by Frank Achebe
Black left his mother and returned to his shop with his mind on fire. He had decided to let the girl go. Though he knew it would be hard for him, he could steel his mind as a man through it. Now his mother had tempered those feelings. Even if he was going to back down after all, it would not be too soon. The reference to his father was one that she knew would work on him for Black respected the memory of his father. He even believed that the man had reincarnated in the life of the rapper Tupac.
Chapter Nineteen: A Time To Let Go
Monday morning saw Zach stronger in spirit and in body. The delirium did not occur the night before. It was a beautiful night indeed. The longest he’d had in a long time. The puzzle was now complete after all.
Nurse B was more sympathetic than before. ‘Your patience has paid off after all.’
‘Is that your apology?’
She laughed.
‘You’re beating about the bush. Why not you say it like this: ‘I’m sorry for not taking you at your word. Or I’m sorry for taking you for granted. Or what about: I should have known myself.’ Zach mimicked her the best he could.
‘Don’t be silly. I’ve always trusted you. ‘Trust’ will always be a theoretical word until it is put to test. Whatever happened was my own test. I suppose you felt same.’
‘Admit that you failed the test.’
‘Admit that you failed yours.’
They both laughed it off.
‘The mayor died last night.’
‘Rest his soul.’ There were no surprises to it for both of them.
The talk of death reminded Zach of the one thing that still pinched his sore parts: his wife. He disbelieved the nightmares and dreams as ‘they’ trying to destabilize his mind. However, he held out to that one about his wife. The reason is apparent. The emotional distance was closer and so was the anxiety. But he now had a whole town which now had people pouring into it by tonnes to worry about.
How was he to divert their attention from the boy and out of the town? That was the one-billion dollar question. Even if he could, he could not walk away from it. His wife would not be proud of him. Not in life and not in her death. She would have chosen to go for a whole town to be saved.
Zach knew that and even if he could walk away from the town and its fate, it would no longer be worth all the stress that had gone into it. Two lives had already been lost. His backing-off will mean that those lives were lost for nothing when they could be the price for the redemption of a whole town.
But what guarantees did he have?
None.
‘What guarantees did he need?’
None. He was not used to asking for guarantees. He was the one to just do it. Monday morning saw him willing and ready to just do it.
# # #
While Zach was figuring out the riddle that had been put to him, Hééb and his mother were figuring out the one that had been put to them. The news of the death of the mayor did not make the wave that it should have made because of obvious reasons. But it made Hééb redefine his betrayal of him in light of prevailing circumstances. His life was now torn into two unequal halves: the life that had been truly his for many years and the one that he never really had.
Before leaving the mayor’s place, he had had a meeting with the boy, Ekeó. He had made himself very plain. ‘What is in all this for me?’
‘For you? My dear, let the joy of the people be your joy.’
‘My boss is dead. I betrayed him for you. I made all of this happen. The books have not been opened yet but I doubt my name will be among those that will be rewarded. I led on my boss on a very sensitive place. If he has anybody to blame in his death, it will be me. But at least, let my service to you mean something.’
Hééb needn’t tell the boy that it was at his order that he’d kept the mayor locked in his bedroom for all the days he had. That too was among what was to be rewarded.—If the boy pleased.
‘Did you? I will tell you a parable and if you can find the answer to the riddle of that parable, you can find the answer to your question.’ the boy had then gone on and told him the exact fable that Zach had told his mother, word for word:
‘Once upon a time in a bush, a bat and a bush rat lived and fed together but the bat was always jealous of the bush rat because when he cooked the food, it was always better. One day, the bush rat inquired of his companion of how he made his soup and how it came to be so tasty. After a long time in persuasion, the bat replied that his flesh was so sweet that he boiled himself in the soup every time it was his turn to cook. The bush rat wanted to see how this was done and so the bat, who was unwilling to teach him how to make good soups, prepared a soup beforehand and jumped into it after haven let it cool down a bit. Then he called the rat and told him to come and see. When the rat saw this, he went home and told his wife and the whole animals to come to a party in his house that he would make a soup like that of the bat. He then told them to boil some hot water and when they were not watching, he jumped into the pot of water and died. Tell me, ma, who do you think killed the bush rat? The hot water? Or the rat that deceived him?’
Hééb had gone home and reported to his mother. ‘What does he mean by that?’
His mother had found the meaning of the riddle but wouldn’t tell him. However, he did not specifically need her to do so for he knew the answer to the riddle himself. ‘I’ve lost on both sides.’ Hééb announced to his mother in despair. ‘He cannot have meant any other thing.’
‘Will you shut it!’
‘Shut what! You led me into this.’
‘No, it was your greed and your ambitiousness that led you into it.’
Hééb had walked out on her in a rage. His heart was filled with spite and hatred for everybody, including himself. He had one person on his mind at whom he thought deserved to pay for all of that: Zach.
