Entangled Affair

by Uzezi Ekere Adesite

  Idara finally nodded, her newly found poise falling off like a shed onion back. How could she forget the day a bullet almost claimed her life? It had been a Wednesday, as he already implied. Things had been happening to her that threatened her safety and long life. Maybe she was getting a sign that she would die soon.

  *****

  That unforgettable Wednesday night, after the stress of getting a bus, Idara had relaxed in the passenger seat next to the driver. The young man in the bus who recognized her, sat in the front with her. The traffic had been light. At Cele bus stop, the driver stopped so a passenger could get off. That was when the trouble started. Before the passenger could alight, the conductor had started screaming, “Go! Go! Go! Dem dey come o.” The driver stepped on the accelerator, but he was too slow. The screeching sound of tires pierced the night air as the patrol vehicle blocked the bus. The boys in black were out of the wagon with their guns in no more seconds.

  “Wahala!” some passengers wailed.

  Idara had just resigned to fate. All she wanted was to get home after a hard day’s job.

  “Get down!” one of the uniformed men ordered the driver.

  “You sef,” a lady passenger queried the driver. “Why you go pack for road eh? You no wan enter park because you no wan give Agbero N20. Oya follow police, you go pay well well.”

  The driver did not open the door, neither did he alight. He did a quick reverse and swung the bus back onto the highway, almost running into another vehicle. The passengers in the bus were already screaming at the mad driver. Idara turned to see the boys in black jumping into the wagon.

  “Dem dey come o!” the conductor yelled. “Show dem pepper! Show dem say for Waffi, na we be police!”

  “Abeg o!” a woman yelled. “Make I drop for here.”

  The next thing they heard, as the bus kept flying through the highway, with the wagon following, was a gunshot from the wagon that was almost overtaking the bus on its right hand side. The bullet entered the bus through the passenger window, and went through Idara’s bag, which she had carried to cover her head in the confusion of things, and lodged into the side of the driver’s head rest.

  Idara screamed uncontrollably, as the bus swayed under the hands of the driver who had been distracted by the sound of the gunshot.

  “Cool temper jare,” the conductor told the driver.

  The driver got the bus under control. “I too much!” he hailed himself, steadying himself into his seat as he took a peep into the side mirror. The policemen had slowed down, deciding the driver wasn’t worth the trouble after the single shot.

  The passengers were screaming for him to stop. The confusion was deafening.

  Idara sat still as though frozen, but screaming like a Banshee.

  The young man sitting close to her, who had been quiet all along, threw his arm around her in an effort to console her.

  “O girl, you no be small pikin. Driver here na expert, him kak well well, no fear,” the conductor said to Idara.

  The young man sitting next to Idara had faced him. Together with other passengers, they queried the conductor.

  “E don do. Look back, see, dem don go,” the conductor tried to assure the passengers, in his best smile.

  “You and your driver are joking with lives,” the young man sitting beside Idara said, getting angry.

  “Forget jare!” the conductor launched. “Driver know wetin him dey do. We be correct Waffi gee, you see. Police no fear face? My male face swallow the bullet one time.” Then the conductor reached forward, and touched Idara. “Omote, doh wo yon. Life no dey quench inside this motor. Oghene oro mamo.”

  The passengers soon realised that the driver and conductor were beyond reasoning with. They kept quiet and prayed to God to take them safely to their destination.

  At Mile Two, Idara still in a daze, got off. The young man was still with her.

  “Are you okay?” he had asked.

  She had nodded. “Thank you.”

  He put his hand forward. “I’m Efe.”

  “Idara.” Idara took the outstretched hand. Then she excused herself politely, and went in search of the bus that would transport her home.

  *****

  She smiled. “Hi.”

  His smile broadened. “Didn’t know I’ll meet you again.”

  “It’s a small world,” Idara said and looked around nervously. “What’s keeping them?”

  The young man looked out. He faced Idara again. “They’ve finally settled it. You are dropping at Ikeja right?”

  Idara nodded.

  He moved back into his seat as the others returned.

  *****

  The bus came to a halt at PWD bus stop.

