by Odafe Atogun
‘And you will teach me yours too,’ Noah said. And then he turned to look at Oyi where she had been standing, watching their game. ‘I have to leave now with my auntie. She’s over there.’ He pointed at Oyi.
‘So we will see you tomorrow then?’
‘Yes.’ He waved at them and left with Oyi.
*
In under a week, the whole village was talking about Noah. Friends came to visit him at home, and they turned our large compound into their playground. They divided themselves into groups and engaged in all sorts of games that filled the air with delightful screams and so much dust.
In Oyi, Noah found a loving chaperone who cooked for him and his friends.
‘Don’t worry, Mother,’ he would say to me, ‘Auntie Oyi will take care of us.’ And to Oyi, ‘My friends will be tired and hungry at the end of our game. Kindly get something ready for us to eat when we finish.’ And Oyi would assure him with a smile that food would be on the table by the time they had finished.
The dining room was big, but there weren’t enough seats for all of them, so they sat on the floor. They preferred to sit on the floor because it gave them the freedom to eat and play by spinning their plates on the floor. The boy who spun his plate fastest without spilling its contents was the champion, and they cheered him with great excitement.
‘Boys, boys, it’s not proper to eat and talk and play at the same time!’ Oyi would announce loudly, standing with her hands on her hips in the doorway. For a few moments, silence would prevail. But as soon as she turned her back they chattered more animatedly than before, as if her interruption had been designed to fire their excitement.
At the end of each day, it often took several announcements from Oyi to get the boys to go back home. Sometimes not until she had threatened that whoever got out last would not be allowed into the compound the next day. And then they would scramble to make it to the exit ahead of the others, waving their hands behind them in farewell to Noah.
*
Every evening, I encouraged him to tell me about his new-found friends when we were seated by the lantern. I purposely avoided mentioning anything about the village of our origin because I wanted him to settle into his new life before taking him on a journey to the past.
But one evening he surprised me by asking, ‘Where is my father, Mother? And where are my brothers and sisters?’
We were sitting alone in the living room. For a few moments I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer, asking for wisdom to answer his question.
‘Mother?’ he said, bending his head to look up at me.
And then I began to tell him a story I had once heard, about a man who had died in search of happiness. ‘Your father was a very good man,’ I said and paused. ‘And he loved us so much. But the world was a very sad place at that time. So your father decided to go in search of happiness so that he could share it with you and me. He discovered happiness, but he died in the process. But before he died, he told us the secret of happiness. And it is that secret that makes us very happy today.’ I smiled warmly at him.
‘And what is that secret, Mother?’ he asked, curious.
‘The secret is that we must always be happy even if the whole world is sad. That is the secret of happiness which your father passed to us. And as long as we keep that secret, we will always find happiness.’
‘What if you’re sad? How do you keep the secret of happiness?’
‘That is the big secret! You must never allow yourself to be sad. Instead, you must always make yourself happy no matter how sad things may be. That is the big secret which most people do not know.’
‘So I must not be sad that Pa is dead?’
‘Exactly! You must not be sad because you have the secret of happiness.’
He nodded his head slowly, saying nothing. Then he asked, ‘What about my brothers and sisters? Do I have any?’
‘Your father and I had only you because we wanted to give you the best in life. But you don’t have to worry, you have many good friends. Your friends are your brothers and sisters too.’
‘And I will teach them the secret of happiness,’ he said quietly.
‘I’m proud of you, my son,’ I said, pulling him to me. ‘You’re very strong.’
*
The next day, I received a surprise visit from the High Priest while Noah was out playing. It was the first time I had seen the man since I had arrived in the village. He was a big and tall man, dressed in a red gown that reached his feet, and he wore several strings of red beads around his neck that seemed to weigh him down. In his right hand he carried a short broom. When he introduced himself, fire seemed to spit out of his mouth. No doubt, he was a powerful man.
But he gave me a very friendly smile, and this surprised me. I invited him to take a seat. Oyi quickly brought a calabash of water for him, and she knelt before him until he had finished drinking. He returned the calabash to her and prayed for her, and she started to retreat from the living room. Not wanting to be left alone with the man, I called her back. ‘We have an important visitor,’ I said. ‘I think you should stay while he is around, in case he needs something.’
She understood why I had called her back. She nodded and stood in a corner of the living room with her head bowed, holding the calabash in both hands. I could see her looking at me from the corner of her eye, a faint smile playing on her lips.
‘Where is the boy?’ the High Priest asked abruptly, his friendly smile gone.
I looked at Oyi, who nodded imperceptibly. ‘He is out playing,’ I said.
‘News got to me that you have a boy living with you, but no one knows where he came from. Is he an orphan?’
My heart began to beat fast. ‘He is my son,’ I said sharply, ‘not an orphan.’
‘When you came you did not tell anyone you had a son. And before Mama died, she mentioned that you would be coming, not that your son would be coming to join you. Where did the boy come from?’ he asked, as if giving me a final opportunity to tell the truth. ‘Is he really your son?’