As to his mother, it beat her imagination to think that none of those thoughts and ideas were really her own. In the same way, she saw that none of the boy’s actions was truly his. In the same way, she saw that not all of our thoughts and actions are truly ours. She was humbled by the sound of that.
# # #
Zach arrived the river. He had a long meeting with his soap and toothpaste and of course, the river. He did feel that the boy was going to be there.
The thought of the flood made him scared of the river. It took him a while of talking himself into stepping into it. When he did, nothing happened. He noticed, however, that the level of the river had fallen. Dry season was on its way. He could even feel some dryness in the wind.
The bathing session was without any quirks as was every other thing to the ritual.
After those, Zach cleaned out his clothes in the only fashion he knew, as before. It was easier now because he now had a bar of soap.
The washing of clothes for ‘leave town campaign’ now done, Zach now waited out for their drying in the rising sun. As he waited, the days he’d spent in the river flashed past him with their events. There was one observation that came to mind of all of them. It was an itty-bitty one but it had made a profound impression the first time he had taken note of it.
He remembered and I ask you my reader to remember, that there was something in the boy’s voice when he spoke about himself that was not there all the other times. Or rather, something that was there when he spoke about the miracle that was not now there. It was faint but Zach had taken note of it the first time. It meant a great deal now for it told Zach what he needed to know about the boy and of course his mother.
Apart from those ones they had shared the first time, none of those boy’s words and actions were truly his own. Maybe the boy was calling for help from the powers that had taken over his life and his condition and were using it for their purpose.
Zach could not remember the look on his mother’s face as he had seen it in the dream. But now it made sense to think that she was asking him for something all along. What could that be?
With that, Zach knew that he needed another meeting
with that boy however it was going to happen.
He had walked the valley and had taken in a broad view of the riverside as much as he could. He now had no worries, not any about his safety.
# # #
Black grappled with his thoughts. It was not that he did not know what he wanted. It was just the anguish that such grave concern weighted on the mind. He was not going to be spared any of those.
While he carried his burden, Madam Békhtèn tried to carry hers. The thoughts of letting go of her vanities were heavy on her mind as it had been throughout her journey. They were losing the attraction they once held for her. More from grief for her daughter than for anything, that night, nothing of the usual happened between she and the boy. She just let the night pass.
The next morning, she woke in a bad mood. She could not explain why she was petulant and in a bad mood but she knew that it could not have been the news. It was something far more profound. It was time for her to let go.
Madam Békhtèn had some decisiveness about her that manifested when it mattered. She had carried the decision with her all through the journey and now she was going to make it after all.
She called Daniel to the veranda and sat him down. ‘I’m sorry but you have to leave now. I will pay whatever I owe.’ When she said it, she felt a weight off her shoulders.
Daniel could find no other reason in the decision other than Ūö. He wondered how it was that she could have found out. Did anyone tell her?
‘I will leave certainly. But the notice is rather short.’
Madam Békhtèn agreed to let him go the following day.
When Ūö heard the news, she did not see her mother’s search for redemption; neither did she see it as a gift that she was giving her. She saw the same thing that Daniel saw: herself.
She had confronted her mother that morning. ‘Why are you sending him away?’
‘What does he mean to you?’
‘He’s my friend. I like him.’
‘You like that tramp?’
Something in Ūö finally snapped in that moment. It was not directly related to either the accusation that had just been made or the disappointment that she now felt at heart. Something that slept all along inside had been rocked to the cradle. ‘You call him a tramp? You call him a tramp? You are the one who is a tramp and a whore. Yes, that is what you are! Leave him alone….’
Madam Békhtèn could have broken into tears if she could. But as she sat still, her heart beat with the ferocity of a steam engine. Those were the words that she dreaded the most. Now they had been finally put to her.
A silence colder than the ice caps fell over her. She died…
Chapter Twenty: Guilty Pleasures
Under different circumstances, Madam Békhtèn would not have seen the final judgement for what it was. She would have dismissed it as a mere child talking and would have forgiven her for her youth.
In the present circumstances, she wanted to see it as the girl’s despairs finally expressing themselves, not as hatred for her mother, but as frustration at life. If it was that, then she had no reason to make herself the victim. But she knew it was not it! It could not have been it.
Ūö had not forgiven her mother after all. It merely took the circumstances under review for her to finally utter it. It does happen that certain situations trigger other latent sentiments that otherwise have no apparent relation to the situation itself. The relation in this case, I judge for my readers, is indeed apparent. In any case, such reactions show more than the apparent; they show the connection that the apparent has with the unapparent in light of which we can then pronounce our judgement on the unapparent.
I have said it before and I wish to remind my readers, that Ūö begrudged her mother and her sisters. They were the only reason she needed to want to succeed. It may not matter much if we dismiss it as a youthful sentiment, which took the world and what one owes others for granted. It may not matter much if it passed as it had come. What follows meant that we must pay attention to it. It must matter to us because it is only in light of that can we really explain what followed.