  Idara grabbed Wunmi’s hand. “Don’t forget to call me.”

  Wunmi smiled. “I won’t,” she said as she got up to get off the bus. Wunmi dropped off, and watched the bus move away. On checking her timepiece, Wunmi frowned because she was twenty minutes late and the assembly would have begun for about ten minutes. She hurriedly boarded a motorbike to save time. As the bike got closer to the school gate, she could hear her heartbeat going rhythmically like a talking drum. Standing in front of the school gate was her geography teacher who was brandishing a long cane for the sake of latecomers. He gave her a disapproving look when she greeted him.

  “Do you realise you are late?” he asked

  “Yes sir, it was the bus that I boarded. We met with a slight accident.”

  “Is that an excuse? You know you are one of the prefects, and you are this late.” Then he smiled as if remembering something. “Here you are, Time Regulator, coming late to school. Hmm, imagine that. How will you then keep our school time?”

  Wunmi didn’t bother to say anything. When Mr. Ade Balogun decided to berate anyone, he does so to his satisfaction. She looked ahead and saw the lines. She couldn’t hear what was been said in the assembly ground. God please, let them wait for me before naming the new prefects, Wunmi prayed. She faced her teacher again. “Can I go in now, sir?”

  “Ha ha!” He wore a surprised look. “Even an illiterate knows he has to stand at an attention, when the national anthem is being recited. Stand there jare! Prefect kpangolo,” he hissed.

  Wunmi sighed. Who could she blame? That accident had eaten out of her time. “Oya, e lo,” The geography teacher ushered her in.

  Wunmi threw long strides. What was her geography teacher saying about her being the new Time Regulator? Wunmi had a different post in mind. She knew she couldn’t be named Head Girl, since she wasn’t academically, the best female student in her session, but she was the best sport person, girls and boys combined. She ought to be the Sports’ Prefect, not a Time Regulator! The Time Regulator was the lowest rank of Prefects as far as Wunmi Knew. She didn’t want that.

  When her school won First Price at the just concluded Nigerian Secondary Schools Athletics Competition, it was Wunmi who had made it possible, by picking up gold medals in the 400, 800 and 1,200 meters respectively. She also picked up a silver medal in the 200-meter race. She wasn’t Mary Onyali or Fatilat Ogunkoya, but she held the record for 400, 800 and 1,200 meters in the country. Her school was the only school to pick up three gold medals, thereby, topping the table. How could she be a Time Regulator? Wunmi envisioned her achievements all lined up in the near future after the made it into the spotlight as an international athlete. ‘Wunmi Davies: at seventeen, she held the country’s record for 400, 800 and 1,200 meters. She was the Sports’ Prefect of her school, at seventeen.’ Wunmi smiled. Why spoil it with Time Regulator? What has sports and time keeping got to do with each other except breaking her time record?

  She looked up at the assembly ground in front of her. Some of the students were staring at her. Every student knew Wunmi. She became a hero after the competition. She was openly rewarded in front of the entire school during one assembly gathering. Now they were staring because she was late. Okay, they all know I am late. Not my fault please. Her eyes flew up to the podium, where the s
chool principal, her vice, and some teachers stood. No student was standing there, which meant they hadn’t announced the names of the new prefects yet. She joined the line where her class was. The girl in front of her turned to smile at her.

  “Wunmi Wunmi, today na una day oh.”

  Wunmi smiled. The girl, Ijeoma was someone Wunmi doesn’t interact with because Ijeoma moved in a clique and Wunmi doesn’t move with girls who grouped themselves. They are always gossips.

  “Na who go be Head Girl?” Ijeoma asked.