I thought of the missing birthmark. How could he be my son without the birthmark? How could he not be my son? Could two people look so much alike? How did he not remember anything about his past – me, his father, our village, his friends? I asked myself these silent questions. For the umpteenth time, I told myself that they did not matter.
‘He came from the village where we used to live,’ I said. ‘It’s a village far away from here, about one month’s journey by foot. I left him behind when I ran away. He followed me to be with me. He is my son; his name is Noah.’
‘I know his name. We all know his name. You want me to believe that he is your son? How could a mere child make a journey of that distance alone?’
‘The gods must have protected him and led him to his mother,’ Oyi spoke quietly, her eyes on the floor.
The High Priest fixed his eyes on Oyi for a moment. Finally, he rose to his feet. ‘It’s my duty to tell you that in our village no one is allowed to take in an orphan except maternal relatives of the child,’ he said.
‘I know, the tradition is the same where I come from,’ I said. ‘The boy is my son though, not an orphan.’
The High Priest pursed his lips. ‘I must leave now,’ he said. ‘At the right time, the Chief may want to know exactly why you ran away from your village.’ Waving his broom in the air, he chanted quiet incantations as he left.
For several moments, Oyi and I remained silent. And then she whispered, ‘Why exactly did you run away from your village?’
I remembered Mama’s warning. I knew I could not tell her the truth. ‘I ran away because of love,’ I said. I could not say more without telling her the truth.
‘What about love?’ she asked.
‘Because I could not fall in love,’ I said, not knowing what to say.
She sensed that I was afraid to tell her the truth. So she helped me. ‘If you ran away because you were being compelled to marry someone you didn’t love, then that is a good
reason. In our village, tradition does not compel you to marry someone you don’t love. Love is a matter of choice. So if you ran away because of love, then we are obliged to grant you refuge.’
‘Yes, I ran away because I was being compelled to marry another man.’
She nodded encouragingly at me. ‘Say no more than that.’
*
Following the High Priest’s visit, it occurred to me that I must help Noah remember all that he had forgotten, as a matter of urgency. So that night, I told him a lot more about our village of origin, of the things that he had forgotten. I told him about our house, and our small farm in the backyard, and the barn in which we stored our harvest. I told him of his cousins Loko and Luku, of his experience when he was taken away from me to live with his uncle Jaja. And I told him of Kpofe, his father’s best friend who lived in the city, and the role he played to help me regain his custody. But I did not tell him of his four friends on the outskirts. I felt that it was not yet time to remind him of that crucial part of our lives.
He was intrigued. He asked many questions; my answers carried him on a journey into his forgotten past, late into the night. The oil in the lantern dried up and the light went out. I filled the lantern with more oil, and when I lit it, the flame flared brightly, causing him to jump with fright, and then he laughed.
I told him of my position as the foremost trader on Main Street and how his father used to supply me with vegetables which I sold to the merchants who came to our market. And then the rains came and destroyed our market and farms. And a harsh famine came upon the land. I told him about Chair-Lady. And I told him about the eponymous painting which the late High Priest said would be the key to a great destiny one day. ‘I believe that you will come across this painting one day,’ I said. ‘In the painting, you will see me standing in the middle of our market, and you will see how busy it used to be, before the rain destroyed everything.’
I covered a great part of our lives, and he listened attentively. And then he began to yawn, and I knew that it was time for us to go to bed. I led him to his room – now he had his own room, just across from mine. When he had climbed into bed, I kissed him goodnight. As I turned to go, he reached for my hand.
And he said, ‘Mother, I would love to become a merchant one day so that I can travel to distant lands to do business. I like the way merchants conduct their business. They are hard-working and they command a lot of respect.’
I smiled to myself. I had always known that he would pursue a great destiny. ‘It’s a good dream, my son,’ I said, sitting on the bed. ‘It’s a very good dream. You see, I have been thinking about opening a small provisions shop in front of our house, by the gate. Now that you have told me of your dream, I will open it very soon, and we will run it together so you can learn the principles of trading. With what you will learn, you can become a great merchant and travel the world one day.’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ he said and promptly fell asleep.
I sat there for a while. I watched him as he slept, snoring gently. Then I rose and left the room, taking the lantern with me. I could see a bright future for my son.
FOURTEEN
In the weeks that followed, we built a small shop by the gate. Soluso and Kewe carried out the job. When they had finished, I inspected it, and it was exactly what I wanted. There was enough room inside the shop for two people to sit down. Outside, the zinc roofing extended outwards to provide shade for customers while they collected their shopping through a window which served as a counter.
While the shop was being constructed, Oyi and I had travelled to a town a few hours away to make arrangements with a merchant who would be supplying me with provisions. We made the journey on a rickety bus which plied that route every market-day. I had never taken a bus before. I enjoyed the experience, but the sound of the engine was very loud to my ears.
