by Adaora O
“The Clarkes… the Clarkes, they are wicked people. All my plans. Hmm, wicked, heartless, back-stabbers. The Clarkes. Why did I not smell this a mile away?” Lost for words and unable to understand her mother’s rant, Chinny sat on her parents’ bed and listened to her father’s attempt at explaining Ama’s distress.
Struggling to put her thoughts into words, she forced her tongue off the roof of her mouth. “Why would Mr Clarke knowing how life-defining this opportunity was so callously rob us of it? Are our challenges not enough? Could it be that they delight in our lack? What would it profit them? A sense of importance and superiority over us?”
The gloom in the bedroom lay heavy over the Onas. It took a long while for Ama’s tears to stop flowing but stop they did. Dede begged his wife to glean her lessons from the incident and move on with life. He appreciated her for the surprise she wanted to throw at him but reminded her that he remained as traditional as it got and had no intent on abdicating his God-bestowed responsibility to care for his family. His past shortcomings notwithstanding, Dede vowed to work his fingers to the bones doing just that. He took her two hands in his.
“I am onto something Ama. Please be patient with me. Let us find Dubem first. I will do right by you. I have a twig and with it, I intend to swim us all to shore. Do not let the tricks played on us by life rob you of the faith you once had in me.” Ama and Chinny clutched to Dede’s every word. Almost certain she had been living with an impostor, Ama stopped short of asking her husband at what point he left, for she felt as though her real husband just returned home after a long journey. She regretted ever thinking more highly of Mr Clarke than her Dede, who possessed a pure heart, compassion and honesty – qualities she believed were alien to many and most undeniably Mr Clarke.
*
Renewed hope filled the hearts of the Onas as they ate breakfast and got ready to go to church. It was a long sermon on ‘Guarding against false doctrines’. A sudden scarcity in fuel sent all the tricycles into hiding and the Onas had no option but to endure the long trek home. “One never knows when petrol scarcity will strike in this country,” Dede grumbled as he trod along. After a lunch eaten in silence, Chinny informed her mother that she was off to pay Adaiba a visit. Ama began to disapprove but stopped.
“Okay, take the key to the back door because I may go out,” Ama called after her daughter.
Barely able to control the bubbles in her stomach, Chinny walked the few kilometres leading to her cousin’s house. With Chief Utah’s address no longer unknown, they could begin their search for Dubem as early as the next morning. She only hoped Adaiba had not developed cold feet, also known as common sense.
*
Monday had Dede up bright and energised. He donned a pair of black trousers and a short-sleeved plain brown shirt with a matching striped brown long tie. Looking every inch the executive he used to be many years ago, Ama could not hide her admiration. “Who are you going to impress at Udu town? Certainly not Oliseh,” she joked. Dede was amused but grateful for his wife’s humour, given how much she cried through the night.
Muttering something to her mother about seeing Adaiba and running some errands, Chinny rushed out of the house. Ama naturally thought Chinny’s rush had to do with her inability to supply beef cuts the day before. Husband and wife left the house, Dede for Udu town, to confirm if Oliseh filed for a missing person at the Udu police station and Ama to the yam flour factory for a follow-up meeting. She returned home discouraged. The farm manager wanted an out-of-office arrangement that would create an enabling environment for the discussion of the terms of her yam supply contract. For Ama, a dense haze covered the true meaning of the terms he referred to, but she almost gagged when she thought about the possibilities.
On getting closer to the house, Ama cast an angry glance at the Clarkes’ gate as she passed by, but constrained by her husband’s prior appeal to glean her lessons and shun confrontation, she continued home. As she turned the key in the lock to let herself into the house, her hands began to shake with uncontrollable anger. Turning the key back in the opposite direction and re-locking the door, she stomped off to confront Mr Clarke. God help him if he is home, she thought.