  Wunmi hid her irritation. Today was no time for that. Ijeoma would always speak Pidgin English. “Let’s wait till the end and find out,” Wunmi said. She didn’t want to pass a secret out, although the whole school, or rather their set knew Anima Lawal would be the Head Girl, because she was well qualified for the post. Everybody also knows that I am the most qualified for the Sports’ Prefect post, Wunmi thought. Who were her contenders? Kemi is a sprinter, but in the last three years, Kemi gathered seven medals for the school; four silvers, and three bronzes. In the School House Team which Kemi belonged to, Kemi was the best. Orezi is a high jump athlete. In the last three years, she gathered nine medals for the school; two bronze, five silvers and two gold. In the School House Team which Orezi belonged to, Orezi was the best. Then there was Wunmi. In the last three years, she gathered fourteen medals for the school. The recent three gold medals. Three other gold medals, four silvers and four bronzes. In the School House Team which she belonged to, she was a princess. Everybody knew Wunmi went from good to better to best. The only time she got bronze medals was two years earlier. That year she also had two silver medals. Last year, she picked up a silver medal and three gold medals. Although the recent and previous year’s medals were the same, her improvement was very evident in her records. She broke her last year’s record. 200-meters would always bring her silver, because she was yet to fit into it perfectly. She was the only student at her school, past or present, who ever won a gold medal at the Nigerian Secondary Schools Athletics Competition. At the end of the event, she had been awarded an award as the most outstanding athlete of the event. She felt she was more qualified to be the Sports’ Prefect.

  “I know say na you go be our Sports’ Prefect sha,” Ijeoma broke into Wunmi’s thoughts.

  Wunmi smiled, coming out of her reverie. “I don’t know. Maybe some other post.”

  “Haba, Wunmi baby, who no know say na you be our sport person for this school? Kemi fit be Mama Fryo niece O, but she no better pass you!” Ijeoma stated.

  Wunmi’s heart gave a wild beat. She forgot the fact that Kemi was actually the niece of the principal. That was it. No Sports’ Prefect post for her. That connection alone would give the other girl the post. Wunmi’s heart fell flat. No wonder her geography teacher said something about Time Regulator. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she fought hard to prevent them from falling. She couldn’t afford to disgrace herself with tears when called out as a Prefect. Everybody would be expecting her to be the Sports’ Prefect, so when Kemi’s name is called, they all would want to watch out for Wunmi’s reaction.

  I shouldn’t have accepted to be one of the Prefects. Wunmi thought, regretting the interviews with the school authority. All along, she had assumed her post. Even an assistant to the Sports’ Prefect would be an insult to her integrity, the Time Regulator was just worse and there was no escaping it.

  She braced herself. There was a reason for everything. Let your actions judge your work and people shall speak for you in defense. Her mother always said that.

  Wunmi looked at the Principal, who was now speaking. She laid her worries aside and listened. The Prefects would be called soon by the outgoing Head Girl and Head Boy.

  There was a loud applause as Amina Lawal walked up to the front. The new Head Girl. Students were murmuring among themselves trying to guess who the next Prefect would be.

  Wunmi waited patiently. From nowhere she smiled. She remembered the young man in the bus who recognized Idara. Beautiful Idara. She smiled again. Her friends would never believe she met Idara. Wunmi wondered what would come out of their meeting. Idara wanted her to call.

  Wunmi looked up and around her at the protesting voices. She didn’t hear what was said to have caused the uproar. She was about to ask Ijeoma, when she realised students were straining to look at her, even as the Principal’s voice screamed for silence. Wunmi looked up at where the new Prefects were lined, and saw Kemi standing there and knew the Sports’ Prefect had been called and the students were protesting against the choice of Kemi.

  Wunmi shrugged and tried to smile.

  The other Prefects were called out.

  The outgoing Head Girl’s voice rose higher as she called out the name of the Time Regulator, the last prefect on the list.

  Wunmi smiled and proceeded forward. The applause was astounding. The students were cheering her on. They all knew she’d been robbed off her right, but then all was vanity. My Achievements! My Achievements! Her inner voice cried as she got up there and faced the whole school. She saw their stares. Some were angry. Some felt as if they were the ones who’d been cheated. Some had revenge in their eyes. Some were encouraging as though they said take it easy; every disappointment is a blessing in disguise. Some said we know who our Sports’ Prefect really is. Wunmi smiled. Her actions, the works that she has made, were speaking from others. They took the battle off her hands; not that she had any.