It was the first time I had travelled to any town. I was amazed how big it was. I saw a great multitude. I saw sights that turned my senses upside down, and I felt like an alien as I gawked. The people I bumped into simply shrugged me aside and continued on their way. I wondered where they were headed to in such a hurry; I could not imagine what was waiting for them at their ultimate destinations. The strident sounds in the air filled me with a sense of anxiety, and I thought that if I stayed in the town for just one night I would wake up in the morning a different person. This thought made me very uncomfortable, and I told myself that we must get back to the village as soon as possible.
Oyi had been to the town on one or two occasions before. She seemed very much at ease; so I thought. She told me the population of the town was about five thousand people. I wondered how so many people could live in one place. The merchant we came to see told us a great deal about the town, and he said that the city was even bigger than the town.
‘How big is the city?’ I asked the merchant, thinking about Kpofe.
‘Ah, the city is very big,’ he said, ‘too big to count the people who live there. The city will swallow twenty towns or more.’
His answer sent my head spinning, and I realised that I had no chance of finding Kpofe if I ever went to the city.
We negotiated with the merchant to deliver provisions to my store once a month. He made a list of the items that I requested. It was a long list, from sweets to candles and bread. He assured me that I would receive my supplies regularly through his distributor. I paid in advance for the first delivery, and we caught the bus back to the village.
*
After weeks of meticulous planning and hard work, we finally opened for business. It was a joyous occasion for everyone, especially Noah and me. Noah brought his friends to witness the opening ceremony. The boys took turns to go into the shop to admire it. They came out awed at all the items they had seen on display. There were only two other such shops in the whole of the village, and they were much smaller than ours. Everyone came to witness the opening ceremony, which was conducted by the Chief, and they all found something to buy.
That first day, business was very good. It surprised me that Noah did not go to play with his friends, even though I said he could go. Instead, he stayed with me and helped to attend to the customers who thronged the shop. When his friends came to call, he begged them to excuse him and promised that he would join them some other time. They showed great understanding and went into the village to play without him. I was impressed with his attitude. Already, he had begun to display the qualities of a great merchant.
We were exhausted at the close of business that first day. After we had taken a bath and eaten, we sat in the living room, each nursing a cup of the sweet local beverage made from millet, which Oyi had prepared for us.
‘It has been a good first day. You have done very well.’ I smiled at Noah.
‘Thank you, Mother,’ he said. ‘I’m going to learn so much from you. When I become a merchant, I will buy the kind of coat and hat merchants wear.’
‘I’m sure you will.’ Oyi laughed, patting Noah on the head. ‘I was really amazed at the number of customers who came today,’ she said. ‘It’s a surprise how the two of you managed to cope.’
‘That’s business,’ I said. ‘You have to learn to cope.’ I had told Oyi and the others that the business would be managed strictly by Noah and me.
‘Now I understand what you meant when you said you were the foremost trader in your former village,’ Oyi said and laughed.
‘Back then I learned to stand on my feet for hours on end, attending to one customer or the other. And even when there were no customers to attend to, I stayed on my feet because I had got used to standing. It’s part of business. It keeps you on your toes.’
‘Mother, I think we should have regular opening and closing times,’ Noah said suddenly, holding his drink in both hands and leaning forward.
I smiled to myself, impressed. ‘I was going to discuss that with you,’ I said. ‘It’s important to have specific opening and closing times in business.’
He nodded,
sipping his drink, waiting for me to continue.
‘In the morning, we will open the shop soon after breakfast. And then we will close for about an hour for lunch. After lunch, we’ll open again until the sun starts to go down, then we’ll close for the day,’ I explained.
‘What if we go on our lunch break in shifts?’ Noah asked. ‘It means that the shop will be open to customers for longer hours.’
Again he had impressed me. I agreed. ‘It’s a good idea. In fact, that’s the way a business should be run, but I want us to have our meals together. Meal-times are important. So we’ll close for lunch at the same time and open again after we have eaten. All we need to do is advise our customers about our opening and closing hours. Or we could hang a sign on the door.’
‘I think the sign will work well,’ he said and yawned.
‘One last thing before we go to sleep,’ I said. ‘I can see you are sleepy.’
‘What’s that, Mother?’
‘I don’t want you to take part in the business full-time.’
‘Why not?’ he asked, sitting up.
‘Because I want you to have time to play with your friends. At your age, you should work and play in equal measure. So you must always make time to play with your friends. We could do it two ways – either you work full-time with me every other day and use your days off to play with your friends, or you work every day but close at lunchtime and have the rest of the day to yourself. Which do you prefer?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I think I will work every other day.’
‘So that settles it,’ I said.
Oyi had been listening to us quietly. ‘I think this business is going to be very successful the way you are going about it,’ she said, quite impressed.
‘I pray so,’ I said.
Noah yawned again.
It had been a long day. We finished our drinks and retired to bed.
*
On his first day off, Noah did not get to play much with his friends because they gathered around him and asked him questions about our shop.