Ama could taste the bile as she drew closer to her neighbour’s gate. Revolted at the audacity of the so-called wealthy, she concluded that most of their success could only be attributed to the backstabbing and cheating they unleashed on their unsuspecting victims. She recoiled at Mr Clarke’s sheer callousness. The savage lived next door for eighteen years, watching us grind and struggle through life, extending a hand occasionally, but waiting with the patience of a predator for our chance at a headstart before viciously pouncing and tearing into thin shreds the very thread of hope I kept in his custody, she screamed in her head. By the time Ama got to the gate, she rained loud bangs upon it and paused for the response, which was not forthcoming. Her repeated assault on the gate received no response other than the quizzical stares from passers-by. Blinded by rage, Ama had not noticed the huge padlock that kept the gate under lock from the outside. Realising her folly, she let out a dry laugh, wondering what to do with all her pent-up fury. She made to return home to wait for Dede when a shrill cry pierced through the stillness of the fast-disappearing morning.
Against her better judgment, Ama lingered to know what the cry was about but became alarmed when the shrill cry was followed by noise that sounded more like the hum of a thousand bees. With her eyes trained on the direction of the sound, she began to walk half-backwards to her house in quick clumsy steps. The sound drew closer and Ama realised that the hum was not from a thousand bees but from a stampede. She could hear indistinct chants, the sound of shattering glass and sticks snapping. No longer in need of further persuasion to run for her dear life, Ama turned to flee at the same time she spotted a boy, not more than ten years old, holding a red handkerchief to his forehead and running towards her. Dread filled Ama at the thought of a mob angry enough to cause such stark terror in the eyes of a little boy. She did a full 180-degree turn and fled to her house with the speed of an untamed squirrel.
Out of breath but safely tucked in her house, she peered through her window, over her dwarf fence at the mob in the distance and blinked back her surprise when she found that it comprised not only miscreants but young men and women whom anyone would think usually ate cake and drank tea for breakfast. Ama could see the little boy, out of breath as he ran, casting a helpless look at her house. The mob had almost closed in on him and within that window where motherly compassion takes over self-preservation, Ama turned the lock, slid the door open a fraction and beckoned to the boy. Blind fear gave the little boy extra speed and as Ama helped him up her porch, someone called out her name. She looked up to see none other than Mr Clarke and almost succumbed to the tempting urge to slam the door in his face. He deserves whatever they do to him and even more, Ama thought, but the thread of conscience that strongly held her subconscious in place tugged hard at her, so she let him in. Once in the house, Ama took a better look at the boy and froze. The red handkerchief used to be white but was turned into a piece of blood-drenched cloth by the big gash on the child’s forehead. She asked him if he knew what sparked the stampede and the boy, obviously still terrified, narrated what he knew. A sports-utility vehicle knocked down and killed a woman and her two toddler children. Vandalising all nice-looking cars and houses, the mob began a march against the mindless speed with which 'the rich' drove their big cars around. As the protesters smashed the window of a vehicle, a stray glass fragment gashed the young lad’s forehead. Worried about her husband and children, Ama’s depression almost grew arms and legs.
Mr Clarke stood by the door since Ama refused to offer him a chair and began to condemn the recklessness of drivers but Ama halted him in a voice she hardly recognised as her own. “You will please keep your opinions to yourself, Mr Clarke. You are in no position to point accusing fingers. I let you into my house not because of our enviable n
eighbourly relationship but because it is required of me by conscience to always do what is right.” To Ama’s increased anger, Mr Clarke feigned surprise at her less than courteous response to him. Now in front of Ama’s house, the mob appeared to be having a tough time deciding on whether to unleash havoc on her house or not. All three froze in fear but relaxed moments later when the mob, still chanting, moved on to more beautiful houses. It took a long time before gun shots rang through the neighbourhood, for as had become expected of the police, they only showed up after considerable damage had been wreaked. The tranquillity, though welcome, was laced with bales of suspicion. They were still contemplating whether to remain behind doors or not when Mr Clarke’s mobile phone rang out. He cast an embarrassed glance at his unwilling host and hastily picked up the call.
“Hello Lance… Yes, I am home… I parked my car at the police station. Well not really… No but I am pretty close. We had an incident in the neighbourhood, so you must be cautious… Oh, thank goodness… It depends on where you are coming from… Only three houses away… All right. I will stand outside. You will see me just before you get to my house. Bye bye.”