  *****

  One after the other, the new Prefects took their turns to acknowledge their positions. Each received their share of applause. The booing came when it was the turn of the Sports’ Prefect to speak. Kemi didn’t know what to do, but she tried and she said something. As she handed the microphone over, Wunmi started to clap. All eyes turned on her. Was she crazy? Her clap grew louder, until the whole school had to join her. They were applauding the great courage of Wunmi, not the tattered speech of Kemi.

  When she collected the microphone, the cheers resurfaced. With her hand working as if it had the power to silence them, Wunmi brought the school assembly to a perfect silence.

  “I want to thank the school authority for giving me a chance to serve this school. I promise to work hard, so the school authority wouldn’t have a moment to regret making me a Prefect. I do feel honoured to be one of the school Prefects. Very honoured to be the Time Regulator because I am the king of procrastination and this would probably help me sit up. So you latecomers and those of you who love roaming the school compound after the break time, should better be careful, because I will be out to get you. And if you think you can run away when you see me coming, you better think twice because I will be on your tail. I can run like the Cheetah. And I know you know that I am right.”

  “Heeeeeeeeeee…………..”

  The cheering continued after Wunmi passed back the microphone. Somehow, she felt so satisfied, cheated or not. The realisation that the students loved her was enough. The position of a Sports’ Prefect could go to hell. The school was really wise in not making her assistant to Kemi. Orezi was the assistant, and Orezi was even better than Kemi. Nigeria and connection – what blood has put together, none shall put asunder.

  *****

  Idara dropped the recorder on her desk. She was tired. She had been trying to transcribe the interview her editor had with the new winner of the Queen of Nigeria beauty pageant. She checked her time and got to her feet and stretched her slim frame. Fifteen minutes gone past one was trouble. She hadn’t had a meal yet. She stopped having breakfast when she turned seventeen because she realised it helped her function better. She settled for brunches. After brunch, no lunch for Idara. Her dinner was always at six. After that, nothing else. Just fruit drink, till the next morning.

  She had missed her brunch time, and she knew she was going to disorganize her meal timetable if she ate now. She was contemplating what to do when her cell phone rang. Her caller ID showed a number she didn’t know.

  Her readers had a way of getting her phone
number. This might be one. Idara had no strength to exchange words with a reader. Some of them always had nothing to talk about. They just refuse to understand the simple English Idara puts down, so they will call and argue blindly.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, is that Idara?”

  “Yeap.”

  “Efe.”

  Idara frowned. Who is Efe? “Yes Efe what can I do for you?”

  There was a moment of silence. “I thought we agreed that I will call you by this time, so we’d fix a date for dinner.”

  Idara was open mouthed, someone she didn’t know? “I’m sorry, have we met?”

  There was another silence, before the line went dead.

  Idara was surprised the caller hung up on her. She thought nothing of it.

  Some hours later, Idara was in the library going through old newspapers, looking for inspiration for her design article. She flipped through page after page. Then she stopped and went back, and stopped to star.

  She wore a tracksuit and she was smiling. She was been given flowers. Idara allowed her eyes to flicker down to the bottom of the picture were the people in the picture were identified. Wunmi Davies. Her eyes roamed the other pictures. They were the ones that had Wunmi in action on the tracks; others captured her mood as a victor.

  “What the hell!” A smile played at the corners of Idara’s lips. The girl she’d met this morning was staring back at her from the pages of the newspaper. Idara sat with the paper and read page for page everything about Wunmi Davies. By the time she was through she felt so important, like someone who had met a star. Idara wished Wunmi would call her today. She felt so excited at the discovery of such a young girl with great potentials. It definitely would be a story for Idara to share with her readers, but first, she wanted to know more about the girl.

  *****

  Later in the evening, at about four thirty, when she was putting her things together to go home, she stumbled upon a complimentary card in her bag and stared at it, wondering where it came from. The name read Efe Urheigho. She closed her eyes as it hit her. The caller who identified himself as Efe this afternoon was the same guy in the bus that morning. The same guy she had sat with the day a bullet almost claimed her life. They had both dropped from the bus that morning at Ikeja and he had taken about ten minutes of her time to talk. They had exchanged complimentary cards; although he told her he no longer worked with the company whose address was written on the card.