by AC Alegbo
That period had been terrifying for me and at first I had done the usual and grabbed my genitals while I walked, avoiding contact and sweating while at it. Afterwards, Mama had calmly and completely dismissed my fears by simply sprinkling us all with holy water and assuring me my penis would stay put. I believed her completely and trusted in the water and went through what was seemingly a trying time for everyone else without a bother.
****
It took us all of that first week and the one after to put our cars into a shape ready for sale. My vehicle looked good. Everything in it was working fine at the close of business on the Friday apart from the right headlight that never seemed to recover fully despite the fact that we swapped the bulb with another from one of the wrecked cars. The light simply did not come on bright enough and at night, both headlights gave a total of about one and a half beams.
‘That’s okay,’ Usuman had said. ‘We can’t do anymore for your car. We don’t have any money. People will still buy the car for the price we will put on it even if the lights are not very bright. They can fix it themselves if they want, after all, there are some people who even drive without headlights. I think we have tried.’
If he thought it was okay, I was happy with that too. Tolu’s car also looked in the right shape for sale; the five-door Datsun wore a windscreen slightly cracked at the top left and drove with a noise that sounded like a class of coughing kids but it was saleable.
Usuman got into my car and drove leaving Tolu to come behind us; at this point, I felt slightly embarrassed as I was the only one of the three who as yet could not drive. Perhaps, that was the only aspect in which Tolu and I differed; he had spent his time at university in Lagos running around with the rough and ready or as we would term it colloquially – happening guys. He’d even been a member of a cult.
Cults were a huge attraction to young men who were eager to boost their esteem before rivals and peers. The problem though, was that cults, which according to the story had been instituted to foster brotherhood – or brethrenhood, if females were to be included - also brought harm to their members as rival cults often clashed with one another sometimes leading to open warfare that would leave students wounded, maimed and dead. In the years just before I got into university, lecture and schedule breakdown in universities were almost as commonly caused by cult wars as they were by staff strikes.
Anyway, Tolu had, for a brief spell, been in one and since it would have been a taboo that a cultist couldn’t drive, Tolu had learnt to, the hard and dangerous way.
We drove out of Sabon Gari and on towards the Old City. I was quite delighted to note just how well the cars were doing. This must mean we had a chance to make a good sale. Heading in the direction of the old Kurmi Market in the Old City, Usuman turned off into a dirt road and Tolu followed the rising and falling of our car as we negotiated through deep puddles of muddy water, took a left and followed a wide crescent that brought us back close to the main road but still on a dirt track.
I could see a small collection of used cars in front of us; the signs of ‘For Sale’ on most of them were a dead giveaway. This was going to be our depot and the person who ran this point, our lifeline. We parked our vehicles behind the others, got out and Usuman went into the little office at the back to chat with the person in it. In a few minutes, they came out and Usuman did the introductions. The man who had come out with our mechanic was called Mustapha; he wasn’t very tall but very slender and very dark. He had on a pair of trousers and a t-shirt that were vying for top dirty spot with Usuman’s overalls (as filthy as both theirs were, ours were nowhere up to scratch). They chatted for a short while before Mustapha remembered the fact that we had brought cars for sale. He walked over to where we had parked the vehicles.
‘Move them to this side,’ he pointed to a section of the depot that was abreast with the cars at the front of the already parked collection. ‘People will see them better there,’ he explained.
Usuman and Tolu drove the cars to the point Mustapha had earmarked and the salesman promptly placed two conical wooden shapes with the ‘For Sale’ sign written on all four sides on the cars.
‘Welcome,’ Mustapha began like he had only just seen us for the first time. Like everybody else apart from Musa and Alhaji Sanni, he spoke in Hausa. The language was definitely useful here. ‘You’ll have to keep a sharp eye out for buyers and draw them to your motors. There is no time to slack here or you’ll lose out. You must convince them to buy your motor; that’s how you’ll make your money.’
I wondered if he really thought he was telling us something we didn’t know.
‘Are you going to help us in any way,’ Tolu asked and I was surprised that he did.
‘Why?’ Mustapha asked. ‘Don’t you see all these motors? Who do you think has to sell them?’ And then he added, as if to help us further, ‘If you come early in the morning, you’ll see many people coming to look at the motors. That will be your chance to look for a buyer. If you are lucky, you’ll find one soon; sometimes it takes a week or a month to sell a motor.’
‘Ok, thanks.’ Tolu and I had heard enough. Usuman continued his chat with Mustapha for a while longer and then drove away. This was going to be our new stop now until we sold our cars. Only then could we go back to Sabon Gari for other cars. The only advantage, I thought, of everything thus far was that we would have less far to travel in the morning.
****
Later that day, I recounted the conversation I’d had with Eze to Mama. It was night time and we’d just finished evening prayer. Most of us had fallen asleep in the course of the forty-five minute long affair, sprawled top half on the sofa, knees on the floor. Njideka, my eldest sister was still in the business of coaxing the sleepers to go to the bedroom leaving Mama and me undisturbed in the living room.
Of course, she hadn’t understood what I was going on about – getting some holy water and medal for a sick friend.