After his call, Mr Clarke informed Ama that according to his friend, the demonstrators had been dispersed. He hurriedly apologised for the way things went with her business proposal, explaining that all three organisations thought her lease charges were too high and would have cancelled the contract altogether if he had not stepped in with an offer almost half her cost. He thanked her for allowing him into her home, shielding him from the rioters. “I hope to make it up to you one day soon,” he finished. Disgusted at his lame explanation, Ama chose not to dignify his short speech with a response and stared the other way as he left her house. Although a lot calmer, the little boy still held the bloodied cloth to his forehead.
“Do you know where your parents are?” Ama asked. He told her that they were together minutes before the demonstration began but did not know which way they went when the chaos started. Ama hurried off to fetch some gauze, cotton wool, methylated spirit and iodine tincture to clean the cut. She tried to distract him with questions while she dabbed the wound.
“What is your name?”
“Arghhhhhhh… Chimdi!!!” yelped the boy, his eyes shut in pain.
“Chimdi, how old are you?”
“Ooowwww, eleveenn yeaarsss!!” Done cleaning, Ama was delighted to see that the gash did not go beyond the dermis. In Ama’s typical nature, she would have offered him something to eat but certain that the faster he got home, the earlier his parents’ worry abated, she ushered the boy to the door. On opening the door, Ama found her husband about to hit the doorbell. Relieved to have him back in one piece, she held him in a warm embrace as she bade the little boy goodbye. Thanking Ama and offering a greeting to Dede in quick succession, Chimdi skipped off to his home.
Once she shut the door, Ama rained questions on her husband. “So, what happened? Any news? Did Oliseh file at Udu police station? Did you see the demonstration?”
Dede waited for Ama’s stream of questions to stop before he responded. “Nothing happened. There is still no news and yes, Oliseh reported the case immediately. Dubem is still nowhere to be found.” Dede did not meet the demonstration. Disappointed that her husband brought back no news but thankful that he returned to her unharmed, Ama went on with her chores wondering why Chinny’s phone kept saying it was ‘switched off’ and hoped she also did not meet the demonstration. The spark in Dede’s eyes, even though he returned with no news about their son, got Ama thinking into the wee hours of the morning.
*
The praying mantis would have a hard time matching the speed with which Chinny’s eyes darted around with unbridled excitement. Item town looked nothing like Chinny’s hometown. Adaiba did not appear in the least affected by the bustle around her. Chinny asked if she did not find the town captivating and stared open-mouthed when her cousin informed her that she was not the only one saving up for school. Adaiba’s father did not have any plan to train her beyond secondary school, so she became creative. While her parents thought she trained to become a seamstress in a tailoring shop in Item town, Adaiba took up house-cleaning jobs on different days of the week with four clients. Over-the-rooftop happy for her cousin, Chinny resumed observing the wild hustle and bustle around her. “Abotiti town is nothing like this place. Item does not have the easy air we have,” Chinny mused. She had heard so much about the private university here and hoped for an admission to study the course of her choice one day. She wanted to become a genetic engineer but would need to study biochemistry as a first degree. The school’s high tuition being the only snag in her lofty dream, Chinny did not quit pushing but kept her dream and hope alive regardless – yes, that was Chinny Ona.
The bus stopped at the final park. They got down and boarded a tricycle, which took them to Itolo district. At Itolo district, getting another tricycle to the outskirts of the district where the villa was situated proved to be knotty as only very few people lived in the outskirts. So, Chinny and Adaiba sat in a tricycle to wait for two more passengers to board. The tricycle driver seemed well accustomed to the wait as he munched on his egg roll snack. Advising them to drink in a good dose of patience, he explained that the part of town they were headed to belonged to the rich few and that only some of their domestic staff who operated from home or who needed to run errands took the public transport.