As she sat back, Madam Békhtèn tried to follow the young girl’s thoughts back to her room. What she saw there was dreadful. She saw she was the one that the girl was hoping to escape from. In that dread, her own life sprawled in her face.
Madam Békhtèn had made much of what was her youth living among soldiers. Before the war of ’74, there was no other place for a young and ambitious woman to be. They ruled the nation at the time. Those men lacked the will and the sensibility to rule a nation. There the money flowed recklessly as the people suffered on the other side. She did not have any other thing except her body and with that, she’d made her way and her money through that life.
What made her special was that she had a mind and a will of her own. Many girls of her ‘profession’ did not. Some of them were naïve enough to not see that one could not give too much for too little. She was a survivor. There were things she held back, things that made her popular among the soldiers that paid her bills. Something that had earned her the title of ‘Princess’. She had opened her own prostitution ring that broke with the war. She had called her ring ‘Békhtèn’ and at twenty-eight, made herself a ‘madam’ over many other ladies. The reference to the Egyptian legend where Khensu Pa-ari-sekher had travelled to Békhtèn for seventeen months, on the invitation of the Prince of Békhtèn, to the healing of the princes Bent-enth-resch who was possessed by a devil.
Even if she could, she had no one to blame for her troubles. She was a strong woman and by her strength, she had prevailed.
There was no glory in that life. The reality of it was that men are vile in their desires and vile in how much they were willing to pay to have those desires satisfied.
With the War, things changed for everybody including her. She left the business and did a few investments before retiring to her hometown where she could afford to explore all her fantasies.
About Ūö, she did not see any reason to return the judgement. She was still a kid after all. But she was becoming a woman. She was trying to save herself.
# # #
Daniel managed to send some words of comfort across to the young girl. They were now on each other’s side. Or so it seemed.
# # #
Money fell into a worse mood than his younger brother. He could not continue his business as he was not in the right mental state to do so. He felt the victim of his brother ‘ingratitude’. He kept assuring himself in the quiet of his own being that all he had done was to keep the boy safe. He also admitted to himself that he may not have been the very best of brother but he had done for him what many would not do for their brothers. It was not that he needed anyone to convince of that. However, it was what it was: a power tussle rather than a service of a brother.
He agreed that there was sensibility in his wanting to leave the town. But he could not stand the boy being the one to call the shot, not when he had been the one with it for as long as they’d been together. Not when he had certified the boy a half-lunatic that lived at his mercy. Not when he’d constantly told him that he was the ‘burden’ of his life. They would leave when he said they would leave. It could not have been otherwise. They did things when he said they did them and how he said they’d do them. It did not matter anything else. He could take the boy sulking on him or playing tricks around his orders. His rebellion, however, was too much for him to take.
His own sense of self had been built around his being the alpha male in the world that the two of them shared. It was an impression he’d deliberately built into their relationship. It gave him security to do as he wanted to without any fear of dissension. And now that dissension had arisen, he saw that he was unprepared for any of it. Now he was finding it hard to accept that the boy had taken his own path. It was even harder to adjust to it.
# # #
On his own path, Brim did not have the courage for such self-assertion. He had stood in the shadows of his elder brothe
r for all his life. Walking in the light was a tremulous experience for him.
His guilt stemmed from the obvious fact that he could not deny that his brother had been good to him. There were divergences to that, but he could not deny that his brother had fed him, clothed him and kept him alive for longer than he could have managed himself. He did not seek justification from this guilt. He bore it.
The rest of our talk and interviews did not have its original flair. So I suggested to him to go see his brother and talk to him in more respectable terms. ‘Do not seek to justify your own decision. Seek instead to gain your brother back. Leave me out of it. Make it a brother to brother thing.’ Those were my own words of wisdom.
# # #
Zach returned to the wardroom to set his plans straight. He had achieved the most already. But the prospects of getting the people off the town seemed to downplay all that he had seemingly achieved. That was the hardest part. He would have to try. He was condemned to even if he could not try.
There were so many things to it. He could not say that he was certain about anything, not to any other person. It would take more sensible people to understand the situation. ‘It’s going to be hard. I can assure you of that. It’s like taking people away from what has been their lives.’ Nurse B had told her.
‘Well, the flood, when it comes will take all of that away all the same. What difference will it make?’
‘People will appreciate your zeal but I doubt they will follow it.’
‘So what is your advice?’
She had taken a while before giving Zach a brilliant answer. ‘It was the boy that brought them here. It’s going to take him to….’
‘But how?’
‘I don’t know. It’s yours to figure out.’
‘What about you?’
‘The break I have been waiting for. I’m going to write the nursing board and tell them of my desire to retire from the profession.’
It did make enough sense, except that the how to it was still missing from the picture. He had pushed that one idea aside. He would have to try other options.