‘How is any of this your business?’ she asked. ‘Let the boy’s parents take him to hospital.’
‘But he is not in hospital Mama,’ I said. ‘He is at his pastor’s place. They are casting evil spirits from him.’
‘Evil spirits?’ She leaned forward. For her, that must have forced a sense of déjà vu.
‘Again? What kind of friends do you pick?’
‘But I have never told you that any of my friends has got evil spirits before,’ I defended.
‘No but the last one was a different boy and we haven’t still understood what that means,’ she spelled out.
‘No Mama, it is the same boy, Ireneh,’ I clarified like that would make her any more relaxed.
‘The same boy? Arinze! Something is definitely wrong with you.’ She was screaming now, quite worked up. ‘Didn’t your papa and me tell you not to play with that boy again? You want to kill me? Oh my lord..’
Njideka ran in from the bedroom to see what the fuss was all about. ‘Mama, what happened?’ she asked in turn seeing my mother sat upright hands on head.
Mama ignored her question and fired more at me. ‘So evil spirits are actually the boy’s problem? Didn’t we tell you that the boy was dangerous? Why don’t you ever listen?’
‘I don’t play with him anymore,’ I lied praying she would believe me. ‘I have not played with him since that day. It was another boy who told me that Ireneh was possessed, that he is going for prayers. I just wanted see how to help – that is why I am asking you.’
‘You sure? Tell me the truth. You have not played with him since then?’
‘Yes Mama. That is the truth,’ I confirmed grateful she was easing off.
‘Arinze, you won’t do as you are told?’ Njideka cut in suddenly. She’d made out Mama was upset about the same issue for which she and the others had been called to a family meeting. ‘How many times are we going to warn you about that boy?’
I wasn’t too bothered, however, about what my sister thought. ‘It doesn’t concern you,’ I spat bac
k. ‘I am talking to Mama.’
‘Okay. It doesn’t concern me. Until you will bring something evil....’
‘Hey Njideka, it is enough,’ Mama cut her flow, scared she’d go on to pronounce a curse.
‘No child of mine will bring an evil thing into this house in Jesus name. So you want to carry holy water for your friend?’ she said addressing me.
‘Yes Mama.’
‘But you know that it is not your business. Let your friend’s mama take care of him.’
‘But Mama, our holy water is stronger than the Cele people’s prayer. I am sure it will drive away my friend’s evil spirits.’ That was a good way of tackling my proudly religious mother.
‘Okay, okay. You can take a little to go give him. But make sure you ask him first if he wants the holy water. Don’t go wasting my holy water.’ I was sure she was giving in because she was too relieved that I wasn’t in any danger to say no.
****
The first week went by and very few people looked our way. At the start of the second, Mustapha made us a deal, ‘you stay away from my customers and I’ll show them to your motors.’
We agreed. It was a fair deal and so we stuck to our own part of the lot. The new week brought in more people than the one before. In fact, it brought in more people than even Mustapha expected; the depot may have been located close to the very busy market but we were not exactly selling Cadillac convertibles. Anyway, for whatever reason, a healthy number of people traipsed through the soft and wet humus that separated the cars for sale from the busy road and all the time they did, it was all Tolu and I could do to keep to our end of the deal with Mustapha.
But we needn’t have worried; Mustapha was true to his word and, before long, we noticed that we were getting a few glances from the customers. On the Thursday of that week, we got the first really interested customers, a couple dressed so casually, they could be mistaken as being in costume; they came over and began inspecting the vehicles. Tolu was in like a shot, ‘Welcome. Anything you like to know about the car, just ask me.’
The man looked up at him and casual as his appearance said, ‘get in the car and drive me around, let me see.’
Tolu could not believe his luck, ‘yes sir, come this way. Madam, are you coming too?’
The lady shook her head and made way for her partner to get to the passenger side. Tolu dived into the Datsun, so nervous he shook like he’d just had a very cold shower. He actually dropped the car keys twice as he aimed for the ignition. It was a wonder his passenger was still calm enough to trust him to drive.
Tolu drove the car coughing around the car lot, then onto the main road and joined traffic which was a little quieter. The lady and I stood quietly watching the Datsun. I did not attempt to make conversation. There was no need; all I needed was a buyer and the lady was as close to being one as I was to buying the car myself.
Tolu did not go far though, turning into the next muddy junction and making his way back to us. On arrival, the passengers stepped out and Tolu waited saying nothing but smiling nervously and stupidly.
The man spoke first, ‘you heard how the car sounded; I can tell what kind of engine it has. I can’t pay you eighty thousand for it.’
This was the oldest line in the haggling game. We were prepared for it as we did not set the selling price at eighty thousand for nothing; the car was only worth forty.
‘How much do you want to pay for it?’ Tolu asked acting the appeasing subordinate.
‘Fifty. That’s what I think it is worth,’ the man replied.
This was mind blowing news but as the game stipulated, Tolu was not going to roll over just yet. ‘Ah, talk better. This car has at least three more years in it; it runs like a Santana, and check out the accessories inside.’