The tricycle driver went to buy himself a sachet of cold potable water and the two young ladies settled in comfortable silence. After a while, Adaiba yawned, “So Chi, what exactly is the plan? From what I hear, I do not think that villa is a place we can just stroll into. I heard the gate is manned by heavily armed and uniformed security guards.” Chinny told her cousin about how she planned to persuade the chief to release her brother, much to Adaiba’s amusement.
“I really pray the man buys our story. But wait oo! Chi, are we even sure that Dubem is there? We just assumed by reading his note that he is still there. What if he left the place?”
Chinny became flustered. “Okay if he is not there, where else could he be?” she asked, expecting an answer. Wishing away the unpleasant thoughts crowding her head, she told Adaiba that their first step would be to locate the villa. “Chance or good luck should take care of the rest,” a yawning Chinny finished. Chinny accused her cousin of infecting her with her yawns. Adaiba let out a hearty laugh and forced her cousin to admit that hunger pangs also knocked on her stomach walls.
Chinny conceded. “Okay, let me find a quick snack to buy. I have some dried beef but that won’t do,” she chuckled and ran along, escaping the greedy hands of her cousin as she tried unsuccessfully to grab the bag with the beef cuts.
The lady with a tray of bread loaves caught Chinny’s eye. She watched in amusement as the bread seller expertly cut the bread in half, leaving a thin layer of crust to hold both halves, after which she lavishly splattered some baking fat in between before she sold each loaf. Bread should do, but without the butter, Chinny thought as she waded towards the bread seller. The last time Chinny ate bakery fat in the name of margarine, it felt like chewing on stale, solid oil. A man in the opposite direction clanged two metals. He stood in front of a book stand, calling on passers-by to buy books. Chinny looked back at her cousin in the almost-empty tricycle, cast a quick glance at the bread seller and decided she could make a dash for the book stand, get back to buy the bread and return to the tricycle in reasonable time.
The book stand stood a few feet away from where the tricycle was parked and Adaiba had been intermittently stretching her neck in the vain hope of seeing Chinny return with something to eat. She would never have known that her cousin dearest now stood engrossed in a book titled Improving Your Public Speaking Skills. As Chinny battled with the temptation of parting with 180 Naira for the book, she heard a sharp reprimand, “Stay off the road Eniola and stop looking around!” Chinny smiled to herself as she paid the book vend
or, thinking that whoever Eniola was, found the town as mesmerising as she did. Beside herself with excitement, Chinny found the recipient of the reprimand to be none other than her very own Nini Okoye, whom she ferried to school in her cart for close to three years. “Nini!!!” Chinny squealed. Eniola and her mother turned to see Chinny waving vigorously in excitement. The bustling noise of the park must have made it difficult for Chinny to recognise Mrs Okoye’s voice right away. They quickly crossed to the other side of the narrow road to say hello. Eniola was both happy and proud to inform Chinny that she passed the entrance examination into Royale Academy and was going to the school to sign the acceptance form in preparation for the coming academic session. Eniola had always shown promise and Chinny knew she would go above even her own expectations.
Eniola’s mother watched her daughter in amusement as she showed off to her mentor, but caught herself. “Ehen,” she began, “it is good I have seen you. Please keep an eye on Eniola for me while I find somewhere to ease myself.” Eager to know all about Nini’s school, Chinny agreed with enthusiasm. Giving her handbag to her daughter, Mrs Okoye hissed, “All the toilets in this motor park are disease camps,” before meandering through the crowd to find a decent place to empty her bladder.
Was Royale Academy the only entrance examination she passed? How much were the fees? Would she be a day student, or would she board? Chinny’s excitement knew no limits. Not all the children she ferried to school made it through to year six and only a trickle acquired their first school leaving certificate. The duo chatted animatedly. A fly perched on Eniola’s cornrowed head and Chinny made to shoo it with the book in her hand. Only then did she remember the bread seller and Adaiba. “Chimoooooo!!!” She exclaimed, turning towards the general direction of the tricycle. She saw Adaiba stomping towards her with an exasperated look on her face. Chinny clasped her hands in a conciliatory manner when Adaiba got to them.