, he saw the futility in his effort since his past pleas did nothing to stop countless innocent girls from paying for the hurt caused by another. Movie night ended at thirty minutes to midnight. Before Iyke went to his room, he told his nephew to strive to get it right the first time if he could. He believed that was Ejiofor’s only ticket out of the looming ‘mud-fight’ for his heart. His tone dripped with solemnity.

  Towards the end of breakfast time on Good Friday, Iyke was nowhere to be found around the house. Zara said she saw him go out on a stroll. Bemused at the prospect of strolling in the village so early in the morning before breakfast, Ejiofor walked out in search of him. He could not have gone far. I’ll just look around the compound, he thought. His uncle was nowhere in sight, so he thought to peek outside the gate and was taken aback when he saw him talking with Chinny a few metres away. Waving cheerfully at Chinny, he made the eating gesture, mouthing food to his uncle who wrapped up his chat in a heartbeat to head back to the house.

  In the evening of the same day, Chinny ran into Ejiofor at her father’s gate. He had just left her house after being informed that she was not home. They began walking to Ejiofor’s gate amid their usual chit chat. He asked if she was done reviewing the past question papers he gave to her. When she said she was, a rather pleased Ejiofor certified her examinations as good as successful. He then asked to know the date for her first paper. “I think sometime in October,” came her uncertain answer. “You think?” Ejiofor scoffed. “Chinny, are you sure you want to make this happen?”

  “I am, Ejiofor, but you know sometimes, the reality facing me is overwhelming.”

  Ejiofor appeared irritable. “What is this reality my dear Miss Ona?”

  Chinny tried to put her thoughts into words. “Well… I … You know, even if I sit for and pass my examinations, the money to do much with my certificate would not be available and that would just kill me.” Ejiofor let out a snicker but looked contemplative.

  “Secondly,” Chinny continued, “People would find out I did not attend any secondary sc
hool… It would look like… like I got my certificate through the back door.” Still no word from Ejiofor whose head now dipped further in thought. “Ehen,” she went on, “Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I also think that if I pass all my papers, it may put my parents under undue strain and guilt. Like the other day, I heard my father telling my mother of the bright idea he had, to make sure I went to a university. Guess what the idea was Eji? To sell his Volkswagen and timber shed! Thank God, my mother talked him out of it. She told him that whatever proceeds he got would not be nearly enough for my schooling and that his actions would effectively leave the whole family out in the cold – not enough to keep the family running and not enough to send Dubem and I to school.”

  Ejiofor had shutters over his eyes and seemed far away, but he returned with a bang. His words made Chinny bend over in loud and long laughter. “What was your discussion with Iyke about this morning?” he asked.

  “E-ji-ofor! How did I not see that coming?” Chinny’s voice rang out in humour. When her friend refused to share in her humour, she informed him that they had only been talking about her school plans. He wanted to know if she still intended to take the next GCE and had, on a lighter note, asked if the marriage proposals had started rolling in. “It was just a harmless friendly chat!” she chided in between bursts of laughter. By this time, Chinny and Ejiofor were back at the entrance to Chinny’s compound. They stood in conversation for a while and started to walk back towards Ejiofor’s home. They did this mostly when they had a lot to talk about.