‘Young man, I was not born yesterday. I know about cars; I am even doing you a favour paying you fifty.’
We were pretty certain he didn’t know an awful lot about cars but we didn’t want to burst his bubble just yet as we were riding on it too. ‘That’s not good for me sir. That means I won’t get my cut. Please, add something,’ Tolu pleaded shamelessly but effectively.
‘Okay,’ the man acquiesced. ‘I’ll add a hundred naira but that is final. Take it or leave it.’
‘Okay sir,’ Tolu shrugged in defeat. He took the man and the lady over to the office to process payment leaving me brimming with envy. Presently, Tolu skipped out of the office with a wide smile plastered on his face and one he wore for the rest of that day. ‘I am made, Rez,’ he celebrated loudly. ‘Twenty grand – this is good biz.’ He had done his sums right. With all the percentages he would have to pay to Ibrahim and the various helpers we’d had along the way, twenty thousand was all he could realistically expect to take home.
‘Yes,’ I said flatly. ‘You should help me Tolu, now that you have sold your car, please.’
‘Ah Rez, chill out. Of course, I’ll help you. Look, we are in this together and I’ll stay here until you sell your car. It can’t be too difficult; your car is pac.’
‘Thanks.’
My car was sold the following Monday; its story wasn’t quite as eventful as Tolu’s sale and my friend had had to do the driving and much of the haggling for which I was eternally grateful. For that weekend though, Tolu suggested that as long as we had his money, not that he was about to squander it, he’d kindly give me some to see me through. I promised him nonetheless that I’d pay him back when my sale came through.
****
Ireneh returned a week and a half later; he came in about an hour into lessons and crept quietly to his seat. The look that Mrs Deji shot in his direction didn’t bear any welcome in it but she was not ready to get involved in the kind of palaver Ireneh carried around with him. I saw Ireneh walk in and stifled a gasp; it was plain to see that the teacher might have let him off for another reason besides avoiding a headache. The lad was a pitiful sight. His uniform was dirty and so crumpled they might have been dug out of a bottle and gave off a damp smell that reached me even while he was more than two arm-lengths away. The most striking spectacle was the boy himself who looked gaunt and wasted; there was the plenty of sleep still at the sides of his eyes, his lips were cracked and his feet were dusty and in sandals just as dusty, one with a cut strap.
He found his seat and placed himself between the girls who had made more space for him than usual. They kept throwing knowing and questioning glances at each other over the boy’s head and I noticed that everyone including Eze and me was doing the same. Mrs Deji raised her voice one level to force our attention back to her and to the blackboard. The chalk dust was now far up her arm as she gathered some more rubbing off a word with the folded side of her palm. ‘Face the board all of you!’ she yelled. ‘Kalu, get me the duster. Bamaiyi, what was the last thing I said?’
Bamaiyi did not know what to say and remained frozen with a perplexed look on his face.
‘Stand on your desk.’
This promptly turned our attention back to the teacher and we all furiously began to pick out what was left of the writing on the board. Mrs Deji doled out two more questions to people selected at random but we were all prepared now and the pupils batted back quite easily.
‘Name two symptoms of cholera, Ade?’
‘Stooling and vomiting, ma.’
‘Oscar! Symptoms of malaria,’ she called out again.
‘Headache, fatigue and high body temperature.’
Satisfied that she had our attention, she continued with the lesson and for the rest of the morning, Ireneh was forgotten. I saw him get out his workbook and make an attempt to follow the lessons of the morning but in most of them, it was quite evident that he was too far behind to adequately grasp what was being taught. He was very quiet throughout the morning and did not even speak much to Mabel and Bisi which was a small relief but at same time unnerving to the girls. It was worrying for me, however, to see my friend, who even at his calmest was a tornado, so docile. I became more concerned when in reply t
o my welcoming greeting sometime mid-morning, he had turned and flashed me a wide but blank smile. The open space revealed by his parted lips looked more like a black hole and his eyes did not seem to know me or care about knowing me or both. He looked like he had come to school without knowing why and, I feared, perhaps not how either.
As the morning wore on, Ireneh did not seem to recover anything of his former persona but he did begin to look a little more focused. That was good enough for me and when the bell went for break time and everyone poured out onto the school grounds for their usual fare, I hijacked the lad without warning and dragged him, resisting and puzzled, out of class. I looked behind at a figure that dogged our progress – it was Eze.
We were bursting with questions that it did not dawn on us Ireneh might not want to talk about anything. We asked anyway bringing everything out in a hurry and hurling questions at the boy one after the other that we could have been having a questioning match.
‘What happened to you, Ireneh?’ this was me.
‘Are you well now?’ Eze was in.
‘Will you go to see the pastor again?’ me again.
‘Why haven’t been coming to school all this time?’ Eze asked.
‘How can you ask that when you know that he has been sick?’ I retorted.
‘Well, let him answer the question himself first.’
‘What are the two of you talking about?’ Ireneh seemed to find his voice after watching us for a few minutes with a bored expression. ‘Is this why you dragged me out of class? I wanted to stay inside the class. I don’t want any noise please. Both of you are giving me a headache.’